70. Moving to a Better Place.

"My kid's got a problem that I caused. It' going to be a long time before he'll accept my help," Norman said with a sigh.  "Don't know what I'm gonna do in the meantime."

I said, "A lot of families don't know what to do when a  loved one refuses help.  The best they can do is get better themselves.  You know how people say they're in a good place or a bad place?  Usually 'place' includes the people around them.  If those people get better, their reluctant loved ones are in a better place, right?  Your son doesn't want to move, but you can change, you can help him get to a better place by improving yourself.  Stay sober, work on your own recovery.  Do it for yourself, but know you may be helping your son in the process."

Today I will help people who won't move get to a better place.

Sober Not Somber (c) 2015, 2016 by Ken Montrose

69. “It’s hard to accept good help these days.”

Norman and I had a long talk about getting help.  I told him the hardest thing for me was accepting help. 

I said, “Being self-sufficient feels great.  Running feels great. But, when I tore my meniscus, I got medical help until I could run again. I didn’t try to fix it on my own.”

“And you learned to accept help in other parts of your life,” Norman guessed.

“No,” I said, “I went right back to not asking for help unless I was completely overwhelmed. It’s still a struggle for me to admit I can’t do something on my own.”

“I have no idea what you’re trying to say,” Norman said, smiling.  “No wonder you don’t have your own clients.”

I laughed. “I’m saying people helping you probably struggle with some issue of their own.  Accept their help, they understand your troubles. And, accept that accepting help is difficult for some of us.”  

Today I will accept help if I need it.

Sober Not Somber © 2015, 2016 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Sober Not Somber is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

68. Judgment

The next day Norman asked if we could talk.  His son had set their tool shed on fire. Norman blamed himself .  "If I wasn't so stressed, if I was handling my situation better, my son might handle his problems better too."

I pointed out some people are overwhelmed by the rain.  Others seem to conquer everything life throws at them without ever getting down or losing their faith.  "Most people fall somewhere between those two extremes," I said. "Don't judge how you're holding up too harshly.  You're doing the best you can in trying circumstances.  Besides, you haven't had a drink over it."

Today I handle life as best I can, not judging my efforts too harshly.

67. Singing in Shower

When I got home Brat Boy showed me a video of a woman, visibly drunk, addressing a school assembly on the dangers of binge drinking.   A friend from another school had sent it to him.  The woman spoke for almost ten minutes before a teacher pulled her from the stage.  I knew the video would go viral. I knew the woman would be humiliated.  I knew the woman – Marjorie.

The most embarrassing thing I had done that week was sing in the gym shower.  (After a really intense workout, I had shut my eyes and for a moment, or two, or fifteen minutes, forgot where I was.)  When I got out of the shower, my fellow gym rat Mikey was in the locker room, laughing. My face reddened, but I sang another couple of lines just to show him I wasn’t too embarrassed.

Today I refuse to do anything humiliating, or to be embarrassed by the little things.

Sober Not Somber © 2015, 2016 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Sober Not Somber is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

66. False Knowledge
When I finished the applications, I visited Facebook and LinkedIn to look for something to write about.  Among all the drama, cat videos, and questionable diet advice, I found a quote I liked:
"Beware of false knowledge; it is more dangerous than ignorance.” by George Bernard Shaw.  I thought of all the false information our clients encountered that we tried to counter.  Beliefs like:

• I can't be alcoholic because I go to work and I never drink alone.
• I can't be addicted because I took them just the way they were prescribed.
• I don't need help because I never used a needle. 

All these mistaken beliefs were more dangerous than no knowledge whatsoever about alcohol and other drugs.  I decided I needed to look at some of my beliefs, to see if any misinformation was guiding my actions.

Today I will explore my beliefs. 

65. Sometimes slowly

 After group started, I closed my door and began working on renewing one of our training provider accreditations.  The accrediting organization had changed their forms and I had to change mine. In no time I was confused and frustrated.  What I thought would take me a couple of hours took all day. 

Although I tried to write a gratitude list, I just wasn’t feeling it. I fantasized about dropping my laptop from the roof, moving to Canada, and hunting moose for a living.  I remembered I didn’t hunt, and Canada gets really, really, cold.   I tried to be grateful the paperwork was finally done.

At AA meetings the “Big Book” passage describing how the rewards of recovery materialize, “sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly” is often quoted.  I accepted that, but struggled to accept the uneven pace of other things, including when people were slow to forgive, when my mind seemed to crawl along,  or when an injury didn’t heal quickly, to name a few.  It dawned on me I had no choice but to accept some things happen over time, some things happen when they happen, and some things never happen. 

Today I will accept ‘sometimes slowly.’

Sober Not Somber © 2015, 2016 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Sober Not Somber is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

64. Lucky as a Mild Heart Attack

Dave was the next to arrive.  “You know I’m working on not being such a jackass?” he asked me.  I nodded.  “I’m not doing very well.  On Sunday I was in line for communion. The line moved slow.  By the time I got communion I was mad. Afterwards, I thought ‘what kinda jerk gets mad in communion line?’  Ken, I’m tellin’ you I felt so hopeless about myself, I almost drank over it.  Went to a bar and ordered a Coke. Thought about ordering a shot – told myself if I’m gonna be a total ass my whole life I might as well be a drunk too.”

“Going to the bar was courting disaster,” I said, “but the whole episode was also a blessing in disguise.”  He shook his head, and stared at his shoes, but I went on. “Sometimes a near miss is a wake-up call.  Like barely avoiding a wreck makes you drive more cautiously, or a mild heart attack convinces you to change your diet.  Neither one is a good thing while they’re happening, and both should be avoided, but in the long run they might do you some good.  Likewise, don’t go back to the bar, learn from that near miss.”

Today I will learn from near misses before they become direct hits.

Sober Not Somber © 2015, 2016 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Sober Not Somber is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

63. Proud Not Arrogant

The next morning Marjorie failed the breathalyzer test.  After insisting the tester must be broken, she finally confessed she’d had ‘a few drinks’ the night before.  She told The Other Ken all the media attention around her anti-binge drinking campaign had fed her ego.  She’d convinced herself she could handle a drink or two.  The irony wasn’t lost on her.

Even so, Marjorie hit the roof when I said she wasn’t the first person to trip over her own pride.  She accused me of trying to keep her down so I could feel better about myself. “You hate pride,” she said, “because proud people don’t need your help.”

“Pride motivates people, it’s a great reward for hard work, and people with no pride often end up victims,” I said. “Pride becomes arrogance when your skills or accomplishments in one area of your life blind you to your shortcomings in another.  How many famous people have said the dumbest things, believing their athleticism, acting ability, or political power made them experts on just about everything? I’m proud of my writing, but I don’t write about things I don’t understand.  Do you know what I’m saying?” She rolled her eyes.

Today I will  try to be proud, not arrogant.

Sober Not Somber © 2015, 2016 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Sober Not Somber is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

62. My Father, What a Character

That night my 88 year–old father, who had been staying with us for the week, couldn’t lift the gallon of milk.  I remembered how in his sixties he had chased his grandchildren and tossed them into the air.

His legs were the first to go.  He walked with a cane, but not far. Diabetes had taken his energy.  His left eye was failing, his circulation too.

Hardship hand not changed his character. He still struggled, but stood for the National Anthem.  Once, sitting in a restaurant lobby, an elderly woman in a wheelchair came in after us.  He looked at her chair, then his cane.  He asked the hostess to move her party ahead of us.  “We’re in no hurry,” he said to me, “and she has it a little rougher.”

My kids played eight games of basketball that week.  He was tired, but he attended them all, and a banquet.  He loved watching his grandchildren play, but more importantly, he loved his grandchildren.  He wanted them to know it.  I was glad my children would see real men stay involved in their children’s lives, and their grandchildren’s, and their great-grandchildren’s.

I thought that someday aging might test my character.  I took stock of the traits that made up my character, which ones I needed to strengthen, which ones I needed to overcome.

Today I will take stock of my character.

Sober Not Somber © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Sober Not Somber is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

61. PEOPLE, Places, & Things

Bitsi (Bridget The Super Intern) and The Kid made their way to group.  She reminded the group the slogan “people, places, and things” meant avoiding reminders of substance abuse. She said, “Another reason for changing people is because some won’t adapt to the changes in you.  It’s not really their job to adapt, but it if you want to be clean, sober, and eventually happy, you may have to. ” She asked the group for examples, whether they involved addiction or not.

“My brothers get high when we watch football at the weasel’s house,” Norman said. “They won’t adapt to my sobriety.  I can’t blame them.  We started getting high during games as teenagers.  If I want to enjoy watching football again, I’ll have to watch with other people.”

The Kid said: “Nothing to do with drugs, but my buddy broke his back falling off a roof.  He only visits home on holidays because he has to eat in the basement. Makes him feel like a kid.  His family won’t install a ramp to the main level.  He can’t adapt and they won’t. It breaks his heart, but he’s gonna start spending holidays with me. He’ll be happier in the long run.”

I may have to feel bad about changing some people today, to be happier tomorrow.

Sober Not Somber © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Sober Not Somber is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

60. Soon Enough?

A young man I didn’t recognize was meeting with Bridget the Super Intern in the office next to mine. I could hear their conversation.  Bridget and The Other Ken had added a Thursday screening to his usual Monday drug test.  He had failed miserably.  He seemed almost relieved. 

Setting aside people who rebel against any and all authority, and sociopaths with no moral compass, most folks who get into trouble early learn their lesson and change their ways.   This young man had the rare insight to know not getting caught had allowed him to drift further and further into dangerous waters.  He’d started out a casual user and ended up a drug dealer. 

I thought of all the times I’d driven drunk before I had my final crash.  Had I gotten into trouble sooner I wondered if I might have stopped drinking earlier in life. “The problem is not getting caught soon enough,” I said to myself. 

Today I will beware of not getting caught.

Sober Not Somber © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Sober Not Somber is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

59. You Think That’s Funny?

Matey and Terrence were the last to arrive.  Terrence moved slowly as Matey kept pace with him.  I saw the concern on Matey’s face, and the determination on Terrence’s.  

I asked Terrence what happened.  He said, “I fell on the treadmill at physical therapy.  Set back the rehab of this hip a couple months.” He shook his head in frustration.

“So he says,” Matey the marine said, “but you know the Army, always moving slow and gettin’ there late.”  The two stopped moving and traded insults for almost five minutes, laughing harder and harder.  They were both smiling when they finally walked into group.  

They reminded me of my early years in AA.  I had learned to avoid the few politically correct, self-appointed, conversation monitors.  Instead, I listened to people who had learned to laugh about almost anything, especially their own painful episodes.  As they joked about their pasts, and traded insults in a loving way, I realized the future could be a lot of fun.  They reminded me to be grateful for the friends not easily offended, and not afraid of offending me.

Today I will be grateful for people who can laugh with me.

Sober Not Somber © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Sober Not Somber is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

58. Easier to Accept

“Do you know what else helps me stay motivated?” Andra asked.  I didn’t, she continued. “My take on the Serenity Prayer. I’m grateful for the things easier to accept than I thought they’d be.” I asked for an example. “Imagine a screeching leech leading a pack of smaller, higher pitched, screaming leeches.  That’s my sister-in-law and the whiny snot cauldrons she calls children.  Shortly after my husband and I were married, they moved to Boston.  Until my husband died I only had to see and/or hear them once a year.  Easier to accept.”

“They predicted a foot of snow last night,” I said. “When I got up I found out I only had two inches to shovel.  Easier to accept.”

Today I will be grateful for things easier to accept than I expected them to be.

Sober Not Somber © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Sober Not Somber is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

57. Singing My Praises

Later that day Andra stopped by to tell me she wasn’t a weed, didn’t spend too much time with Norman, and while he might be depressed, she wasn’t.  I laughed and told her I only knew what I saw.  She frowned, but changed the subject.

“My girlfriends are glad I’m back on the wagon,” Andra said, “But not as happy as they were the first time I got sober.”

I asked her if that bothered her. She said, “My brother was the star of the family. Nothing I did was ever anything more than ‘cute.’  I learned early to sing my own praises when I accomplished something. Mostly I sing them quietly to myself, but it’s nice when other people join in.”  

When I accomplish something today, I will I sing my own praises, if just quietly to myself.

Sober Not Somber © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Sober Not Somber is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

56. Don’t Transplant Weeds

“You know what I’ve accepted?”  Norman asked.  “I’m not going to get my old life back. My wife isn’t going to forgive me, and my son will never be the same.   What now?” 

  “After I got kicked out of my Ph.D. program,” I said, “I started looking for another school.  I wanted to keep drinking while I got my degree somewhere else.   I didn’t want to change my life.  I just wanted to transplant it, like moving a weed to more fertile soil. Over the years I’ve learned new weeds will sprout. I have to be careful not to just transplant them.”

Norman thanked me, and said he understood about not transplanting weeds.  I pointed out he was already spending a lot of time with Andra, while he was still married, new to recovery, and struggling with depression. “Sounds like new weeds are sprouting,” I said.  “Will you pull them or transplant ‘em?” 

Today I won’t transplant weeds.  

Sober Not Somber © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Sober Not Somber is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

55. Let Me Explain

The next day I was standing at the window in the break room, enjoying the sunshine, and drinking my first cup of coffee. Norman stood next to me, and looking away, said, “I told you about Marcus, the kid with special needs who lives next door.  Until the accident my son Devin looked out for Marcus. Now Devin has a serious brain injury.  He’s angry and bitter, and Marcus doesn’t understand why Devin doesn’t like him anymore.”  I nodded my head.

“I tried to tell my cousin what happened, but it took me forever,” Norman said. “I tried to explain about road conditions, my mental state, the role of alcohol in our culture, genetics, and the influence of beer commercials. Finally, I realized the truth was simple.  I got drunk, totaled my car, and almost killed my son.  Everything else was just me trying to hide from that truth.”

Today I will remember a lengthy explanation often hides a painful truth.

Sober Not Somber © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Sober Not Somber is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

54. Avoiding Resistance

I went to an AA meeting that night.  The speaker was on his third trip through recovery, having had five years sober twice before.  Both times he relapsed, he’d tested his recovery by hanging out in a social club with a liquor license.  He had wanted to ‘strengthen’ his recovery by practicing resisting temptation. 

“Now I look for the strength to avoid rather than resist temptation,” he said.  “So far it’s working.”

Today I will look for the strength to avoid rather than resist temptation.

Sober Not Somber © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Sober Not Somber is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

53. The Little Things

The next day my wife and I took Blondie back to my alma mater for another visit.  We stopped in the bookstore. To my amazement everything was reasonably priced.  When I was a student, the store was run by a monk named Mark, nicknamed ‘Brother Mark-Up’ because of the prices charged.

If I itemized the cost of college, bookstore shampoo or pens weren’t a big deal.  On the other hand, it was nice to know we wouldn’t be paying high prices for basic needs.  I added improvements to the bookstore to my gratitude last. I wondered if there were other little improvements in my life I might not have noticed.

Today I will be grateful for little improvements in my life.

Sober Not Somber © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Sober Not Somber is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

52. Beware the Weasel

Group started and I left my door open to hear how everyone was doing.

Norman was worried about his brothers.  He told the group he expected them to try to support him now that life was kicking him in the teeth.  He said his older brother was like a bull.  He would probably pressure Norman to have a drink.  Like a bullfighter, Norm thought he could easily sidestep his older brother.

Norman was more worried about his younger brother, the weasel.  “He can sell you on bad ideas, then convince you they were yours to begin with.  I lost $10,000 investing in a ferret farm he had me believing was my idea. It was a year before I remembered I hadn’t known ferrets were pets until he mentioned it.”

 The group agreed with Norman -- the slick weasel was almost always more dangerous to good intentions, honest plans, and recovery, than the straightforward bull.    

Today I will beware the weasel.

Sober Not Somber © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Sober Not Somber is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

Meditations for the First Thirty Days:

How Not to Become Roadkill on the Highway to Recovery

will be free on Amazon February 8th to February 12th, 2016:

http://www.amazon.com/Ken-Montrose/e/B001K8MG0S

Here's an excerpt:

Lesson Two

Marsha and Sally are good friends.  Marsha likes to listen to nature, her eyes closed, and her feet in a cool stream.  Sally likes to watch Monday Night Football, cursing like a sailor, and throwing popcorn at the screen.   Sally is often too hoarse to talk the morning after a big game.  Marsha tells Sally to seek an inner peace, away from the noise and chaos of modern life.  Sally tells Marsha to get a life.  After a game Sally will sit on her couch for an hour, too content to move.   

Today I will look for peace in noisy places.

God, I won’t ask you to help my team.  Just let me squeeze all the joy I can from the game, knowing that I can have fun without chemicals.  (Did I mention their quarterback often takes Your name in vain?)   p.3

51. Whatcha sayin’?

“Watch the news tonight,” Marjorie said as she passed me on her way to the group room.  “The coach and I were interviewed about our anti-binge drinking campaign.  We call binge drinking ‘chemical concussions.’”

Marjorie told me the camera had made her nervous, but she’d been thrilled to ‘find her voice.’  She didn’t want to be on camera again, but she liked the idea ‘finding her voice’ could mean texting one person, or posting online for many people to see. “I think I can do some good with this voice of mine,” she added, smiling.

Today I will find my voice.

Sober Not Somber © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Sober Not Somber is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

50. That’s My Story…

The next Monday I was the first person in the building.    We drug screened everyone on Mondays, with random screens later in the week.  Clients who relapsed over the weekend typically called off on Mondays, hoping the drugs would be out of their system by the time we tested them.  I got out my message pad and a pencil. In ten minutes the phone rang.

The first caller said, “My five year-old is sick.” I heard a muffled “Cough honey!” ‘Honey’ sounded like he might be the 38 year-old chain-smoker she lived with.   Sickness was the most common excuse, but dentist appointment, court date, dead dog, dead grandmother, and/or dead car were popular.  We didn’t have the resources to check excuses, but sometimes reportedly dead family members would later call us to check on their loved one’s progress.

I took the message, and tried not to judge the caller.  Before I drank my way out of my Ph.D. program, I’d told my professors many a tall tale as to why I needed more time to take an exam or complete a paper.  I was grateful that day there was nothing in my life I’d need to lie about.

Today I will be grateful for honesty.

Sober Not Somber © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Sober Not Somber is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)