March 6, 2006


  I must be very virtuous tonight because I was patient enough to wait 15 loooooong minutes to get to this point after turning my computer on. Land O Goshen!

  Well, I went and did it Folks. I answered the call I got many Muses ago about chicken skin. Remember when I had that insane craving a while back? Holey moley! I went to the grocery store this afternoon and bought fried chicken in the deli. It was just as tasty as I thought it would be when I was salivating at the thought of it in the car that day. Yummylicious! I ate a breast, but actually gave most of the meat to the dog. 'Twas the crispy, greasy skin my mouth was a waterin' fer. Between all that fat and the spicy chili beans I ate with it, there should be some festive flatulence in the Carr house tonight. That's OK--this place needs some levity.

  Ahhhhhh-it was a good day to be sober. I was blessed at Hallmark Assisted Living and left there with a heart full of gratitude and warm fuzzies. I just adore those geriatric gems.

  I prayed more today--gee, I wonder if that could have anything to do with the improvement of my mood. Duh. "Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out."

  How quickly I forget. You know if I weren't so stubborn, defiant, and rebellious, I might remember to pray all day every day. Every time my better half (and I DO use the term loosely) turns into a jackass, I have a sudden memory lapse and let up on my prayer, and THAT'S when I need it the most.

  BUT--after I wrote this morning about choice--I MADE the choice to see my glass as full....running over in fact. I kept a song in my heart, a sparkle in my eye, and a prayer on my lips. Smooth sailing even tho the storm at home rages on. YAY!

  Today I am grateful for the Celestial Captain who keeps the wind in my sails.


March 7, 2006


  Suggested prayer: "Dear God, please help me to be an authentic person—honest with myself, with you and with at least one other trustworthy friend so that I will learn to be the person you envisioned for me to be and therein discover how to fully live and fully love. Thank you for hearing and answering my prayer. Gratefully, in Jesus' name, amen."

  That was the prayer that concluded my daily online devotional this morning. It sounds very recovery-oriented doesn't it? The message that preceded it spoke of being honest in our relationships--that at least one person should know who we really are. He stressed that we can never have meaningful relationships if we don't, whether they be romantic or friendship.

  Rigorous honesty is what the Big Book tells us we must have. As practicing alcoholics, we deny ourselves the capacity to be honest. We live fraudulent fantasy lives, never allowing our true colors to show. Colors don't show up in the dark. It is when we emerge into the "Sunlight of the Spirit" that our eyes and hearts are open to the truth.

  Alcohol had me convinced I wasn't worthy of entering into a meaningful relationship with another human being. Everything was black and white and I wore the black hat. I was the villain, the dastardly troublemaker who didn't want the lights on lest someone see my dark inner emptiness. My pathetic existence had no significance to anyone. It was me and Jack Daniels against the world and I considered him my only friend, lover, and ally.

  This romantic relationship dilemma is a tough one, especially when your significant other lived in that dark world with you, only he wore the white hat. My new chosen family has unconditional love for me and I have developed loving and meaningful bonds with several women in the program. I realize of course, that I did not roar through the lives of these people like the tornado Bill W. wrote of-- breaking their hearts, uprooting their affections, and killing their love for me. However, those relationships sustain me and from the depth of my being, I want that to be enough. Will it be? I don't know about tomorrow or next year, but today it is.

  Today I am grateful for friendship.

March 8, 2006


  Ah--the Butterfly Effect, I love to see it. The metamorphosis that transpires in the newcomers who enter into the rooms of recovery trapped in their dark cocoons and emerge with wings and smiles before long. My dictionary defines metamorphosis as: a striking alteration, as in appearance or character. I have had the honor and privilege of witnessing many of these miracles. They are the ones who make it all worthwhile--the fringe benefits of my own sobriety.

  The little Butterfly who led the Monday meeting makes my own heart take flight every time I see that smile--the one that forms in her heart and makes the journey to her whole face. Her eyes sparkle with eagerness and energy; her enthusiasm is contagious, and her transformation has been a joy to behold.

  Life is infused into each and every one of us who travels this journey with honesty, humility, and good, old-fashioned hard work and determination. Every cell in the body is awakened. The senses are resurrected. The heart beats with purpose. The soul sighs with long-awaited relief. God must see us and be pleased that His child has accepted His gift of Life. It was never His will for us to be unhappy drunks.

  Today I am grateful for the butterflies.

March 9, 2006


  "Science may one day accomplish this, (making a normal drinker out of an alcoholic) but it hasn't done so yet."

  Sometimes I wonder what a normal drinker really is. I have never known, nor do I ever want to know--no matter what science does or doesn't accomplish. My inquiring mind likes lucidity, clarity, and cognizance.

  Alcohol is a mood-altering substance. I mean, even after I had one drink, I felt different. Don't normal drinkers feel altered with one drink? I know this might sound odd, but I can't imagine doing anything to alter my brain now. I love knowing that my feelings are real--that the words I speak are honest and genuine--whether they are words of anger or gladness, they are real. One drink would change that and I truly mean JUST one.

  Say that science does discover a way for alcoholics to drink normally and we could miraculously have only one or two drinks and actually stop. Would I want it? Absotively, posilutely not! One drink changes me. Oh sure, I don't scream, cuss, or wreak havoc after one, but there is a subtle transformation and I'm not me anymore. The words that I speak are not mine, they belong to alcohol.

  What a wacky Muse! No, I'm not drinking--my mind just went a wanderin' tonight. I opened the Big Book to a random page and the first sentence my eyes fell on was that one I started with. If it all makes sense to you--welcome to my world.

Today I am grateful for my mental faculties.
Today I am grateful my thoughts are 100% mine.

March 10, 2006


  I woke up this morning and felt well enough to make my morning meeting. My sinuses were clear, my back felt almost normal, and my heart said go. All was well.

Before I knew it, the center gave way and all hell broke loose here with my husband. The proverbial feces hit the infamous fan. Meltdown.

  In the last few months, I suspect I have been a can of organic tomatoes--plump, juicy, and no chemicals, preservatives, or toxins. I was safe and snug in my little tin can, not even aware that I had been left in the scorching desert. There I have sat, heating up but cooling back down after the sunset. Something happened though--some phenomenon or anomaly, like being tossed into a raging campfire, that caused me to simmer--and simmer--and simmer. Then I began to boil and had no way to vent so I exploded this morning at precisely 7:30....blew my top, so to speak.

  Fifteen minutes later after he left for work, I collapsed in a heap literally gasping for breath--hyperventilating. My heart was racing and my head was pounding. Pieces of me were sprayed all over the living room. Fallout.

  I screamed so much during that explosion my vocal cords feel like someone scrubbed them with an SOS pad. The sentences came out so fast and furious (and loud) that I didn't take in enough oxygen to supply the breath needed for it all, hence the hyperventilation.

  As he backed out of the driveway I felt something vaguely familiar---what is this? Every raw, frazzled, and angry nerve in my body was screaming déjà vu. The physiological symptoms were familiar as well--accelerated pulse, profound head and heartache, shortness of breath. Then it hit me--September 23rd, 2001, the day after my last drunk. I had an aha moment. I know what this is--it's pitiful, incomprehensible, demoralization.

big sigh--I feel like ketchup.

  I'm grateful that at this moment in time, the rage in me has abated and I didn't have to drink over it.

  I'm grateful I know where to get some more tomato seeds.

March 11, 2006


  Yumpin' Yiminy! I felt like poop when I woke up this morning---awful, really awful. I had everything but the dry mouth and dry heaves......just like the old days. I had an emotional hangover, to be sure, but what hurt more was the spiritual hangover. God must have been very sad looking down on me yesterday morning. I told Him how sorry I was for my behavior and asked His forgiveness.

  I've sought the advice of the resident Ann Landers and Dear Abby in my AA Circle of Life.---you know, those two women really ought to start an advice to the lovelorn column for recovering alcoholics. They rock!

  I looked up this morning to see a candle on my computer tower. I order bunches of them to give out as gifts for AA birthdays and they all have names like: Living In The Moment, This Too Shall Pass, One Day At A Time, and so on. Then they have a great quote below that. I had about ten of them a month or so ago, but have been giving them away one by one. The remaining candle is called Releasing Anger and I recall picking it up many times but deciding against giving it as a gift. Now I know why---I was saving it for me.

  The quote is by Mary Kaye Medinger and it says: I find anger to be a creative, transforming force; it is a stage I must go through if I am ever to get to what lies beyond.

  OK, thought I, that makes me feel a little better but I have GOT to find a happy medium between keeping a choke chain on my anger for months and months at a time, or just unleashing the beast like I did yesterday. I thought that monster in me was dead and buried--never to be resurrected unless I drank again. Good thing I don't get paid for thinkin'.

  Today I am grateful for what lies beyond............whatever that might be.

March 13, 2006


  Thank you Faithful Readers for all your love, support, and helpful advice you've written or called me with in the last few days. Boy, It warms my heart to be encircled by such warmth and caring---you're all like a big ol' fuzzy blanket. I am so blessed. Right now it's pretty silent here but it is GOLDEN.

I was flipping through my women's daily meditations today by Karen Casey and found this snippet from a Carole King song:
You've got to get up every morning with a smile on your face
and show the world all the love in your heart.
Then people gonna treat you better,
You're gonna find, Yes you will,
That you're beautiful as you feel.

  Could it be that my husband is not seeing the love in my heart? Am I showing to everyone in the world but him? Is that why he treats me so badly? Food for thought, I reckon--sure hope it doesn't choke me or give me indigestion.

  All in all--it was a glorious day to be sober. I got to spend a few hours with my darlin' grandson. I got to sing gospel for those elder treasures at the assisted living facility. I didn't come to this morning--I woke up. I had oodles of letters in my mailbox from the most awesome, loving people in the world. I treated myself to a Butterfinger, washed down with hazelnut coffee WHILE I was cooking dinner (it felt naughty but oh so exhilarating) None of that would have been possible without the sobriety that God has given me and I am humbly grateful for all of it.

March 14, 2006


  Beans, beans--the musical fruit. Ah--it feels so good to have therapy sessions with someone who loves comfort food as much as I do. There is nothing like sitting down with Miz C. for a much-needed lecture/chat/heart-purge with platter of potato skins, 2 big bowls of chili beans, and a huge hunk of corn bread on the table. I just seem to listen better and am more likely to heed her suggestions when there's vittles involved.

  I realized today that I do not intuitively know how to handle this situation I'm in at home right now. It hit me like a bolt from the blue just as the noon meeting was ending today.( I happened to be reading the Promises at the time, so that helped.)

  I also had a letter from Bernice P.--two in fact, which were very helpful--Man, it's so great to have someone REMIND me of these things I should know---my stars! they are etched on my heart for crying out loud. It's that stubborn streak I reckon, or maybe my impatience. I want it to happen yesterday ! Hurry up and forgive me dude---you're messing up my plan. Ego, ego, ego. Me, me, me.

  I still think I can get blood from a turnip no matter how many times I squeeze it and get plain old turnip juice out.

  I have been reminded many times in the last few days that I CAN'T CHANGE MY HUSBAND, I CAN ONLY CHANGE ME. I think someone needs to tattoo that on my forehead, after they slap me upside my head to get my attention.

  Sheesh! I gotta pick myself up, dust myself off, and get back in the saddle, man. There is work to be done and I am the one required to do it, not the turnip I'm married to.

Today I am grateful for yellow cake with chocolate frosting.
Today I am grateful my son is working.
Today I am grateful I can add years to my life and Life to my years, one day at a time. ( I didn't think up that last one, but isn't it cool?)

March 15, 2006


  "Recover is a series of storms; storms that help to sprout new growth; storms that flush out our own clogged drains. The peace that comes after a storm is worth singing about." (Karen Casey)

  Yes, that's the sensation I felt today--my drain is unclogged. I think I may have felt some new growth sprouting too--or maybe that was gas. Thank God I still have a sense of humor.

  I do feel peace, even though the marital storm rages on. All I can do is batten down the hatches and keep my slicker zipped up. That, and go to meetings, read my Big Book, call the Home Girls, work the Steps, practice the principles, help other alcoholics, and write this daily journal. That oughta keep me busy and out of trouble--ya think?

  I know that every storm I weather in my recovery makes me stronger and better prepared for the next one. Shoot! My problems are baby poo anyway compared to the dinosaur dung some people have to deal with. The good news about problems is, there is a solution for every one of them. I have found the spiritual solution to my drinking problem and that was a HUGE--the BIGGEST problem of my entire life. I have to trust that everything else can be solved the same way--spiritually.

  Today I am grateful for the spiritual solution.

March 16, 2006


  Pride, we are told, my children, "goeth before a fall" and oh, the pride was there, and so the fall was not far away.
(Wilhelmina Kemp Johnstone)

  I was quite surprised when I looked up pride in the dictionary. With the exception of; elation over an act or possession, all the other definitions are not very flattering or desirable. They are: conceit; justifiable self-respect; haughty behavior; disdain; ostentatious display.

When I tried to link pride with my alcoholism, I struggled to find the connection, other than the fact that I was too proud to admit I was a hopeless drunk, but those definitions describe me more than aptly in my disease. I was all that and more.

  The 12 and 12 lists the Seven Deadly Sins--I'm sure I've Mused on them before, and no doubt I identified with every one of them as character defects in my drinking life. When I began my 6th Step, I listed those Seven; pride, anger, greed, gluttony, lust, envy, and sloth. Oh yeah--I did write a Muse on them because I mentioned that I remember them by using the word Paggles--notice that's the order I recalled them? What do they call that when you use another word or phrase to help remember something--mnemonics? Is that it?

  Well, anyway, I created Paggles so that I would easily remember those dangerous flaws. Sobriety didn't make them magically disappear--well, maybe it has eradicated lust from my life, or was that menopause that did that? No matter--it's gone. One or more of the others still try to rear their ugly little heads every day. That big bag of microwave popcorn I wouldn't share? That was greed and gluttony at the same time. Anger? Yikes--my recent behavior is an abhorrent example that anger hasn't vanished.

  And just the other day I drooled over an outfit someone else was wearing--get thee behind me envy. Last but not least--sloth. Merciful Heavens--come on over to my house in black clothes and sit on my couch. When you get up you'll have cat hair all over you. If that's not slothful enough, just take a stroll through my cluttered abode--you'll find plenty.

  But here's the good news--those Seven Deadlys aren't an all day, every day occurrence anymore. I have made progress with all of them. After my fall, there was only one way to go and that was up.

  Today I am grateful for the fall that led me to a better life.

March 17, 2006


"If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life from aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his voice again,
I shall not live in vain."
(Emily Dickinson)

WOW! If that doesn't describe our primary purpose exactly, I don't know what does. How beautiful!

  It feels exhilarating to have a purpose as noble and compassionate as helping another alcoholic. If you were like me, you questioned your reason for being when you were practicing the disease of alcoholism. Didn't you just cry out sometimes--if not out loud, then at least in your troubled, weary heart "Who am I? What am I doing? Where am I going?"

  Those and other deep and disturbing questions plagued me daily toward the end of my drinking. I cursed the God I claimed not to believe in for allowing me to wake up each morning. I "wished for the end" so many times because I couldn't bear the thought of my purpose-less life any longer. I felt so useless and non-productive--so burdensome to everyone I loved. I was their albatross--I knew it and I hated myself for it.

  Today I am grateful I have found a purpose in Life.

March 18, 2006


  Thirty-four years ago today, I was 17 and had a beautiful baby daughter who was 6 months old. A week previous to Saint Patrick's Day, my husband and I were browsing in a thrift store for baby things. We were on a tight, tight budget--living from one meager check to the next. There were no seat belt laws and no child seat laws--it was 1972. I found a car seat in the thrift shop--a dinosaur by today's standards. It had a bottom similar to a rocking chair, but straight, not curved. You slid the protruding metal bottom through the crack in the car seat behind where your tailbone would be if you were sitting there. It had a padded headrest that extended 6 or 8 inches above the baby's head. The buckle was missing on the belt strap, so I secured it with a big diaper pin, another antique. I only bought it because we had just one car and on the days I needed it, I would take my husband to work and pick him up when he was off.

  On March 17th 1972, I put Cherie in the front with me in her used car seat--that's what we did in those days -- pinned her strap, and left to pick up my husband. Nobody wore seat belts in those days--I didn't even fasten the car seat belt across the baby seat. We had a 1968 Camaro with wide tires, pinstripes, and a vinyl top. It was after dark as I drove down the 6-mile stretch of country road to get to my destination. I was almost there when an oncoming car failed to dim their headlights. I was blinded, I was inexperienced, and panicked and hit the brakes too hard. At 70 miles an hour the car went into an end over end flip that seemed to occur in super-slow motion. It flipped a half a dozen times and landed upside down in a farmer's field. Disoriented, I reached for the door handle when the car was finally still--couldn't find it. I realized I was in the floorboard of the back seat. My baby was crying her little heart out, ripping my own heart out with the sound. I climbed into the front seat, out the broken window and ran around to the passenger side. I located her in the floorboard but couldn't get her out--I was hysterical. The diaper pin had crumpled like a wad of paper. Suddenly there was a man kneeling beside me--he had been behind me on the road. He took his pocket knife and cut the strap, freeing my daughter.

  The top of the car was flattened. Had I been wearing a seat belt, I wouldn't have been thrown into the back floorboard and my head would have been crushed. Had I not paid 2 dollars more for the baby seat with the headrest, my daughter probably wouldn't have survived. The vinyl top of the car pushed her seat into the floorboard by way of the headrest.

  I know this is a really long Muse, but that Miracle is swimming in the waters of my heart today. It was God's hands, His work that saved us both. Looking back over the years of my life I can see countless miracles that were obliterated by alcohol. Today I am alive, my daughter is alive and gave birth to the most beautiful boy in the world 5 months ago--all because of that Miracle 34 years ago today.

  I can find no words to express my gratitude for that.

March 19, 2006


  I hope I can get this Muse out you guys. Sloth: procrastinating on getting a new computer. I'm in denial I reckon.....thinking the problems will go away--just like in my drinking days. I couldn't get signed on last night, nor this morning after several attempts, but hallelujah! Here I am now and I'll try to make this kwik so I can post it before you all think I'm out getting drunk somewhere---falling off a barstool.

  I am not. I am sober and hanging in there. I spent 7 hours pulling weeds from the back lawn yesterday---yes, there was seven hours worth, in fact I only got halfway finished. The dandelions, crabgrass, nutgrass, and spurge have taken over since we've had so much rain.

  I needed to completely lose myself in hard labor. For me, it is an emptying out process--a purging. After the first few hours, I'm operating by rote. My mind and heart open in the stillness and God comes in. It was cloudy at first, with intermittent showers but I stayed my course.....listening for his messages. After a while, the sun came out and I got really hot. I quietly mused aloud that I sure would like the cloud cover back and finished with, "but I won't pray for it--that would be selfish and petty." Suddenly, the clouds covered the sun and my heart was profoundly touched. It was as though God was looking down on this meek, lonely little woman and letting her know that the world was not too big, nor was He ever too busy for me. I was so very humbled--the silent tears fell down my face and I thanked Him for the message--for His great love and care. Oh, I know non-believers would call the cloud cover an insignificant coincidence, but I know better.

  He's got the whole world in His hands--I am comforted, I am serene, I am sober. I am grateful.

March 20, 2006


  Once again I am hoping against hope I can get the Muse out before I get the boot. I signed on at 7200 bps---I don't know what the heck that means but I know it ain't good 'cause I usually get the heave ho pretty quick when that happens.
Life is good. I saw my grandson today. He's such a blessing in my life and God willing, he'll never see me drink. He can turn a cloudy heart to clear with that sweet smile. I ache with love for him.

  Change is in the air here on Wyatt St--I think there has been a breakthrough. My husband admitted today that he still harbors bitterness, hatred, anger, and resentment in his heart for me and thinks he always will and I thanked him for his honesty. He thinks we would be better off going our separate ways. I feel no sadness over that. I feel relief. It feels like a 2-ton boulder has been lifted from my shoulders.
Here's what I think---I think saying those words out loud may unlock the door for him to begin his healing and letting go. I know that for me, saying I was an alcoholic out loud was the genesis of my healing process.

  I don't know what will happen--I am focusing on living my life one day at a time. I do know that Nan will be OK--single or married, as long as she doesn't drink and practices the principles of AA. God has a plan for me, for my husband, my marriage, and our lives. I trust Him. I have faith that all will be well.

  For those of you who are writing to me--be patient. I'm lucky to get the Muses out right now before I am rudely disconnected, so I'm falling behind on reading and answering mail.
Love and Laughter to each and every one of you.

  Today I am grateful for Truth.

March 21, 2006


  God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

  I often share on Mondays about my visit to the Hallmark Assisted Living facility on Sundays. Our singing service brings in about 15 regulars each week. You know, those people are treasures. I draw a tremendous amount of serenity, courage, and hope from them. They are all over 80--some in their nineties, but they have a peace that emanates from them--a contentment that originates from deep within. The most valuable asset they have is acceptance.

  It's not a large facility, there may be 100 residents--I'm not sure, but I have noticed others coming and going through the front doors before and after the service, and still others who sit in the lobby during the service--on the fringes you might say. Those faces don't glow with peace like the Singing Service Faithful do.

  Yes, I am aware that their age alone plays a role in their demeanor and behavior, but most of them have their mental faculties intact and I have spoken to many of them and found this to be true. Now I know that it's mere speculation on my part, but it seems like the elders who have God residing in their hearts and souls are happy and serene. They are not empty, they are filled with His amazing grace and love and it shows on the faces, in their words, and in their disposition. They have an attitude of gratitude.

  I am a student in their classroom. They are teaching me a valuable lesson and I am grateful for them.

March 22, 2006


  Here's what I think---I think saying those words out loud may unlock the door for him to begin his healing and letting go. I know that for me, saying I was an alcoholic out loud was the genesis of my healing process.

  I wrote those words a few days ago after my husband told me he hated his life, this house, this town, and that he couldn't let the past go, nor could he live with me. Evidently, it isn't only a woman's prerogative to change her mind because he has softened around the edges. My hope was that perhaps in admitting what he did, speaking his truth, a brick or 2 would be removed from that wall he built around his heart when he discovered I was unfaithful to him 17 years ago. That wound has taken on a life of its own in those years and made him very unhappy.

  I tried to do what my program suggests and accepted his announcement with grace and dignity. I sought advice from someone who has walked that road before me and I followed her suggestion. There were no histrionics and no heated debate from me following his bombshell. I became willing to listen and learn--to live my life one day at a time and Let Go and Let God. The one thing I did do was tell him with love in my heart that his unhappiness was his to own and I was not responsible for it and that for his sake and peace of mind, he might consider putting yesterday behind him. I also told him that his chance at happiness depended solely on his willingness to let go of the pain and anger and accept what he could not change.

  These words from the Big Book were reverberating in my head the whole time: "We should be sensible, tactful, considerate and humble without being servile or scraping. As God's people we stand on our feet; we don't crawl before anyone."

  And that, my friends is where I have made my mistake before. I have been servile and scraping and I have crawled before him so many times in the last 17 years I have permanent rug burns. I have not forced him to take responsibility for his own garbage--instead, I have toted it across my shoulders in a big Hefty bag.

  Wow! 10 minutes of writing and I haven't been booted off--there's a small and welcome miracle!

  Today I am grateful for PROGRESS.

March 23, 2006


  "We're all on a trip, following different road maps, but to the same destination. I will be ready to lend a helping hand to a fellow traveler today. It will breathe new life into my own trip." (Karen Casey)

  Yes, we're all heading for the same place. Some of us are walking, some are jogging, and some are just beginning to crawl. Speaking for myself, I jump back from one to the other. It's the obstacles I've mused about before--the pot holes and flat tires. They slow me to a crawl at times, but if I just keep going I know I'll get back to speed. I know about that sly, lazy hare and I'm content to be the tortoise. I don't want to find a shortcut so I can rest on my laurels along the way--I want to make progress, no matter how slow and tedious it may be at the time.

  I know too, that is not the destination that is important, it is the journey. I am so grateful to have all of you on this joyous journey with me. I know we may use different road maps, and we have different speeds and modes of travel, but we're doing this together and need never travel alone again. You breathe life into my trip every day.


March 24, 2006


HAPPY BIRTHDAY STEPHANIE !!!! 10 years--WOWIE ZOWIE!!

  I missed the birthday celebration at the meeting this morning, but I think I may have had a growth spurt in the process. I planned to go even though we had overnight company--my husband's sister from Oklahoma.

  As we were all sitting there visiting this morning, I suddenly felt as though my place were here. I actually wanted to be here and not run away. She and I have a troubled past between us--all due to my drinking and some pretty despicable things I did and said to her back then. I made my amends in Step 9 and she was gracious and accepting, but I think I have avoided her as much as possible when they come to visit. Perhaps it was my own shame and guilt still haunting me, I don't really know, but it wasn't that way this time.

  Again, as with my husband this past week, I held my head high and didn't feel the need to be servile and scraping. I was able to leave the past behind and face her as a whole and healthy sister-in-law. I didn't feel a dark cloud hovering over us. My father-in-law is having surgery in a few days, hence their reason for being here. It's serious, but not life-threatening. My decision to stay behind this morning with the family felt like the right thing to do. In retrospect, I am sure that it was. I have placed myself on the outside of my in-laws--declining almost all invitations to their homes since I became sober. I think it was detrimental to my own marriage. Granted, it may have been shame on my part, but for all intents and purposes, it looked to them like rejection and self-righteousness.

  I feel like I took a small step toward something good and for that I am grateful.

March 25, 2006


  Someone asked the question recently after a meeting that I pondered myself early in my sobriety. Is AA considered a cult? I can tell you that it felt that way to me in the early days. Of course, my brain was pretty mushy and fogged, but I've mused in the past that I thought of that movie The Stepford Wives more than once in the beginning.

  I've also mused that I didn't care if it was a cult or not--I was desperate enough to try anything and my brain was in dire need of a good washing anyway. I feel differently now--I'm certain we are not a cult. What happens is that some of us get that starry-eyed look at first. We chant Big Book excerpts like a mantra. We project surrealism because we feel surreal. There is a drastic change in us.

  I think it's hope. Speaking from my own experience before and after AA, I have observed this change in people, including myself, when any life-changing incident occurred, whether it was reading a certain self-help book, getting religion, falling in love, having an affair, etc. Those on the outside looking in observed the sudden transformation -- like someone flipped a switch and we were ON.

  Unfortunately, the excitement usually fizzled and we would go back OFF. Recovery is different, at least for me. The thrill of hope still burns bright in my heart and I'm still ON after 4 years, 6 months, and 1 day.

  Today I am grateful for Hope.

March 26, 2006


  I have heard it shared many times in the rooms of AA that recovery is an inside job. I am comprehending that now in a new and different way. Responsibility, accountability, humility, honesty--those became just words after a while instead of principles to live by. I think I slipped back into blame mode when things weren't going my way at home. This old dog forgot the new tricks she had been taught and fell back into digging holes in the yard after she had learned to fill them in, barking instead of shutting up, and playing dead when her Master said "Heal," (yes, I meant to spell it that way).

  I was wrong--there, I said it. I accept responsibility for MY words, actions, and thoughts. I am accountable for the storm that reached fever pitch inside of me. The old Nan wasn't independent--her happiness was a direct result of what someone else was doing or saying, as was her misery. I was that classic codependent, the one who enabled all things unhealthy. My sentences always began with "You make me feel...." or "You hurt me when you...." and there I was doing it again. It was HIM! HE was making me feel worthless, inadequate, ashamed, guilty, insignificant, blah blah blah. I was once again a nonentity. Why? Because I CHOSE to be. I forgot I was responsible and accountable for me, for my feelings, my self-worth, my happiness. I refused to see those three fingers pointed back at me every time I pointed one at him.

  Recovery IS an inside job--so is happiness, contentment, joy, and self-worth. Those are gifts you must give yourself...nobody else can give them to you and NOBODY CAN TAKE THEM AWAY. If you lose them, it's because you GAVE them away. That old "blame" dog just won't hunt anymore.

  Today I am grateful for accountability.

March 27, 2006


  "If we want to die well, we need to live well, and if we are to live well, it is imperative that we know what our God-given life purpose is and with God's help give it our best shot." (daily online devotional)

  I'm not sure at this point what my God-given life purpose is--perhaps it is to do no more than carry the message of recovery to the alcoholic who still suffers, I don't know. He will disclose more to me if and when the time comes.

  I do know however, that it is NOT my God-given life purpose to drink--that much is certain in my heart and mind--a no-brainer, you might say. The conduit from God to me and vice-versa that was clogged by alcohol is open now, occluded by occasional static, but open nonetheless. The message of sobriety always makes it through the channel regardless of what else is going on at the brain station. God willing, it will until I draw my last breath and I can die well.

  While I'm here, I can give it my best shot. I can share my experience, strength, and hope daily. I can have gratitude for the amazing grace that brought me this far. I can remember the words of this song: Try me Lord, if you think there's a way I can try to repay all I've taken from You--Maybe Lord, I can show someone else what I've been through myself on my way back to You.

  Today I am grateful for Kris Kristofferson.

March 28, 2006


  Zippity Doo Dah Y'all--I got my new computer today. It's still in the box right now, but I hope to have it up and running as soon as one of my kids can help me figger it all out. I will be switching to Earthlink as my server when the new one is set up so you will see a new e-mail address for me on your screen. I'm so excited and can't wait to get back in the groove. I haven't felt good about not answering most of my e-mail, but dems da breaks when you're getting booted off every 2 minutes.

  This morning I went into the kitchen to refill my coffee and it so happened that I was wearing my reading glasses because I had been reading the morning paper in the living room just prior to that. Usually I slide them up on my head when I'm not reading, but I guess I forgot. Anyway, I was shocked at the things I could see on my counters, appliances, and walls in there. Yuk and Ugh! Coffee grounds, crumbs, grease spots, and other assorted surprises. I mean, it wasn't so bad that the health department would quarantine my house or anything -- I just couldn't see them without my glasses! I can still see a long way off but I can't see little stuff. I gotta put my reading glasses on every so often to see if my eyebrows need plucking. I'm appalled when I forget to do that and see them all wild and woolly. I also wonder why in the world somebody didn't tell me I looked like the Wolfman's sister when that happens. Perhaps it's because I hang around people whose eyes are as bad as mine (thank goodness).

  What IS the point of this Muse, you ask? Well, I was just getting to that. It made me think of Chuck C's book; A New Pair of Glasses. He writes about how being sober is like seeing the world through a new pair of glasses. I LOVE that and I regret forgetting that precious gem. What an awesome book! If you haven't read it, I strongly urge you to do so. I loaned my copy to a sponsee 3 years ago and unfortunately, she decided to drink some more so I never got it back. I haven't given up though--not on the book OR her.

  Today I am grateful for my new pair of glasses. I don't see cookie crumbs or grease spots through them--I see hope. I see love. I see life.

March 29, 2006


  Well, slap my hiney and call me AGITATED!!!! Oh woe is me y'all. I am not very computer savvy and I am developing an ulcer just trying to get set up here. I've been trying to get that Nancy changed in my address line for an hour.......grrrr, I don't like that name. I am Nan, hear me roar! I really am about a heartbeat away from roaring, but instead, I think I will just turn everything off, turn my frustration over to God, and start fresh tomorrow.

  Oh it's crying time again in cyber nation--Can't you see the wild and glazed look in my eyes? Can't you tell by the way I 've got my jaw clenched--that it won't be long before it's crying time! (my apologies to Ray Price)

  Be well, be sober, and beware of crazed women hovering over new computers. Now let's see--since I have a mouse for both the old and new computers, does that mean they are now mice? Mouses? Meeses? I don't know but I sure am grateful for chamomile tea.

March 30, 2006


  I was driving home today from the women's meeting, then lunch, followed by a lovely organ recital afterward with some Sis's (Sisters In Sobriety) at a local church. I felt very mellow and content as I drove along--no music playing on the radio, no cd--just quiet reflection and contemplation. I realized that even though the day had been wonderful up to that point, that I was looking forward to being home soon. Home--a good place to be, a sanctuary. When I was drinking it was a miserable prison. I put myself in it and slammed the door shut. I isolated here and some very bad things occurred within these walls. Tension, pain, heartache, anger, resentment, chaos, and a plethora of negative emotions permeated every room. The bathroom held memories of me draped over the toilet, puking my guts up. The living room dredged up visions of spilled drinks, violence, and tears. The garage reminded me of all the times I yearned for the courage to go out there, start the engine in my car, and just lie down and die. The kitchen brought forth visions of cuts and burns from trying to cook while drunk, as well as the memory of that giant bottle of Jack Daniels ever-present in the cupboard. The bedroom? Crikey--I won't even go there--that's for a XXX website.

  I hated my house--my jail cell, yet I panicked at the thought of venturing beyond these dreary walls. The negative energy engulfed me day after day and I added to the bad vibes with every drink.

  Today I love my home--I truly love it. I don't see all those horrific things in here anymore. I have new glasses now, remember?

  Today I am grateful for my Home Sweet Home.

March 31, 2006


  And the hits just keep on comin'--mercy sakes. Here I have this brand new computer and I'm still getting booted off every few minutes. 5 minutes is about the maximum time I can stay online. Thankfully, my letters (and Muses) I'm in the process of writing don't disappear. I reconnect and they stay on the screen--thank you God.

  My computer savvy son says the problem is in the telephone jack or wiring, since this new Dell is repeating the knicker-twisting antics of the old unit. I am really getting some practice in patience and acceptance here you guys. I have not uttered one profane word, nor have I pitched a conniption fit. It will all be worked out in time.

  I feel a quiet peace since I have turned my life back over to God in earnest. I gave the Sunday message at old folks home last week and my topic was prayer. I made this up: Personal Refinement And Yielding Equals Regeneration. That's what prayer needs to be for me; a refining process to filter the impurities from my soul. I must yield or relinquish my life and will--surrender it. That will result in regeneration--a spiritual renewal.

  Today I am grateful for play days. Thank you Slick Chick.