December 20, 2004
Today was about experiencing pure, unadulterated joy. And not because of anything specific, (although some wonderful things happened), but because I was just able to access it. To let it in, more accurately. And it just kept coming.
I was miserable enough recently enough, and will surely be miserable enough soon enough. But one really should acknowledge and celebrate such days when they occur, because they are certainly rare enough.
I went to sleep last night on only 1/2 of one milligram of Xanax, and I don’t even think that was necessary. (Tonight I’ll try nothing at all). I think, most importantly, I had finally stopped obsessing over the behavior of the man who didn’t say yes when I wanted to hear it. I allowed myself to stop resisting the verity that I had been rejected. I allowed myself to just BE rejected.
I didn’t die. It was OKAY. Much more comfortable than jumping through hoops trying to find ways to prove to myself I wasn’t really rejected (with more than enough ammo to feed my denial, I might add.) Basically, I took the advice I gave D. in "Surviving Rob." Be with the pain. And it will not kill you. Resisting the pain might, though.
So relatively at peace I slept blissfully, dreaming of flying. I haven’t dreamt of flying in a while, but when I used to, I always flapped my arms like wings. In this dream, I flew like a fish swims. Swooping up and in and out like a dolphin. For HOURS, I swear. It was SO much fun.
Then I got up, without too much drama about getting up, and went to my ADAP appointment. This will allow me to get back on my once-a-day meds. The woman who helped me, Chris, was like the fantasy lesbian from bureaucrat heaven. She was completely cool about the situation, and we talked politics and bashed Bush the Bozo et al. for a good 20 minutes.
The same thing happened at the Doctor’s office. The three of us waiting held a virtual seminar on the election and how certain we were that Ohio was stolen. And ended up feeling comforted that Kerry at least won’t have to try clean up the uncleanable mess in Iraq and the economy. We’re gonna watch those evil, stupid men that lead us drown in the horrors of their own making. We just hope they don’t bring the country with them. But Americans are thankfully, a resilient and basically honest people, who eventually come around when the truth blasts them in the face long enough. (Oh, and I also got a flu shot and a testosterone shot. My pecs are starting to get perky for Albuquerque.)
Then I spoke to my Parole Officer, who had good news and bad news. The bad news was that the paperwork she sent in was returned because she filled it out without some number or some such on it. The good news was that she got me a pass to go to Albuquerque and spend the holidays with my sister, brother-in-law, niece and nephew. I’ll be on a sleeper car Thursday night, from Union Station. My sister said the bed sleeps three! Lions and Tigers and Bears, oh my!
Then I went somewhere to meet Andrea, (where is a secret because it involves surprise holiday gifts from both of us.) We walked in on one of my favorite actresses, and as she left I told her "Ms. Pleshette, you’re wonderful…" and she turned and responded in her inimitable gravely voice: "Thank you daahhhling." What Andrea and I were doing occasioned the telling of my "story" to the store owner (sans the the departed Suzanne, helas)). But the store owner, Pamela, was wonderful, and we left with hugs all around. (Oh my God, I’m becoming a hugger! I was never a hugger!)
Then Andrea and I went out for a sandwich at a bistro. She told me the ear-popping story of the harassment her boyfriend and her have endured from an ex of his. Trading stories with the prodigious listener and fabuloso raconteuse that is Andrea is always joy, even when the stories told are a bit hair-raising! (It’s also perversely comforting to know that even really nice, law-abiding people can find themselves caught in intractable dramas.)
Then we came home and we talked to my darling Maman, and I called my niece to celebrate her 20th birthday! Dat bitch is da bomb! (I used some prison lingo I picked up on her. She loved it.)
Then I went to a meeting, and got confused at the time, and got there a half a hour early. I saw an ex-client and we re-bonded, no pipe necessary. And I spoke for 20 minutes with a visitor from San Francisco and learned all about building forensics. Don’t ask, but I might pitch it to CBS. The speaker, as it appears to be increasingly the case, said exactly what I needed to hear. His first sentence was about fearing sobriety to be about drudgery, and finding out it was about joy. And as always, in these rooms, there was much laughter. For me, personally, this is the biggest reason I find the meetings much more fun than work. Recovering alcoholics can still be the life of the party (just no longer the death of it.)
I always thought drinks and drugs enhanced and accentuated. They may have even for a time for me, and they may do so for others. But they unquestionably stopped doing so for me, and would doubtfully do so again if I went back to them. (The highway may be faster than the byways, but the tolls are too damn high and the view is nowhere as interesting.). More importantly, as the speaker deftly pointed out "You know exactly what that experience is like. What you don’t know is what it might be like to be sober for 10 years." I can’t argue with that.
Bottom line, I’m finally starting to feel (not just think, or know intellectually), that I don’t need accentuation or enhancement or medicating. I don’t need to be half numb to feel anything. I just need to be myself, whoever the fuck that is.
Today I was like that woman in the 70s greeting her husband at the door dressed in nothing but Saran Wrap. Total Joy. (Or was that Total Sex? Whatever, it felt good.)
MCO 2004
P.S. Now I’m watching Faye Dunaway do the tribute to Warren Beatty at the Kennedy Center Honors. I lived right next door to her for 10 years, I did, I did, I swear it!
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