Dead Bird on the Doorstep

There was a little finch, laying dead on my doorstep yesterday.  I remember my mother screaming when a bird got into our house, and me, at the age of 5, asking her why she was so upset.  She said it was an omen of a death in the family.  My grandmother died shortly thereafter.  I guess that left a powerful impression on me.

I was in already a morbid mood due to my grandson’s dreadful illness.  I watched the little kids yesterday.  Everything was fine in the morning, then at noon, as if on alarm, my grandson got horribly ill.  A nine-month old vomiting is not something without risk.  I won’t go into details, but I don’t know when I have ever been so frightened.  And trying to “act” calm because my 3 year old granddaughter was terrified.  Well, so was I!  I walked him for 4 hours while he screamed.  I was unwilling to put him down lest he vomit again and have respiratory distress.  He finally calmed after 4 hours, and although it was clear he was sick, it seemed then like a “normal” illness.  A regular kid illness.  Thank you Holy Mother of God.

In the last week or so I have had several revelations.  I’m not sure they were really anything new, maybe they were just repackaged with different words.  I have been going to a lot more AA meetings than normal, and I know in my heart I need to continue to do that.  The difference is, I am not going to crappy groups and doing the b.s. we tell ourselves we are doing:  a) carrying the message, b) practicing patience and tolerance, whatever.  I don’t care how long I am sober, I still need to hear the real message of recovery from alcoholism, from the mouths of real alcoholics, at a real AA meetings.   That has helped me to realize that I am hanging on to things long past the time when they have ceased to work.  Many things.

Blogging is one of them.  This is not working for me.  It might be working for the occasional reader, but not for me.  It takes too much time and there is very little reward.  I know that others say they “blog for themselves.”  I admire them.  But I blog for readers, I always have, and if there are no readers, there is no point.  Two or three of you still come by and comment, and I appreciate that.  But I could carry on correspondence with the couple of readers, and not broadcast all of my feelings to the world as a pitiful attention seeking ploy.  I have a journal, I can write in it.

I’m not shutting the door permanently (yet).  I have enjoyed blogging and it used to be a wonderful part of my life.  I have met some of the most wonderful people through my blog and their blogs, and I treasure those relationships.

Over the last week, I have been going to either mass or AA meetings in the morning.  It is even possible for me to go to both and still get to work on time.  I also can do a little yoga routine for core strength that is really helping my back.  These things add to my life immeasurably.

Thanks to those of you who have read and shared.  I really appreciate the relationships we have shared.  It is time for me to take action in many ways in my life and blogging isn’t part of that.

Much love and best wishes to you all.

Mary Christine

——I do not endorse the product advertised below.———

 

 

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14 Responses to Dead Bird on the Doorstep

  1. Syd says:

    I understand. It takes a lot of time. I simply cut back because blogging every day wasn’t happening for me either. I hope that you will occasionally stop by to let us know how you are doing.

    • Nancy G says:

      I second Syd above. I read your blog almost on a daily basis and even “save” it for later in the day when I want something to look forward to. I relate to your struggles with an addiction and glean so much from your wisdom. I do not blog so you really do not know me, but I feel like I have gotten to know you in this anonymous way. I have commented several times, but really not enough to become “friends”. I will miss reading your journal and hope you will come back to visit us once in a while.
      All the best to you, Nancy G in CA

  2. Hello. Thanks for blogging. I understand if you choose not to continue (or choose not to continue with any regularity). I start most of my mornings with your blog and a couple of others — something I’ve been doing almost since I started my recovery journey, gosh, nearly 3 years ago now. I’ve learned a lot from you. Most recently I think of you as I watch a friend, 20+ years sober, struggle through a horrible depression while her doctors work to regulate her medication. So much of what she says, or tries to say, makes me think of what you went through. Because of you, I have hope for her. So, thank you for all that you are and for all that you’ve given to recovery blogging over the years. I rarely comment on any blogs, but I do read, and I thank you.

  3. donnaellisart says:

    oh, nooooooo! i just *found* you, for crying out loud! i don’t know many other catholic aa’s. well, okay, none. gosh, i hope you still drop in, at least once in a while. yet, i *totally* understand that you need to do what is right for *your* recovery. God bless you, dear one. {{{sniff!}}}

  4. Lulu says:

    I read you daily, but I admit rarely comment. It’s been helpful for me to have this glimpse of someone just walking-the-walk of a normal sober life.
    I certainly couldn’t keep up a daily (or near daily blog) and I admire you for how long you have kept up your earlier blog and now this one. Like the above commenter I hope that rather than quit completely, you still post occasionally…perhaps when something strikes you as important to put-out-there for those of us who have been keeping up with you for the past several years.
    Take care,
    lulu

  5. Tami M says:

    I will miss you. As I’ve stated before, you & Mr SP are the two blogs I check every am before I even get up most days. Sometimes it is part of the morning practice but usually when I open my eyes and check the time I’m here to see if you’ve posted. Your sharing regarding your family, the meetings, your job change (last year and even now) and the challenges of working with a younger generation, so often what you are working through I can relate to. Your experience often helps me find clarity and what my next right thing might be. You and yours will be in my prayers for many moons. Be safe. Tami

  6. Helen says:

    Your blog is the first of a few blogs I check every day. I found your original blog through reading Syd’s blog when I decided to stop drinking sometime in 2009 or 10. Your words have helped. I will miss you.

  7. Annette says:

    Oh you…..I understand this. And I will miss reading you each day. You are ahead of me time wise because of where we each live, so when I get up at 5am to give my client her meds, I read you then on my phone. :o) and if you haven’t posted…..I hope that all is well in your world.
    I think your reasoning sounds really good though, really healthy and necessary for some of the progress you are hoping to make in other areas of your life, and I wish you a heart full of blessings!
    Also so happy that grand baby was feeling better after awhile. So scary!

  8. Mary LA says:

    How I shall miss you!

    I hope your little grandson is feeling better today.

    Please do stay in touch, my dear friend.

  9. Lisa says:

    I will miss reading your blog, but totally understand. I stopped by most days but rarely commented. I wish you well!

  10. daisyanon says:

    I am a regular reader but only an occasional commentator, so my apologies for that. I will miss your blog, you have been such a help to me in my own recovery. But I do understand your reasons for not blogging. I hope you will leave the blog up and update occasionally.

    I hope your grandson is OK now.

  11. jackie says:

    I understand but (sniff, sniff) i will truly miss you. You have a gift for keeping your readers engaged. I almost feel a part of your family which may seem odd to you. Don’t know, don’t care.. just want to say God Bless and hope to read you soon.

    Jackie

  12. sue tegland says:

    You wrote much to think about. You don’t seem to be broadcasting your feelings in a pitiful attention-seeking ploy; I hope you don’t judge yourself as such. I think your insights are pretty well-thought-out, and I still admire the supreme struggle you went through last year, at work and at home, to get to a much healthier place now.
    That said, I understand we all go through changes in whatever floats our boat. I apologize for not commenting more; I too am leery about being public with my own struggles. I do like reading your blog and look for it regularly. I think you are braver than I for sharing like you do, and (speaking of judging), a much clearer writer, and I’ve always appreciated that.
    I want you to know you will still be in my thoughts and prayers.

  13. Cricket says:

    Hi MC, really appreciate your thoughts. I used to blog under a different name and found the privacy issue to daunting. But like you, I missed it. I missed the community, and the clarity. Back under a different name, but just want to say I remember you. I remember your comments. They had an impact on my life. Too bad it has to stay anonymous. Wistful smile 🙂

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