Sunday, June 03, 2007

Attached.....Or Not

I was sitting in my van at the library, passing the time until I could go sign on the dotted line, people watching. An elderly couple came out to their car, which was parked directly across from me. She was carrying a bag of books and he had the key fob in his hand. With a slight flourish he pointed it in the direction of the car's trunk, pressed down on it, only to have nothing happen. The same flourish, evoking a your wish is my command my dear sentiment, was repeated several times. He did it with such grace that I swear there was this invisible, wordless little bow within his gesture.

I sat there and watched this, enjoying his flourish. When nothing happened he eventually walked over and opened the trunk the old fashioned way, with a key. She clunked her bag of books inside it and he closed the trunk for her. As he turned towards the driver's door my first thought was, oh, he has man boobs. My next thought was that really doesn't matter in the whole scope of life. How has he maintained, or learned, when flourishes fall flat, to take it in his stride and do the next right thing? There was no look of discouragement on his face, in fact, there was still a hint of the flourish in the very way he walked. I sat there and hoped I would be like that when I was his age. Better late than never, right?


Yesterday I went to town for my home group AA meeting only to get there and find the meeting had been cancelled. As we pulled up, a woman from my group was just getting off her bike. We talked for a moment before deciding to have our own little meeting a few blocks away at Dairy Queen. It was a beautiful sunny day and we agreed to meet outside at one of the tables. Dearest one dropped me off and I had an hour to gab and listen, gab and listen. A coupon for a free ice cream cone got me a nice cold treat. I momentarily wondered if it was safe to eat it, seeing how dairy is one of my allergies and I had no medication along to quell the intestinal drama that might follow. Oh what the hell I thought and thoroughly enjoyed both the company of my friend and the soothing coolness of the cone.

I have a really hard time trusting women in recovery. I tend to think they're the enemy. I'm hoping to get that sorted out when I go to rehab. I think it must have something to do with my mom being the alcoholic parent in my life. This woman from my group is one of 2 women in recovery so far who I feel comfortable with. She is honest and vulnerable in a non threatening way. We were sharing our journeys with one another, talking about our issues when she couched hers in this way,"I'm attached to my shit", meaning she doesn't share her issues easily and she only lets go of them when she's ready.

God has a huge sense of humour. Trust me. I sat there listening to her share her journey, when my soon-to-unfold intestinal drama nudged me. Before I had a chance to say anything - like how unattached I was going to be to my own shit if I didn't run for the can - I crapped myself right then and there. Oh vey.

Today I can laugh about it. Yesterday I couldn't. It's rather humiliating to crap yourself in public. A mile away from the bathroom. Eventually I got cleaned up with a little help from her, dearest one and Walmart. I'll spare you the details.

Tomorrow I will call my AA friend and ask her if she thinks I'm as attached to my shit as she is to hers and we will laugh. I wonder if that old man at the library has let go of his own issues a time or two. If that's what has to happen in order to handle life with grace and an invisible bow.

Let's just say it's a bit of a bitch to walk with a flourish when you're attached to your shit.


wilsonian said...

LOL... Oh, Hope! As soon as I read DQ, I knew where this was going. Yes, I knew, because I have been there myself.

Yes, one of those times I wished I was a little more attached to my shit.

I'd say you've found a good friend in that woman!

Anonymous said...

Way to let it go, Hope. LOL

Steve F. said...

Been there, done that, and I cringe every time I think of it, sister.

Crapping yourself dead sober isn't nearly as much fun, so far as I can remember...

My diabetic medication has the same explosive effect on me, which is why whatever exercise I get is on an exercise bike or treadmill, not far from a restroom.

And yes, hold onto that lady. If there was ever a test of a potential true friend, I'd say she passed it...especially after, of course, you "passed it."

HeyJules said...

Hope, you never fail to take a good punch line and give it a whole new meaning. I love that about you!

~m2~ said...



i would say she is one to be trusted, bless your heart, girl!

beth said...

What a tragically beautiful post! Anybody who can take what might be a disaster to any other eyes and turn it into opportunity and friendship and a knock-out cliche at the end is WELL on the way to recovery!

I am cheering for you, Hope...

D.H. said...

That is some funny shit.

(Your favouriet sister.)

Hope said...

Thank you for all the great comments!

CHB said...

Great story, Hope! I'm stealing your quote at the end if that's all right...