2 Epic Journeys, One Amazing Result

It was January of 2006 and little did I know how the rest of the year was going to pan out.

Here's how it began:

My daughter was visiting on what I felt was a special day. Mankind was about to stretch its wings, and I wanted to see every moment of the upcoming journey. A rocket/spacecraft called New Horizons was slated to take off, which was the kickoff to a 9 year trek to Pluto and points beyond. This was right up my alley, maybe not so much for my girl.

My daughter was 9 years old at the time and life was just about to shift gears for her, unfortunately (or fortunately, depends on how you look at it). Myself, I was in the increasingly severe yet waning phase of my alcoholism. Life was about to alter its course for me as well.

We were sitting on the couch, watching the countdown for the little rocket that could, when something dawned on me: once this spaceship arrived at its destination, Shelby and I would look back and recall the day this event started! I explained to her that the ship would have traveled 3 billion miles during that time span....wow. Of course, 3 billion miles is hard for anyone to truly comprehend, especially a 9 year old. I then started on about how not only was it a long trip for the ship, but that was also a lengthy time span for our lives as well. 'A LOT can happen in 9 years.' Yes, I said exactly that to my wide-eyed baby girl.

that was to be my Nostradamus moment-my intuitive, prophetic rambling that would later be a daily, fearful bane for many moments to follow.

It was December of that same year that the then 10 year old Shelby would see her daddy go through a horrible event, involving alcohol, police, violence towards innocent participants, family members regarding me with trepidation and disgust; you name it, it was in there. I was the subject of the disdainful conversation. My own family having nothing to do with me, even having me removed from their property....

The Scourge of Arlington

...and one more for good measure...censure was my budding reality.

The rest of my story has been disclosed numerous times in this very blog. So, to the faithful reader, I will not go over it again. But, to those of you reading my drama for the first time, let me say that the rest of my tale gets much uglier, but by March of 2007, I was on the road to recovery with 3 months of sobriety. Well, lets say 3 months of abstinence, because no one is actually sober in that brief amount of time.

Moving on, this unfamiliar state of being for me was serendipitous, to say the least. To this day, the way the following events evolved is beyond understanding. Was it serendipity? I'll explain: right around this time of my recovery, my daughter was beginning to slide into a lifestyle that would eventually take her to the very brink of insanity, several points of no return-just like her DADDY- but in a much quicker amount of time. She, too, possesses the addiction gene that goes back generations on my side of the apple tree. Her story is her's, and I will not share it here. Someday I will write about this in more detail, and allow her to tell her side, her way.

The point is, had I not been a sober father for her, we would both probably be dead. Does that seem melodramatic? Well, it isn't. That's about as plain as I can put it. But it was my sobriety and my conviction to let go and let God, a concept that wasn't easy for me to accept, that got us both through that painful period.

In recovery, we talk about "triggers". Triggers are things that cause addicts and alcoholics to want to run back to our fix. It is a tried and true coping mechanism that is purely instinctual, mainly because most of us drank and used for so long. We never knew of any other way to cope. Well, watching my kid go through all of the pain and turmoil of addiction, watching and witnessing her suffering and confused method of living was easily my biggest trigger. That was the one thing that could have, should have driven me back to the comfortable embrace of alcohol.

But it didn't. And the reason I didn't is this: I knew, deep down to my core, that it was my job to walk her through this. It became clear to me early on that God had a very precise purpose for me. I was to use all of my experience as a pitiful, despicable, selfish alcoholic and hold my beautiful, precious daughters hand and get her through this period of her life, no matter how long it took.

I never Judged. I never yelled. I never preached. And most importantly, I NEVER ENABLED Her. This was her journey, and I was going to let her traverse it on her own. But, I was always there to pick up the pieces, dust her off, offer a calm, quick word of advice, and let her go.

This was and probably will be, EVER, the hardest, most challenging thing I have ever done...and I've done some pretty messed up stuff, believe me. And, throughout all of this, I would occasionally think back to that day we watched the rocket fight its way out of the Earths gravitational grasp. And I'd say to myself, we're never going to make it. We're not going to see the end of the journey.

I did a lot of praying. I did a lot of crying. I was constantly introspective, not allowing anyone to to advise me my next step. Every time, usually at a meeting, I opened up to catch people up on my daughters situation, I was always swarmed with well-wishers and those that wanted to shower me with advice. They wanted to explain to me how much danger I was in as far as taking a drink if I didn't watch it. I have to tell you that those moments made me so Goddamn angry, I couldn't see straight. I didn't need anyone's advice. I didn't WANT anyone's input. All I needed was an outlet. Thats all. I just wanted to get things off of my chest so that I could live to see another day. At one point, I stopped going to meetings because I was so emaciated from worry and anxiety, people thought I had cancer! Yes, they did. I looked horrible, and did NOT want to answer any questions as to why I looked so shitty. I was ashamed to go out in public because I was so wasted emotionally...and physically. God bless my AA family. I love them so much, but this was MY descent into Hades, not theirs. I hoped they'd understand.

But, I was sober. I didn't drink, and I hardly ever really considered taking a drink. I look back and can't believe it myself. How did I do it? My understanding of God had a lot to do with it. I kept myself spiritually fit, for the most part. That, and I didn't want to let my baby down. I knew that if I were to drink over the fear and worry I was experiencing over my daughters addiction, I would be signing not only my death certificate, but hers as well.

I was determined for us to see that damn space explorer make it to Pluto.

On the weekend of July 4th of this year, Shelby and I were driving back from Mississippi, after a visit with family. New Horizons, the space probe, was just a week or so away from its meeting with Pluto. Thats when I brought the subject up to her. I wasn't sure she would remember because not once did I mention it to her during the past 9 years.

And she remembered.

We made it.

A Funny Thing

A funny thing happened before going to the in-laws around Christmas 2006:

I remember coming downstairs, it was still light out, and then I came to, lying on the couch with Christmas Vacation on the television. It was dark out. As I was shaking off my blackout, I realized that something was wrong. 

No one was home. 

Weren't we supposed to go to my in-laws' house today? Why am I still at home, and where is my wife, my kids? I made some phone calls and the ugly reality of what I had done, yet AGAIN, began to come clear. I guess I went nuts. My wife and son ran to mom's house. My ex-wife came and picked up my daughter. I threatened to kill her husband. Cops came in abundance. My 10 year old daughter stood and watched her dad get thrown to the ground by the police, weapons drawn. At some point they just tossed me on to the couch, which is where I woke.

I drove to the in-laws' house and the cops were called yet again. My family wanted nothing to do with me. NONE of them. Surprisingly, as the police watched me stumble back to my car, they offered to give me a ride home, rather than entrap me into a sure-thing DUI. That was very nice of them.

I eventually retrieved my car, packed my shit, drove home. My Mississippi home. And, there was about to be a fourth ex Mrs. Brown.

Good times continued to go bad in good ol Mississip. More cops, more familial antipathy, lots more drinking. Any remaining details are inconsequential, except for the fact that I holed up in an Econo Lodge and proceeded to drink myself to death. 

Thankfully, I didn't succeed.

They say to never forget your last drunk. Well, I certainly haven't forgotten mine. This little jaunt down memory lane is just one event drawn from a rather rich and illustrious history of my alcoholism. Eight years ago today, I decided to do something...different. For years I didn't have a choice. I had to drink. Couldn't live without it.

What happened on that day, in that miserable motel room is something that I've come to realize that I will never really be able to explain. After years of complete and total dependence on alcohol, how did I come to decide to really quit? I mean, this wasn't the first time, ooohhh no. As the saying goes, I was sick and tired of being sick and tired. Yes, I get that. But, that doesn't fully quench my thirst for true understanding.

I will probably never truly understand the sudden change of heart. We are talking about a love affair with something that I had decided I was going to die with. That decision had been made years before this fateful day.

I am an alcoholic, so be it. I will die a drunk, so be it. Forever and Amen.

Yet, here I am, telling you oh faithful reader of my 8 year accomplishment. My 8 year journey of sober recovery. Oh Yes, you better believe I am a recovered alcoholic. 

Without boring you of my Uncertainty Principle pontifications, I will just say that I am so grateful that I can share this with you today. 

Yet, what I wish to leave with you today is a declaration of hope. There is hope for those that are new to this altered state of reality, this journey of sobriety. If you happen to be a friend or loved one of an alcoholic, then you can take what I am saying here to heart and truly believe that miracles do happen.

But, what you can't do is make them do it. It has to be their decision. Yet, the action that you can take is actually an incredibly important one. And that is to not enable them. For example, and this one is a biggie, do not bail them out of JAIL!!! 

If it comes down to it, you must remove them from your life, in a way, and let the chips fall as they may. This is the best thing you can do for them. It's called Tough Love. And it works.

Trust me. I've had to do it.

Wow, what a deal. I am 8 years sober today. And I owe it to all of those that finally stopped enabling me. And to some very special people I've met along the way, several of them who are no longer with us.

-take care and thanks for reading

-stay awesome, 

coop

p.s. This is for you, Curly. I miss you so much

State of Sobriety Address

I've been thinking. I've been thinking to myself, unannounced to my wife, because in general the thought of me in a state of rumination causes alarms to go off.

For the first time in a very long time, I actually have a much clearer connection to my inner self. Lately, and I mean for the past several years, along with my constant state of recovery, I've been occupied with the state of my family (wife, kids, parental units, etc....), the most recent being my daughter. I believe most of you can recall some of my past epistles on this matter.

But, at this very moment, everything has come to a nice, level pathway, and I actually have some time to analyse my present State of Sobriety.

I'm still sober. I'm still in contact with God, but my desire to enrich my relationship with my Higher Power has faltered a bit. Also, I feel that my spiritual growth has come to a standstill. I mean, I still pray regularly, but I don't read my special, motivational publications as much as I used to. These books are vital for keeping my mind forever searching, and altering my perspective so that I can continue finding alternate, yet acceptable answers to all of my questions.

There. That's some of it right there. I'm the kind of guy that has to read frequently. My mind craves constant informational input. That's what makes this ol boy tick, so to speak.

Now, for the past couple of weeks, I've been doing some thorough introspection. I need to occasionally remind myself that I'm an alcoholic, and the process requires me to "play the tape". You'd be surprised how quick my mind can shift into auto-pilot, thus allowing our disease to sneak in and convince me that I can drink like "normal" people.

As most of you know, I attend "meetings" from which I gather additional reassurance and support concerning my alcoholism. But, I am guilty as of late of not attending as many as I'd like. Several years ago this would cause a problem, but today it's a little less taxing on my well-beingness if I miss a meeting occasionally. I owe this to the fact that I have been working my program of recovery to the Nth degree, since I started this journey in January of 2007. In short, I know exactly what I can do, and what I cannot do, when it comes to jeopardizing my sobriety.

My sobriety has always come first. well, almost always. When my daughter was in trouble, I put her well-being first. And I did that because I know no other way of being a father. That's part of the job.

Speaking of my daughter, I have learned just recently, 3 days ago in fact, that she isn't doing exactly what I'd wish for her to do, and that's all I will say. She is now 18 years old, I have done all that I can do, and now I just have to literally turn her over to God. This is much easier to do now that she is of "legal" age. Yes, I realize that at this age they are still babies and still need our help. I will still be there for her, it's just that she no longer has to do what her mother and myself would have her do. Technically, she is now on her own. By the way, after so many years of picking up the pieces and putting Humpty back together again, I am experiencing that dreaded "empty nest" syndrome. And I do not like it.

Gee, look how long it took me to get to the root of my present problem! Haha

Well, it's all good, for the most part. Susie and I are doing pretty good and I am so very blessed in so many ways.

One more thing. I recently went to a Heavy Metal concert, (Black Metal, to be precise) and had an amazing time. Music is my first true love, and it is especially nice to go to a concert and actually remember the damn thing! So many concerts in the past that I cannot recall, at all. Yes, most everyone there was imbibing, but that is not a "trigger" for me, and that, my friends, is a miracle!!

Trust God. Clean house, and help others. That's how you do it.

-until next time, stay awesome

-coop

Gratitude, Again

It almost seems an unspeakable word.

It's the word that causes many a disgruntled moan or hiss at your local AA meeting hall.

Not always, of course, but sometimes folks just don't want to address the possibility of Gratitude during a certain timely, arduous period of life. Addicts and alcoholics especially have difficulty finding the sometimes elusive bubble of gratitude during the latest "Life" challenge (yes, I've come to view life as a set of challenges, to be met one at a time, if possible).

Quickly, I'll explain:

This is the welcome bane of your average addict/alcoholic's existence. It stems from our stunted emotional growth. When we started using or drinking "alcoholically", we inadvertently suspended our emotional development. Basically, this means that I was still a teenager, emotionally, when I finally decided to face my demons and start living a sober life. Once our disease kicked in, we were so burdened with a deep seated fear of life that there was no possible chance for our minds to pick up on how to deal with life's everyday responsibilities. We were too plastered and narcissistic to learn differently, or even take notice of ANY healthy coping habits.

Our only coping mechanism was at the bottom of a bottle or in a syringe. Instead of choosing to be happy that we were among the living and embracing every challenge with civility and maturity, we thought only of ourselves, obsessed over the wreck our life had become, blaming everyone that loved us, and drinking or using to make all of that FEAR go away! And, God forbid if someone should try to impede our alcoholic progress!! 

Remember: It wasn't about how MUCH we drank. It was about WHY we drank (or used). We needed to numb our minds to the reality of our abomination of a past. There wasn't so much to be proud of, so we chose to "abuse" it away (I say Abused, because there are many other addictions out there that people suffer from, subconsciously attempting  to achieve the same outcome).

(Maybe I've said too much) Anyway, when one is new to sobriety, it is damn near impossible to harness the simple complexities of gratitude. We are still way too selfish and myopic to even entertain the idea that it's great to be alive! (much less that we can tie our on shoes, or that we even HAVE a pair of shoes to TIE!).

That is no joke.

Here comes my point. Sometimes, as we go along our sober little lives, we begin to get comfortable, not really complacent, but our recovery does become a bit routine. Then, all of a sudden, an event so dire and calamitous arises, and BAM!! We're confronted with a situation that is all too familiar: a REAL reason to DRINK. 

I've recently had one such experience.

Except, today I have a Choice. Back in the day, I didn't have a choice...I just drank. It's all I knew to do. I was morally and spiritually bankrupt. Today, drinking is not an option. This is reason enough to be grateful. Did I immediately recognize that I should be grateful that today I have a choice? Of course not. But, my first reaction did not contain one thought about drinking. I went straight into action, which is what my program has taught me.

And I'm living proof, that it can be done. No matter how bleak the outcome may sometimes appear to be, drinking doesn't have to be a part of the solution. Believe me, there is nothing so bad that drinking will not make worse.

I thought my little girl was going to be psychotic for the rest of her life as a result of smoking a vile substance called K2. Synthetic Marijuana is the oh-so-harmless official term for it. All of the professionals on the 10th floor were unable to give us any heart warming news.

She may or may not come out of it, they said.

Oh my God. I was so full of fear, I maybe got 12-14 hours of sleep over a 3 week period. I almost went insane myself just from the fear of not knowing if she was going to be okay. I can't even clearly recall the first 4 or 5 days of when this started. I was in shock. I went into a nebulous state of existence.

BUT...
I knew I wasn't alone
I've been by her side the entire time
I NEVER wavered, NEVER allowed her to see my fear
And, most important of all, I never drank. 

I grabbed that son of a bitch by the Buster Browns and never looked back.

Let me keep this real: Did I ever think of drinking? Yes, I did. Twice. But, the inclination left me about as quick as it jabbed me. No more than several seconds. You might ask exactly what was it that quashed the almost natural thought of taking a drink?

I replayed, in my minds eye, all of the times that I DID drink. It didn't help then, and it sure as hell wasn't going to help now. About a week or so ago, I actually tried to imagine what might have happened if I would have taken a drink to to 'take the edge off'. I quickly discovered that it was so horrible to think about that I had to cast it from my mind. Just thinking about it made me sick and extremely anxious, and that was just from imagining it for a few seconds! 

Ultimately, my beautiful daughter would've lost her father. Of that, I have absolutely no doubt.

Shelby is doing wonderfully today. She has been in rehab for a little over 2 weeks, and her psychotic states are few and far between, if there are any at all.

Am I grateful? You better believe it. I understand now. My journey, starting way back when, up to this point, makes complete sense. I have achieved something unequivocal now. And I did it Sober.

Thanks to all of you for your prayers. Your mental companionship during this incredible time of our life is appreciated beyond words. Thank you so much.

And, Thank You God. You took it away which allowed me to be what I've always wanted to be. 

A Daddy :) 

My Baby: The Biggest Challenge Yet

This is my baby, Shelby. Just look at how beautiful she is. Plus, she is brilliant and extremely funny, her sense of humor a mirror image of mine.

I realize that she is all growed up, but she is still my baby. She always will be.

Just a few weeks ago, Shelby and a friend came by for a visit. She was excited because this friend had some sobriety and Shelby felt that it would be a positive influence on her, as she wants some semblance of sobriety as well. We all had a wonderful visit.

That was the last time I actually laid eyes on her until 8 days ago. We talked and texted plenty, but I didn't see her. She's a busy teenager, right?

Shelby was baptised on April 28, and I remember how excited she was to be back in the embrace of a solid foundation of faith. 2 days later, she called me and said that she was having some very "intense" dreams, almost nightmares. She also mentioned that she was hearing voices. These voices were the locutions of good forces and evil forces, according to her. She felt that there was a battle in progress, a battle for her soul. Fortunately, she told me, the good guys won. She felt that her recent baptism played a key role in the result of this battle.

A few days later, her mother called me, at work, and asked me to go pick up "your daughter" at the hospital. WTF?? I told her that that was impossible. I couldn't leave work, and my relief wasn't due for several hours. Besides, the hospital was a few miles from her, 30 miles from me. Do the math. She wasn't making any sense, and she hung up on me. She never did fully explain why Shelby was in the hospital, but we've been dealing with ER's for a long time with our daughter. That was on Thursday, May 1st.

Saturday morning, Shelby's mother called to tell me that our daughter was in the JPS psyche ward ER. Now, Shelby has been there before, but the circumstances were different. This time, her mom told me, Shelby was acting strange, thinking the she was God and that she and Jesus both died for our sins. She has "saved the world", she said to her mom. I hate to admit this, but at first, I entertained the idea that Shelby could be faking, as she tends to be a bit dramatic, for the attention. I was wrong.

When I got to the ER, on the 10th floor at JPS, one look into my baby's eyes was all it took. Shelby was no longer there. Oh, she knew who I was, but that was the only indication that she was my daughter.

The ER environment was horrible. She stayed in like a small waiting room, sleeping in a recliner for the time she was there, which was 3 days. The hospital had to wait for a bed to open up in the Adolescent unit, which is where she is now, thank God.

The few of you that have faithfully read this blog know all about my journey thus far. I've been very open about the trials and tribulations of my recovery. Bumps in the road? There have been a few, and I have kept true to my altruistic message: Clean house, trust God and help others. This is the secret to my success in recovery. It's as though I can deal with anything that comes my way, right?

Well, I never DREAMED, imagined, suspected, blah blah blah that something like this could happen to my baby. NEVER. Yes, she has been abusing drugs for several years. She has been to a few rehabs, yet I know thousands of people that have abused drugs, me included, and I mean REALLY abuse them. Sticking needles in every vein in their body, smoking anything they can get a hold of, etc.... But nothing like this ever happened to them??! You know? I'm talking decades of drug abuse, and today they are sober and in recovery.                                                                                                                

Then there's my sweet daughter, out there doing the deal as we say, and after an intensive meth binge ( about 30-40 days, according to Shell ), she gets a hold of some K2, and now she is a textbook schizophrenic. I just don't fucking get it.

My poor baby. GOD, this is just SO HARD. It's horrible, going to visit her, staring into her beautiful eyes, and seeing a stranger. Unbelievable, really. She knows who I am, and her mom, etc.... But she has these psychotic mannerisms, thoughts, statements and such, and it's just unbelievable.

Nothing in this fucking journey of mine has prepared me for THIS bullshit, NOTHING! My journey in recovery has nothing to do with the pain involved with looking into the eyes of the most precious human being in my life, and seeing a stranger. NOTHING!!

Please pardon my language. As you can imagine, I am very angry right now. No, I am not angry with God. I would have in the past, but not now. My girl made every choice, you know? She had a choice.

Later today, I will hopefully talk to the ever-elusive Doctor in charge of her case. Yep, that's right. Shelby has been there for 10 days, and I have YET talked to a Dr. I've been there every day, and talked to plenty of her nurses. I believe the nurses know more about what's going on anyway.

I have a few things to say to this Dr.

Thanks for reading, I will keep you posted.

God bless,

coop-

Emotional Growth

Well, hello once again, all. I said I was gonna write, and so here it goes, as promised.

I don't know, really. Things have been kinda odd as of late. Lots of things have been happening in my life, both good and bad, but it is still a learning and growing process. According to Sobriety 101, once we started using and abusing, we stopped growing emotionally. Which translates as- when I began this sober journey, I was the emotional equivalent of a 12 year old kid. So...that means that I am approaching 20, I guess....

Well, that's what they say, anyway. That being said, if you're struggling, and things don't seem to be going as well as you think they should, just remember this: give yourself a break, you are still maturing. WE are still learning how to deal with life as mature adults, something I've never done before.

I don't know, anymore. There was a time when sitting down and writing about my experiences was just the easiest thing to do. Now, I just can't seem to be able to evoke the same emotion as I once used to. I don't think my passion for sobriety is gone, it's just that I don't feel motivated to write about it anymore. Sobriety is still the most important factor of my life, but my desire to "save the world" is gone.

I've spent a lot of time thinking about this. It could very well be my ego, possibly. Since no one seems to read what I write, it makes me feel like I'm not reaching anyone, you know? BUT, I hesitate to mention 'ego' because it's our ego we begin to quash once we enter into recovery, fulling intending to work the program. So, it frightens me to think that my ego is still lurking in the background, seeping into the fallible weak spots of my program. YIKES!!!

If I proclaimed that 'it ain't so', then I might have a problem. But since I'm presently aware and actively addressing it with you, well, maybe there's hope for me yet! Life has been steadily presenting new and improved challenges for my alcoholic mind. Thankfully, with God's help, I'm trudging my way through it with my sobriety intact.

Anyway, there you have it. There's my little offering for now. I'm still growing, as you can see. Certainly better than being six feet under

Coop-

Another Year Comes To Pass

Well, here's to another year. I am quite comfortable with closing the book on 2013.

2013 started with my Father-in-law's birthday on the 1st, then my Mother-in-law's death on the 2nd. Six hours later that day, my wife had a heart attack. Several months later, my father had a heart attack.Wham Bam, Thank you ma'am.

Things are still not quite right with everyone. But, my wife and my dad are doing fine.

Let me explain 'not quite right': it seems as though the family has not been the same since Sarah's demise (my Mother-in-law). With the recent holiday season being the first time without her, I'm guessing it was weighing heavy upon everyone's heart. We didn't really get together and celebrate like times past. Isn't that strange? At a time when one would think that the family would draw upon each other for strength to endure the missing link, we were satisfied with taking the path of the Gypsy and remaining remotely aloof and distant. The Teflon brood, we are. Nothing sticks to us, let alone to each other.

Well, as the old adage goes, we all deal with stuff in our own way, right? I guess.

So, is anyone out there struggling with the temptations of the holidays? I hope not. You know, we will use any excuse to drink. The holiday season is is high on the average alcoholics list of "occasions to imbibe". When I actually take the time to think back to the days of my drinking, I try to recall my actual thoughts in regards to my reasoning to drink. Of course, every day was a good day to booze it up, but the holidays were not only an occasion, but a valid reason to not only drink, but to do so in extreme excess (even though, I drank excessively every day). So, when sobriety was becoming a subconscious necessity, I would wonder to myself, but what am I going to do on the holidays? I have to drink on those magical occasions. Of course, I would ponder that point to the Nth degree, never bringing to mind all of the other 'special occasions' I would reason to drink: birthdays, weekends, after a hard day at work (every day was a hard day, of course), my next divorce, funerals, maybe a friends wife would have a baby? What would I do then???

The ugly truth is that every day was yet another reason to drink. I could come up with all kinds of insane reasons. I had to. I needed to drink. People wanted to know why I drank so much, so I had to come up with valid reasons. And no matter the dreadful result of each blind blackout, I would go back for more.

In my recovery, I have learned about the nature of alcoholism, specifically that it is a two-fold disease. There is a mental obsession accompanied with a physical craving. Put another way:

 1) alcohol is all I can think about; it's existence in my life is first and foremost; simply planning ahead, when approaching an inevitable fearful, dreaded moment without it, will direct my every thought and movement in order to acquire more (this is compounded with the fact that my wife is somewhat unaware of my passion for the drink, so I have to be sneaky). 

Whenever I over-analyze my disease, one of the many quandary's that still elude my reasoning to this day is why? Why was I mentally obsessing over this stuff? About the only logic I can attach this to is that feeding my brain was my primary coping mechanism. I couldn't deal with life without being under the influence of some sort of mind-altering substance. Self medicating? Probably. I became accustomed to being 'buzzed' in order to put my foot forward. I garnered a kind of confidence that was otherwise alien to me, left to my own devices. After awhile, this became as routine or natural as breathing. Little did I know that what I was really doing was hiding behind a mask, presenting a false identity to the world, stunting my mental and spiritual growth in the process.

When one finally reaches a point in which they are receptive to or ready to make a change, it's the process of rebuilding their mental and emotional maturity that is the process of Recovery. The actual act of taking a drink is only a symptom of a much broader problem. I guess you could compare it to a Civil War, after which all is said and done, begins Reconstruction. This is the actual difficult part. Stopping "drinking" is really the easiest part, which is a bit of a anomaly, because it ain't easy.

2) once I take that first drink, I simply cannot stop. If there is booze on deck, I'm gonna swig until I black out (which was usually the case) or until it's all gone, regrettably. It's at this point that I will begin obsessing over how and when I can get more. You get the idea, I hope.

Isn't that an ugly way to live?

As I was saying, all of those silly reasons (excuses) to drink were really just convenient self-assurances that it was okay for me to drink. And it was never really okay, you know? I was destroying my life and more importantly, the lives of those around me. The ones that Love me. Or loved me. 

After a few years of this sobriety thing, I no longer stress over going to a Christmas or New Years celebration. I just show up, don't drink alcohol, and have a good time watching others make fools of themselves! In reality, there aren't many people at these parties that drink excessively. In fact, they are always leaving unfinished drinks all over the place, which really drives me crazy!!! 

I used to think that everyone drank like I did. Boy, how wrong I was.

Well, I hope I haven't bored you to tears and thanks for reading. I'm looking to improve my skills at posting this stuff, because I have this crazy urge to write a book. I know that it will deal with addiction and recovery, but I'm still outlining the heart and soul of the content. But, I will continue to keep writing in here, 'cause I really need the practice!

Happy New Year to y'all. Let's be nice to one another, ok?

-coop

Holiday Hangover

Exactly 7 years ago today, this evening to be exact, I was behaving badly.

I was in a drunken blackout. My wife and son had vacated the premises, taking refuge at her Mother's house. Incidentally, this was the evening we were celebrating Christmas at my In-Laws' house, so we were all supposed to be there, yet I wasn't.

Instead, I was running around my front yard, threatening to kill my daughter's Step Dad. My ex-wife is the one that informed me of my exploits on that dreadful evening, since I have absolutely no recollection of the incident.

And, as was tradition at the time, Arlington's finest was dispatched to my abode to handle the situation. At one point they had me on the ground with their Nine's drawn, a deadly bead on my noggin. My 10 year old daughter revealed this little nugget of info to me. She was watching her Daddy. To this day I am still bothered by this particular part of the evening.

I remember coming to, on the couch, with Christmas Vacation playing on the DVD player. I was alone, wondering where everyone was. My only thought was to call Sarah, my Mother-In-Law, and tell her I was coming over. She said, "okay". It was at this point that I figured something might be wrong. In a fog of waxing anxiety, I drove on over. 

When I got there, I was greeted by my Brother-In-Law and James, my Father-In-Law...oh, and the Police.

James declared that he wanted me off of his property. Well, I wasn't leaving without my daughter, so one of the officers went into the house to ask her if she wanted to leave with me.

She told him that she did NOT want to leave with me. I don't blame her.

So, as I stumbled to my car, one of the officers offered to drive me home, which was incredibly kind and unbelievable, since they could have easily arrested me for driving while intoxicated. The sad story of my pathetic life.

The entire family was terrified of me. I'm sure it's a Christmas they'll never forget. Nor will I.

So, the 'Hangover' the title refer's to is the memory of my ultimate, drunken romp. It finally ended on Jan. 11th, 2007. I will always remember my last 'drunk'. It will forever hang over my head as a healthy reminder of how things used to be. I will not dwell on the past, nor will I shut the door on it.

Somewhere this holiday season, there's a homeless mother, with kids, wondering how she is going to shelter her family for the evening; wondering how they're going to eat. While we sit around making merry about a jolly old man in a red suit, delivering toys, those kids are probably simply grateful just for receiving a meal on Christmas. 

I'll wager that that homeless family is very aware of 'the Reason for the Season'. Today, I sure am.

With that hanging heavy upon my heart, I know that today I am truly blessed. I am the wealthiest man in the world. I am also extremely grateful. One thing in particular I'm grateful for is that I no longer have to drown myself in alcohol to suffer the Holidays.

Today, I focus on being with my family this time of year, and reflect upon what could have been if I never got sober. 'Grateful' just scratches the surface.

Today, that same Father-In-Law welcomes me into his home whenever I want to visit. Our relationship is on an entirely different level. We truly love each other immensely. What a blessing. Yes, I'm still married to the same woman. And yes, she is quite possibly insane!

Merry Christmas, Everyone

-coop

"A Descent Into the Maelstrom"

Please forgive me if this comes off as pretentious, but I cannot understand how a reference to one of my favorite authors hasn't occurred to me until now.

The author is good 'ol Edgar Allan Poe. The short story is A Descent Into the Maelstrom.

Of course, I'm using this as a reference to the disease of Alcoholism. Now, the story bears no resemblance or insight to the typical journey of an alcoholic. But, what I wish to confer in this epistle is a series of uncanny, seemingly harmless occurrences that I consider the incipiency of my alcoholism.

In my elementary school days, I vaguely remember hearing of a mysterious author by the name of Edgar Allan Poe. I believe it was The Raven that first peaked my interest. But, it wasn't until Junior High that I came across the story A Descent Into the Maelstrom. And, I can clearly remember what vexed me so about this particular title: what in the hell is a maelstrom??

The rest of this story unfolds in a predictably typical, mundane fashion: I discover that a maelstrom is a gigantic whirlpool, I read the story, love it, Poe becomes my favorite author, alongside Conan Doyle. It's also around this time that I discover the wonderful, pleasing, warm, cozy embrace of King Alcohol.

Thus, this marks the beginning of my own descent into the Maelstrom. Yeah, this does seem to be a tad bit cheesy, but it really does present an accurate metaphor.

My drinking career, early on, is a classic study in adolescent experimentation. It was fun. I was breaking the rules, yet I was being hailed a rebel. A ground-breaking visionary, representing my fellow Jr. High Schoolers as a force to be reckoned with!

I will admit, my early drinking career was quite fun up until I I graduated High School. That's when things really started to go south. My behavior slowly went from decent to despicable, and it was then that I started drinking to forget. That, in turn, began the deterioration of my self esteem. All of that combined with spiritual bankruptcy makes for one miserable alcoholic. Only, I really didn't know I was miserable. 

Now, from that point up to the time I embraced sobriety, there were moments of happiness, but they never lasted very long. It also seemed to me that I was drinking to extinguish those rare moments of happiness. I'm pretty sure my ex-wives will corroborate this detail. 

So, there's my metaphorical presentation for the week. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I am grateful I survived my encounter with the maelstrom. In the story, three brothers were in the maelstrom and only one lived to tell about it. That's a 33.333...% survival rate. Compared to alcoholism, that's pretty good.

-later, coop

Status: Quo

I have to admit, these past couple of weeks have been very nice and quite uneventful.

I find that when I am being hit from every direction, I tend to forget about myself and focus on everything BUT me. My sobriety is everything to me. Without it, I am no good to anyone else.

Funny how that works.

For so many years I didn't care what use I was to others. All I cared about was me and when I could guzzle the next bottle.

Even though I'm sober, and have been going on 7 years, I still have to stay involved with the recovery process. Many people think, "hey man, it seems like you are doing good with not drinking. Why do you still go to meetings? You're cured, right?"

Wrong

One can never be cured of this disease. Like they say: In order to keep it, you gotta keep giving it away.

This is how cunning this disease is. Think about this for a second: A person gets Cancer, but the doctor says that he can treat it, and pretty much guarantee you a complete recovery. Without a doubt, that person's first words are, "When can we START?!?"

Now, take an alcoholic, and tell him or her that you have a program that will guarantee full recovery if they work it diligently, and you know what their first words are? "Ummm, let me get back with you on that."!!!

It's true. I've heard it a hundred times, at least. And don't be disillusioned about the mortality rate concerning alcohol. It is a Killer. Look it up for yourself. Plus, I don't think I've ever heard of someone having cancer and getting behind the wheel of a car and killing someone.

We all know what drinking and driving results in. Prisons are full of those individuals. I know. I used to carry the message to those prisoners.

Bottom line is, I have to maintain a steady connection with my recovery fellowship for the rest of my life, if I want to stay sober. But, sometimes life can get extremely complicated and become saturated with time consuming events. (and the events I'm referring to are of the long term variety).

When this happens, it is difficult to keep up with the little things that we need to keep us on track. And that's the kicker, is it not? It's during these times that we need our program the most, but the lack of time to be engaged keeps us away. Thus is the anomaly of our plight.

So, what do we do? We just keep doing the best we can. For me, my family is first. My mind cannot see it any other way. But, when I share this information with my sponsor or another close recovery member, they always say, "Well, Cooper, you still gotta take care of yourself." Well, no shit, Sherlock! Like I don't already know that?

But, if my wife is having a tough time, or my daughter, son, father-in-law, etc., needs me for whatever reason, I'm not about to say "well, honey, I'm sorry you're having a bad time right now, but I gotta go to a meeting. See ya later. Good luck." Unfortunately, that's exactly how life happens sometimes. Then before I know it, it's been 2 weeks since I've made a meeting!

As bad as that is for my recovery, I am able to evaluate and pinpoint the importance of what I am doing for my family, and realize that what I am doing is actually a part of my recovery. 

It's called a 'living amends'"

I'm making right that which I made so wrong for so many years.

And when that elusive extra hour finally does present itself? You're damn skippy that I go to a meeting! I'm too afraid not to.

I openly welcome the 'fear' that keeps me going.

Anyway, things are going fairly well right now. But, I will share with you that there is a slight squall on the horizon: this will be the first holiday season without my wonderful, beautiful, brilliant mother-in-law, Sarah Ethridge. That is beginning to put a damper on the general mood of my peeps, including myself. I've actually thought to myself that I'd just rather skip the upcoming holidays and move on.

But, that ain't gonna happen! We shall prevail, though.

God will see to it.

take care
-coop

A Minor Detachment?

This is a beautiful rendition of the Horsehead Nebula, located in Orion, taken by the Hubble Space Telescope; where Stars are truly born. You like?

My daughter is in rehab, in Corpus Christie, again. She has been there a little over a week. She has expressed to me that she actually wants to get sober.

The last time she was at this particular facility she did not want to be there. She made this quite clear from the get-go at the time. And, upon her discharge she made it abundantly clear that she despised sobriety. She openly discussed her defiant behavior she exhibited while in rehab.

She didn't want it, so she didn't get it.

I finally talked to her this past Wednesday, and I have to tell you, I almost didn't recognize her. Yeah, I knew it was her voice, but it was her mature delivery that threw me off. She sounded like a different person. And, she wasn't spewing empty promises. It was as if a switch had been thrown within. It was very strange, hearing this new and improved version of my baby.

The change in her couldn't be an immediate result of rehab, I'm certain (she's only been there about a week and a half). I believe it is something of a spiritual nature that has finally broken through her mental fog. I could actually hear the process of enlightenment in her words and in the timbre of her voice.

Of course, she is a drug addict, which qualifies her as an expert liar. As are all addicts and alcoholics. Time will tell.

Now to my purpose for writing: why am I seemingly apathetic towards this new and improved teenager? I feel as though I'm a detached, numb-headed nomad, confused as to how I want to feel about all of this. I mean, the last time she was there, all I could think about was making sure I sent at least 2 letters a week to her. Today? The thought of writing her just doesn't appeal to me. The feelings are similar to those pertaining to one of the many mundane chores we humans have in common that accompany our everyday existence. Like loading the dishwasher or filling up the gas tank.

That sounds horrible, doesn't it?

But, of course I have a good idea why I feel this way. I don't trust her. And, since I don't trust her, my mind is doing what it is designed to do; it is protecting me from all of the dreadful feelings I've felt for so many years.

After all of the disappointments, lies, and treacherous behaviors she has presented to us over the years, I think my mind is now officially on alert. Instead of my instinctual response of immediately going to DEFCON 1, (which is the most severe fear and worry mode), I'm hanging steady at DEFCON 5, refusing to allow myself to self destruct (which will be the end result if I continue to make myself sick with fear and dread).

I just cannot do that anymore. At least, not at this point. Hopefully, this time, I won't have to.

Hmmm, maybe I'm finally beginning to herd some acceptance into my program. God knows I've battled it for years. (Thing is, I've been able to settle into a comfy bed of acceptance with most other areas of my alcoholic life. But when it comes to my daughter, it has been a difficult, hostile crusade).

So, to all of you new to sobriety, just know that acceptance is a huge part of recovery. Don't be too hard on yourself if you don't get it at first.

Thanks for reading

coop

A Mental, Spiritual Locale

I thought it appropriate to let the few of you, who bless me with the honor of your time spent reading this humble blog, in on a new place of mine, ergo, state of mind. (ummm, get it?)

It's a little strange, so bear with me, but I consider it to be a personal,  pseudo-corporeal hamlet, encompassing my coveted, yet oh-so elusive ethereal safe place.

This desired safe haven I call Copacettica.

Yes, I gather that most of you have noticed the moniker in my last few posts.

It's a derivation of one of my favorite words in the English language, along with Shit (yes, I be so juvenile), Copacetic (also copasetic; copesetic). 

Copacetic [koh-puh-set-ik]- very satisfactory; OK. When things are going well, they're copacetic. This includes a range of meanings from "just fine" to "excellent". For a brief, albeit ambiguous, history of the word, click here. 

I've been hip to this word for years, having first heard it in the early '90s while working for the Southern Pacific Railroad. Thing is, I choose to employ the term very rarely lest I grow tired of it.

A few weeks ago, while obsessing over one of several distressing complications in my life, I found myself fantasizing the remote possibility of an actual place, or town, where everything is always "good to go". In no more than the blink of an eye, the word Copacettica rolled off of my tongue. The suffix -ica was subconsciously obvious because of America, Africa, Utica, Jamaica, etc.... 

You get the idea.

Once the realization of how cool the word sounded to me I started to toy with the tangibility of such a place. Then it hit me: Copacettica can be, in fact can really ONLY be, where one happens to be at the moment things are perceived as being excellent and/or doggone good to go!

Copacettica is literally EVERYWHERE...YET! (and this is a BIG YET)..., it's NOWHERE AT ALL.

That's where the individual, and his or her spiritual contact with God comes in. If you can triumphantly "let go and let God", then you, my friend, are There.

Now, I don't know about you, but I find that just the very thought of me sauntering the shores of my D. C. (District of Cooper), merely by turning my chaos over to God, very comforting.

Take a moment to let it sink in.

I know
That I'll be good to go, 
By quashing my desire 
To run the show.

I have to be willing to relinquish control. Wait...that doesn't really make any sense being that my perception of control, or the very idea that I'm in charge, is really just an illusion. The more I attempt to impose my will upon the world to do my bidding, the more fear, disappointment and resentment I'm going to bear.

And any drunk that has been around awhile can surely attest to the destructive nature of just a single resentment. When we harbor resentment, we drink again....

But with the alcoholic, whose hope is the maintenance and growth of a spiritual experience, this business of resentment is infinitely grave. We found that it is fatal. For when harboring such feeling we shut ourselves off from the sunlight of the Spirit. The insanity of alcohol returns and we drink again. And with us, to drink is to die. pg. 66

I hope this writing doesn't come off as an indicator that I'm ready for the Padded Palace. As silly as it may be, this process of "placing" myself in a state of surrender is much more preferable than the alternative. The obsession is gone and the physical craving a dim memory.

I wish I could say that my visits to my private burg are frequent and extended, but they are not. I still battle, internally, with letting go and letting God. It isn't a faith or trust issue, but seems to be that tiresome issue of ego. There are specific concerns in my life that seem to incite the innate process of "righting that what is wrong", and the recipients of the aforementioned intractable tendencies are my daughter and my wife.

I just can't help it. 

But as I keep saying, it is getting better. It is getting easier to turn it over completely. 

But, as of right now? I am definitely within the walls of Copacettica.

Lets make 'em laugh today-

coop

Quest for Copacettica

Are we there yet?

No, Not really. This trip started roughly 40 years ago and I'm happy to report that I'm still above ground. Everything that has transpired over the course of this expedition can be visualized in a linear fashion... ummm, kinda.

Every preceding thoroughfare led me to, and prepared me for each ensuing change of direction. (I might think of a different way of stating the preceding sentence).

Does it ever end? I'm not referring to my existence, or the end of the road. But, it seems like there hasn't been a decent rest stop in quite sometime. I've always been under the impression that as we get older, there are supposed to be more and more moments of coasting. At least, when I was younger, that's how my elders always appeared to me.

Like life was getting easier. HA!

I realize now that that is the amount of "attained wisdom" I see on their faces. It's the "knowing that you don't really know" that always set them apart. The elders have stopped fighting it and just reclassified each following event, yet continue to learn from it.

I'm still learning about "not knowing".

I'm a hell of a map reader. I love charting courses to new lands, new locations. But there's always a damn detour, ain't there? Traffic, road construction, etc.... Things that my highlighted pathway doesn't expose.

Becoming a parent was always a "highlighted" journey for me. I love being a Dad. A Father. (I just love the way that sounds). Being a Dad is by far the most wonderful part of my trip. BUT....

It has also been the most horrible part of my trip. I never could have imagined what being a Dad was going to be like. Oh, sure, I had an IDEA of how it might be...could be. But, I was just a tad bit off in my pre-visualization of the Parent Factor,  for lack of a better term.

There have been moments of pure joy and happiness. And there have been moments of complete terror that I was going to drop dead. Shit, at one time, all of my brothers and sisters at my home group thought I was dying of cancer because I was so emaciated. Caused by the constant fear and worry I put upon myself concerning my offspring.

please note that I didn't say, "my child put upon me". All of my fears and worry were all caused by me. But, naturally, I was, and still am, worried about my child. 

When you pick up your daughter, in the middle of the night, at her drug dealers (boyfriend's) house (he kicked her out), and see all of the track marks on your baby's arm, you tend to get a little worried. And, I'm proud to say, I didn't kill anyone. Of course I wanted to storm the house and break the little fucker's neck, and then rip off his arms and beat the shit out of him with them. But, I didn't.

I just told my baby how much I love her, and that everything is going to be alright. The things a Dad is supposed to do. Going to jail for Expedited Pre-Meditated MURDER wouldn't help her at all.

She needs me. I'm going to be there for her.

You see, it's been the purpose of my journey thus far. I am prepared emotionally, mentally and spiritually to guide her through all of this. Without the life I've had this far, I wouldn't have a clue as to what to do for her.

I'd say that's sound justification for my sobriety today, wouldn't you?

It was obviously meant to be-

Here's to tolerating others today,

coop

Greetings from Copacettica

Well, I wish I had a glorious tale to submit about the wonderful world of Sobriety, and just how well things are going since I've been sober. I admit, I have been blessed in Sobriety, namely, with a whole new perspective on life. The mere fact that I am still alive and living a new life is blessing enough.

I don't want this to be yet another boring, tired diatribe anent my depressing, ongoing familial tribulations. I'm beginning to feel that to continue to discuss these matters, I am doing more harm than good, personally. (It has taken about two hours to figure out how to phrase the last 2 sentences...I still don't get it). I mean, who in the hell am I helping if I just vent about my kid for the next year, right? Do YOU really want to hear all of the emotional BS involved?

I don't think so.

I guess the point should be that I have been able to maintain a solid, spiritual grasp on my sobriety throughout this ordeal. I used to run like a fearful, terrified child from the prospect of coping with any kind of real-life drama. Change was another trigger that fueled my fear, necessitating the intake of mind altering substances.

Alcohol, for this alcoholic, was simply a coping mechanism that developed into an addiction, that developed into a way of life, that developed into a mental obsession and a physical craving that became my means to an end. Or, a means attempting to avoid an end. But, that end came several times over the course of my drinking career.

Many relationships came to an end.
Many friendships came to an end.
There were many jobs lost and opportunities missed.
And, there was that bleak week in January of 2006, in an Econo Lodge in MS in which I tried to end it, literally.

I no longer want to "end it". While life may still continue to offer me an occasional Shit Sandwich, today I am just grateful that I'm alive and able to eat it.

How's that for a former angry, misanthropic asshole? (Ummm, okay, one out of three? I'm no longer angry)

It was all made possible by trusting God, cleaning house and helping others. Oh, and I also had to stop swimming in that Petticoat Junction water tower full of booze.

I may not always make the right decision nor do I always say the right things. But, at least I'm in a sober, sound state of mind and can at least try to make a decision, rather than scurry away and veil my inadequacies with alcohol. Capisce?

More later from Copacettica

Letting Go

I'm sitting here wondering how I'm still sober. And for some reason, I'm actually deciding to write a damn blog. I really have nothing inspiring to say. Right now I don't give a shit who reads this. I'm writing because I don't know of any other way to keep my mind occupied. At the start of my sober journey, this is how I made it; small increments at a time. 

Evidently, history really does repeat itself. 

I went to see my daughter this afternoon, to tell her "goodbye". She is leaving tomorrow, moving out, if you will, to God knows where. I certainly don't. 

She is a drug addict, and has been for the past couple of years. She is 17. In fact, while I was seeing her today, she admitted that she was high. Had been smoking crack all morning. 

I didn't yell, or jump up and down and scream at her. I never do. That's why we are so close. That's why she actually trusts me, I guess. She knows that I know that she is going to have to crash and burn on her terms. 

That's what I did, incidentally. 

I learned years ago that it doesn't do any good to rant and rave at any child. That's a sure fire way to shut them down, immediately. And when that happens, then where are you? At least when you talk to them with respect and understanding, they will actually listen to you. They won't necessarily do as you ask, but they do listen.

I've been working my program diligently for almost 7 years now. But, right now, no amount of program or talk of God is making this any easier. Yeah yeah yeah, all of the trite, cliched aphorisms have run through my mind, "let go and let God", "there's always hope", etc.... None of them are easing my mind, one bit. 

I realize that my sobriety is the most important aspect of my present life, and I have no desire to drink or use right now, which proves that point. But right now, none of it is a Goddamn guarantee that my daughter is going to be okay. NONE OF IT. And that is the fear that is driving me insane right now.

I know that now you may be thinking, "but Cooper, your program isn't supposed to tell you that she will be okay". Yes, I know that. It's about my sobriety and piece of mind. I get that. 

But, I can tell you that never in my wildest dreams, since the day she was born, did I ever imagine that she'd be at this point today.

This shit is not easy.

 This journey just seems to be getting more and more indefinable. Bipolar is a conditional word that comes to mind.

This is supposed to be a blog about my journey through this new life of sobriety. When I started this deal, with my very own "purchased" web address, I had this grand vision of spewing to the masses my personal take on recovery and enlisting my experiences to others in hopes of just possibly helping someone.

I never truly imagined that hundreds or even thousands would read this rag, I just set a goal to write and take on the personal enjoyment of a style of therapy that someone else could maybe relate to.

Now look at me; a couple of years later I find myself soaking in the tub of unavoidable pity, thinking that my life couldn't get much worse. Realistically, I know it could be worse, but that doesn't change the fact that there are some very shitty events in the present that are testing my sober resolve.

As far as expressing an obvious, logical observance to my present situation, let me assure you that if I chose to drink over the latest series of events, it would be so so so much worse. Ultimately, I might be so bold to say that I would probably have checked out with alcohol poisoning by now.

But, I haven't done that and I certainly have no plans to. Life still remains much more interesting with a clear head and the illusion of total recall (my memory is so much better now than it was when I was wallowing in whiskey).

Over the past 7-8 years, as most of you know, I have been a fairly busy substitute teacher, with a lengthy stint as a full time coordinator in the alternative classroom. Well, and I may be off of the time line a bit, over the past several years, I've been looking for other employment. Specifically a job with benefits and a few other bells and whistles. Yet, with every application I have turned in, whether it was on the internet or in person, I have been met with the sound of a door slamming. I tend to think that my police record may have something to do with it.

This has been bequeathing me and my wife a rather steady source of stress and anxiety. I really need a steady full time job. We've reached a point in life that is requiring a bit more capital for survival.

In the meantime, I've moved my son to college, 2 weeks ago and I've informed my daughter that it's back to rehab or move away and live your life elsewhere. We ( I ) can no longer be a part of her self destructive behavior. ( Definitely the hardest most heart wrenching discussion I've ever had to impart upon anyone ). The pain and fear is indescribable. Literally. And, my wife is not getting any better with her situation. In fact, as I write this, she is asleep, finally, on the couch after being up most of the night. ( Yes, I stayed up with her, naturally ).

But, and get this now, without jinxing myself, I may actually have that full time job I've been searching for. I had a second interview yesterday and filled out W-4's, direct deposit paperwork, fingerprinted ( several times ), etc.... So, it's looking pretty good, but please don't go off and tell anyone just yet, OKAY?? Like I said, I don't want to jinx it, and I'll believe it when I actually start my first day. I'll let y'all know.

But, my point I'm getting to is this: is this a sick joke?? My son has moved away and I have pretty much cast my daughter onto the street, and now I get a job?? What kind of "Higher Power" finagling is this!??

I'm not going to say this out loud, but if it was one or the other, I think I'd rather have my son back home and my daughter living a healthy life making good choices rather than this new job!

Do you get what I'm saying? But, I'm not in control of my son's or my daughter's destiny, and I really do need the employment, so I will be truly grateful if I get the job. It's just that it came at a really weird time.

Anyway, other than that, everything is going okay, I guess. Y'all take a moment to say "HI" if you can.

Later,

-coop

Back to One Day at a Time

Okay, did I mention that this may not be a completely, soul-searching, gut-wrenching blog site? I might have said that I was going to lighten up, just a little. My reasoning behind this somewhat esoteric disclaimer, is because I feel that now I'm under the scrutiny of the ever-popular Google, I may attract a much larger, more generalized viewer.

I'm not comfortable with that.

So, from here on out, I'm just going to stick to some watered-down sobriety basics, without too much drama. Here goes....

Lately, I've been a little more at ease with my sobriety, and the direction I'm going. I know for a fact why this is so. It has everything to do with my daughter, and her new sober endeavor. I like to think that I'm not trying to force my sobriety on her, that I'm really keeping my distance as far as not trying to sponsor her. And so far, I feel, I've done a pretty good job.

But, going back to my statement about my present contentment. It has to do with my daughter's present environment. Where she is, is a much better place for her, away from several of her old haunts and triggers. And, she seems to be relatively happy, for once. And as we all know, those with kids, when your children are happy, WE are happy. Right?

So, with the latest developments in that regard, I can now take a little time to assess my present physical and emotional sobriety, and what I've discovered is that everything is going ok. Really. I mean, I'm still stressed out over a few things, like employment, a successful pastime, etc., but I'm above ground and breathing.

And that's a good thing

You know, I'm not certain where my erratic lack of steady employment may take me. I do possess a little fear in that regard. It certainly isn't from a lack of looking and applying, so I don't feel totally guilt-ridden with it. But, there are certain family members that this affects, and I am not proud of that fact. Shit, maybe this will trigger a 'dedomiciling' of sorts (yes, that is a word), I don't know.

I've got to remember that I cannot control others. So, if she kicks me out, then she kicks me out.

I sure as shit cannot force someone to hire me, as much as I wish I could.

One cool thing I want to share is that I've been playing more music lately. A brief history: I've been a music lover as far back as I can remember. I've been playing drums since I was about 7 or 8 years old. I've studied music extensively ever since. So, really, I'm a percussionist, but drummer is a lot cooler to say!

Playing any kind of percussion instrument with a talented band is my most desired state of existence. Playing music is at the top of my list. And lately, after a rather lengthy hiatus, I'm getting back into it. Why? Because, I don't want to die without having tried to do what I love full-time. So, we'll see.

-Later

coop

A Total Loss of Control?

Okay, so here goes an attempt to write about sobriety without actually owning my little corner of the internet.

I feel like I should apply a forced, flash-player mp3, presenting an appropriate Dirge for what seems to be the death of SobrietyRules.

I'm very sad to see it go. I worked my tukus off just researching all of the ins 'n outs of web hosting, choosing the right template, and learning the language of web design. I know, I sound like a whiny geek, lamenting the demise of a dear family pet.

I will say this, the possibility of firing up SobrietyRULES in the future is always an option (ideally when an employer decides to accept my qualifications I've assumed on any given application!).

Now, I have always been very honest with you, sometimes painfully so. A little disclaimer is in order: I do have a little more time for my plight to shift, allowing me to keep the original project online. I've been praying.

Incidentally, allow me to pick a quick topic for discussion. It falls right into place with the previous admissions: Ego. Am I displaying a dreadful, selfish egotistic character defect? Am I way too focused on losing something I worked my ass off on? Maybe I should revert my feelings to those of gratitude, and just be thankful that God gave me the ability to embark on such an endeavor?

At first I was fearful of not being able to understand any of the intricacies of self-hosting a blog. But, I pulled it off, and I really enjoyed it.

I gotta tell you, writing all of this stuff out is extremely therapeutic! For weeks I've been privately brooding over the future loss of my site. 

This is definitely related to recovery, because you may be asking, "Gee, Cooper, you're blogging right now, so what's the difference between the old and the new?"

Well, I'll tell you: It's all about Control, which is every alcoholics favorite pastime! In here, I'm at the mercy of Google, where they can put up any kind of add they please on this blog, and other stuff as well. I no longer have control over everything my readers see on my blog. I don't believe this to be a "bad" kind of control, because I am very concerned about what my readers see, and what they may find offensive by way of, lets say, various comments people may leave. I didn't approve of every one, by the way.

There are tons of spam bots, and hateful people on the web, and I went to great lengths to make SobrietyRULES a pleasant reading experience (aside from my oftentimes brutish, offensive language!).

Anyway, I will close this off for now, I mainly wanted to do a "live" post, present it to a few people, and get some opinions. I ask you to please forgive my selfish, paltry, vehement mourning (here I go again) for my little ol' SobrietyRULES.

Love ya

-coop