Sometimes you have to take charge.

Okay, I had stated earlier that I attended AA because I had found myself hiding in alcohol. I was gad I went there but I've come to a point were I don't wish to go. I've met some very nice people and some very strange people. I've learned that I'm not alone but much of the time I felt, well, at a loss for words. Many people's lives were destroyed by alcohol, many people nearly died. I benefited from listening and talking and taking part in the meetings. However as my legs grew worse I had found myself sitting there physically, not mentally. Actually the steps, except for the first, mean little to me. "I am powerless over alcohol.." Well, I'm powerless over life. We all are.

I've found escape and relief through activities and responsibilities at home. I haven't been to a meeting in over a week and don't know when or if I'll return. I need to talk about life not drinking. I had reached a point where I started passing instead of talking. Someone I came to know, the only other who didn't believe in religion, gave me a book called The Evolution of God. It's about the development of mankind and religions around the globe. That Anthropologist that I wanted to be when I was a kid, likes the sound of that.

So, I'm not drinking and I'm doing it on my own. It feels quite good actually. I felt bad for many of those people, yet at times I just wanted to get home where I felt I belonged.

I suppose I'm working on my own program. This blog will let you know how it's going, I'm sure.

6:50 pm

Trying To Skip Housework

Sunday I was going to do a bit of writing. I have a story that I'm working on. It will most likely always be a story that I'm working on. I like essays because character and story development boggle the mind. However I ended up sweeping the hard floors, vacuuming the house, dusting, cleaning the bathrooms, pulling out a bit of garden, ironing six shirts, and then I finished my Halloween cards. I went to bed early and didn't even read. In other words, I didn't write. (However I must admit that ironing to a fun movie is not so bad.)

I attend a writers' group each week on Wednesday. Sometime on Monday, usually in the evening, we receive two words to work with, if we choose. I have a hard time coming up with something worth while in that time frame. I've used the words in short stories, but by the time I write, read, correct, reread and correct again, I'm late for the meeting and have a slapdash piece of work to show for it. Lately I've taken to working on the story afterwards and then sending it out to interested parties. That's been fun, especially this time of year because I made them Halloween stories.

Well, today is Monday and I expect the words any time between now and 9:00, however at 9:00 I'll be watching Two and a Half Men. A few times I've complained about the time frame and getting things done. Once a member said, oh Pam, forget the house work and just write. I have a hard time with that. I can't work when I have things hanging over my head. So as on that Sunday writing doesn't often happen if I'm behind, yet with house work there's always something to be done.

My house is by no means spotless, but what I'm able to do wears me out and when I'm tired I tend to sit and stare at the screen. So reading is a better option when tired.

8:45 p.m.

He wouldn't let me give up.

Last week I started getting ready for Halloween. I already knew that getting all my fun decorations up would be challenging, but I hadn't expected how challenging. The weather had taken a quick turn to chilly and I needed some warm clothes too. So, besides the nightmare of trying on jeans, getting clothes and decorations up and down in laundry baskets was a pain in the arse. Okay, difficult.

I was smart enough to ask Marie and her boyfriend to bring up the two boxes marked Halloween. One was for the kitchen hutch and around the house the other was for the mantel. Now, I had to get all the lovely china, much of which were grandma's tea cups, down stairs in one piece. During the spring and summer I decorate the hutch with plates and tea cups with flowers on them. The china is old and delicate. I decided to multitastk and used my walker to wheel in a laundry basket of summer clothes put some china around and in them. I ended up with three baskets of clothes and china to go downstairs.

I put the baskets to the side and dusted down the hutch and started pulling out Halloween. It was great! Before too long it was done the box was empty. Bob then took the baskets down for me, where I stored away the china. I then emptied the plastic storage container and put the rest of my winter clothes on the couch so I could put summer clothes in it. I was almost done but completely whipped!!!! I was looking at a couch of sweaters and such while my feet hurt and legs ached and trembled. There was no way I was going to be able to get that stuff upstairs. I didn't even think that I would get myself upstairs.

I sat for a moment and decided to leave it. It was Tuesday which is an AA night for me, but I didn't feel like it. However, I had received a call that a friend was bringing a book for me that I was interested in. Crap, I had to go.

I went to find it crowed yet missing the only reason I came. I sat through the meet at a table of people I knew but I didn't talk. My mind wasn't there. It was at home. I was thinking about the stairs, cards I want to make, fatigue, a party I'm going to have, fatigue, and the mantel that hadn't been done yet.

When I came home Bob greeted me I started to cry. (tired) I told him that I can't do it any more. It's too much. He came over to me and told me not to worry, that we'll do the mantel together. He said people are here to help you, and to let them.

I put on my robe and curled up on the couch feeling comfortable and comforted. It's just hard to let someone help me when I've always done it myself. I don't mean my way, but independent of others. I have taken a some pride, but mostly enjoyment, in my celebration of Halloween and then there's those three Xmas trees downstairs. (that will be another blog.)

As of now the mantel is decorated and looks absolutely spooky!

Thank you Bob! You're the best thing since The Great Pumpkin.

3:45 p.m.

Ahhh! Muffin top strikes again.

I love the fall and Halloween, but putting those jeans on is horribly depressing. Muffin top, okay, who the heck came up with that term. I don't even eat muffins! I've been going to the gym all summer and watching, most of the time, what I eat, but it's not as I had hoped. It be just lovely one fall afternoon to slip on my jeans and zip them up with out thinking *#@&!

I know I'm 50 now and things are different but I'm going to the gym every day now, rather then three a weak, and watching my weight watcher points in hopes of being able to wear a snug top with my jeans. (I want my matabolisum back!)

I know this is small stuff and has nothing to do with my legs, but it's helpful to bitch. (Now if I've offended anyone with that word, sorry. Hell, you should hear me with my girl friends, and I found out at a wedding this weekend that my cousin-in-laws are loose lipped too! It's just fun to let it all hang out sometimes.)

9:05 p.m.

Flat Rock Speedway - ZOOM!!!!!

It's been a while since I've written in my blog, often times life gets in the way. Besides, the weather has been beautiful and I've been playing around with my stamping/card making stuff too. So, besides the things that I should do, I have too many other things that I want to do.

Anyways on the 5th of September we went to Flat Rock Speed Way. What is that? Well, it's about one of the most fun places to be, if you don't mind a sore fanny from a hard seat and really loud cars. zoom, zoom, zoom!!

Flat Rock Speedway is a race track for stock cars. Stock cars are cars in the sense that they were once an actual model. Their former identity can be seen if you look closely. However what is really seen are the enhancements for safety in the frame and within the vehicle, leaving room for only the driver wearing fire retardent clothing. Sheets of metal advertising the sponsors are attached to the framework, perhaps by a staple gun. The sheets of metal stay on during the races, yet after a collision, I've seen a good deal of brute force put things right.

Once the cars started their time trials my blood started flowing. The weariness I felt during the long drive had vanished. After the time trials were finished they began to prepare for the first race. I went down to the black top walk way in front of the stands, where I kept my distance from the fence as required. I walked down as the tightly packed swarm of cars circled the track. Once seeing the white flag I turned and to headed back. I slowed and stopped, hearing the engines surging as they approached the green flag. I made sure that I was far enough from the flag so that the cars would be tearing into the race as they passed me. I looked over and saw the fag flapping madly in the air and heard the rumble of the engines as they swiftly headed toward me. As they swept past me my rib cage vibrated with their roar. An involentary smile spread across my face as I felt that surge of excitement that has always been there at Flat Rock.

As they thundered past I could imagine the tension and concentration in each driver. These are not professionals in the sense of NASCAR, but guys working hard, racing hard, and playing hard I'm sure. In the pit were flat bed trailers and the necessary people, much of the the friends and family were up in the stands. At times words could be heard from one group to another. It was a definite indication of dissatisfaction which would then lead to more colorful speeches. This last race was entertaining without any complications. Years ago the County Sheriff ran up into the stands to preserve the peace. This time I didn't see any Sheriff only security guards, oh and beer.

When I was a young my family went a few times each summer. Back then it was a dirt track and the the cars seemed bigger and bulkier. That's the way I remember it. My dad was dead familiar with the racing. He had known a man who raced back then. So, we always cheered for him. Dad had done some racing, for fun not competition. I have found some interesting pictures of my dad sitting in a car giving the camera the bird with a pack of cigarettes rolled up in his t-shirt sleeve. That was Dad, cars, motorcycles, and airplanes. The colorful information was withheld until my later years. I wish I had heard more.

What is Spastic Paraplegia

I'm afraid that I'm rather limited in my ability to define the disease. I know what's going on but to describe it and sound somewhat intelligent is not easy for me. The best I can tell you is that it's a royal pain in the ass. I figure that's rather insufficient so I'm going to do try a little harder. I will resort to copying off the web sight.

HSP (hereditary spastic paraplegia) and PLS (primary lateral sclerosis) are caused by degeneration of the upper motor neurons. Upper motor neurons are the nerve cells that control voluntary movement. They are located on the motor cortex of the brain and carry messages to the brain stem and spinal cord. They connect to other nerves called "lower motor neurons:, which carry the messages out to the muscles to tell them to move.

When there is degeneration in the upper motor neurons, messages cannot adequately reach the lower motor neurons and their messages to the corresponding muscles are impaired. This causes the muscles to be weak and muscle tone to be increased, resulting in stiffness or spasticity.

In both HSP and PLS, nerve degeneration occurs in the lower part of the spinal cord, resulting in weakness and spasticity in the lower body. In PLS, degeneration also occurs in higher regions in the spinal cord and brainstem, causing weakness and spasticity in the arms, slurred speech and difficulty swallowing. This can also happen to a smaller degree in HSP.

Since the HSP and PLS share the same lower body symptoms the true diagnosis is usually discovered over time as symptoms develope.

Dr. Fink has called my case ASP (apparently sparatic paraplegia), since I couldnt' find anyone in the family who had a problem. My cousin Maggie had been a nurse in England and she once came across a patient prepared for surgery and SP was on her chart. I suppose they just called it that. It's all the same really.

All this information, and more, can be found at http://www.sp-foundation.org/. *("And now for something completely different.")

*Monty Python

4:15 p.m.

Alcohol and I

Yes I belong to AA. Many of my friends and family were surprised because I believe that most people think an alcoholic is someone you find sitting on the curb drinking out of a paper bag, or who is constantly drunk.

I didn't fit that category. I fit a more common category. I had been drinking a couple classes of wine each and every night for years. Then around the age of 40 I found myself looking forward to that wine around dinner time, then around lunch I was already thinking about it. I also found that when on medication my first reaction was to see if I could drink. Now these glasses of wine were not like the ones you pay a bottle's price for in a restaurant, they were full.

I was finding difficulties with my legs and had started looking from doctor to doctor to find out what the heck was going on. In the mean time there was nothing like disappearing with the wine at night.

Some time before my diagnosis with SP, my folks bought a condo just two miles away. The object was for them to be close so that I could help Mom with Dad who was suffering with Alzheimer's. Actually the family suffers too. Well, during the move, Mom wasn't feeling well and after seeing a couple doctors she was quickly diagnosed with Ovarian Cancer. "God won't give you any more than you can handle." Bull Crap!! You just have to handle it. And the wine felt good.

So I believe that while Mom and Dad were sick and my health was still being determined, I found a comfortable place to go with the help of a couple/few tall glasses of wine. As the years pasted Bob voiced his concern over my drinking. I would tell him that I'd only drink on the weekends, but I couldn't do it. No way!

Dad passed in 2000 and then years and bottles later Mom passed in 2007. By then I was keeping a bottle of Vodka above the fridge, not hard to get to when you're tall, a bottle of sherry down in my craft area, and a few bottles of red in the bar.

While taking the condo apart and organizing all Mom's belongings for charities, drinks in the afternoon were comforting. After all was given away, and sold I continued the habit of having a few during the day. By this time my legs were showing full blown signs of the SP and taking antidepressants and Valium added to the side effects of drinking, still I drank.

One evening I was fed up with my own behavior and found myself at a friend's house, a friend who belonged to AA. That night was my first meeting. I lasted less than a year. I figured that I could handle it and drink wisely. Alcoholism doesn't work that way, it's like an old friend you haven't seen in years. All of a sudden you find yourself comfortable and the old habits come back fast.

Some months later I found myself sitting at a meeting. I was greeted with smiling faces and happy hello's. However when it was my turn to talk I cried a bit and spilled my guts. It was the best thing I could have done for myself. Once home Bob and I talked. I told him were the bottles were and he poured them out. After that I went to a meeting every night for a couple of months, then five meetings a week, then three, now two.

S0, there it is. I no longer think about drinking at lunch or dinner, and I don' want it at night. I'd fallen off the wagon since, but climbed back on. I found it a learning experience and I wasn't alone. So, I have phone numbers in my cell and when I'm out of town or having a problem I'm going to call someone. I also have an AA book of meetings in my glove box when out of town I could call the 800 number to find a meeting, if needed.

I'm doing well. I can't say that I don't think about it. When I watch movies and there is drinking, I find myself thinking of that drink, but it goes away. I don't go to bars to hear music with Bob, it's just too much. I'm glad he has band friends that can go with him.

However I have a problem with AA, I wish that it wasn't so God oriented. You'd have to know the 12 steps but there is God, "or the God of your own making" in nearly all the steps. I no longer hide my feelings about it. I can't. Perhaps that's why I only go to two meetings a week now. Yes, I feel empowered to stay in control and to know that I'm not alone, but I don't go to church and sometimes when I'm there I feel like I'm in church. The meetings are ended with a prayer. I don't say it, it would be hypocritical. I do like the Serenity Prayer, only I drop the God.

In regards to my experiences with drinking I hope this was, or may be helpful to someone, some where. I'm glad I wrote it down but I found it made me feel a bit off, depressed. (I need a movie)

7:50 p.m.