Swept Away by the Raging Storm

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Of late, I notice how desperate I am to hold on to happiness and joy and to push away anger, sadness, and grief. I often try to insulate myself and to live in a news and current events bubble

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Looking Back

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I realize that I used to live a conditional life - ifs, thens, whens, etc. And at times I still do. My impulses to stop drinking alcohol for a time were dependent on the degree of consequences that resulted when I drank too much/was too frequently drunk

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Shadows Slight Return

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 Of late, I’ve been in several consecutive first step meetings. A gift of these for me has been a rear-window view of what it was like then and what it is like now. As I reflect and sink through the layers of my recovery, causes and conditions reveal themselves by listening with compassion and sympathetic joy to the stories of others.

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My Story Retold for the 32nd Time

It was 1981, and I was nineteen years old and in my sophomore year at the University of Kansas, where I was living in a fraternity house. I was responsible for stocking the fraternity’s beer machine, actually an old soda machine that I would load with bottles of Coors and Budweiser. It was fortunate for me, but not so much for my fraternity brothers, who trusted me with this task. I loved drinking beer, and with keys to the beer machine, I had a steady supply. I loved alcohol. I loved it too much, really, and I was beginning to pay the price. At that time, I paid for my drinking with poor grades, broken relationships, self-loathing, and fear. Such was the state of my life when one day I was browsing through the local newspaper, The Lawrence Journal-World, and I ran across an advertisement for Alcoholics Anonymous. “No,” I decided, “I can’t be an alcoholic.”

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Hope as a Principle

Hope is not a foundation that I build my life around.  This elusive principle was not a tool that I used in times of difficulty.  Growing up in dysfunction and becoming an alcoholic encapsulated hopelessness rather than hope. 

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The “God” Word Delusion

Delusion can come in many forms. It can be based on the mostly harmless false hope and wishful thinking of a child-like desire to prove that somethings not true when it obviously is, the more serious self-deceptions of the active alcoholic whose lack of boundaries and self-assessment lead to further self-destruction or, in the truly terrifying mass delusions of extreme political movements.

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Some Days Are Hard

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Living sober has been full of nuance. Sometimes simple. Sometimes complicated. Often complex. Sometimes ‘the next right thing’ is clear and easy to see. Other times, I am hopelessly confused.

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