When the urge struck me to annihilate the universities  laptop that I was loaned in it's "loan a laptop" I thought "it might be good to check in with my MIP AFG.
 So, this weekend I was at a work shop . The theme was "the spiritual life is not a theory; we have to live it!." And it was great, it really was. One of the best parts of the work shop was about The 12 traditions--re written for our every day relationships. I'll get them to y'all and my reaction to them. They're in my car, of course.  But it was exactly what I needed. 
 Yesterday, for the bulk of the day, I was cleaning out my very first room when I moved here to dayton. It was very emotional and very sad. But the interesting thing was, I didn't respond how I usually did. Sure it was sad. But it wasn't sad in the sense like I needed to have a complete melt down over it.
 I took out all the Wittenberg stuff dad had put up and kept up when I got admitted. I took out and threw out all these old pictures. I found these old photo albums and all these old toys, from when I was like, 8. And i was like, oh how time passes. I looked at the photos and I realized, with sadness, I was never a fat kid. It was that, really, my parents talked about their bodies with such self hatred that they talked to me in the same light.
 and I suddenly, as I looked at all the pictures, felt sad for all of us. I felt sad for my mom, who despised having her picture taken. And as I looked at her, it's not that she was or is ugly. It's that she was old, on the inside first. Like how we all seem to feel old on the inside, and then grow young again. And feel happy about our life again. and I felt sad for mom. It was like, well, it was like what it is for all of us: the most obvious thing is the thing we refuse to look at. It's everything else but the drinking.  My mom would fight with my dad about everything else but his drinking. Same thing with my dad.
 I filled up 6 bags for good will. Then, I filled up 4 bags with trash. Just trash. Stuff that needed to be trashed. I felt sad and exhausted. I realized that the bulk of the stuff that came with us from NC was garbage. It was like somehow if we brought all our garbage with us and kept it, whenever my parents decide to quit doing whatever they're doing, it'll be okay.  Someone, explain my logic to me.
 I'm getting a tatoo today. I've checked out the guy, gotten a referral, and checked out some of his work. I've also gotten my sponsor's and my councelor's blessing. And I couldn't figure out why I felt so exhausted--a key reaction to something, especially when I wasn't/am not sick.
 And I realized, you know, any time I did something as rebellious as this, I got the crap kicked outta me. Changed my hair? screaming match. New clothes? they got torn up or outright disappeared. Any time I rocked the boat, I got in trouble. It was like, we had to keep it insane for it to be sane.  Now, I'm going to do the ultimate: get a tatoo.  No one could scream loud enough to punish me for that. "Little Sarah" is nuts over this. And "big Sarah" can't persuade her that no one is going to punish her--or anything else.
 It's a rose BTW. On my left shoulder. About a half dollar.