Ceased Fighting

Ceased fighting anything or anyone.

"When I stopped fighting anybody or anything, I started on the path to sobriety, serenity and peace." -Daily Reflections, p. 14

I was once in a class that my advisor was teaching.  We were discussing issues of gender dynamics in school leadership.  A few of the men (all principals) were unapologetically and overtly sexist, claiming that the reason men have more power in schools is because women choose to "bear children."  Also, women are prettier, which is why they sit at the front desk and greet visitors; and better at organization, which is why they are secretaries to the male principals.  Alone, I questioned these ideas--even in a room with one female principal, who never spoke up.  I got frustrated and confused, but I also frankly and clearly challenged the men and women who were being sexist.

I spoke with my advisor after the class.

He said, "If Brian were in that class, he would never have let them get away with that."
I said, "What about me?  I was speaking up?!"
He said, "You're too nice."

My advisor gave credit to a male student who wasn't even in the class credit for having the ability to question and challenge, while simultaneously insulting and devaluing my own contribution to the class.

Should I be offended that my advisor called me "too nice?"  Here's the thing:  (Aside from my advisor also being a sexist prick), I don't *want* to be seen as the person who is combative and difficult--even if it gains me power or prestige or a reputation.  I want to be a nice, caring, thoughtful, genuine person, peer, colleague and teacher.  I have to cease fighting everything and everyone, that includes my advisor and the assholes in my classes.  Because I'm an alcoholic, I must find a different way.  I can still question and challenge and have my unwavering beliefs about issues I care about.  But I can't fight anymore.  I can't struggle.

Grad-itude

Thank you God for this opportunity to learn and for this life that I'm living right now.  

I live across from an elementary school.  I see the teachers trudge into work every day and remember my old life.  My first year of grad school, I would look across the street at 8:30 in the morning after just rolling out of bed and smile so big it hurt my cheeks because I didn't have to teach anymore.  

Now, I whine about the fact that I don't have a set schedule.  I whine around about how difficult self-discipline is.  Poor me that I don't have anyone telling me what to do and where to be.  I can't get anything done.  Wah wah wah.

I can't believe I have gotten to the point where I have *almost* forgotten that only a minuscule percentage of lucky people in this world get to do what I'm doing.

I want to enjoy this serene life of the mind.  I want to revel in it without feeling guilty. 

So, I thank God on a daily basis for this opportunity to be in grad school.  If I were still drinking, there's no way I would be here right now.  No way.

Living Grad School One Day at a Time

*Disclaimer: When I write this shit about God/HP, even I get a little weirded out.  I'm not a God freak.  I never ever talk about God in my regular life.  I think about God a lot.  And I talk about God in meetings.  But *never* to anyone outside of AA.  Because I sound like a total weirdo.  I'm not.  I don't care about anyone's God or any religion at all.  I'm not religious.  But I've learned over my 7 years of sobriety that God/HP is the single most important element of staying sober and living a serene life.  My HP happens to be an aging rock star who sings about redemption and pot smoking.  

"I can live my life only one day at a time.  Perhaps my confusion and despair are so great that I will have to take it one hour at a time, or one minute at a time, reminding myself constantly that I have authority over no life but my own." -- p. 1, One Day at at Time in Al-Anon

I used these words and principles to steer me through my last year and a half of graduate school.  If I look too far ahead (like applying for jobs, grants, scholarships), my mind freaks out.  When my mind freaks out, I want to drink.  Drinking is the fastest way to stop the freak out.  So, I can't afford the freak out.  Instead, I work really, really effing hard to take my responsibilities in grad school one hour at a time.  If I nurse thoughts of uncertainty, they turn suicidal.  Drink or kill myself--those become my dire options.  So I don't.  I pray and pray and pray.

I ask God to guide my thoughts, words and actions so that they may be divorced from self-pity, self-seeking and dishonest motives.  

Where I get tripped up in grad school is the self-seeking part--that's all this shit is.  Self-seeking. Getting published is self-seeking.  Giving presentations is self-seeking.  Earning a degree is self-seeking. Applying for money is self-seeking. Coming up with a great idea is self-seeking. How do I reconcile grad school and the principles that guide my life? 

What I've been doing is focusing on the work that's in front of me.  And approaching my years in grad school as a means to an end.  It's not about being the best.  It's about getting the work done.  Just getting the work done.  Mostly I ask God to grant me the willingness to trust in His plan for me.

"Realizing that nothing can hurt me while I lean upon my Higher Power, I ask to be guided through the hours and minutes of each day.  Let me remind myself to bring every problem to Him for I know He will show me the way I must go." -- p. 1, One Day at at Time in Al-Anon

Love at First Sight Means Something Else Entirely

I got into therapy shortly after meeting my advisor because I didn't want to fuck up our relationship or this chance-of-a-lifetime opportunity that my HP placed into my lap.  The reason I got into therapy is because I have had two "love at first sight" experiences.  The first was with my heroin addict ex-fiance, resulting in a 5 year hellscape (that I would never take back) during which we both got clean and sober.  The second was with my advisor.  But I'm wiser now; wise enough to know that "love at first sight" means something else entirely to this alcoholic.  It's not love! It's an enormous blindingly-scarlet red flag, its edges delicately whipping my face.  

He would touch my hand across the desk or lightly touch my arm if we were standing.  He told me stories about how he got high on pot or how he talked himself out of a DUI, both of which made me even MORE attracted.  He told me one day that his dad died of alcoholism.  But he kept his alcohol intake in check--he would never be an alcoholic. Then he did something he *never* does.  He asked me about myself.  He asked me, "Do you have any experience with this?"  Did he know?  Was he fishing?  It didn't seem like that. I had told no one; there's no WAY he could've known.  So I fucking told him: yes, both my dads are recovering alcoholics and so am I.  He asked me how long I've been sober: I told him six and a half years.  

I don't really remember what happened after that; how he reacted or what he said next.  There wasn't a doubt in my mind that he was an alcoholic too.  I left his office that day more in love with him than ever and so grateful that I had been in therapy to keep my side of the street clean in this relationship.

I know that my attraction to him did not happen out of the clear blue sky.  He cultivated and groomed it in a way that only alcoholics know how.  But I didn't act on it, and I didn't let it interfere with our working relationship at all.  Not at all.  When he talked at me for hours on end about the work we were doing, I would look away instead of at his eyes because I couldn't concentrate if I looked into his gorgeous eyes.  I made only one false move--ONLY ONE.  I texted him on his cell phone after he got tenure.  He didn't respond, thankfully.  And that was it.  That was enough to humiliate me and keep me in my place (which is what he wanted).  

I can talk about this in the past tense because one day, after a year of working together, he showed up to one of our meetings with a wedding ring on.  In secret, he had married his advisee who graduated with her PhD only months before.  He said, "I've been so secret about it because some people frown upon this kind of thing."  Yes, some (all) people, but who the hell am I to judge?

That was what it took for the love at first sight to dissipate...I do NOT fuck around with married men anymore.  I came out of this experience wiser in so many ways.  My soul and my dignity and my job are still in tact.  But I also have questions: What is the attraction that I feel toward drug addicts/alcoholics?  How, out of all the professors in the world, did I get paired up with this handsome young alcoholic?  Will every man who I'm intensely attracted to be a drug addict/alcoholic?  Am I cursed?

Recovering Alcoholic & Graduate Student

I'm a recovering alcoholic getting my PhD at a research university.  I'm in my second year, finishing up my last semester of coursework this coming semester.  I'm also an instructor (GTA) and a research assistant (GRA). (Right now I'm on break but SHOULD BE doing a million things as I write this, such as the research that I put off for my advisor over the past semester, and a shitload of reading for the independent study I started at the beginning of last summer.  Hence the blogging.)

I taught high school English for 10 years, a job that finally took its toll on my soul.  After two years of desperately trying to break up with that job, I finally made the full break.  Deciding to go back to school and get my PhD in education policy, a phenomenal opportunity fell in my lap: a two year research assistantship.

As a recovering alcoholic for the past 7+ years, I knew this opportunity was the work of my Higher Power (HP).  I will take some credit for being willing to do the footwork I needed to do to make a positive change in my life.  But trust me, it took a year of prayer and suicidal thoughts (*God, please remove my suicidal thoughts*) before I worked up enough courage to do the footwork.  As soon as I did, miraculous events started falling into place. 

When I started this adventure, I was pretty sure it was too good to be true (still am).  I told myself I could never, *never* take this opportunity for granted; that I could never allow myself to wallow in self-pity over any aspect of this opportunity because it is literally everything I have ever dreamed of doing.  It is my dream job.

But here's the thing...after a while I forget all the reasons why this job is my dream job and focus on all the ways grad school is ruining my life and trying to destroy me.  

I don't know if it's because I'm an alcoholic or because grad school really is a bizarro world, but this shit is weirdly hard.  Not as hard as teaching.  NOT AS HARD AS TEACHING.  (That's my biggest saving grace...I say to myself, "You could be teaching a room full of TEENAGERS right now.")

A few reasons why grad school is difficult for me right now:

1. I'm not contributing to the world in any significant way.  (*Bah, I guess I can volunteer. Or do 12th step work.)

2. My advisor is an asshole and doesn't respect or value me, but I love him with all my heart and want nothing more than to impress him. (*Not enough to actually give a shit about or do the work he asks of me.)

3. I can't manage my time appropriately.  It's 12:41 pm, and instead of doing any work, I decided to start a fucking blog.  (*I'm gonna try to approach this blog as a pre-working exercise, adding into my daily routine instead of literally wasting an hour Facebooking before actually doing any work.)

4. I have no real friends.  Most of the other students in my program are international or married with kids.  I'm neither of those things.  The people I've met in AA are balls-out crazy.

5. I'm fat.

6. No social life and I'm single.

7. Totally broke.

8. Feel like I'm not working as hard as everyone, but don't care to work harder.

9. I don't know what I want to do with my PhD.

10.  I feel like my advisor, my professors, my fellow students, and my peers think I'm NOT SMART. Could this really be true? And if so, does it matter? I believe myself to be intellectually creative, but worry that my type of intellect is not valued in this male-dominated setting.

In the end, I'm sober.  And if I try to follow God's will rather than my own will and stop struggling, I can have a good life despite these difficulties.  And maybe I can be of use to the world.  Maybe right now I just go with this grad school thing...wait it out.  Be grateful.