Tuesday Thoughts


I stepped on the scale, a few minutes ago, and it read: 151 lbs. My diabetes doctor had told me that in order to reach optimum numbers of 6’s and 7’s, that I would probably have to up my insulin, one click a day, to reach them. This morning I clicked 25 units.

I have been hitting steady 7’s in the morning, depending on whatever I had eaten inside the 12 hour window from post dinner to morning. I’ve dropped 10 pounds in the last week.

When we began this little “I think I am looking a little sexy” project in February, originally I had lost 10 pounds, down from the 187 back in November. When I realized that I actually lost weight, for the first time in forever, it only jump started my desire to regain sexy. Because I had not felt sexy in as many years.

I had stuck with frumpy acceptance that I would never shed my “pear shape.” I have shed that frumpy “pear shape.”

Since February, I have only worn pants twice. I have one serious wardrobe full of sporty tights and shirts. The other night, Thursday, I was at a meeting, and had I not extended my hand several times, nobody would have noticed me sitting in the room.

At the end of the meeting, one of the old gay buzzards, whom I have known my whole sobriety, got up from his chair to participate in the final prayer, stopped in front of me and gave me one serious look up and down, as he shook his head in dismay, as if to say,
“Why are you dressed that way?”

Need I explain to people who have not been inside the arena with me over the last year?


People don’t seem to understand that this is my party. And that I don’t accept that the older I get, the frumpier I should look. I’ve been at this physical fitness regimen and Keto diet since February. I’ve lost 36 pounds as of tonight.

That is a small child.

My gay friends are more critical of me than my straight counterparts.

Because I am not one of them, nor do I wish to be.

This holiday season, I am not doing anyone any more favors. I am through being kind to people who don’t reciprocate, and just blindly expect me to give because that is what I have done since I got sober.

If I don’t call my friends and fellows, my phone won’t ring. If I don’t make the out call, nothing gets done, save two sponsees.

They, call me every day.

I go to meetings. I participate. I do service. I give of myself.

People don’t seem to know what reciprocation means and how that works.

Because everyone assumes that
“Oh, Jeremy will do it, so I don’t have to worry about stepping up.”

Not this year …

Thanksgiving is just 19 days away.

Christmas is 97 days away.

Egg Nog is being sold at grocery stores. One of my mentor men’s wife went grocery shopping last week and brought home a jug of Egg Nog, and he tweeted the picture, which ended up with him being interviewed by the CBC in Alberta and made the National News.

I haven’t seen Christmas decorations yet. But that could change at any time.

Fall begins this week. My favorite season of the year.

The turning of the trees, the falling of the leaves, and the very first snowfall are, for me, almost religious observances.

More to come.

Monday: Spiritual Fitness


Another week has begun. Our Monday meeting reads from the Big Book. Tonight we read from Page 100 – 101 …

This reading speaks of “Spiritual Fitness.” If you read the Big Book with someone who has read it themselves, and practices Spiritual Principles, one would understand what it really means to be “Spiritually Fit.”

Spirituality and God are those two topics that stymie people until they are able to wrap their heads around them. Most people don’t want to know about spiritual principles. They just want to know how to stay sober. The two are not mutually exclusive.

Staying sober, gets easier, if you can employ the spiritual principles taught in the book and in other books we read on the outside: Ref. The Spirituality of Imperfection.

The first thought that came to mind as we read this passage was my own story, of the period of time, which began a year before I had my last drink, and the two years that followed, when I finally did get sober, and what happened.

I had worked my way into the employ of Todd in 1993. We had built the bar from the ground up. The bar had its official opening in April of 1993.

I was bar tending that night.

My sponsor, who was not yet my sponsor, but would eventually become him, was getting sober. On his cash register sat a hard cover copy of the Big Book.

I would ask him, from time to time, what that Big Book was … I knew that it was called a Big Book, because I could see the embossed letters on the front cover.

His answer was always the same…

“When you are ready, I will tell you what it means …”

That took a year.

When I took my last drink, and Todd swept me off the pavement, at the COPA, I never took another drink. Yet, I was still employed at the bar..

Todd would sit me in his office before shift, and he would SPIRITUALLY CENTER me. Todd was not a member, but in all his wisdom, he knew what I needed before I ever knew I needed something myself.

Todd had spiritual qualities. And he knew how to use them with me. Don’t ask me where he learned them, but they were in his trusty toolbox at his disposal. God was certainly there with us. Because if Todd had not stepped in and saved my life, I surely would have died a long time ago.

Todd – read GOD, was there, all along.

That freedom of knowing that “I never had to drink again” was salvation.

During this time when AIDS was killing everyone around me, I was one of a few men, in that building, that were sober. While my friends were all drinking and drugging themselves to death, I was ABLE and I was PRESENT.

For what it was, those first two years, while I was going to meetings, AND reading the book, I received more spiritual teaching from Todd, than I did from any man who sat in a room with me at meetings.

I could do anything, as long as Todd and my sponsor were there. I never had to look very far for confidence and love.

I’ve always said that if a time machine were ever invented, I would go back to this two-year period provided, everyone and everything could be the same. Suffering, sex, drugs and alcohol. And the men … Let s not forget about the MEN.

The reason I went out was stupid. I should have known better. But not having anyone to confide in, and keeping secrets to myself, was my death knell…

When I moved to Montreal, Sober … I did not have to worry about bars or liquor stores or the infamous Depanneur.

Depanneur – Corner store, located on almost every corner in Montreal proper and then some.

I began life sober here. I did not have to drop my friends, nor worry about bar hopping or drinking at home.

Only twice, in the first two years of sobriety did I ever utter the words: I want a Drink.

Once because of stupid people at the rehab I was going to. The other was on Christmas that year I had moved here. I was at a meeting hosted in a fellows home.

It was a Mansion. And we all sat around a mahogany dining table. All 30 of us.

One man in particular, “DON 86” was in the circle. That was his tag line. My name is Don and my sobriety date was August 1986.

That night he had shared that in his living room, he had a large curio cabinet, where he kept his alcohol. That alcohol was kept on a shelf where fine “down-lights” lit the bottles from behind, giving the magic elixir a beautiful light.

He then added, that he would drink from those beautiful bottles every now and then.

My brain was cranking as he said that.

He was sober since 1986, sitting in the circle as a sober man. Yet he drank. And maintained his sobriety date of August 1986.


I was beginning to levitate out of my chair. Two friends, one on either side, placed their hands on my legs, beneath the table, and whispered, “Ignore what he is saying…”

I am still sober, almost sixteen years later.

You Never have to Drink AGAIN.