Leave it to the Band to challenge me to be grateful when I really just want to bitch and moan about how fucking hot it is, about how I'm having to appeal to get one more year of financial aid, about how the fucking dog yarfed in the fucking bed last night...
you get the point.
And yet, much like when AB asked me to help out behind the scenes with the Band, I don't know how to say "no" to these wonderful women. (I should amend that to people, because the Band is far more than women--it's all inclusive.) It's kind of like when my sponsor tells me I'm going to have to re-write this writing assignment because she doesn't feel like I was honest enough or dug deep enough or whatever. I can't say no, because my life depends on it. And yes, I believe that my involvement with The Band is as vital to my continued existence as my recovery is. The Band is just another safe outlet for me, another group of people who understand me, who know what I'm going through. The Band is beautiful and I need them.
Don't get me wrong. I don't believe that the Band is a replacement for my 12 step fellowship or my 12 step program. They don't try or claim to be. The Band just naturally fits right into those things, which is good since I live in the swamps of East Texas and am geographically a bit removed from my 12 step fellowship peeps.
Because otherwise, I'd let this fucking hellish heat continue to piss me off, and I'd cry my eyes out over having to clean dog yarf out of the bed linens, and so on and so on and so on. It's pretty easy for me to throw myself a pity party.
So here I go, off to try and figure out what the fuck I am grateful for this morning. I think I'll start with being grateful for coffee.