Swearing Off


stetson-cussing1

Oh you clever vulgarian, you. At least my hat doesn’t look candy frosted.

I was in an elevator at work recently, chatting away with a few of my staff,  when it slipped.  It was nothing special, nothing groundbreaking.  It was about as generic and mindless as any other word goes, but it made an impression.  I had sworn.  Lightly.  I didn’t get into conjugated verbs or hyphenated nouns.  Just a pixie dusting of profanity.  A small “C” cuss. A hiccup of hubristic ha ha.  A “whatever” with zing, really.  But the shock wasn’t in the word, but in the carrier.  Me.

“Paul – I’ve never heard you swear,” one of the ladies decreed, wide-eyed, “you’re on of us!”  Two days later I let another easy-off-the-lips word escape me and yet another one of my staff dropped what she was doing and gazed back at me, unsure of what to make of this now sullied air.  “Paul!  I have never heard you say that word before!  You sound like we do!” she said, beaming and dancing a little jig.

Really?  Over a poorly chosen word?

I guess I had to look at it from their point-of-view: I am a fairly straightforward guy (I’ve been told) and sounding like a trucker isn’t one of the things I am know for.  I am certainly more Bill Cosby or Jerry Seinfeld to everyone else’s Dennis Leary or Redd Foxx there. I am the straight man to their comic slantings and raunchy rantings.  I am the Stepford Dude to their sizzling barbs.

Ya Big Dummy!

Yikes!  What are ya doing, Ya Big Dummy!?

But I laughed to myself because if they knew the old me, the old alcoholic me, the old alcoholic life unmanageable me…they wouldn’t be so surprised at my occasional bon mots.   They would actually be surprised at my extreme measure of appropriate language, considering how I used to be.  I was a Vulgarian.  F-bombs and other wonderful words spilled out of me like coins on a winning slot machine. At one place I worked, my boss had to tell me and another co-worker to cut out the bad language – people were afraid to come into our work space when we were bombarding each other with vile turns of phrases and filthy, personal “yo mamma” jokes. People didn’t like having me around.  I didn’t blame them.

What people never saw was that I spewed most of my vitriolic verbiage towards myself.  Cursing myself out was the only way I could express my self-loathing, my self-hatred, my absolute disgust in myself.  I so did not like myself that I thought that if I swatted me away by telling myself what a piece of crap I was, maybe I would go away.  It never worked, but boy did I try.  I called myself every name in the book (and even made a few up for fun) and beat myself down with those tire irons for years.  I couldn’t find the right, perfect name to express how much I just hated being me. It was much more fulfilling to just drink at me.

fuck-you

When I got sober and started to recover, there were a lot of things about me I still loathed about myself.  Just because the booze was gone, didn’t mean things were perfect.  Far from it. I had to face a lot of facts about myself that I didn’t appreciate looking at.  There were a lot of activities and ways of thinking and acting that I wasn’t proud of.  But I had no choice to look at these things, because the fear of drinking myself into an alcoholic death outweighed the fear of living life without alcohol.  And so the journey began.  And as the journey progressed, it was clear that it wasn’t just about not drinking any more – I started to find a new way of life, a design for living that fitted me more like a glove than the handcuff of the bottle.

So as I started to grow into this new skin, this new approach and outlook on life, this brand new way of seeing myself and others in the world, things slowly started to change.  Many of the things I used to do, think and say started to dissolve and dissipate into the Nothingness.  Many of my old perceptions and prejudices melted away.  Slowly.  Without me noticing.  I never got the memo on me.  Maybe my inbox was already full.

So it wasn’t until my staff mentioned to me about the swearing did I realize that I don’t swear very often.  In two years at this job, no one has really heard me cussin’ and a feudin’.  How strange that is for me, because I never swore off on anything, including swearing.  I never woke up one day and stared at the mirror and made a declaration that I would never do X or Y again.  I never held force to myself in making an oath that I wouldn’t swear ever again.  It just happened as a result of my new life, my new psychic change, my fresh outlook on my inner world.  It just happened.

I solemnly swear to wear proper fitting pants from now on.

Me, at my first AA meeting.

I never had to think about not using foul language.  Because for this alcoholic, it was about building people up, and not tearing them down – something that was foreign to me.  It was about finding a new language for loving others, in finding compassion and empathy, in being of service, of being a real man and child of the Creator.  So in doing this, many of those words that I so used to slice at and slay others, removed themselves from my vocabulary.  I had taken on a new index and directory.  I was rewriting the appendices of my life.  I continue in trying to dig deep and find ways of expressing myself through words that don’t cling and sting, but float and emote.  A way of being kind.

And it’s just the tip of what is something greater.

You see, I never did say that I will never drink again either.  Not once.  Not in recovery, at least.  I said it countless times when I was hungover or feeling ill, hunched over the toilet, or when I did or said something that invited in guilt, shame and remorse… but never in recovery.  Because I never needed to.  The obsession lifted at some point – just the magnificent and miraculous manifestation of doing the work I needed to do (and continue to do).  I don’t have the willpower to not do something – it’s not in me.  But I find that when I work on my spiritual life, on my connection with the Creator, on helping others…good things happen.  And that whole drinking thing, that whole swearing thing, that whole lying thing, that whole whatever thing which would get me in trouble or keep me up at night…goes away, little by slowly.  I’m not perfect by any stretch, and I struggle and life happens…but I know that I don’t have to go back to my old ways.  There is no need for it.

I am not the old me any more and I don’t see the changes in me until others point them out to me.

And how fucking cool is that?

stillness

14 responses to “Swearing Off

  1. Great post, Paul! i’m a big swearer, although i tune it down in my recovery blogs because i don’t want to alienate anyone. As a writer, swearing can be a great tool / shortcut because there are so many swear words that carry with them so much baggage that it’s easy to use one in a text to elicit a gut reaction from a reader.

    As for swearing in the rooms, Yeaman AA is notoriously HP based rather than (religious) God based so we often swear like sailors in the meetings even if they’re held in churches for the most part. Still, there’s one woman, the choir leader in a church here, who will make her displeasure unknown if you swear a lot in a share.

    Bottom line? Swearing is like a weapon, you need to know when and how to use it first so you can be sure no one gets hurt.

    • Great point Al – it can certainly be like a weapon, and knowing the when, why and how of it is important. We must be a lot more prim and “proper” here, as I know that some people get uptight when someone is cussing like a sailor during a share. But it depends on the context of course. If it’s some dude who uses the F-word every second word, then it just gets tired quickly. But if someone use a few choice words to really nail down a sentiment, then no one cares.

      Thanks for the add-in!!

      Paul

    • Ha ha…yeah, I hear you on that one. I most often curse in the car when the world doesn’t drive the way I want and expect them to 😉

      Thanks for being here, Elanor!

      Paul

  2. I can totally relate to the idea that my personal growth needs to be pointed out, rather than by my personally identifying it. Thank God for the people around us, because I’m not sure I’d ever notice the positive changes!

    Sadly, I cannot relate to reduction in “potty-mouthiness.” If anything, my vulgarity has increased since entering AA, and I agree with Al… a well-placed cuss is worth 1,000 regular words! I wish I could use them more in my blog, but both my Mom and my Mother-in-law read, and critique, so I limit, because I do not enjoy the taste of soap!

    Paul, I love reading, and getting to know you more and more with each post!

    • Hi miracle – thanks for pinpointing what it was I wanted to share. We are the last to see what personality changes occur in us. To me, I am still the same old dork, but ask others and they have a different POV. (Having said that, check out the Dove Real Beauty Sketches – it’s beautiful http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=litXW91UauE )

      I was laughing at how you and some of the others have censored yourselves because of family reading it…ha ha. I can’t imagine what it’s like to sit and have a coffee when the kids and family aren’t around!

      Blessings,
      Paul

  3. Ditto … it’s very fu*@ing cool. (Just in case the my kids happen to read this.)

    I’m with Miracles. I think my mouth is worse now that I’m sober. (That’s, worth taking a look at.)

  4. Work in progress for me.

    I swear less at work but that is I now work in an environment where there is less anyway. At home – still bad – at AA meetings… sadly I have to say I haven’t shed my chameleon skin totally and I know I swear more at the meetings where it is de-rigueur I do swear more.

    Work in progress…

    • hey Graham – we are all works in progress. I have my days where I have to watch myself too – especially when playing the chameleon. I found myself like that a couple of days ago – got caught up with some dudes who like colourful language, and found myself getting into old habits and mimicking their speaking by dropping bombs off here and there too. Caught myself, but it was too late. Oh well, no biggie 🙂

      Thanks for the comments!
      Paul

  5. OMG you’re one of US! Haha! I rarely cuss either, but sometimes there’s just no other suitable substitute for the F bomb.

    That e-card pretty much summed up my drinking days! I gave zero F’s what any one else thought. Now I’m a tad more conscientious.

    Happy you’re a Lamont, and no longer a Fred! 🙂 great post Paul!

Whatcha Thinkin' ?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s