Mama knows best.....

There goes that. My hopeful nicotine recovery has died an early death basically crushing my soul and mutilating my addict ego. I promised my sponsor on no uncertain terms that if it came to it, I would pick up a cigarette before I picked up a drink. Last night, closing out my 7th day w/o a smoke, it came to that. I was faced with the unthinkable. I folded. I smoked.

My company had a HUGE conference last night where we all had a chance to hear where the company is going, where we've been, and why we are all bright shining stars in the construction cosmos. It was cool, but I was totally twitchy from my nicfits. I also was having pretty extreme blood sugar swings as I've been acting out with all manners of chemically processed sweetness. I am a severe hypoglycemic and my blood sugar is fucked Six Ways from Sunday on a good day. Sugar is not just a no no, it is the root biological cause of my alcoholism. Eating, say, a Little Debbie does basically the same thing to my blood sugar and related emotional stability as drinking a Jamesons and Diet. Of course the J&D will get me drunk, beligerent, and blacked out so that is very bad news, I fully admit this. But the point is Sugar (also known as Satan's Semen) can lead me down the same Rabbit Hole.

But I digress. The conference came complete with an open wine bar. And as I was air kissing a female account executive I got a strong whiff of her Merlot and it unglued me. Shit. I never even drank Merlot. If I had to drink wine it was always Riesling. I'm a whiskey girl first, but white wine would do in a pinch. Red always seemed too cloying, drying somehow. The same way beer would fill me up far before I was as drunk as I wanted to be, red wine would dry me out before my thirst was quenched. My cottonmouth would force me onto water and that was never what I wanted during a bender.

So here I am with wildly fluxuating blood sugar levels, nictotine cravings that have re-doubled, and a merlot aromatherapy session to boot. My mind couldn't keep up with all the simultaneous yearnings, so my body took over and I went outside, bummed a ciggie, and smoked that bastard like my life depended on it. I finished politicking at the conference and headed out to Perry Street to try and catch the tail end of the 6:00. I picked up a pack of Parliament Lights from the Deli around the corner.

I got home and called GSBF, left him a message. Same with the BabyGirl. Finally I broke down and called....wait for it....Mom. My mother is not an alcoholic but she's becoming a black-belt in Alanon since I dried out. She's known this was a long time coming, however, so she's been psychically preparing her Recovery Arsenal for eons. Also, she speaks my language. Like GSBF she's spiritually centered in compassion and awareness and the healing power they bring. I understand what my Mom says, I may not always like it, but I get it at the deepest levels of my being.

It all poured out of me, as it is wont to do when one is sobbing hysterically to one's Mother. I told her how overwhelmed I felt with the magnitude of my addictions, how desperately I wanted to be healthy and free. How far away that felt. I told her about my filthy apartment and how I felt incapable of maintaining a normal and ordered life. How much I loved Yoga but couldn't seem to get my shit together in the morning (clean yoga clothes, yoga mat, and shaved armpits) to be able to do it during the workweek (when I really FUCKING need it). How quitting smoking made me binge on sugar and caffiene and now I feel comatose and despondent. I took a really deep breath and was just getting ready deliver the second onslaught of my self-pity when my mother interrupted me.

"I have two things to say Darling and then, if you must, feel free to continue. Firstly, I have never in my life known anyone as sensitive to sugar as you are. If you've been binging you're going to have to accept that your mind and body are still reeling from that. You're going to feel depressed, there's nothing you can do about it until your blood sugar straightens out."

"I know that Mama, but...."

"SECONDLY, the only way to prove to yourself that you are capable of doing the dishes is to do the dishes."

"Excuse me?"

"You are absolutely right that you were completely incapable of maintaining an ordered life while you were drinking. But you aren't drinking anymore baby! You have no idea what you're capable of now and you'll never know if you don't try out new habits and patterns. Honor yourself for the six days without cigarettes. That's amazing. Take a deep breath, hang up this phone, and do your dishes. It'll change your life. And you can call me back after that if you need to. I love you."

"I love you too Mama." We hung up and I looked at the clock. 9:15. I'm supposed to be getting to sleep now. But I know that's not going to happen, I'm too upset. But I NEVER clean after work! My days are too long! I clean on the weekends, when I have the time. Except I don't do that anymore either, I usually don't feel like it. And then it hit me, that's her point. Take the feelings out of it and do it.

I turned up my ipod and slowly went about the business of de-funking my kitchen. I sang, I scrubbed, I danced a little. Before I knew it the kitchen was clean and my heart was noticeably lighter. I cleaned into the living area and got all the trash up, put my dirty clothes in the hamper, and changed the sheets on my bed. I swept the floors. I burned incense. I stood on my head for a little bit and then climbed into my bed to survey my work.

My apartment looked and smelled gorgeous. And it was 10:00 on the dot. For all of my excuses about not having time and even as nasty as my apartment was it only took me 45 minutes to do a fairly sizable overhaul. Hmmm! And Mom was right, cleaning is a brilliant place to put nervous energy.

You get the result after the action not before. The only way for me to know what I'm capable of is to keep pushing my boundaries. And it's the little actions in a day that are going to keep me happy and sober. No grandiose sweeping declarations of miraculous turnaround needed. Don't drink. Go to meetings. Do your dishes. Love your yoga.

Keep. It. Simple. Sweetie.
Ingenue

If you can feel, you can heal it!! (said with forced optimism)

I am such a basket case right now! And yet, it's not entirely unwelcome, I wouldn't say it's bad, it's just....odd. It is now a nightly ritual that I go home and weep for 90 minutes before going to sleep. I'm back to having to sleep with the tv on (and fitfully at best) and feeling more than a little disoriented getting ready in the morning. I am unfocused at work, my eating habits are falling apart, my digestion is utter crap, and I am vulnerable and confused. In short, I am back in early sobriety. This is exactly what I went through in the first thirty days of not drinking (actually that was much worse). I thought I was over that but not smoking has brought out the beasties.

But I've made progress! I'm much more comfortable experiencing emotions as they come up. I don't buy into the background story as much, I just feel whatever's there. And my tenacity to endure dis-comfort is amazing! Holy shit! I barely recognize myself. 5 months ago I would have totally folded by now. There is no question that I am changing before my very eyes so it's probably a good thing that I'm getting ready to go into my 4th step. Before I can really get comfortable with who I'm becoming I need to be very clear on who I've been. This is not to say that I am excited about the idea of taking my moral and sexual inventories. But I need to know. I need the clarity....

I don't have much to say, really. All is well and normalizing. I have a new crush who totally has a crush on me back. But as is always the case, the timing is not ideal. I think I'll let him take me to dinner though, can't hurt. Work is good. Yoga is necessary. House cleaning severely lacking. My home definitely looks like the inside of my psyche right now and IT AIN'T PRETTY. LOL. But I am loved and I love right back. I am grateful and strong and supported. I'm uncertain and uncomfortable in my nic-fits, but I know that I'm just where I should be. Everything is perfectly imperfect, how wonderful is that?

It's all good, my lovelies. All good.
Ingenue :)

For you...

ST THERESA'S PRAYER
May today there be peace within. May you trust God/dess that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.
May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you.
May you be content knowing you are a child of God/dess.
Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love.
It is there for each and every one of us.

Real Women Wear Hard Hats.

Otherwise known as:

Day 6 with No Ciggies

Holy Jeebus, I do believe I've quit smoking! There have been some ugly moments in there for sure but following the advice of one of the Oldtimers, I made up my mind to go through whatever I had to go through. I also like the Nic-Anon mantra of "The cravings will pass whether you smoke a cigarette or not." That's helped. Overall, it's been pretty by the book. The first 72 hours were when the cravings were the worst. After that they got manageable but repressed emotions started popping up for review. On Sunday night I got hit with a wave of grief so palpable I felt like someone had just informed me of my mother's untimely death. It was that real. I just couldn't stop crying, so I hit my knees and prayed for guidance. I've heard that this sort of thing happens, grieving for Drugs and Alcohol like they're real people, but this was a first for me. After the spell passed I climbed into bed and scraped together whatever hours of sleep I could manage before work.

Which leads me directly into: My Promotion. On Day 2 of No Ciggies, The Powers That Be called me in to discuss my permanence within the company and matters of monetary importance. In laymen's terms, I got a raise and a new fancy title. It was actually really nice (although it stressed me out and gave me 45 nic-fits in quick succession) and I felt very appreciated and supported. There was one quick moment of internal hilarity when The Big Guy said, "We have a new policy for new hires. You don't mind submitting to a drug test and a background check, do you?" My soul smiled at that one. For the first time in a long time a drug test is no problem. Background check? Meh. There could be anything on there, really. I've turned that one over to my HP. They don't want to lose me and if I have to explain embarrassing incidents, I will. Honestly, I have no idea what could be there. No arrests, but my credit report is nearly criminal. And given the fact that I'm getting ready to start my 4th step I'm feeling extremely grateful that their not hiring me off of the contents of that!

I very much need to buy some new work clothes yet I find myself competely unwilling to go shopping. And the times I have dragged myself out to go shopping I have been so reluctant to lay down my credit card and commit to my purchases. Where is my gender given "shop till you drop" gene? Can they revoke my ovaries for this? I have money and I have genuine need of new clothes. What is my damage here? I even know exactly what I want to get. I'm working out a new personal style I like to call "Construction Chic". This, for me anyways, is the ultimate fusion of functionality and fashion. (I've put alot of thought into this, can you tell?) I'm going to be on a REAL DEAL construction site so I need to be dressed appropriately. Work boots, khakis or cargos or corduroys, hard hats, all of it. I've found that Uggs can easily be substituted for Timberlands with no drop in comfort or stability, and Gap Wide Leg khakis make for sturdy yet feminine work pants. After that all I need are a few new sweaters and hoodies because the site is unheated and BALL FREEZING this time of year. See how crazy this is? I even have my purchases picked out and I won't buy them. Hmmm.

That's really it. I'm still working on synthesizing all areas of my life. Sobriety, Work, Yoga, Play, and Love are all demanding equal amounts of my time. My life is close to being synchronous, but I have to remind myself continuously that it is a Day at a Time. I have the most power for change available to me in this day, this moment. I can't believe I'm about to type this BUT as long as I do my damndest to make each day better than the last, I'm on the right track. And with that incredibly cheesy sentiment expressed, I'm out.

Hoping all is well and off to read Johno's 4th step blog entries!

xoxo Me

Holy Hell! I got out just in time....

July, August, September 2002
HEALTH

Smoking Yogis, Beware!
Pranayama increases the dangers of cigarettes
By Dr. Swami Gitananda, India

When I was just a school boy, cigarettes were referred to as "coffin nails." Every puff was another nail in the coffin. We were aware even then of the dangerous effects of tobacco upon health, but at that time, in the early 1940s, there was not much factual evidence. Today, there is.

Yet surprisingly, cigarette smoking has actually increased. Billions of dollars are being spent trying to find a cure for cancer without any regard for its cause. We want our bad habits and good health, too. It can never happen, for we are defying nature's laws. If we remove the causes of disease, we can have natural good health. Some of these causes are difficult to remove because they are created by impure air, pollution from industry and motor vehicles. But we can always stop smoking.

Many sincere yoga students believe that they can continue to smoke cigarettes and offset the harmful effects by doing extra pranayama (breath control). This is a dangerous assumption. Pranayama opens up new cells to atmospheric air. These young, tender cells may be more vulnerable than the older, more resilient, cells. Pranayama may actually be more dangerous for cigarette smokers. This is particularly true if one feels drowsy after doing pranayama. Or, after smoking a cigarette that "used to give them a kick," they now experience a let-down. The condition is popularly referred to as "shirt pocket poisoning." More technically, it is "carbon monoxide suffocation."

The carbon monoxide in the cigarette smoke displaces the oxygen in the lungs, creating a poison, causing chemical suffocation. Among the detrimental effects of this suffocation are a hazing of the mind, drowsiness, a reduction of visual sharpness, a slowing down of reflex reactions, an increase of blood pressure and, among longer range effects, hardening of the arteries. Nausea and dizziness often accompany these reactions, indicating a reduction of the output of blood from the heart.

In the normal metabolism of bodily processes, carbon monoxide and carbon dioxide are created when hemoglobin gets broken down in the blood. Normally, in a healthy nonsmoker, less than one percent of this hemoglobin gets broken down each day. But in the light smoker it's about three percent, and in a heavy smoker eight percent or more.

Above the one percent range, a slowing of thought as well as feelings of being tired and lethargic are observed. When a three percent level is reached, visual sharpness is impaired and acute sensitivity to light is experienced. It may here be noted the relationship between blood impurity and the increased need for eye glasses. At five percent the skin appears to be shallow and often takes on an ashen or dusky hue. Babies born to women in this grouping already have a bloodstream set for all the diseases associated with addiction to nicotine. The child is actually born with the craving, and his or her skin often reflects the toxic state of the mother.
At seven percent, heart disease is a corollary. Susceptivity to any condition considered epidemic is suggested by a reading of twelve percent or more. Here the blood vessels are heavily coated with cholesterol, inviting disease into the body. Cigarette smoking reduces the blood flow, but raises the blood pressure.

There is a dangerous trend among modern yoga teachers to separate one's lifestyle from yoga. Immoral persons who indulge in bad habits and pose as experts in pranayama and meditation call themselves yogis simply because they have a flexible body. This is an obstruction to spiritual life.

Dr. Swami Gitananda was a yoga teacher in Pondicherry, India, the author of 25 books and publisher of Yoga Life, a journal still continued today. He passed away in December, 1993, at 88.

How do you spell s-y-n-c-h-r-o-n-i-c-i-t-y?

TUT... A Note from the Universe‏
From: The Universe (light@tut.ccsend.com) on behalf of The Universe (theuniverse@tut.com)
Sent: Fri 2/22/08 3:19 AM
To: xxxx@hotmail.com

It's not that some people in your life are just mean- spirited, shortsighted, and ignorant, Ingenue, it's that they're grand, brilliant, and magnificent. Fellow adventurers who, at the peak of their glory, in worlds before this one, asked to dance with you in time and space, however briefly, so that they might learn a bit faster than otherwise.

And you know how you love healing. (OMG! Healing others to heal myself. AGAIN! I think the universe is trying to tell me something here.)

In the presence of greatness,
The Universe

This keeps happening! Every time, EVERY TIME, I pray for guidance I read or hear something unbearably appropos to my current dilemmas. Even w/o conscious prayer it happens 95% of the time I go to meetings. Invariably the speaker will deeply address whatever's been tormenting me for the day. No pre-meditation needed. Welcome to the wonders of living with a higher power.

I feel like I shouldn't be as awestruck as I am by all of these deeply spiritual comings and goings. After all, I've done some sort of yoga on and off for almost ten years! Also, in my early twenties I use to wear bindis over my third eye with no sense of irony whatsoever. Clearly I am openminded in regards to the spirit. Then again...

I'm doing my Second Step reading right now and there were three chapters (three chapters for one step! That ain't right) to get through, the final one being for the agnostics. Ah yes, the agnostics. That hopeless bunch who utterly rebel at the thought of needing a "spiritual solution" complete with the requisite "higher power" to recover from their alcoholism. Thank heavens I'm not one of those sorry bastards. Things are bad enough as they are. And yet. I'm a liar if I say I didn't identify. In fact the whole chapter is streaked with neon highlighter memorializing the points that hit home.

Even if I didn't self identify as an agnostic I was certainly living the life of one. And sometimes the hardest ego to crack is one that feeds off of a sense of pseudo-spirituality. The glamorous (and expensive) brand of spirituality; living as a raw foodist in Hawaii, doing barefoot yoga in Indian temples, paying someone hundreds of dollars to sort out the messy business of my locked up chakras-these things were how I wanted to express my spirit. You should have seen the look on my face when it became clear that my soul could only be recovered in dingy rooms sitting on folding chairs listening to homeless black men tell my story. And worse than that? My main job is to take people I despise in this life and do everything in my power to give them that which I have wanted for myself! How bad does that suck? Honestly.

But it remains the quickest and easiest way to enlightment. Even if I try to rebel my life sends me lessons from the divine to knock my punk ass back on track. Everytime I humble myself in these unthinkable ways, everytime I serve someone else's divine nature before my own, my own small petty problems evaporate. I mean they just disappear. It's really a bit freaky, but I'm learning to trust it.

Take for example my crusade to quit smoking. Being able to quit for my own health should be motivation enough, shouldn't it? You would think, but sadly, this is not so. Yesterday I spent the day looking up all of the harm my smoking does to the people, animals, and world around me. It ain't pretty. I cried looking at the animal torture that is conducted to prove WHAT WE ALREADY KNOW. Smoking kills people, so let's kill off millions of god's sweet animals JUST TO MAKE SURE that it's really that bad.

I prayed then and I pray now, God please give me the strength to be freed of this addiction. Please free me from addictions that rule my behavior and cause me to hurt my fellow men. If I can't personally help end all suffering at least guide my actions to keep me from doing harm. Do for me what I cannot do for myself.

This is day 2 of not smoking and 118 days of not drinking. Can't say I miss either one, really. Thank the cosmos for that, it's certainly none of my doing.....

Yours in Abject and Humble Devotion,
The Gratefully Dis-Illusioned Ingenue

And last but certainly not least....

I QUIT SMOKING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Day 1. Hold ye tongues, naysayers. I'm in it to win it.

xoxox

Sweet Smelling Me