More Will Be Revealed

This is a promise made by Alcoholics Anonymous on page 164 of the Big Book. In context, this comes at the end of experiencing the transformative power of working through the twelve steps. Or at least that is the hope.

The exact quote is that, We realize we know only a little. God will constantly disclose more to you and to us. I’ve always liked this. That in the middle of the challenges of living, there are more clues just ahead.

Here are a few things to know:

I was in a car accident in 2008 and received a traumatic brain injury. Yea!!!

I have been diagnosed with Bipolar, ADHD, Attachment disorder, blah, blah, blah.

Stress is not unusual for me. I grind my teeth. I eat compulsively. I like to do things symmetrically. Or at least in a way that is mathematically pleasing. Also, I’m sixty-eight-and-a-half. I put in the word half to honor three-year-olds everywhere.

So we arrive at Christmas Day. I drive over to my oldest daughter’s house to celebrate. All three of my daughters, Niles (the more-than-boyfriend), and my grandson are there. My ex-wife will be joining us in a bit. Everyone is having a good time. We open presents, play games, eat cookies, etc.

Here are a couple of things that happened. I ran out of energy and quit playing games and found a book to read. I felt old, and I suppose I am old. When my only living grandparents were seventy, I thought they had arrived just after the earth cooled and slightly before the Model A. So I’m old. Gee whiz.

More times than I would like, I could not remember family events, even with pictures. It’s a bit like getting ready to be in a play. Inhabiting the character and pretending that my back story is a life that I have actually lived. There is a quality of numbness to it.

We had dinner and dessert. I stayed for a few more minutes, and then I left for home. It’s a twenty-minute drive from my daughter’s house to my trailer in Deer Harbor. Several times, on a drive I’ve literally made over a thousand times, I could not recognize anything around me. I would drop in for ten or fifteen seconds, know that I was going past Rosie’s driveway, reassure myself that I was on the right road, and drop out again. I was very relieved to find myself parking in front of my trailer.

This happened to me one other time in 2009. I was searching for Donna Lazlo’s 50th birthday party. I had forgotten where it was, and I was checking all of the regular venues where it might be with no luck.

The Grange building was my last stop, and I struck out there also. I later found out that I driven past the Episcopal Hall where the celebration happened. I even had to wait for people carrying casseroles to cross the street. C’est la vie.

As soon as I pulled out of the parking lot, I had no idea where I was. Any recollection of an island that I lived on for over thirty years was gone in the snap of a finger.

As far as I can remember, this phenomenon only lasted for somewhere between five and twenty minutes. I came out of it and drove home. The hors d'oeuvres I had made for the party were cold. I came inside, walked into the kitchen, and put my dish into the oven to warm up. I was in the media room talking to Heather when I heard the plate break from the heat. It was not oven-safe

Fully exhausted, I surrendered the night. I’m pretty sure I left the broken plate in the oven until morning. Popeye’s wisdom applied, “That’s all I can stand, and I can’t stand no more!”

Not remembering where the party was. Not being able to find it. Getting lost as shit on an island that I’d lived on for over thirty years. A ceramic plate cracking in two. Even now, I get disturbed when I remember that night.

One of the main reasons I live on an island is to be safe. Not knowing where I am, or where I’m going, does not make me feel safe.

I’ve been going to the same meetings for over forty years. In the last two weeks, I have had a similar feeling to being lost on the island. I know I’m in a meeting, but I can’t make sense of what’s going on. The thought that kept coming into my head was, I’m broken. It can be frightening. Alzheimer's, Dementia, loss of independence, that sort of thing.

Then I had some thoughts that started to reframe these recent events. Three of four days ago, I had this image, my mind as a piñata, hanging from a string with little bits of paper covering it, broken, and all of its candy spilled on the ground.

The next thought was, What if instead of being broken, I’m breaking?

What if this is a good thing? What if this is what’s necessary for all of my candy to spill on the ground, much to the delight of the gathered?

Ideas come to me when I’m with my friends. Here’s one: What if I have spent the bulk of my life not-doing, instead of doing? What if my baseline has been not to get in trouble? Combined with ADHD and Bipolar. Wheeeee!!!!!!

I recognize that I have been anxious. I recognize that I have almost always felt like an outsider. I know that I have been reckless. I know I have been inconsiderate. I know I’ve missed opportunities based on fear. I recognize I am almost always on guard.

Wish I may, Wish I might, here’s the wish I wish tonight. May all of those things break, and may my candy spill on the ground to the delight of anyone who needs a small piece of my mind.

That would be great! Now I’m looking forward to what will be revealed.

Happy New Year