It’s late and I’m tired. But I’m going to try something that I’ve not really tried before: Structure.

Since it “works if you work it” and I used again yesterday, I think it’s time to work it.

To the four or five people who read this blog and know me personally, I haven’t told everyone yet that I’m starting over, again. Tonight I told my Friday night group and my sponsor. And now I’m telling you. That’s all I can handle for today.

So without fanfare or drama or swearing or crying, this is my plan, based on the suggestions of those wiser…

This is not what I thought it would feel like to be 35, I told Linsey. She asked what I meant: Did I think I’d be the Composer in Residence for some college orchestra? More successful, career-wise? A better dad?

Not really more of anything, actually. The only way I knew to say it was, I thought I would be less lost.

The weeks after a relapse, even a quickly aborted one, are inevitably brutal. I’ve screwed up my brain chemistry: things that should feel good feel bland, things that should feel bad feel excruciatingly painful. Food for thought next time I get a…

Wikipedia defines duct tape as a strong,  multi-purpose pressure-sensitive adhesive tape. In America, we define duct tape as the multi-purpose, quick fix-it for all circumstances that need an immediate, temporary fix. This can range from taping the spine of a book together or holding a headlight in place until a repair can be done. Duct tape is the all-American fixer-upper.

My father used duct tape in an attempt to fix me. When I used to drink and black out—which was more often than I care to recall—I wasn’t always the best driver. I drank, and I drove, and I bounced off things…

My marriage may be falling apart.

I want a cigarette right now.

My husband is just as miserable as I am.

A vodka tonic with two limes sounds good.

This has been going on for years.

I could score an eight ball just 20 yards from my house.

I can’t eat and I can’t stop crying.

My husband has a prescription for Hydrocodone in his briefcase.

I want the pain to go away.

To be continued….

We don’t like to be embarrassed, is the truth, and our friends are a reflection of who we are, so they can embarrass us by association.

So imagine how bad it can be if we take an addicted one of these on a camping trip with people we want to impress, or worse, with family.

We unconsciously try to keep family with family, friends with friends. (Most people don’t know this). They can be a dangerous mix, family with friends, and all kinds of jealousies and rivalries and judgments and blame can spoil a perfectly wonderful time in the blender. Hey, jealousy…

At 40 days off cigarettes my back and ribs hurt me so much that I couldn’t move and for some reason I decided that I needed to see a chiropractor.  So I went to see one, had an exam, took a ton of x-rays, got an adjustment and was told to ice my ribs and come back the following Monday.

Well, that night I couldn’t get out of a chair I sat down in.  I tried to lie on the floor thinking it might help and instead it made things worse.  I called my mom and asked if she had anything…

Before I walk into a meeting, I typically prepare myself by defining some sort of intention. If I’m struggling with obsessive thoughts, I’ll dedicate my meeting experience to letting go. If I’ve been locked in conflict with another person, I’ll focus on boundaries. If I’ve been trying to do everything at once, I’ll meditate on taking it one day at a time. I find that by having a clear idea of how I’m struggling, I end up hearing solutions in the shares and the literature that I would be oblivious to had I not checked in with myself beforehand.

This morning,…

To read Part 1, click here.

After my first experience with alcohol, I remember regretting many of my actions that day.  I was embarrassed I couldn’t handle myself like some of my friends.  During this time, I was also dealing with depression on and off (more on than off).  This brings me to my second drinking experience. 

I was sitting in my room with all my family in the house and remember feeling uneasy and panicky (is that even a word).  I decided I would go and sneak 2 beer from the fridge outside and take a bath.  The first beer tasted…

Over the weekend I asked my husband to listen to me and to talk after if he wanted to, then I went through the short list of items in my head that I needed to say, that I needed him to hear, mentally checking them off one at a time, making sure I was watching how I said what I was saying so that if need be at a later date I could stand behind my words, my promises to myself.

I have been a creature of habit for most of my life. I think that having responsibilities and striving for perfection took away a lot of my spontaneity. I didn’t drink to excess because I didn’t want to lose control. I didn’t venture forth to uncharted territory because it seemed unsure. And when I did let go,…

Okay, I had to have very minor eye surgery, which required that I be awake. After talking over the risks/rewards with my doc of taking Valium (given that I am a drunk and a junky who’s–hallelujah–in recovery) I decided to risk 2 milligrams in the interests of having my best shot at avoiding permanent eye damage.

Since I’m sworn to tell the truth, I must admit that a very high percentage of my pre-operation thoughts were fixated on taking that pill. I was both appalled and amused to realize that I WAS LOOKING FORWARD TO IT!!!! I beamed right back twenty…

This is a hopeful country, right now. Perhaps a hopeful world.

After a decade of what felt like partisan bickering for bickering’s sake, it feels to me as though we’re abruptly willing to slow down, chill out, and start looking for each other’s  good qualities again. All around me, I’m aware of people reaching out to one another, finding  areas of agreement instead of dispute, open  to working together addressing  the world’s formidable problems.

Boy howdy, does it feel good.

Of course, many credit our president-elect for the resurrection of hope in this country. I saw Senator Obama speak and would be hard-pressed…

Okay, it was bound to happen. Everybody who rides a motorized bike is going to drop it at some point.

Perhaps its just that I wasn’t expect to have trouble leaving my own driveway. But there I was caught in the drainage ditch on the other side of the dirt road I live on and going down.

I was going about five miles and hour so there was plenty of time to jump clear. Charlie had gone on ahead on his bike, so I was on my own with a two-wheeled vehicle that weighs considerable more than I do. Plus, I was…

Yes, I’m tired. Something we all learn early in sobriety to guard against. I can feel that my whole being is stretched a little thin. But the deal is, there’s not a lot I can do about it till the weekend. I’m deep in public radio fundraising, on deadline for NPR, and have a book proposal that just won’t come to heel nicely. So, tired or not, I gotta keep on keeping on.

The thing is, I’ve got enough sense to recognize fatigue as being a non-desirable state. When I was still drinking and using, I pushed myself to the edge…

Sorry, I’ve been away. No reason, except too, too much to do. But, you know, I missed blogging, so, you know, I’m just going to find the time.

I spent Friday fretting our world economic crisis and the disturbing appearance of blatant racism in the American presidential campaign.

Saturday and Sunday, I spent a good part of the day scooting.

On a scooter.

A 151 blue teal blue scooter that allows me to travel curvy country roads at speeds that don’t annoy whoever’s behind me and reacquaint me with what it feels like to just be having fun.

Both days were beautiful. Warm and…

to go so long between posts. I had another piece in the Chicago Tribune and have been spending my spare moments responding to the many, many interesting e-mails it generated.

Here ’tis. This is part of a larger piece that I’m working on about being in partnership with God. I’d be grateful for any and all feedback. Really, really, really. . .

Knowing that voice within

An atheist father teaches his daughter to do the right thing, and from there she finds God

By Martha Woodroof

July 27, 2008

Ashley Bryan, 85 last Sunday.

The Warm Springs Gallery in Warm Springs, Virginia (population around 900) had an opening for a rare exhibition of his paintings. Bryan is best known as a writer and illustrator of children’s books. He was one of the first persons of color to present images of children of color in picture books that were not stereotypical. He was, as Poet Nikki Giovanni put it at the opening, a real pioneer.

I was working, of course. On assignment. Yet I can’t remember when I’ve had a better time hanging out with anyone. I think I was not alone…

Multi-tasking.

I’d like to suggest it’s the antithesis of sobriety–at least of the all-important part of sobriety that’s manifested by a calm mind.

I re-decided this (for the 89th time!)  a couple of days ago while  talking on the phone while e-mailing someone else while simultaneously doing a web-search while trying to block out a too-loud hall conversation among my colleagues. My mind felt as though it were being–as a wonderful editor friend of mine likes to put it–as though it were being pecked to death by ducks.

I’ve often resolved to just do one thing at a time, but I can never…

God and I can only partner in any useful way in the real world, and the reality is that the real world often makes me uncomfortable.

I’ve certainly done my share of damage by shying away from my own discomfort. Back in the early nineties when I was first climbing out of addiction, I ran a railroad crew hotel for about a year. It was the last remaining business in a once-thriving town. At the time, I was filled with the desire to save people as I, myself, had been saved—filled with it to the point of omnipotence. I was certain…

and decided that I sound just too-too spiritual and perfect sounding. In fact, I thought I sounded like the kind of person I wouldn’t enjoy lunching with at all.

So I feel a burning desire to make one thing clear about my personal code of conduct (that’s the title of my last post). It’s very much about the way I act, not about the way I necessarily feel.

In other words, sobriety hasn’t turned me into a saint who always feels kindly toward everyone else on the planet. I’m still annoyed with people about 50 percent of the time. What sobriety has…

I have a code of conduct, but it’s far less specific than it used to be back in the days when I used such a code mainly as a Richter scale for measuring the strength my current rebellion.

These days I try to be kind, thoughtful, completely honest with myself (an ever-evolving process) and as honest with others as kindness allows.

I try to approach people who are different than I, or who don’t seem to be behaving as I think they should, with curiosity and compassion, and without judgment — which is still a huge struggle for me, particularly…

I make my living reporting for public radio, which means that I spend my days having conversations with folks I don’t know well. And as I do a lot of feature work–as opposed to hard news, a lot of those conversations go on for quite some time.  A successful in-depth interview requires me to help the person I’m talking to relax and just talk to me about what they think or feel or have experienced.

I used to think that to be successful, this kind of interview had to be done in person. But then, as I began to do more…

This appeared in 81–a regional publication that I love. Like most of what I write, it’s about issues that are relevant to sobriety.

lastwords

June 2008

Crossing the Jordan River
So What About God?

by Martha Woodroof

I began school in the Southern Bible Belt before the Supreme Court removed prayer from the classroom in 1962 with Engel v. Vitale. I was the daughter of an agnostic and an atheist. Jesus was every child’s friend but mine.

On some Monday mornings, my teacher—Southern sweet and impenetrably groomed— would purse her lips and ask any student who hadn’t been in Sunday school to stand up. When I…

Our Head Cat, Mr. Lewis, is old, has feline HIV and has been on his dignified way out enough times to qualify as the definitive proof that cats have nine lives.

Lewis’ latest flirtation was death involved a bad reaction to a new medicine for joint pain. He stopped eating–and I mean stopped. We began syringe feeding (we’d been through that before), but as Head Cat’s baseline weight hovers at about 7.5 pounds, there wasn’t much wiggle room. Charlie and I were soon calling for help.

Our wonderful house-calling vet galloped to the rescue, bringing medicine to heal Lewis’ stomach. I was…

Had this essay come out in Sunday’s Chicago Tribune, and I was amazed at the response. So, I thought I’d post it here and see if any of you had anything to say about what I had to say.

Age before beauty is true view

By Martha Woodroof

May 25, 2008

For me, 60 need not be the new 30. I’ve already been 30, and I prefer adventure to repetition.

I do still dance uncontrollably in grocery store aisles, but I’ve moved way beyond the person I was at 30. And I have no desire for anyone to take me as anything other than what…

I really believe that sobriety is about living and let-living, forgiveness, tolerance, and getting along with others–and this certainly includes our neighbors.

That’s one of my neighbors in the picture. I just discovered that she took a recent stroll through my gardens, leaving huge holes where flowers used to be.

Sometimes, sobriety is a real challenge. . .

Here’s the deal. I just finished the second draft of my second book, which has the working title, God Is. Now What? It’s basically about having a working faith in God outside of the confines of organized religion. The manuscript is up at my agents, but I’m frankly hungry for feedback. Below is a piece of the “Note,” which opens things up. I’d love to hear reactions just to this tiny portion. What I’m trying to do is be part of what I see as a change in our conversation about faith.

“One bright May morning my husband Charlie, who’d just read the…

It’s 4 o’clock Friday afternoon. I’ve been on deadline all week and, man, am I pooped. I spent the day (after filing my story) cleaning up my e-mail and trying to clean up the inside of my head. I think, you know, that I must be really, really tired. I have a tendency to push myself to keep going. The more I get done, the more there seems to be that I want to do or try.

My office at work has a window. I sit facing it. with my back to the door and, as I have a very friendly…

“Underneath the fume and fuss, Life is just asparagus.”

I wrote it years ago, but don’t you think it soooooo describes a sober attitude???

. . . even though I thought it was just a great game–everything, that is, except the outcome. I did want the New England Patriots to achieve perfection since that is denied to the rest of us humans.

What I want to write about is the novel experience of stability. Before I got sober my life was tumult on two feet. Without drugs and alcohol, I’ve managed to live with the same guy for fifteen years, have the same job for 8, the same cats for over a decade, and live in the same house for 5 years. And I have…