Delusion Of Mind
Strength Through Spirit

Preface

My name is Bobby and I'm an alcoholic. I didn't set out to be an alcoholic, or did I?

Actually, I'm a recovered alcoholic. I've been sober for just over thirty years now and enjoy a life beyond my wildest dreams, though it wasn't always so. I'm happily married with three beautiful children. My children are grown up now and my wife and I only have one still at home.

What makes me a "recovered" alcoholic? The fast and short answer is that I was able to get reconnected to God. And my hope is that within these pages I will be able to explain this in more depth. But before I can get there, to my present space in heart, soul and mind, I must go back. Way back to the beginning of it all.

At the outset of my drinking, and other vices picked up along the way, there were always underlying reasons, causes, that propelled me to a life of self-destruction. This is where my story must begin, hopefully giving you a clear picture and idea of how one can become so ill in spirit and mind.

Before we become intimately involved with one another I feel it's important to let you know at the outset of this writing a few things to understand about me. First things first, I'm not a writer. I did not graduate high school; I was too high to do that. So, I ask you for patience as you make your way through these pages. I may use some words over and over and will undoubtedly repeat some information. The repeating of information may be intentional at times to make a point. I will share with you some really personal details about my life. Some of these my own family may not know anything about. I do not have relationships with my family in that traditional idea of family and perhaps some of these family members are here with you.

Which leads me to my next point before we take a trip back in time. My intent for writing.

I have made absolute, yes full, peace with my past and all that was, and is, back there. I hold no one person, family or friend, in contempt for their own position in my life, past or present. I am not writing from a place of malice, anger or hate. I'm writing from a place of love. If you are a family member, or friend, and you come up in these pages know that all that is written here is based on my own experience, strength and hope which was mutually shared by and between us. I had a therapist that once said to me "Each time you begin a statement with 'I think, I feel, or I believe' it is authentically yours as your own experience. Not one person can argue with what is authentically yours."

The only argument I can make with what Peter said to me as I sat with him during a painful session a few months after my first child was born, questioning "How the hell am I supposed to be a parent?," is this. Each statement that begins with one of those identifiers is based on one's own perceptions by what was taught to them. What ideas, emotions, and attitudes that were derived out of those teachings ultimately setting up guiding forces that determine one's decisions.

This is why we must start from the beginning. An effort to go back in time to fully examine with you, in an open manner, how the guiding forces were set up in my life, right from the start, that brought me to begin drinking at the early age of 12. And then a look at how in just six short years I was forced to leave high school two weeks before my graduation as I just couldn't go on any further. Landing me in a rehab for 30 days that would begin to shift the direction in my life to the here and now.

The bottom line is that I experienced a separation from God, a God that I now know was innately installed in me. I tried with every ounce of my own self-will to live life, and it all ended in a severe failure, then a renewed relationship with my Creator.

I believe we all have an idea of God. That we are each born with it. I believe it either gets nurtured or is brutally removed from us through the circumstances in our lives. I further believe that whichever the case may be for you it is truly the way it was supposed to be for you and that we each have a path and purpose that needs to be fulfilled. If the idea of God sickens you or makes you uncomfortable, I get it. I really get it! The idea at one time would make me ill. And that would drive me further away from Him.

To make the writing smoother and without some sort of fanciness to try and rope you in by substituting different labels for God such as Creator, Sunlight Of The Spirit, Spirit, Nature, Grand Architect or whatever makes it palatable for you I will go with just plain "God" as I type. If I deviate and become forgetful, I'll be sure to give Him a big letter at the front of His Name.

Our circumstances and experiences may not be the same yet perhaps you will relate to some of what I have experienced, or more pointedly to how those guiding forces were set up in your own life. I wish you peace and love as you read and maybe even a bit of uncomfortability if it is meant to be that way for you.

I will start at the beginning and try my hardest to keep it all in line. Yet on occasion I will deviate. When this happens, I'll clearly define when by mixing in chapters titled "Intermezzo," a break in the drama.

It would be wise to touch on that perspective a bit to give you a clearer point to ponder, or perhaps to share with you where this writing comes from. I shared that I am clean and sober and have been for over thirty years. I got sober at the age of eighteen just two weeks shy of graduating high school. I had the fortune of two choices when I hit that bottom as a crack appeared in my shell and mask. Truth was allowed into me, and it was at this point that I admitted complete defeat, with regard to the drinking and drugging. I had two choices. A stay on the grounds of what we grew up knowing then as the IMH. The Institute of Mental Health, also known as the prison grounds within Rhode Island. The other choice afforded to me, only because my father had great health insurance and at the time these plans covered a thirty-day stay in a rehab, was a country club treatment facility. Given the choice I went with the logical, human-inspired easier road. I chose the rehab. Besides I knew something about this place which I will share about later as we journey.

As a consequence of that mini vacation from life I was exposed to many others who were also clean and sober. And their chief method of gaining recovery and staying sober was through a program called Alcoholics Anonymous. This book is not entirely about that particular program or fellowship, yet my perspective today was reached through it, the people who are members of it, and more importantly the actual program. The program being its twelve steps. A miraculous set of principles if one has the actual strength and willingness to fully follow.

I will not get into the details of my journey through the work at this point, but I thought it wise to let you know that it was my experience through them that allowed me to gain freedom and release from all those things that can bind us to that destructive self, that ego.

This book is not solely about Alcoholics Anonymous. It is about a journey that I believe begins when we are shot onto this scene in our meatsuits, our physical bodies. It's about a journey home to God.

Chapter One

The Explosion

I came on the scene in March of 1968. I was born in Rhode Island and still live here to this day. What I can share about the beginning is what was shared with me by my parents, aunts and uncles, and grandparents. I don't have the benefit of remembering anything before the age of five. I've been told that I was a peaceful baby. That all I did was eat and sleep and that I wasn't a bother to anyone, yet! A year and two days later my mother and father had my sister. She and I were very close growing up, not at all today.

From what I remember the four of us were a happy family. Mom, Dad, and two children. A Saint Bernard named Whiskey. And a cat, Ramy. When you're young you have no choice but to be happy, you haven't been corrupted yet! Look about you. Observe the young ones, the children. Watch as they take in the splendor of the world through their eyes. Watch the innocence and the naivety that fuels their beings. It's just damn near perfection, as was my life.

I had the benefit of grandparents in my life. A maternal grandmother and grandfather, Nana and Papa. A fraternal grandmother, Moo. Yes, "Moo." I couldn't pronounce the Swedish word for grandmother and landed on "Moo." Being the eldest of her grandchildren I had the honor of giving her this name with my limited vocabulary.

The closest of my aunts and uncles were my father's siblings. His younger sister and younger brother, both of whom would take their turns as "parents" to and for me through life's consequences. More so my uncle. but my aunt later in life when I would divorce my first wife. Yeah, what good story wouldn't have a good divorce or two mixed in?

We lived in a small home in a great neighborhood. A neighborhood with many families and many children. Though it was the smallest house on the street, and we didn't own it, it was great. Until the shit hit the fan.

I was brought up from day one with the idea of God being instilled in me. I was told there was a God. That He was real, even though I couldn't see Him. That He did amazing things. Papa would refer to Him as the Grand Architect in later years when we said grace before a holiday dinner. We were a mixed bag of religions, yet we all believed in God. I was brought up in the Catholic faith. As was my mother and her mother. Papa was a protestant. Nana the Irish catholic and Papa the English protestant. They married these two backgrounds when it was unheard of. Amazing how love will conquer all divisions, eh? Moo was a Lutheran and we all went to different churches. I guess somehow the argument was won that my sister and I would be brought up with the Catholic faith.

It fell on Nana to follow through with the Catholic teachings and to make sure we were brought to "God's house." I enjoyed it, I loved it. It was a reprieve from life for a bit and it always felt somewhat mystical when I was in the church. All that pomp and circumstance with the rituals and the smell of frankincense. Even to this day I'm taken by it to some degree when I'm in the midst of my work with clients and the beginning of their lives together at the altar through marriage.

So, in the midst of being a child and going to elementary school and learning how to be a human in society with the other neighborhood children I had a mass to look forward to each week with Nana. She called me "pet" and I loved spending time with her.

Maybe it's clear to see how a young boy who is worshipped by a grandmother can turn that same grandmother into his own God. That is what she became and was, to and for me. She was larger than life in so many ways. I started drinking just before she died.

Long before this would happen a fuse was set in the family, and I didn't even know that it was there. When you're a young child you don't see them. You observe innocence through a heart-shaped lens that is crystal clear. The fuse was between my parents. And when it was lit and the dynamite finally blew it sent shockwaves throughout the entire family. Sides were taken and lines were drawn. And in the midst of it all, my sister and I could only (fill in your own blank).

Before this there were arguments, easily ignored by me and my own childish agenda of what color to use next in that crayon box, my own need to figure out how to torch an ant with a magnifying glass and other things that interest a young boy. I was under the spell of that bliss that comes with being young, before outside forces have their chance to start the bastardation of the soul and mind. What I didn't see coming with the refusal to acknowledge these arguments was the devastating effect this would have on me. More to the point, how this explosion would set in motion the forming of ideas, emotions, and attitudes that would shape the guiding forces in my life. I was ill-prepared and what little understanding of God I had just wasn't enough to sustain me or fight them off. My trust and reliance on God as the Ultimate Source and Architect of all had yet to fully form. My understanding now is that all things, perceived good or bad, are put to great use by Him but it just wasn't there yet. Sadly, it would be nearly forty-four years before I would reach this understanding. The day the split happened between my mother and father became the catalyst propelling me away from God for a number of years.

I recall it like this. I remember being in my bedroom. I think my sister was there, we shared a bedroom. My mother and father were at the other end of the house, only a short distance away. She is in the kitchen, and he is in the living room. There was music on in the living room, an album playing on the turntable that was set upon the top of the big ass television. You know that 1970's tube set in a piece of cabinetry. The music was loud. And my mother asked my father to turn it down. That's the recollection of what the argument was about. Years later I would find out what it was about. Isn't it always "the straw that breaks the camel's back?" It was the same way when I would split from my first wife later in life.

As the argument continued, I felt this strange thing happen within me. Something I never experienced before this time in my short life. I think I was six years old when it happened. I started to feel fear for the first time. At first it was in the form of a thought: "I hope that argument doesn't come down the hall into my bedroom."

And then the explosion. My mother screamed "Get out!" Words she would say to me years later just before I would go to live with my father at fourteen years old.

What happened? My father left. It was that simple.

And then what happened? In my physical world I couldn't tell you.

What happened within? I stopped believing in God. His mercy. And His love.

I don't blame my parents for this. I don't hold Nana in contempt for not teaching me more about God before this happened so that I would be better prepared. Life doesn't work like that. Life gets messy! And mine was about to get really messy with the lines that were drawn.

I can't recall what time of the year it was, what the weather was like or what I ate for dinner that night or even if I ate dinner. It feels like a blackout of sorts. To this day I still can't recall. What I can tell you is that this initial separation from God was not just born out of that fear I experienced at that moment. I've come to know that it was a resentment. A resentment toward God. Funny how one can be resentful toward God and that misaligned anger can feel as real as burning your hand under hot water yet we as humans have difficulty and resistance when it comes to loving this same God. Man, how that fucking humanness gets in the way.

Sadly, my sister and I would become a couple of ping pong balls between my parents for the next few years and a device of their own need to control or be controlled. I'm not throwing my parents under the bus here. They had and did what they had to do much like every other person has had to do what had to be done with all that they had to work with. Our failure(s) as humans, imperfect and fallible forms of life, will dictate this as being so.

Chapter Two

Intermezzo Number One

This brings me to that great resentment that served as my separation from God.

As I've shared, I believed in God. I have always believed in Something bigger than all of us. I was taught to believe in Him. And most likely from day one. From what I've gathered in an understanding of what happened, what separated me from Him, was learned through the process of recovery from alcohol and drugs, chiefly. There have been many other things that have lent their own depth to the understanding, but it was through the twelve steps of Alcoholics Anonymous that it was brought to life for me and ultimately returned me to Him.

The principles that many try to understand and adapt to their lives within the halls of those church basement meetings are powerful, they were for me. I'm not going to get all quotey with you. I will however try to impart what I came upon by referencing some of what these pioneers came upon as they too recovered from what those who have recovered since know as a full recovery of body and mind. (Yes, full recovery is possible.)

The greatest part of the process of recovery, and becoming recovered, is that the directions are the same for all yet our experience and interpretation of that experience does vary. The journey is different for everyone, yet the information uncovered about the mind and body of not only alcoholics, but humans who are not alcoholic, can be the same. As is the actual result. The re-connection to God and a new awareness, a God-consciousness.

The original piece of literature offered by the men and women who came about a way to recover from that often-misunderstood sickness alcoholism, what is essentially a spiritual malady, speaks to resentment being an offender. They speak to it as being the beginning of spiritual disease. The actual drink, or drug, or whatever other vice comes into play whether it be gambling, sex, food, or fill in the blank is but a symptom of something deeper. A result of a cause. It's really not the problem. It is the result of the initial problem. It starts as a solution and becomes a detriment to the sufferer and all those around them. It was so with me.

The irony is that even once I was separated from the alcoholic and drugs, the symptom, I was still riddled with the cause. The spiritual sickness. The founders of this process knew and wrote to the fact that even when the symptom, the alcohol and drugs in my case, are removed, there is much more there in the way of sickness. They wrote that the removal of these substances is not enough and that it would only be addressing the surface of the problem, and hardly that.

So how did this resentment become that "number one offender" in my life?

I believe I was six years old when my mother screamed "Get out" to my father. And in that single moment came fear. Followed by my number one resentment. It wasn't against my mother for screaming at my father. It wasn't at my father for following her direction and leaving the house. It wasn't at the house. It wasn't at my sister, the sun, the moon or the stars. It was a resentment that I immediately copped toward God. And it happened in a split second.

One moment I was an innocent child, doing child things, dreaming child dreams, making child plans, looking forward to child things and enjoying a child's life. And in a split second I held God in contempt. As my life began to take a new direction at the mercy of those around me, a direction laced with fear and uncertainty, the sun grew dim, the moon grew colder, and the stars began to fall from heaven. Boom. Just like that!

This effect is not limited to alcoholics, drug addicts, sex addicts, food addicts, smokers, or coffee drinkers. It happens with nearly all of us. I'm not trying to speak for you personally as I believe we each have our own experience(s). Yet I say this as I have come to share this not only with those who hang out in church basements but those who are upstairs too. Humans are fallible, we are all susceptible to this separation. Look around you. Look at your own experience.

So, what was the result of this separation? Well, we will get into all of that as we continue to turn pages, but the immediate effect was one of loss and one of gain. Whatever belief I had up until this point, nurtured by Nana, was tossed aside and a willful decision to hold God in contempt was made. Yes, at six years old. And I didn't even know it. And then a further decision brought me to a place of living without God. More pointedly, a decision to stop seeking Him whether through teachings in the church or readings, prayer or meditation. I washed my hands of Him. The paradox here is that at some levels I still believed in Him yet wanted nothing to do with Him.

My attitude toward God was "You did this to me!" "You split my family up." "You shattered my childhood." Yet I didn't even know this happened when it happened. That was the first result of my decision born out of the resentment. An absolute bewilderment, a "not knowing" that would propel me into a life lived on a self-willed course. I would be a godless creature knowing there was a God while doing ungodly things with an attitude centered on only one thing. Me.

How did that resentment become my own number one offender? What I've come to know is that I was the offender. I offended God by turning my back on Him. By not trusting Him and His own plan and use for everything. And that was one of the most bitter pills I ever swallowed when I uncovered this truth about myself years later. A taste that can still be experienced with even the shortest of trips down memory lane. I believe those bitter pills are a sort of discipline from God today and I'll touch on this later in the journey.

The brilliance of what the pioneers of that first twelve step program came upon is revealed right after they speak to this whole number one offender thing. They speak to the fact that if I can address this underlying malady, the spiritual sickness, I will then straighten out physically and mentally. And further that the madness of resentments can be mastered. Ultimately, I would come to know that a resentment is simply my wish to be in total control no matter what the cost may be. And I became willing to pay that price, to the point of near ruin.

I could write chapters about my history in Alcoholics Anonymous but that is for another day yet there will be points I'll reference here. When I got sober through a treatment facility and was exposed to the fellows in those church basements, I was exposed to a great many things that served as revelations to me. One of which was what they told many of us back in the 1980's. They spoke about how this illness, alcoholism, takes hold. They said the "order" in which one gets sick is spiritual, mental and then physical. They then shared that the exact reversal in order was true when we recover. They were somewhat right yet misguided in their approach. I waited year after year to get better in the reverse order. And to no avail. Sure, at first, I felt great physically and then my mind did begin to clear, a bit. And then I waited for the spiritual part to get better. The wait nearly killed me, and those about me.

It wasn't until I was twenty-six years sober attending meeting after meeting after meeting doing what I was told to do before I landed at a decision to take my own life, going so far as dry firing a pistol in my mouth to practice. All the while waiting for that miracle. It was bullshit.

The pioneers knew what they spoke to in their first book. That if the spiritual malady is overcome, my physical life, not just my body but the physical aspects of my life would right themselves on their own. If the spiritual malady is overcome my mind will repair itself, a restoration of sanity. Sound reasoning would prevail in my life instead of the twisted and perverse mental streak I endured for years. My mind would look upon all things, most especially God, with a different eye. And this became my exact experience.

Do you hold God in contempt?

After a great many years of doing so myself I was able to gain a reconnection to God. Yes, the process hurt and required a concentrated effort, but it beat the alternative, blowing my head off and leaving my family behind in their own twisted bewilderment.

I love this little bit that I heard once. But before I share it with you let me tell you how I understand this relationship with God in its simplest form. I look upon him as my Parent and I'm simply His child. There is so much more, and I'll get into that as we travel on but for now let's leave it there. Simple.

So, He's the parent and I'm the kid. And like most kids I've done things that are colorful and distasteful. Who hasn't? Now I have my own children and I'm a parent too, so I get what it's like to be a parent. You're a parent too? Not always easy is it, being a parent? But no matter what your own children do it never ceases to amaze how the love for your children is felt. It's deep! And they give us trouble as many of you have given your parents trouble, as I have given my parents trouble. This brings us to two points.

One. Parents and children love one another. It is innate, unavoidable. And children give their parents trouble, heartache, and headaches.

And Two. You think you're having a problem with God? Maybe as a parent He's having a problem with you. I imagine He had His hands quite full with me. Today I know He did.