Saturday mornings are rough for me. I work grave shift and between flipping between my “real life hours” (school, second job during the week AND general ‘real life’ stuff) and “work life” hours, (my main job, Friday and Saturday nights), the weekends are just plain exhausting, and it seems like the rest of the week I am just trying to play catch up.
Meetings are apparently three times a week within a 30 minute drive, in different places and at different times. With my current schedule, I could attend either of the other two meetings far more easily.
But I really like this group. I like the energy of this group. Maybe that will change; maybe it will fade over time, or maybe I’ll just get tired of staying up past my shift when all I want to do is crash into bed rather than staying up and driving an hour round trip drive plus meeting time.
Hmm. I sound cranky. I think I am tired.
Scratch that, I know I’m tired.
But I’ve connected with a sponsor, so I’m officially sponsor-fied. We sat and talked after the meeting a bit, and I asked her to be my sponsor.
I’ll admit. I’m not quite sure what that means. I have a picture of Denis Leary in my head, standing outside the bar, on the phone to his sponsor in “Rescue Me.” I’m trying to imagine myself dialing mine and saying, “Please tell me not to eat the cake.”
God, I hope that’s not how this works.
I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’ll be the first to admit that. So far, I’ve been working through a work book (and haven’t gotten as far as I would have liked, but isn’t that the story of my life?) and meditated over the first two steps.
Accepted them, even, which was harder than I expected it to be.
And now I’m stalled at the third step, which is a strange place to be.
“Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood him.”
I quit smoking primarily because it did not fit in with my spiritual life, or at least how I imagined my ideal spiritual life would be.
Saying I wanted to turn my life over to God is something I’ve been doing for a while. And it’s something I am working towards, becoming more centered and grounded, and have been, for the past year, despite all sorts of fumbling and bumbling about.
But doing it frightens the hell out of me. And it shouldn’t. It’s illogical since God is the source (and I could go on and on and on about my personal beliefs here and how they fit in with the notion of submitting to God), I shouldn’t have a problem with it.
I get that I’m not really in control at all.
But there is a gulf between what I KNOW and what I FEEL. Something funny and fuzzy that I can’t pin down.
It’s not that I have a problem turning my will regarding food over to God. I just have a problem turning my dreams over to Him.
I am afraid of letting go of my dreams.
And that’s because I’m just starting to realize them.
Joseph Campbell said, “We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the life that is waiting for us.”
I just wonder if I can.
I started back at school today, and spent about 40 minutes walking around the campus. Not particularly fast. Just walking and admiring how beautiful it is. It’s not hardcore exercise.
I’m not even sure it qualifies as exercise. But I was moving, and I did finally figure out (between that and writing) what I’m afraid of. It’s a start.
I also started a food journal.
I would have sworn, on a Tom Robbins book no less, that I didn’t eat this much crappy food before I wrote it down.
But I wrote it down. Every little bit.
That’s a start, too.
What I haven’t started is either work or this livejournal stuff.
But that will have to wait.