Babies thrive on real meat!

“why is partying and having a good time bad?”

Friday links! Short and sweet.

I set up my next blood donation appointment online (here in Hoquiam/Aberdeen there’s one at Walmart on August 11th). All types are needed. Red Cross has been assclowny in a few ways in the past, but their online setup is pretty good.

“Amy Winehouse: Death and Addiction” by Kendra Sebelius (who is also @VoiceinRecovery on Twitter and writes on eating disorders; she does great work).

“Addiction is a serious issue, one that requires serious discussions. I feel people still have the tone of “well, she had a choice to stop.” Choice is such a hard word to even address in this whole thing. […] Rehab didn’t keep me sober, any more than it does for many people. […] This doesn’t mean a person is bad or a failure or unwilling to get better. It means it is hard to not only get sober, but to stay sober. I had to change my environment, ask for help, and find a new way of doing things. Rehab is just a starting point. You don’t go to rehab and automatically get better.”

Further on Winehouse: apparently a HuffPo article was needed because so many don’t understand alcohol withdrawal. This is kind of rattling to me.

OK, onto lighter matters: Special Report: Star Trek The Next Generation: A XXX Parody; even from giggly curiosity I can’t bring myself to watch something like this. But the review? GOLDEN.

Common rumors about lesbians I would like to dispel

The Just-So Stories complete text poster. Pretty fabulous. I’ve acquired this book and a few other Kipling tomes for my kids; they love them.

From M’s blog: “Mistakes”; a wonderful post about a child’s ever-broadening assessment of the world around him.

Make: Cucumber Lime Mint Agua Fresca at Simply Recipes

And – guess what? Babies thrive on real meat! From vintage-ads on Livejournal:

Babies thrive on real meat!

Babies, on behalf of parents everywhere, I’m really sorry if anyone offered this to you.

 

suit up and show up

Tomorrow marks a particular anniversary of my sobriety date. It’s been a wonderful journey, unlike any period in my life I can recall. It’s hard to explain. It has been like being born again, or being a child. I am less sure of myself but more secure and serene. Rigorous honesty, open-mindedness, and willingness.

I had the Willingness from day one, and for this I am so grateful.

And like someone new and picking through garbage, making missteps and being brave regarding things I’ve been frightened of – yes, there has been pain involved. My worst moment sober, however, has been hands-down better than life while I was employing other methods to cope. Depression, anxiety, fear, resentments, anger, over-excitement, a head spinning like a top, resentments (I put “resentments” twice because they are a Big Fucking Deal)… these things have been dashed to the rocks or at least incredibly reduced – in such a short time. All because I was ready to do a few simple things which I won’t detail here – but go into any of the rooms of Recovery, stick around, and you’ll hear all about them.

Life is beautiful. My children are the most incredible gift and to be frank, I don’t deserve them. So I just give Thanks. Daily they venture forth, these days with very little interference from me, and with a confidence and a joy of living and a love and care for other people. They remember names of strangers, they hug friends, they share their ice cream or their clothes. They are loving, caring people and it is a genuine pleasure to spend time with them.

At night my husband makes dinner and does the dishes and I have a few minutes to sew or knit or write. He takes better care of me now and (I truly believe) he takes better care of himself. Our family has changed. We are kinder to one another. We are more honest. There hasn’t been a yelling match or a nasty fight for quite some time.

But today one of the things that sticks with me is how precious and incredibly fragile life is. How all the days we can go about on the treadmill and be spiritually dead, or at least suffering so much our turmoil is loud in our ears and people say, “How are you?” and we say Fine, fine, and maybe we even think we’re fine, but we suffer so much. More scary still is the result of our confusion and isolation and quietude: others do not know know how much we suffer, how lost we are. In the last few days how many emails, how many people have expressed astonishment I had any kind of problem at all?

I am not going to diminish the mother of my children by negating all I did and accomplished, who I was, or how I incurred and attempted to patch up my bumps and scrapes (many of which I’ve written about here, publicly). The woman I was did the best she could. The woman I am today does the same. This woman, when the chips are down, I see her character and I like her just fine, about as much as God does I suppose.

May I always see her in this light.

***

By the way, I couldn’t wait until my Friday links to share this with you. Definitely NSFW, by the way. It made me laugh so damned hard. It also reminded me of my grandma, may she rest in peace.

when you starve with a tiger, the tiger starves last

Ed. – comments are turned off for this post. I indicate this here since I rec’d an email from someone who thought maybe they weren’t smart enough to figure out how to comment, or maybe I didn’t want to receive ANY communication on the subject (untrue). So I’m clearing that up with this prologue. As per usual calls, emails, DMs, IMs, in-person, snail-mail – all is appreciated and welcome, as always. Thanks for your readership and support!

***

Hi, my name is Kelly and I am a recovering alcoholic. In my case one thing this means is I do not drink alcohol anymore. At all. But of course that’s only the very beginning of a life in sobriety – as anyone who’s had a lasting and positive sobriety will know.

It’s been too hard to write on the blog here and omit this massive part of my life, from one to three hours of peer-support a day, so many phone conversations and book-studies and readings, so I’m giving that up. That doesn’t mean I’ll write much here. I won’t. Anything specific – or rather too specific, or risking disclosing anything about another alcholic – I’m password-protecting to share with one other person (so far anyway, and it’s none of your business who).

That’s about it.

It disturbed me a bit that when I started feeling compelled to keep Recovery entries on my journal online – but wouldn’t/couldn’t write publicly – a few people complained about password-protected entries. I mean it was almost funny considering this is a life-or-death issue for me (and the others I’m responsible to!), and I owe no one any particular thing when I write here – but fine, that’s their baggage.

On the other hand it touched me, those who took the time to ask, “Hey, are you okay?” (thank you). One friend worried aloud if I had a stalker – which is one reason I’m making public my experience. And on that note, most my stalkers have been rather benign as far as I know. But, yeah, I keep Recovery entries private and if people don’t understand why, they’re free to ask me, in person would be best, any time. I’m not going to go into it here and now.

I used to hold a lot of cynicism about those in Recovery culture. Of course, I was almost entirely ignorant too. I’ll spare you my specific prejudices as they’re boring and anyone could think of what they might be. I’m reporting today I was wrong regarding every bias I’ve had. Recovery has saved my life in the deepest sense of the word; not just kept the physical destruction of my body at bay or at least not in an accelerated capacity but in the way LIFE means an every day experience, the moment, every relationship, even now typing.

After a long talk today a friend said to me, “I had no idea you were suffering.”

And I said, “Yeah. I held my shit together pretty well.” A while back I found this incredibly sad about myself but today I can laugh. It’s pretty funny really.

My life is utterly different than it was, and I am glad.

***

A rather famous person outed himself as a member of AA after long years in sobriety. He wrote something pretty damn good. I’ll let you read it, since I’m not going to write more.