“Excuse Me...”

Interruptions. God I hate interruptions. It’s like this blog. Since the time I started writing, I’ve been interrupted 5 times.

First it was my wife, showing me the spot where she recently had a mole removed, trying to get my opinion on whether or not it was healing okay.

Then there was a phone call from one of my daughters inquiring how to make lasagna. That one I was able to pawn off on my wife, who followed it up with another interruption of her own, wondering if and when I would be making dinner.

I tried to get back to work, but there was another call from a second daughter, this one to talk about plans for an upcoming trip she was taking to Colorado. Even the cat wouldn’t leave me alone.

Finally, I decided to interrupt myself, turned off the computer and went into the living room to watch the Yankee game on TV.

I’m not sure what it is about interruptions that annoy me so, but I do know that if there’s something in particular I would like to develop in my sobriety, it is the precious quality of patience. I haven’t got a lot of it now, and I had even less when I was drinking.

I’ve tried all kinds of things to develop patience since getting sober, like the proverbial “count to ten” before responding (which quickly became “five” and then “three” when the initial intervals were too long to endure).

Then there was the suggestion from somebody at a meeting to literally take a step backwards before saying or doing anything reactive. That worked for a while but made me feel like I was back in dancing school learning how to cha-cha.

Others have suggested visualizing a quiet corner, lowering my voice an octave or two, and other similar methods to get my mind off whatever it is I’m trying not to react to. But nothing has really worked as effectively as the first drink used to when I was drinking.

Alcoholism is very much about immediate gratification and I remember how it felt to take that first drink, how I could sense the alcohol seeping into my bloodstream like a drop of ink dispersing into a glass of water. There was a calmness that came along with it, a confidence, and the assurance that things would be better, soon.

With that kind of reaction, it’s no mystery that I would return again and again, seeking to recreate that moment of calm, the assurance that things would be alright with the world. Unfortunately, however, the confidence, the calm, the assurance was an illusion, an illusion that evaporated the closer I got to it, like an oasis mirage hovering over a desert road.

The only thing I’ve been able to utilize with any ongoing success as a buffer between me and my own negative reactions and responses is the power of prayer, in particular AA’s Serenity Prayer. For me, it encapsulates everything I need to know and to do in as concentrated a form as possible and, like the alcohol of old, I can feel it suffusing my spirit almost instantaneously: “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.”

The difference, of course, is that the power of this prayer doesn’t just evaporate. It is far more real than the illusory effects of alcohol. Now, all I need to do is remember to say it in moments of stress.

At this point, the ballgame is over, my wife and kids have gone to bed, the telephone is quiet and the cat is curled up in a ball on the couch.

I can finally finish writing this blog in peace, knowing with certainty that tomorrow will bring a whole new round of interruptions to aggravate and annoy me, along with numerous opportunities to practice spiritual development and the power of prayer.
 

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