IT IS WHAT IT IS

“AA does not teach us how to handle our drinking, it teaches us how to handle sobriety.” – the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous

First things first:

I would like to apologize to all my good readers for being absent much too long.                     No, I have not abandoned you, and I haven’t gone underground.  I’ve been busy licking my wounds.

That ends now.

* A Reason, NOT an Excuse *

Like so many hapless residents of Southwest Florida, on September 28, 2022 I found myself in the path of a monster storm named Ian.

Ian was a stark reminder that we’re only here with the permission of Mother Nature, and she can swat us like a pesky fly.

In the end, everything balances out:

Florida is a beautiful place to live, (why do you think people are moving down here in droves?) but sometimes it can be pretty harsh: Insects are bigger, reptiles are more aggressive, vegetation is sharper & pricklier, and precipitation can be more extreme.   It’s hotter, sunnier, steamier and stickier.

…and I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.

Sounds insane, but:

We enjoy a gracious lifestyle (when there’s not a natural disaster going on),

…a reasonable tax structure, great AA, and beautiful surroundings.

When I go away on a trip, I can’t wait to get back.

ANYWAY     

                                                   (If you could call it that)

I had the rare and poignant opportunity of seeing a natural disaster up close and personal.

There’s plenty of YouTube footage taken from drone flyovers, and that can give you a fair idea of how bad things are. But everything’s COMPLETELY different when you see flattened homes and gutted stores up close and personal.

We’ve all seen places in the nightly news devastated by tornadoes, earthquakes, fires, floods, wars and every disaster imaginable.
I guess I could chalk this one up as being our turn.  How the hell else could I reconcile myself to it?  Life has been turned upside down.

Ian took my car and condo.

I’m writing this on a new laptop, and am living on a friend’s couch. 

The awful (and accurate) truth is that over the years I’ve become soft, spoiled, domesticated and pampered.  The more stuff we accumulate, the more that stuff takes priority:   I desperately miss my condo, all my stuff, and my industrial strength desktop computer.

My place is gutted, torn apart and utterly uninhabitable…for now.

Every time I see it, I have to resist the strong urge to crawl into a corner, curl into a fetal position, suck my thumb, and start weeping. That’s a luxury no one can afford. 

I have the distinct impression that a lot of people are watching to see if I’m going to snap, freak out and start taking hostages.

There is nothing more revealing about the quality of someone’s recovery than their behavior during times of hardship.

 Be that as it may, I’m not exactly brimming over in gratitude for this opportunity to showcase my recovery.

                                                        More Good News:

When something like this imposes itself on your life there are unexpected by-products: You gain a great clarity as to who your friends are… (and are not).

Someone you just thought of as just a nodding acquaintance unexpectedly steps up to the plate to reveal themselves as generous, decent, trustworthy and someone you can truly rely on.

At the same time, folks you considered true friends couldn’t give a rats ass, and would rather not be bothered.

Even better, you’ll discover an unexpected reserve of strength and tenacity you never knew you possessed.

Also,

I’ve been trying to lose some weight for quite a while, and my efforts have been a dismal, discouraging failure. Forget about Atkins or any of that stuff.

The “Homeless, carless” plan really helps shed those last stubborn pounds.  Not exactly sexy, but regressing to a feral state really does the trick.

Life is difficult.

We’ve all experienced tragic loss and bitter disappointment…no one is exempt.

Just because we get sober, life isn’t suddenly going to be about unicorns, rainbows, marshmallows, and Smurfs.

Life marches on, but as bad as some things may be, there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel (no, it’s not an approaching train).

It took me a long time and many failed attempts to write this post.

It’s too new, too fresh, too painful. Instead of wimping out about it, I knew that I had to get it all down ASAP.     

However, I now have a new car, a new computer, and plenty of coffee….so I can’t complain  too much (I could, but no one will listen)…         

As of yet, I still don’t know what’s going to happen. I can only put all my eggs into one basket:

IF YOU DO THE RIGHT THING, THE RIGHT THING WILL HAPPEN.

HERE’S THE TAKEAWAY:

Contrary to popular belief, during all my years in alcoholics Anonymous I’ve actually been paying attention to those lessons that have been waterboarded into me over the years. 

They are now coming to bear in a big way:

 These are the things I grab on to like a drowning man grasps at a lifeline.

These are the essential truths I live by when things are at their worst:

GOD IS IN CHARGE.

GOD HAS A PLAN, AND IT IS A GOOD PLAN.

GOD DOESN’T OWE ME AN EXPLANATION.

GOD LOVINGLY WATCHES OVER ME.

GOD WILL NEVER ABANDON ME.

Like it or hate it, for better or for worse, each one of us in the rooms happens to be a walking, living, breathing advertisement for AA.

We’ve all heard it a million times, “I’m the only Big Book someone may ever see.”

Ain’t that the truth.