For those who give a shit (and a bow and thank you to the thoughtful awesome ones who took the time to ask) I am not looking too good on the health of my anklebone. The Urgent Care NP who examined me gave a tentative diagnosis of osteophages, or tiny bone spurs. Which basically means "Fuck you and suck it up." for now, anyway. Once i have my insurance on-line I can see an orthopedist, and have an MRI to confirm, etc. But the fact is, it seems there really is not much that can be done. Oh, and she said that it might be a good idea to take steps to reduce the amount of pressure on the bones, as that can help.

To wit, lose weight, fatass!

No, she did not say it like that. But I do not feel like repeating the nice and smiley way in which this recommendation was passed down to me.

This means that I am not necessarily doing an damage to the bones, but when the pain randomly stabs me I kind of have to grin and bear it. This will, no doubt, as a delicious nuance to my performances.

I am not a huge fan of my humanity. Those things that "make me Me" piss me off about as often as they fill me with some kind of wondrous glimmering self-actualized respect and affection.


Which makes for interesting days.

This last week I had the hardest time concentrating...the constant chill and rain did not elevate my mood, as I am fair game for the vagaries of rain and fog and gloom. Why live in San Francisco, you ask?

Good question, and one I ask myself whenever I find myself staring at yet another gloomy morning. I do live in the Mission. I do not live in the Fog Belt. I do my best.

But day after day of rain is not to be thwarted....mudslides, flooding, you name it. It even snowed. Insanity prevails. I expect locusts by next Thursday, and possibly to see the 4 horsemen clambering on their winded steeds of doom up Nob Hill next Sunday morning to deliver their dirge-like proclamations of The End Times to a moistened, dispassionate city.

I am discovered that We are a fucking nervous wreck. Yes, it is true. Strange thing about being sober: there ARE things that worked quite well for me when I was still drinking that, by the end of my drinking career were so full of fail that I assumed that stopping drinking would put me spang in the midst of the right path to set everything right.

Alas, not.

My mental cyclotron buzzes into high gear behind my "shortcomings", real , perceived, exaggerated or underscored.

In the past week, I have been massively spun put by:


My lack of progress in "working my AA program"...

My failure to learn my lines....

My flailing in my capacity to be organized in my new job.....

My hyper-vigilance and anxiety as to the nuances of every word spoken or NOT spoken by John.....

My fucked up ankle.......



See. lots of "me" in there.



Not a lot of room for compassion for myself.



Lots of "Why cant you just......"



A metric fuckton of self-flagellation.



A googleplex of private Tasmanian devils of anxiety slavering and whining and moaning all day and night.



And....of course....I realize that I am an ant frying under the effulgent illumination of hormones propagated under the magnifying glass of PMS.



Which, without my usual crutch of mood altering substances, is making a run for my money. I had a really really nice run in with Bubbles this evening....I went, after a grueling rehearsal, to try to go to an AA meeting, but the schedule was wrong and there was not one where it was listed on the AA website that there WAS one. I could not feature waiting around for 2 and a half hours for the next one, was tired, wanted to get home before the rain started back up.



Valencia street...one bar, one cannabis club, one liquor store later, and even as I stood in the aisle of the grocery, gazing bleary eyed at the cat food cans my eye wandered over to the 14 doors opening to the bottles of toxic-to-me solutions to no problems that this store sold in every conceivable formulation. I sighed. Then as though it were an actual sensation a slithering up the back of my inner eye maybe a paw on my hand and a rough broad hot tongue lapping the back of my knee



Hey, it has been a long day and you have a long evening...alone...your not-boyfriend John isn't coming over....who knows what he IS doing tonight....and you still have SO much work to do.....on your lines...wouldn't it be nice to just have a glass of wine or three....





Even as my stomach knotted at the thought of alcohol and I shook in disgust at the blatant tactics she was using, she laughed that hyperventilated sick sallow knotted guffaw



hey, just kidding...I know you don't do that anymore...I know you don't even wanna...you can take a joke, right?



Yeah.



Maybe.



Or maybe not. Maybe we will just sit and look you in the eye tonight, Bubbles, because it is not now, not today. not for you to eat me anymore.



Ugh. I do not have much compassion for her today. But that is OK, because I still can love that part of me, sick as it is.



Thank the gods I was paid this Friday and had enough money for a small tub of mini-bite brownies!


Speaking of nuances.....I am both proud of and dismayed by my capacity to be all mature and Zen about my interactions with John and then on a dime live NOT AT ALL in the moment and begin tripping about shit I have no business worrying about.

I am not enamored of the habit I have noticed of having expectations of what I "Want John to say" and then savagely chewing myself a new asshole when I spin out because he does not do or say what I'd wanted. It can be so simple and something I am quite certain is Not A Big Deal and yet I can weave it into whole cloth of A Problem in a manner that makes Rumpelstiltskin's feat of straw into gold look like a parlor trick. I am AMAZING in my capacity to read a passing comment as a Portent Of Things To Come.



Of course, then, you have people reminding you to "take it slow" and other people reminding you to "pay attention to your gut" and other people reminding you that "you are a newly sober alcoholic and therefore you really shouldn't even be doing any of this now." and some people telling you to "Just relax, have a moment to just enjoy things in the moment."


And by you, I mean me, and there it is.



I find myself feeling comforted that John is in my life right now, and that he is able to talk to me about recovery in a way that I understand, and for being straightforward. EVEN when I do not agree with him...and even when wish he'd have said something different



I am not so comforted by the gibbering jealousy I have shimmying on the edge of my emotional periphery. NOT cool. Yet another emotional jetstream to keep an eye on. Oy! I do not wish to repeat the fit of pique an impending lunch date he has with with "An old friend" sent through my headbones. Yep, this is one obsessive insecure woman when it comes to this shit. Own it, own it, owning it, before it pwns me!

This morning, while moving his car, he went to the Castro for special coffees....when the Castro Philz was closed for remodeling (WTF?!?!), he called to let me know he would be going to the other branch in the Mission. I had to laugh...he was very earnest in his desire for the special attention they pay to their brewed-by-the-cup ballet of flavor. Oh, and the sprig of mint that picks up and livens the cuppa. We had a fairly intense discussion about my trying the mint coffee, and why my adding after-marked soy milk and sugar were simply not going to cut, it, as I had to have them do it in their "Special Way".

I cannot deny it was a good cup of coffee :-D


I cannot minimize the wonder of having someone who is affectionate and sweet in my life. I can be very grateful for that for today. Even the simplest of kisses makes me smile and think "My gods that is nice!" so I think that is a good thing.



And being fucked so mercilessly I can hardly catch my breath and cannot see straight or speak really at all is not something abut which I can say anything but "Hallelujah!".



Well, I can say that afterward, once I have caught my breath, regained my ocular integrity, and cooled off a bit.


John came to the QOM on Friday, and it was, BTW, fucking cool! The book that the people read from had some amazing stories that sent me into serious nostalgia that hurt in some places. The SpamSlam I did was, if I may say so, a hit! People laughed a lot.

My audience-inspired rant was on speculums. I told the story about when I shot one out of my hoodieehaha across the CastleBar dungeon during a scene, lo these many years ago. The nice PTA ladies who had come out to support the book were a bit scandalized...but I have it on good authority (DoppMonster, I would post y'all's links and shit in here but I don't know how to and I am tired and not wishing to learn right now) that by the end of the story they were amused, too.

We went out for breakfast afterward and had a really good talk. He is super patient even when I feel like I am whining and being lame. He says I am not. I am trying to believe him, because i do not think he would lie about that.

It is raining again on my skylight.



I should to bed.....but before then I have to post this and see if anyone has read all the way through and takes a moment to say hello...I am a little lonely tonight...

As it is now after midnight
please feel free
to congratulate me
on 10 months of healing
and sobriety! :-)

I had my first time being Speaker at an AA meeting tonight. The funny part is that, since it was a closed meeting, my non-AA support friend could not make it, and it seemed to not be in the cards for the other folks I had hoped could make it to attend. SO, it was me and a room full of women I kind of know in passing.....

Unlike the vast majority of people, speaking in front of large groups does not in itself make me nervous, as I am extremely adept at crowd control and audience manipulation.

The problem is that you are there to talk honestly, not put on a show and be loved for some polished performance. And that was what made me nervous: that I might slip on one of the convenient masks.

I mean, sure, the spiffy AA circuit speakers can afford that but me, with only a handful of sobriety has an obligation to be honest and to just tell my story. Which I did! And people were super nice, and I did not talk too much, and I did not try to be funny or clever. I did challenge myself to talk about my conversations with my higher power, and as it turns out, most people seem to dig Lord G pretty well. I even told them about Bubbles, and no one laughed It seems, actually, to allow people to re-frame their addictive voice in a personal way, which is deeply fascinating to me.

But people did listen, and did laugh, and some people shared some pretty amazing things, which was really an honor because I kind of feel, most of the time, like people are going to pat me on the head and kind of flaunt their longerish sober time in my face and remind me I have no idea what I am talking about.

Which is fine.

Because they don't either!

Life is too big for any of us to hold.

John was kind enough to pick me up from work and drive me to the Meeting. He, alas, could not attend, as it is a women only meeting. Plus he had his dogs. Triple whammy.

He was also kind enough to come back after the meeting to drive me home....we walked the dogs, even

The roomie is back in town, so I was all "Hey, roomie, meet man, man, meet roomie, excuse us, we are going to make out now."

We even got to second...um...third....???....base!

WTF ARE the bases these days anyway?!?!?!

Whatever base it was, being wet down to my knees and writhing like a cat with a broken spine seems to not be too off-putting to my Friend. Now, I have no trouble with a super-extended-techno-house-deep-funk-remix-orgasm, but it can sure fuddle some men.

He didn't even seem to mind.

He is threatening to do some pretty saucy aggro stuff to me and that sounds like a fine idea.

I am pretty certain he likes me a lot. I like him a lot. Well, I hope he likes me a lot!

......

Man, my brains are really melted.

I forgot that I can get WAY deep in space from intense prolonged orgasmic hayrides.

What is going to happen when we do actually go all the way?!?!

I predict fainting.

Maybe I should get some, like, smelling salts or something....

...about my speakering at an AA meeting tonight.

But then I got a reality check in the form of an IM conversation with a friend I have not chatted with in a long time. She lives in Las Vegas now, but still visits here from time ot time.

The conversation started with some reminiscences about a friend in the BDSM community who recently passed away. I sudden and shocking loss, and I don't know what happened. But it was nice to chat with my friend in LV, as she had known her pretty well and had actually sung at their wedding.

The reminiscing took a turn to more general memories and what was interesting and humbling to me was that Sylvia then shared with me HER first memory of seeing me play, back quite a few years ago, in a pretty insane resistance play scene I'd done with my main play partner at the time. I was the first black female she'd seen bottoming, and you can imagine that me getting FUCKED THE FUCK UP by Steve was NOT the gentlest into to BDSM one might hope for :-P

As it turned out, Francesca, the friend who passed away, also played with Steve and knew me well, and was able to talk Sylvia down, explain to her what was going on, and why it was OK.

Later, Sylvia and I became friends, and to this day I think she is pretty awesome.

What I had never known is that she considered that incident pivotal, if not CRITICAL, to her becoming more comfortable with herself in the larger context of "The Scene". She also specifically mentioned that seeing my solo show further helped her to accept herself, and that my capacity to make it make sense and feel OK, and even happy and healthy, was inspiring.

I was all "Wow!"

Because I have a pretty low opinion of someone who, evidently, helps people without even knowing or trying.

Maybe I should be nicer to Mollena, since she seems to have people who think she is an OK kind of girl.

FANtastic.
Wed, January 9, 2008 - 11:13 PM
well, the first dungeon-held recovery meeting was held tonight and I have to say, despite a crippling case of apprehension on my part, it was wonderful.

Also wonderful is that some really important-to-me people were there too. Even more wonderful is that everyone....except for me...has crazy amounts of sobriety. Even MORE awesome is that the maverick tendency for lone wolf individualism among "out" perverts tempers yet augments the dogma of AA, NA, and whatever 12 step program you wanna name.

It looks like we are moving towards a support group based in 12 step traditions without the divisive issues that often cause rifts like, say, those which (evidently!) exist between NA and AA. So that way regardless of what addiction you wrestle or have rassled, you can feel free to come on down :-) There is room at the inn, because I think we all understand one another.

Or at least won't run you out on a rail. And hey, maybe we can have anniversary spankings.

KIDDING.


(not)


Whatever.

I just like being in a recovery meeting in a fucking dungeon.

Going to work this morning was a trip. I had to be in by 7:30, and it was whipping windy rain sheets mercilessly sideways AND for that matter DARK when I left.

Obviously, 3 days into a new job you are learning stuff, but I still have to stop myself from internally beating myself up when I don't know something, or when someone's work style is just more....intense....than mine.

I think I am the only one in the office who is single. I seem to the the only childless female. I do not walk around obsessing about these things, normally. Usually I am far more concerned with my own disaster than creating another disaster to add to my own disaster.

I spent a substantial portion of my first few days at work making a shower invite, getting the Babysaurus gift lists together, buying stuff for the shower, making sure someone with a car gets the cake for Tuesday....two men have impending pregnancies, with a total of three fetii.

And yet another man in the office has a pregnant wife. New news as of yesterday. Some fertile-ass people up in there....!

...I get a tiny sad feeling on this one. Having never even been close to being married and being at a high risk for infertility, and being 38.6 years old, it does not look good.

&^%$# uterus....! &^%$#@ HORMONES!!

I cannot think my way out of a bazillion years of evolution. Or Intelligent Design. Or creationism.

As a woman, you are FUCKED NO MATTER YOUR COSMOLOGY WHEN IT COMES TO REPRODUCTION!!!!!

But I digress.

I did have a few multitasking opportunities to chat with some peoples, so that was something that brought a smiel to my face. Yay!


I am so grateful I had that obsessive round of CostCo and Amazon food store ordering back when I had my last job, because I have a fuckton of these natural rice noodle bowls and a hatchback worth of those frozen chicken sandwiches that have been doing me well in lieu of eating out all of the time Or, not eating at all!

And today I DID remember to bring the food, so that was good.

I was so tired when I left work, but I felt kind of accomplished, since this was the first Friday in a long while that felt ike an "earned" end of the week. Even though it was a short week.

My friend Tim, you remember....the dude with whom I stayed when I went to the UK, is here in the states. How did I find that out? He mentioned ot to me when I blind IMed him about something entrely different. He wasn't even showing as online.

*sigh*

SO, that was odd. He is going to visit for a few days, so that should be ... nice. (????)

He seems to be doing a bit better, which is ....encouraging....? It will be. Um. Lovely (? Hell, I don't know. Probably just strange.) to hang out for a few days. Well, what little hanging out I can do, what with rehearsals starting up again, and soon.

I was feeling like I wanted to go straight home and fool around on-line. However! Because I did not yesterday, and because I really, really did not want to today, I went to an AA meeting.

I can say I am glad I did, because when people are sharing about shit like cancer, homelessness, sexual abuse of kidsand terrible personal shit, it throws your own stuff into a little more effective perspective. Nothing like a big steaming bowl of "STFU, n00b!!!" on a chilly Friday night.

Whatever else I feel about the "recovery community", simple support group dynamics CAN, and often, help. I can't feel bad about my vague health shit after listing to a near death cancer experience...and I can't complain about having to leave my warm bed to go to work in the driving rain and 50MPH wind because thank the gods I have a bed, a home to leave and come back to, and a job in-between.

And, furthermore, my home is no longer a garbage pit.

And having kids? Well, the heartache is probably offset by the love and good stuff, but...wow. The shit I hear from parents about raising kids makes me think twice. And thrice.

But yet and Still, after all of these years, cannot shake that vague feeling of lameness when I am home alone on a Friday night though. I did chat for a little while with John. who is at home doing Stuff Grownups Do At Home. But he said he will call me later or IM or something, so that will be nice. So, he is my friend and he does like me, and I am not going to ask any more questios about that.

But for now, I have to poop!!

Then, I should go lie down...I think I have, at least, earned that.

One of the things that has been surprising, to me, about not drinking is that the part that most people who are drunkards talk about finding the hardest, that is, wanting to drink, is a no-show for me.

I have gotten to the point where the smell of some types of alcohol (vodka, tequila) makes me actively seriously nauseated. Even the very sight of my former poisons of choice makes me bristlytated. Pukey.

No, the part I find most discouraging is having to bloody talk about it.

OK, AA meetings can be supremely helpful, and I faithfully did my "90-in-90" That, for you people who can drink like normal human beings, is what AA people call going to 90 AA meetings in 90 days.

I got a sponsor. Then, when my first sponsor (who is, in fact, one of the coolest people I'd met who was also in recovery) and I couldn't get our schedules meshing, I found another one.

That didn't work out too well. When I was doing my "step-work" I was told I wasn't doing it correctly...even though the program isn't supposed to have a rigid methodology, and is supposed to have a more egalitarian approach to acclimating your life to the program, and vice versa. There is, however, a pretty well accepted idea that there ARE proper ways to do things. When I questioned why what I was doing was wrong, since I was working hard and in good faith and toeing the line, I was then slapped with the "This is a faith-based program and you are being resistant by asking 'why'; this is the way my sponsor did it, and their sponsor before them, just do it and you'll be happy." What is that culty People's Templish shit?!?

That relationship was terminated by me when my "temporary" sponsor informed me that she felt defensive when I used a word she didn't know, and that she wasn't going to take on my anger, because I was clearly angry. But she loved me, and certainly wanted to see me sober....and wanted to help in any way she could...

Yep. Bye.

I do one meeting a week now, and even that became fraught. I volunteered to be the person who gave away the "chips" which mark anniversaries of sobriety. Foolish me, I tried to add some levity by offering a twinkling magic-noise making wand to people to wave when they announced their sobriety. Then some people complained...it had to be brought up in a business meeting, it has to be voted on...Oh, and the order in which I was doing the announcing....you see, I counted from the MOST years to the newcomers. WHich you would think would be cool, because it gives the new people time to warm up to the idea of getting up I front of a bunch of people. Oh, also that is the way it has been done for years in larger AA meetings, and national conventions. But then, the vocal minority had to fuck shit up. For me, anyway. I then was self-conscious. Believe it or not it is hard for me to get up ion front of people and do this. I am horribly shy and this is something I have struggle with since I was young, and I overcame it by being way way bigger than I feel. Pufferfish Mo. But now ... I got no capacity to puff. ANd so what happens...some bitchy queen or three jumps on the opportunity to make what I did an affront against "the rules"

Man, OK. I am not mad at any one person, I simply find exhausting that "recovery" is a place where I have to deal with other peoples shit AND MINE?!?!

FORGET IT.

You know, what saved my life was not AA. It was my friends who said "We would prefer that you not drink yourself to death."

I am trying to take responsibility for myself, not blame my issues on a "disease". I am also not for dredging up past party fouls and stupid shit in the name of clearing the air, nor am I going to bare my soul to someone else who can then feel free to slather their own nasty spin on it.

*sigh*

That is enough of this for now...I was just sitting here looking at the fucking chips I have to give out at this meeting tonight and thinking...lord, these alcoholics. Making me crazy.

OK, so theres a shitload of shit that has happened since I last posted here. Blah blah blah intervention, yadda yadda yadda rehab, gooba gooba gooba sobriety, psst psst psst meetings.

Yep.

If you really give a shit, you can look at my Tribe blog until I slap the shit on over here. Like anyone cares!

I have a job that is pretty good...the people are super nice, my boss, amazing, and my brain, slow on the uptake.

I am supposed to be writing right now...a grant application, in fact.