From time to time I've been tempted to blog about my 'wasted youth' in more detail.
It's fun, really, to look back on that time in my life, the early 1980's as long as I don't get too close to the heart of the matter. I was broke, but I managed to look good. I had fun, and I managed to keep from being raped or killed, not all the women who partied at the time, or in the same places, can say the same.
I had a serious drug and alcohol problem then.
What I did about it was so mundane I hardly give it a thought any more - I joined a 12 Step program.
In some ways, that was the answer. However, for the first two years, just surviving the pitfalls of that particular 12 Step program was a bigger challenge than staying alive in the bars. Those Meetings were attended by a lot of old guys who didn't like young girls cluttering up their sobriety with questions. They didn't like drug addicts (some because they were doing drugs and didn't want to be challenged.)
When the Recovery Backlash surfaced with the rising of the Internet, I read a lot of the blogs and silently agreed with a great deal of what the 'AA Bashers' said. The number of sexual predators (of both genders) that I encountered, as still encounter when I'm around Those Meetings, is astounding. The way the program of recovery is used as a weapon against the newcomers is really distressing.
There are some things about Those Meetings that really suck.
But I stuck it out, because I wanted to stay sober. Still do, for that matter. There are some people who welcome me with open arms, others who really hate having me in a meeting with them.
Tough shit. I earned my seat.
But 27 years of Recovery has really changed my mind about the 12 Step fellowships. They are flawed, some of the people in them are really sick, some are dangerous. (Rumor has it that serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer was an AA member in good standing.) However, I've always been able to find people who would pull their heads out of their butts to help me.
There are some wonderful people hiding in Those Meetings. The problem is getting past the crazy and the predatory to find them. It's kinda like a video game, you gotta slay the monsters to get to the treasure.
Maybe everybody wasn't a Robin Williams, but I've found some angels whose wisdom I will cherish and spread every chance I get. There are people with whom I've butted heads in years gone by that I miss deeply. Some are still alive, some are dead.
It is the principles that remain, the 12 Steps are the most useful things I've ever learned. They are the building blocks of my sanity, especially at times like these when my life is chaos.
I'm writing this because I'm at one of those godawful crossroads. I hate them with a passion. But here I stand, with a road ahead, a road behind, one to my left and one to my right. For the life of me, I can't tell which one to take, except that going back looks pretty shitty.
One road down and three to go.
Acceptance may be the answer to all my problems today, but it's where my feet take me in the future that matters. I have goals today, I don't make plans, write plays and expect everyone to act their part. Clowns be clowns, some times the best thing to do is watch the show. But goals are things that keep us going forward in the midst of dark times.
These are dark times.
What I'm doing is taking inventory. Of myself, my books, my life as it stood two months ago when I left Jordan's Croft for Talbot Hill Croft. What I've found is that it's best if I take the inventory now, and allow my Higher Power to provide the guidance I need. That's come when I needed it the most. Though never in the shape I think it will take.
One of my 'paths' is to stop writing and marketing my books. I've spent every spare minute on that since I started down that path. The return on investment has been dismal. I get a lot of satisfaction from the process, and no cash to speak of. However, the process is time-consuming, energy-consuming and I have limited amounts of both right now. I have to make a choice.
I've decided to give it one last crack, but I've put a time limit on it.
My paperback books will become my focus for the next 90 days. At the end of the year, I'll look over the hard data and make some new choices. There will be four paperbacks by then, possibly two more if I finish another Emissary book and convert a collection of my mother's stories to print.
I've found that face-to-face market pays better, when you have paperbacks to sell. The Emissary #1 is on sale now in paperback and The Emissary #2 will be ready by the end of next week.
I've got a box of each of the books coming this week. I've decided to throw my lot in with a large author's group in my area. I've hesitated to join this group because I'm afraid of the amount of alcohol and drugs that may come with the territory. It is always something I need to be careful of, other people's addictions can reek havoc on my recovery.
I have a plan to expand my publishing efforts, that could turn in to a wrap-up and shut down if need be. I have a plan to go back to work, using my writing and my fiber arts as hobbies. I have a plan that brings my wheelchair-bound father back to Jordan's Croft, but that plan is full of 'what if' and 'maybe if' to the point where I hate to put it forward.
There's another plan, the 'fall-back-and-punt' plan that I DON'T like one bit. It involves selling everything I own and going north again. Not to Ashtabula, but to Cleveland or it's suburbs, or to Louisville even. This could require the sale of my horses and my alpacas, not something I want to think about, but so be it.
Everyone needs a plan of last resort.
There are commonalities these paths. They start out looking the same. Going back to Jordan's Croft for a time. Cleaning out Talbot Hill Croft, no matter what happens with the books. Selling books in September and October, tweeting and marketing limited amounts. Purging my house, barn, shed and porch of everything I don't need.
The next four months will be busy ones. If I'm not blogging here, at Jordan's Fiber Arts or on
Facebook, you'll know why.
Stay well.
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