Step12.com

[tim-one]

Disclaimer:
This is a convoluted story. I’ve no doubt, it will be controversial to many. My purpose is purely personal; to understand how I got into a chair in AA meetings. My request is that the reader keep an open mind. It will be easy to start debates in ones own mind over some things I might say. If someone needs to or can hear it, fine. It is not my intention to convince anyone that my God should be anyone else’s. Some of my experiences may be beneficial to some who are struggling at this time to realize a Higher Power. If so, that’s great. If not, no skin off my teeth. Do what you need to do for you.

Uh … Claimer:
This essay helped me greatly. I had several “DOH!” moments writing it. I needed to do this for me anyway. I think pretty loud. Eavesdrop if you want.

It became ungodly long. Sorry. I had a long row to hoe to get here and it all matters to me. I’m thinkin’ movie here.

My Higher Power: (Or “My life. Welcome to it ….. LORD. I mean, really… Take it.”)

As a young child, I was very spiritually aware. Of course, as a child, I tended to believe everything I heard. Nevertheless, my contact with God (and awareness of the devil) were very real to me. I prayed personally (un-religiously) as a child. Unusual for Catholic kid familiar with recited group prayers, I just talked to God like He was standing around with me like anybody else. And I feared the devil.

I was plagued with nightmares. Some recurred regularly, every night. I consciously developed behaviors to “protect” myself from things in the dark, but had no defense when I was asleep.

My most recurrent dream was a tyrannosaur chasing me. He would find me wherever I hid. One night, I made a dream-conscious decision to act differently than usual.

The beast found me in one of my hiding places and tore the roof off. I stood up, pointed at it, and bravely yelled, “JESUS”. He stopped and lied down like whipped puppy. I climbed on his neck and rode him all over town repairing the hiding places he’d destroyed to get me.

(Whoa … I never thunk o’this before. This writing is good for me.
It’s very much like that now. In the steps, I’m pointing at the “beast” and yelling, “JESUS!”. Wow. Déjà vu all over again. )

Another regular nightmare was a banshee (anybody remember “Darby O’Gill and the Little People”?) coming in my bedroom door for me. VERY real to me. I still saw her when I was sure I woke up. (You know that thing, right?) One night that dream woke me up screaming for mom who calmed me.

(Note: Try not to let this one close your mind. I was a kid, fer cryin’ out loud! You’ll get my thinking later.)

As I lay there praying myself back to sleep, I heard a very sweet, peaceful woman’s voice say, “Tim”. (I was Timmy back then. Nobody called me Tim.) I called mom again thinking she called me. “Huh, mom?” She didn’t call me. In her comforting mom way, she told me it was probably my guardian angel letting me know she was there. So I went back to bed and said, “Ok. I’m back. You can talk to me now.” No reply. But I never had that nightmare again.

(Note: That night, I was in terror-mode from the dream. Remember that. Like I said, you’ll get my thinkin’ later.)

I grew up Catholic. I was devout as a kid. As nearly everyone, I cooled off in my adolescent self and eventually was non-practicing, gradually ignoring spirituality to the point of forgetting all about it. I attended parochial schools through 11th grade. Couldn’t go back senior year. They didn’t let pregnant girls or married teens in parochial schools. Go figure.

I still appreciate the Catholic way of worship. I learned a lot from it about reverence, sacraments (Outward sign if inward grace. Kinda like getting a desire chip.), confession, forgiveness, etc. And things I wouldn’t understand or appreciate until later, like joyful suffering, offering suffering to God, (to a kid, offering means someone will take it from me if they want it. Not what that really means.) But, now I know what I lacked was that I can read and understand the Bible for myself. (That’s what the Guttenberg printing press and Martin Luther did for us.) Every Catholic had a Bible to record marriages, deaths, and stuff. Very few actually read it. But it was still highly respected.

(Note: Unlike many, for some reason, I never equated disappointment with religion and religious people and disappointment with God. To me, religion is how people decide to worship (or not) God as they see fit. People fail me. God doesn’t, even when I thought He did. Read on.)

“The Exorcist” came out in 1973. I was 20. I took my girlfriend to see it. I was in my normal cheerful frame of mind when we went in. For some reason, I watched the movie with my eyes bulging, body tingling, and was mesmerized with fear. (I don’t know why … must have been exactly the right time, right mood, whatever. I was always immune to horror flicks. Funny stuff.)

Walking out, my GF said, “Hold my other hand.” “Why?” “You squished all the blood out of that one.”

As we left the theater, there were Jesus freaks outside handing out flyers. I grabbed one like the famished grab bread. Apparently, “Jesus has all power over the devil”. Geez … I forgot!

You know that temporary rush of adrenalin you get when you’re surprised with immediate danger? Total fear and acute awareness? I felt like that every second of every day. I stopped sleeping altogether. When I did doze off, the only dreams I had were demonic nightmares so real that I would wake up and still be in it … every night … for a long, long time.

(Note: SO … being in such an irrational state for so long, I do rationally understand and expect anyone’s reaction that I was in a state of psychosis for quite a while. Please try to keep an open mind to my impressions at the time and my sane reasoning as I reflect.)

As soon as I could, I searched out a place where I could find Jesus (again), still tingling with fear. I found a non-denominational, Spirit-filled, Bible reading church and was excited to dive in to save my neck. (Seems to me, that’s the only reason I sought God for anything … a time of severe need.)

I got myself saved, baptized (on purpose this time), filled with the Holy Spirit, and devoured the Bible. I became a long-haired-hippy-lookin-Bible-thumpin-street-preachin-tongue-talkin Jesus freak.

The fear didn’t go away. Many extremely frightening, physically real things happened on occasion to let me know the devil was still chasing me and renewing my fear. (I won’t detail them here. You can ask if you like.) I wasn’t less afraid, but I clung to Jesus in faith, believing that He would eventually free me.

One night, I was praying on my knees. Just my usual prayer session. I was expressing to God that I was worried that I don’t represent Him right when I preach. That I was embarrassed by ridicule for my over-enthusiasm. Suddenly everything went from silence to absolute lack of sound. Absofrignlute peace. I heard a sweet, peaceful woman’s voice say, “Does that really bother you, Tim?” Without a thought calmly replied, “Well, I guess not, Lord. I do it anyw …..” ………...

Wuh?? I heard a voice from nowhere and didn’t run screaming down the street naikid? (been there, done that). Wait a minute … I’m terrified of EVERYTHING !

I started to get nervous, but not panicked. I walked outside and started considering it. I RECOGNIZED that voice. The same one when I was a kid. From terrified to peace in a nano-second. Aw, c’mom, Tim. You’re so freaked out you’re probably hearing voices now. Oh, Good Lord. Now I’m schitzy. Gotta see a shrink. At that time in my life, I certainly didn’t rule out some kinda psychosis.

But I couldn’t get over the difference. Instead of freakin’ out, all I felt was total peace for the first time in a year. The voice DID seem to be in my head, but was clearly, unmistakably audible … like when monaural sound in headphones sounds like it’s in the middle of your head. (Try that to hear what I heard.) So, the way I perceived it was God’s voice. But why a woman’s voice? God’s a guy, ain’t He?

I surmised that it was God’s voice I’d heard as a kid. I actually recognized it. Maybe He was preparing me for this day way back then. Maybe He knew that, at this time in my life, being so fearful of spiritual things, a man’s voice might have made my heart stop or I’d go into a catatonic fetal curl for the rest of my life. What convinced me was that I wasn’t afraid of it. And what was said was exactly what I needed to hear that moment. I continued evangelizing with fervor thinking God wanted me to. (Man. I really sucked at it. No tellin’ how many necks I broke hitting peops in the head with the Bible. Maybe yours.)

(NOTE: I’ve NEVER told ANYONE about this experience. I have my own joke – “Do the voices in my head bother you, too?” I’ve never even told anyone who would believe me, much less anyone who would criticize me. I’m fearful of sharing it now. It may cause some to poo-poo the whole spiritual thing as goofball stuff cuzza nuts like me. But then again, if some have ever wondered about similar experiences. I can’t answer that. I’m just talking about me. Take it or leave it.)

Several months later, I finally convinced a guy to accept Jesus as his Lord and Savior. I took him off the street and took him into my apartment. I was praying for the guy and thanking God for taking Him into His arms. The voice again. “Tim, he’s a liar.”

Again, without freaking, I replied, “But Lord, so am I. And if You love ME, NO ONE can be hopeless.” (gotta read to the end now about hopelessness.) No answer. I found out later the guy had been stealing from me and following me around so I wouldn’t throw him out. I threw him out and continued serving God more humbly. I took seminary courses to better my knowledge and understanding of my God. Stopped evangelizing. Everybody was happy about that.

I had an opportunity to take a great job in Dallas and was leaving Tulsa. My church leaders told me not to go. My place was there with them. Uh oh. Now they want to run my life. That’s cultic religion, not spirituality, to me. Outathere! I went to Dallas and took my God with me. Never been back to church since, but stayed very much in personal contact with God as I understood him and continued to study the Bible.

Life events eventually negated my relationship with God. I wasn’t angry with Him. Just impartial. I started reading the Bible from an attitude of philosophy and not spirituality. I became interested in other philosophies and read-up a little on anything else. I became eclectic, tolerant, and understanding of other ideals. It was good for me.

Somehow, nothing else intrigued me enough to totally defect (the verb) to another particular way. But it did broaden my understanding of my God. I started perceiving Him as all things. I recognized that ,even in the Bible, He often “revealed” Himself to various people in various ways in context of the situation and their mentality. It occurred to me that THAT is why there are so many denominations of Christianity.

It’s not so much that we can’t agree on the right way to worship or what we should expect from God. To me now, God chooses to express that part of His “allness” either because no one human can understand “all else” or so He can express ALL of Himself fully by spreading it out. To me, that includes all other religions, too. Who am I to judge? I’m just completely convinced of MY Higher Power.

Through yet more life changes, I began raging at Him perversely. Most of the time, I sounded a lot like Yosemite Sam bouncing down the stairs. (Don’t know Yosemite Sam? Bugs Bunny cartoons, young’n.) “CRAKA SMAKA SAKKA FRAKN NAKER SMIKKER FRIGA …..”. Or maybe like the dad in “A Christmas Story”.

I railed and cursed and told everyone He’s an ars-hoe and very nearly defected to Satanism or Wicca. Nearly. Didn’t quite have the guts to slam that door. I was exactly like Riddick (Vin Deisel – “Pitch Black”) “Oh, I definitely believe in God. And I hate the mama jammer”.

I definitely believed in God. I believed He COULD do anything. I was convinced He WOULDN’T. P I S S E D ME OFF! This went on for a couple of years.

If I’d been aware at the time, I could have put a mark on the calendar and stopped my clock at the exact moment He took His Spirit from me. From then on, when I prayed (when I tried to crawl back to Him … out of need, of course), it was perfectly tangible that my voice went nowhere. It was like I was talking with my nose against a wall even to my own ears. My voice came straight back at me. Again, I say, tangibly. This time I wasn’t psychotic with fear. I was wide awake, standing in my front 10 acres, raging. I told Him to leave me the fug alone. He did. (Dammit … the first time He did what I asked in a long time. Swell.) No voice.

Eventually, I decided to check myself into rehab. Decided I was an alcoholic. It was 1997. I was 44. I had to make contact with my Higher Power. Oh, fer cryin’ out loud. I had to renew my personal relationship with the God I’d miffed. I did … sorta. I confessed, apologized, and said I need Him … again. I kept praying and believing I fixed it.

But I failed to delve into the program with all my heart. I was half-assin’ it. I stayed sober for two years somehow. What DID happen is that I calmed down and knew that God had abandoned me because I drove Him away. I was the one who cursed me. Not God. I began to talk to Him more often and started thanking Him when something went right.

Still my voice went nowhere. After 2 years, I started drinking again and, of course, again became worthless.

I prayed and prayed and prayed for God to help me overcome my drinking and help me fix everything around me going wrong. No help that I could tell. I got worse and worse until, being an alcoholic insomniac, I was alone in the dark in my own dark head all night every night PLANNING my suicide (I’ve come to call it auto-murder. I didn’t even know the guy I was gonna kill.) The only thing that kept me from it was knowing that I screw up everything. If I tried to kill myself I’d fug that up, too, and it would just hurt. Or I’d make myself paraplegic and couldn’t kill myself if I wanted to.

I really asked God to kill me. Or just let me die. Instead, He even prevented me when I would have done it myself. Boy, am I glad now my voice went nowhere.

January 6, 2009, I checked myself into rehab again (After Christmas & New Year, doncha know ). Ok, I was talking to my God again. I shouldn’t have any trouble revitalizing our relationship … again … NOT! I pretty much did it like I did last rehab. MY voice stayed in my head. But I kept trying.

One day, I attended chapel. It was a good sobriety targeted sermon. I don’t remember much of it. I do remember being impressed to stay after and pray. Ok. I’ll go to any lengths …

I stayed alone on the kneeler. Kinda reminded me of my Catholic upbringing. I prayed face in hands, crying with incredible sorrow over my life, how I’d treated my God so shamefully. I told Him I don’t care if I stay sober, die, or anything else. I wanted to have our relationship back. I went over my shame and guilt with Him. I said, “I’m crawling back a muddy, bloody mess. I don’t want anything from you but YOU. I have no reason to believe You’d consider having me back. (sh!t. I’m cryin’ writing this.) All I ask is that you let me stand in a corner and be Your worst servant.”

No terror. Sober 2 weeks (well, ok … dry and still kinda nuts ). Happy, energetic, socially accepted, intellectually sparking, but spiritually bankrupt. No voice this time. Fine. I didn’t need one.

Suddenly and quite as tangibly as He took His Spirit from me, I heard my voice go somewhere. It went out from me and didn’t bounce back. I HAD MY FACE IN MY HANDS. The sound changed. It was as if my hands weren’t there and this time, not in my head. Verifiably in my ears. The whole room was filled with peace. I felt warm arms around me like I did when I was a kid. I felt His chest on the side of my face. What wonderful hug. My heart sank into relaxation. Any doubt that He would have me back disintegrated.

OMAGOD, did I cry then! I was bawlin’ like a little girl. SO relieved! I NEVER felt that before. Now I feel it every time I thank God for having me back. I am SO grateful. It’s incredibly humbling. I’m also grateful, not so much that I’m sober, but that I AM an alcoholic. Now I know it was necessary for me to have gone through all that, even my drunkenness and rage, to know that my God really loves me and has a purpose for me. I am to help suffering alcoholics find the Higher Power of their understanding and to redeem themselves from alcoholism by their faith in Him, Her, It, Them, Whatever. This time .. NO PREACHING ALLOWED! (Orders from HPquarters.) “Attraction rather than promotion”.

I know who MY Higher Power is. The God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Tim. Father of my Lord and savior Jesus Christ. Creator of heaven and earth and of all things visible and invisible. El Ely – Most High God. Adonai – Lord God. El Shaddai – Almighty God (also “God with many breasts”- etymologically). “I AM THAT I AM”.

Frankly, within AA context, I really don’t care who one’s HP is or what they must do to make contact. God and I are willing (He is able) to help a sufferer through the sometimes traumatic search. Pick my God? Cool. That’s up to you. I’m not going to talk you into it. He’s mine and you can’t have him. (I am SO joking and you know it. ). You do what YOU need to do with Whomever you grock. (Yep, you old hippies, grock made it to the dictionary this year. But they misspelled it. It’s GROK. )

Through my experiences, I’ve learned that, even if you have the same God as me, it is highly unlikely that we have the same understanding of Him. He may choose to express Himself to you in much different terms, in context of your life experience and according to your own needs. That’s God’s job and I can’t help.

I know this:
• God loves me WAY too much. And He always has, even when I broke His heart.
• If I ain’t hopeless, ain’t NOBODY hopeless. That’s a puny human idea.
• God really wants to be sought. He’s just waiting for US to ask with open minds.
• Even when I hated Him, He did things for me that I didn’t realize. I shouldn’t be alive today for so many reasons. Shoulda died at SO many moments.
• In spite of my “CAN but WON’T” rage, God can and WILL if we seek Him.
• My God is not only higher than me, He’s higher than alcohol.
• If I ever stop believing in God, He still is. If He ever stops believing in me, I never was. He believes in You. I can tell. You’re here.

I LOVE ME SOME DRUNKS AND DOPE FIENDS! And I love me a wonderful God!

This writing is godawful huge. Sorry. But that’s my story and I’m stuck with it.

When reading the Bible and the Big Book, I pay attention to what’s comin’ when I see the words “but” or “if”. My sobriety is like that.

“My life was crap, BUT then I got sober and AA promises that “If we are painstaking about this phase of our development, we will be amazed before we are half way through.”
(BB Pg. 83,84) Wonderful promises that are now, continually coming true in my life. And that’s my God’s doin’

I’M LIVING AFTER THE BUT! It’s a whole new life.
Love y’all,
Tim1

I’m going to post an update later of what my HP is doing for me now … after the “but”. This post is long enough!

[sunlight]

Darby O'Gill, Yosemite Sam and iceboxes! How about Sherman & Peabody and the way-back machine? Thank you for the memories and your Higher Power quest.

You made me think of one night when I was raging drunk. I ran out in the back yard and shook my fist up at the sky at God and yelled, "What am I supposed to Dooo...?"
I heard a voice boom in my head that thundered, "I AM WITH YOU."
I was confused. It sure wasn't telling me what to do. It was telling me what He is. Shook me pretty bad.

Never heard anything before or after that in quite that way.

Thanks for that memory too!

So, when's the movie?

Thanks for being you, Sunlight

[tim-one]

Whew. I'm so glad I'm not the only one. Maybe we can get your man's voice and my woman's voice together.

I don't know if I can sell the movie. I thought about putting a couple of intermissions in the story. I know I had a few potty breaks.

You betcha. Sherman and Peabody, Aesop's Fables,

Tommy Turtle - "HELP ME MISTER WIZRRRRRRD! I DON"T WANT TO BE A DRUNK ANY MORE!" "Frizzle frazzle frozzle frome. Time for this one to come home."

Tom Slick where I got my initials. TS. - "There's no such word as 'no' in AA, Marigold." I adopted his logo for my signing initials and poyms.

Ricochet Rabbit - "PING ping PINNNNNNNNG". That was me in rehab when they took away my ADHD meds.

Ah, take me back. Good sponsorship for a kid.

Thanks, Sunny.
Tim1

[Dallas]

You two funny!!!

Thank you!

I better keep the voices I heard -- to myself!!!

Wouldn't want to drive anyone back to drinking!

It took a lot of time to figure out if I was listening to the Master or the Memorex! So much time... that I'm still waiting to figure it out!

Thank you for your sharing. Very moving to read your posts!

Dallas

[tim-one]

HAHahahahahah ..... thanks for reminding me, Dallas.

In rehab, they give addiction-thinking a name. "Slick". OOOooooo, he's sneaky! Reeeeelly interesting, helpful stuff.

Gives meaning to "While we're in here getting better, the disease is out in the parking lot doing push-ups."

(Disclaimer: "I am an alcoholic".)

I used to berate myself for everything ... and rightly so at the time. I called myself dumass. So I renamed Slick, Dumass. Easy transition for me to turn a bad habit into a good one (in this case). Just a little tweak.

Easy as an alcoholic - blaming ANYONE else for MY crap. Now I get to do it rightly.

Useful when I start stinkin' thinkin'. Another voice in my head. I can make HIM go away.

"Everyone else can leave the room. I have to live with me." (I made that up.)

Thanks for the revolution, Dallas!

Love,
Tim1

[Dallas]

One of the things that's helpful for me, is during my morning and evening meditations and self-analysis... I try to come up with a list of "good things about me." I try to become aware of my good qualities. My talents, skills, abilities, and the good things that I do or have done.... in addition to a list on what I can do better.

I've discovered that for me -- I tend to attract and become what I think about -- all day long. My behaviors are not who I am -- they're just things that I do. So, I ask the question "who am I?" "What am I?" And, I try to remember that if God is a good God -- what kind of good would He want for me?"

I remember a story about a father that asked his little girl "who made you?" And, she replied "No one made me." He said "Oh no. You see, honey, God made you!" And, she said "No He didn't." And, the father said... "Why do you say that?" She said "I'm not made yet. God is still working on me!"

Dallas

[angel143]

Im so glad you said thats what you do Dallas....

Since the night I realized I was an alcoholic, I started that night, and have done it every morning and night. In the morning, I reflect on the positive and what I am, who I am, and the good I can do that day. At night, I reflect on what I accomplished. Did I give the best that I could THAT day. What could I have done differently, and then to the good stuff...who I am, what I am.

I like me now. I never use to. I always doubted when someone would say they loved me...even family. I could never understand why. Even before I started drinking. I always lived to try to be accepted.

Take me as I am. My flaws are not flaws, they are characteristics that partly make up who I am. My graces are not graces, they are characteristics that partly make up who I am. I am me. I have a good heart and never intentionally hurt anyone. But I do like to say what im thinking. Some people dont like that. I know how and when to be P.C. about it and when to keep my mouth shut. But all in all...I am who I am, like me love me hate me.... all that matters is what I think of me!

And I like me, sometimes I even hint at loving me. I am greatful for being an alcoholic, it has given me a new look on life, and im a better person for it.

Love to all
Heather

[tim-one]

That's good stuff, Dallas.

"God started me. I oughta let Him finish". Ok, that's goin' in my "snippet" notebook YOU STARTED.
_________

Heather,

Beautiful attitude you got there.

The Big Book says that our character flaws are self-driven perversions of our basest good instincts for food, safety, procreation, and social-acceptance.

There are a lot of now unrecognizable god things in me that I'd perverted.

The steps are helping me find them and redeem them. (Don't panic at the word "redeem". I'm going to post my "redemption list" in the "Moments of Clarity" forum soon and explainerate my thinkin' on it.)

Remember "Stuart Smalley" (Sat. Night Live)?

"I'm ok. And, dog-gonit ... people like me."

Yeah ... I kinda like me now. Seems to be working on peops around me, too.

Love,
Tim1

PS: Heather is my fav girl-name. Irish, doncha know. I was gonna name my girl Heather. But I kept havin' dadgum boys. Carry it lovely for me.