Dear Sis: to a family member new to recovery

I made this. Download and save it somewhere on your computer if you wish to. Use it on the Internet if you wish to. Credit and link backs totally unnecessary. Screw the DMCA, copyright trolls, copyright monopolists and others of that ilk.

Dear Sis,

     We've hardly talked in the past decade or two. It seems that you deal with me only when you have to. I don't know why that is. Any guesses would be mental masturbation. Maybe someday you will tell me what I did. Maybe you never will. 

     Yes, I've found your identities on the Internet. Yes, I've looked up anything you've made public in order to have a bit of a feeling for where your passions have led you. I am thrilled by your recent successes.

     I was disheartened to find that in your college years you were drinking and shoplifting. By your own account, you were buying from several liquor stores so that way "they wouldn't think [you were] an alcoholic." You organized shoplifting parties among your friends on weekends. I held my breath, hoping for some indication that you grew out of these things.

     By your recent report, you are feeling much better than you used to. You've quit drinking and smoking. [Was it cigarettes? Or weed? Or?]. You've shaped up and started taking better care of yourself. I feel both happy and sad at this news.

     Pictures of wedding dressings and nurseries. A sense that I have been disposed of along with your ex and your bad habits. It's alright I guess. 

     Dad is getting closer to the end. You've already moved on in ways that I cannot understand. I too had a stepfather that I loved. [He died awhile back]. We are so different-- you and I-- yet something in you and something in me we both got from Dad. Please don't forget him as you continue on your orbit to the sun.

     Even if we never connect, I wish you the very best in your life. I hope that you will find more of what you are seeking. Most of all, I wish you peace.

               ~ the forgotten one ~

     

34 Years of Freedom

     I hit 34 years of freedom from active addiction this past Monday at 10:18 a.m. Hooray for me!

     This past year has been intense. It's been good and bad and annoying and happy and sad and peaceful and everything in waves. 

     Losing a parent is not an easy thing to go through. Dementia seems to involve little losses. At first, it was increasingly difficult for me to find remnants of my father's old personality in his Lewy Bodies. But I did find them. He is the bravest man I know.

     This year I participated in #AddictionChat on Twitter [tm]-- no copyright infringement intended. I quickly found that the focus there is chiefly on what can be done for the addict in treatment rather than on what we as recovering addicts can do for our families, our communities, and our worlds. The interesting thing is that the professionals seem to collectively think that working steps in any sort of program ought to take lots of time. Conversely, the folks in recovery who aren't professional took the opposite tact: Get 'em done. And get 'em done again. And again...

     Much to my unhappiness, I found that at least one rep of Scientology [yeah they got into the drug "rehab" biz too] became an active participant. Hearing about L. Ron and how "all drugs" retain traces in the system and can create flashbacks [patently not true b.t.w.] was not a high point for me. 

     Disagreeing with L. Ron I suppose might make me an S.P. in some circles. In actuality, it marks me as someone who merely disagrees vehemently with a hack sci-fi writer who started his own religion. L. Ron knew nothing about recovery from addiction, period.

     I also disagree with the professionals. For one, I do not perceive of addiction as a "disease." Here is the definition of addiction that I've cobbled together from various schools of thought and un-thought:
    

I made it myself and it is copyleft. Take it, download to your "My Computer" and do whatever with it. No hot-linking please, and as usual copyright trolls go away.

     I've read lots of books, tramped through lots of fields and woods with the old dog, and went to lots of meetings. I picked up a coffee commitment. I am writing. I continue to strive for a better life on a daily basis.

                      ~ sapphoq itching for yet another coffee
     

Gossiping Our Way Through Recovery

     I celebrate everyone who finds recovery through the drug court system. In the rooms of recovery, it ought not to matter who we are or how we got here. All of us were mandated. I was mandated by a dog who did not like me staying away from home for twenty two hours at a time. Other people were mandated by drug courts, family courts, husbands, wives, lovers, children, and others.

     None of us came into recovery smiling and full of grace. All of us were worn and ragged about the edges. We too could not sit still, fidgeted, talked during the meetings to those sitting next to us, got up to go to the bathroom or roam around. There are a few folks still alive who remember when I first ventured into a meeting. And I remember when most of the rest of us in our area first came in. None of us were looking too good. Nor were we good actors.

African Grey Parrot on a ladder with head down, caption reads "bad bird."

      In our area, there has been a division. There are folks who will no longer attend the meetings being held at a local outpatient treatment program strictly because "so many drug court people are there." That is their choice. 

"Emily has cooties" chalked on old tarmac.

     Of those with time who do attend the meetings where there has been an influx of people who are legally mandated, there are some of us who run our mouths off. And we have no business doing that. Even worse, there are a few who report back to legal officials who was at a particular meeting and what they talked about. This is wrong.

Halloween zombie half buried in the snow with a long tongue sticking out. Caption reads "GOSSIP is UGLY."

     When people have paper over their heads, a few misplaced words could land them into jail or prison. If you have a beef with someone who is in the legal system, you have no right to call someone up and say things like "This one has a bad attitude" or "That one does not sit still at meetings."

     It is the fault of counselors, probation and parole officers, and drug court officials who listen to your crap. But it is also your fault. Clean your own house.

Up close of dustballs with caption "Do your housework. Dustballs evolve."

     ~ where's that coffee? ~  

p.s. Pictures are captioned with description for low vision readers. If you want any of them, right-click to save to your computer. You can also use them in social media, although I don't know why you would want to. 
      For the Big Hollywood idiots: I took and altered these photos myself with my legally obtained cheap digital camera and software. So go away.