This passed weekend was filled with fun, gay things to do in Atlanta: Frank Buda's annual Easter Bonnet Party was attended by many Cotillion friends, and the Armorettes held their annual Easter Drag Races in the Blake's parking lot. I saw some photos taken by Project Q, and it looked like plenty of shirtless boys were out and about enjoying the suddenly summer-like weather we were experiencing after a rough and long winter.
I was stuck at the airport for much of the weekend trying to catch a flight to Westchester, NY, to visit my family for Easter. I missed out on the fun a few miles away in Midtown.
A few months ago, I noticed that the airfare to New York was climbing, and during holiday weekends, the prices usually spike. So, I called on a friend at Air Tran who I competed against in last year's Atlanta Cotillion, and got hold of a buddy-pass. I guess I didn't think Easter weekend would be as busy as it was, so unfortunately for me, flights up and down the East Coast were booked solid. Instead of partying with friends on my first Sunday off this year, I was stuck at the airport, trying to get on any flight to the NYC region or Boston.
It was my own fault. Of course people would be travelling to see their families. I was upset, sad, and depressed. My family was disappointed, and several of my friends were looking forward to spending time with me, including a friend I recently reconnected with thanks to Facebook who I hadn't spoken to since just after high school. I was eagerly looking forward to catching up with him; a few years ago, he came out of the closet.
Rescheduling everything, including a visit to the Late Show with David Letterman, proved to be simple enough. My boss was flexible, and I let my family know I'd come in two weeks instead. But I was still feeling hungry, angry, lonely, & tired (HALT, in recovery terms), so I decided I needed a meeting. I went to the 1:30 pm Tuesday meeting at NABA, and it was exactly what I needed! I hadn't been to a meeting since January (tisk, tisk), and I know from being in the rooms that maybe I was closer to drinking than I realized. This particular meeting "reset" my spirit, and I was feeling grateful to have a family who looks forward to my visits. I also felt very fortunate to have plently of friends here in Atlanta, and in the NYC area. The new-found humility and gratitude I felt was profound. I briefly felt bad for wallowing in my own pity, but if I don't persevere through self-pity, I get down and depressed. I feel like the world owes me something; that the occurrences of the weekend made me a victim, even though nothing catastrophic happened. My disease looks for these excuses to escape into self-pity, and once I do, I want to change the way I feel with alcohol. Wouldn't it be great to get drunk and forget about my responsibilities? Couldn't I just take off somewhere and indulge?
The effects of drinking after three years would be catastrophic, however. Not only would I have a seriously painful hangover, but the disappointment my family, friends, and I would feel would really set things back.
The last few days have brought about a much-needed positive shift in my attitude. After the meeting, I went to the gym and worked out hard. I continue my almost-daily workouts because it frees me of pent-up aggression, and I always feel good about myself afterwards. Not to mention, speedo season is practically upon us!
Last night, I stayed up late to watch The Buddha on PBS. What an amazing and inspiring story! And what perfect timing! I learned about how Buddhists believe that the unhappiness humans often experience are the makings of the ego. Our own minds create the hell we can sometimes live in. It was all very much in accord with Ekhart Tolle's teachings, so I was on the edge of my seat for the program's entirety. I feel a bit more enlightened today. And I loved the way it ended: someone asked the Buddha who he was. His answer: the One who woke up.
