I’ve been working overtime for two months straight.  The company I work for is getting a new computer system so I’ve been working a lot of nights at home.  My daughter and I had a fight and when we talked about it later I realized I had a little PTSD going on.  She was extremely thoughtful and asked me what was going on to set it off.  She has the same disturbance sometimes and knows that stress usually is the trigger more than the actual memory.  I have a lot going on at work and at home and haven’t had the time to do any of the things that I do to take care of myself and my spiritual condition.

I go to 12 step meetings.  I camp…. In a trailer…  I actually Glamp.  When I’m out in the middle of the desert my mind quiets.  I’m at perfect peace.  It is my sanctuary where I meet my higher power.  I write in my blog.  It connects me to other alcoholics and gives me perspective.  I sit in my spa in a box cheap portable hot tub.  It relaxes me.  I dabble with my essential oils.  I read.  I exercise.  These are the things that have replaced alcohol in my life and center me.  I have not done any of them in two months.  You can guess how crazy I feel.

The thing is you don’t notice they are missing until it’s too late.  In my case, I blow a gasket, yell at someone I love, get grumpy to my coworkers, send snotty emails and I’m just plain unpleasant.  Then comes the voice of regret that tells me I’ve gone too far.  That means it’s time to get back to basics.

Everyone’s sanctuary is different but step 10 is the same for all of us.  We continue to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.  Step 10 is a wonderful tool but by the time we were wrong and admitted it the damage has already been done.  I think a more preventative step would be to wake up in the morning and ask, “What am I going to do today to nurture my spirit? And what kindness can I show today?” I forget that everyone else is just as stressed as I am.  I’m still the center of my own world and I live inside my head with the pride of life.  It’s all about my kids, my husband, my job and my house.  It’s about what I want and what I have.  It’s about my rest and my playtime.  It’s about my money.  It’s about me.  I tend to think that all of life is about me and that the world was especially formed for me.

I know that about myself and that character defect has been taken away from me enough to keep me sober.

I can’t say that the self-centeredness will change, but just for today I can say I will take care of my spirit and write.  Maybe it will relieve me just a little from self.