I haven't written much in the past year or so, and I haven't checked my messages in months. And this blog has started to feel more like a weight that I don't need to carry anymore. There's simply not much more to tell. Not here. I have stories about where I was before and where I am now, but those aren't MPJ's stories. They're My stories. The Me that includes, but is much more than, MPJ.

So, for the time being, I'll set this blog down and leave what's here for other Internet travelers to find as they may, like artifacts in the dust. Perhaps one of you will find something here you can use. If I ever do edit all this into something readable, I'll check back in. But I'd like to call this farewell for now. MPJ is going away to be subsumed into the greater Me again. I'm grateful our paths have crossed here, and I wish you all well in your journeys, wherever they take you.

Well, I may not be writing much lately, but I certainly have been reading. The latest on my recovery reading list was You Are Not Your Brain by Jeffrey Schwartz and Rebecca Gladding, a decent self-help book with the sadly unrealized potential to be superb.

Have you ever had the perfect picture of something in your mind? Maybe it's a job. Or a spouse. Or a home. Or a pair of pants. Or this thing that will keep your nose warm in the winter. And you spend a long time looking for it. Maybe you even consider, idly, learning a new trade, like knitting or robotics, just so you can create it. At last. The perfect robot spouse handing me a custom knitted nose cozy!

Then maybe, having created this perfect picture, you've even seen something that had the potential to be IT. That perfect thing you've been looking for. And then you find yourself disappointed because it doesn't live up to its potential. Because it turns out your perfect nose cozy almost sort of keeps your nose warm, but isn't really well organized enough to do its job. This book is that nose cozy.

As I started reading, I had high hopes. The first chapter, in a form that I believe is legally mandated for all self-help books, cheerfully chirped that the solution to my problems would be easy and that this book could tell me how to do it. Really. It will. It's coming. Keep reading. No. Not here in the store. We've put all these words in so that you can't just skip to that easy answer and read it without paying for the book. Whew. Got you to buy it.*

Ok, now we can tell you the truth. Which is that you're actually going to have to work at this quite a lot. Oh, but we will tell you how. Eventually. Well, sort of. You'll be about 150 pages in before you ever get to the meat of our method and even then, it will all be so poorly organized and muddled that you'll have a hard time wading through the morass of words to tease out the important bits. But it's in there!

Yes, I was quite excited by the idea of this book and so almost equally disappointed that poor organization got in the way of its excellent message. What I enjoyed most was that this was a book that avoided the kinds of labels that keep many spouses of addicts (and addicts themselves) from getting help with their pain. I've seen so many people stew in the pain of intrusive thoughts of an addict's acting out. Or get so angry they destroy property or hurt others or themselves. Or rage at their spouse in front of the kids. Or overeat or drink alcohol or overspend to deal with the stress. And not get help. Because they don't consider themselves alcoholics or overeaters or codependent and they don't have PTSD and they're not depressed and they really, really don't need a God that doesn't exist, so forget 12 Step thankyouverymuch. They're just hurt and frustrated by all this stuff other people keep doing.

Well, here it is. Here's a book that gives you all the great tools we learn in 12 Step. Tools like mindfulness and acceptance and taking care of yourself and not shoulding all over. Here's a book that can make a great supplement and accompaniment to 12 Step or a great introduction to some of the tools we learn in program. And it does it all with a basis in nice, safe brain science with no one forcing that pesky God thing on you. Here is a book that admits there are no quick fixes but lays out the practical steps and hard work it takes to work on healing.

Or rather here it could be.

Because while You Are Not Your Brain contains a lot of fantastic and helpful information, it is bogged down in organizational problems. Terms that are used repeatedly from the earliest pages of the book sometimes aren't fully defined until 200 pages later. Most of the first 140 pages are spent telling us (out of order) what we're going to read later in the book. I found myself wishing I had a dollar for every time the authors wrote things like "you will learn more in chapters 3 and 4" or "we will teach you more in Part II, but for now..." or "we will discuss this in chapter 11." Or better yet, wishing I had access to the text and could edit the book myself. (Note to the authors and editors: In a properly organized book, the information should build in a logical way. I'll be happy to help you with your next book.)

And while the authors tried to use simple language, they ended up creating a whole new set of jargon like "Self-Referencing Center" and "Refocus with Progressive Mindfulness." My almost-favorite was what they called the "Uh Oh Center" of the brain, because it was simple and descriptive, but after they mentioned that a colleague referred to it as the "Oh Shit Center" instead, "Uh Oh Center" seemed a pale second best.

Still, while You Are Not Your Brain may not be the perfect recovery book for which I've been longing; it's a good enough book. Even with its flaws, the excellent information, exercises and practical advice it presents make it worth a read and even a second read. Just go heavy on the skimming the first time around.

Leave a comment on this post between now and Sunday, June 26, 2011 for a chance to win a free copy. The winner will be announced on Monday, June 27, 2011.

It's nearly impossible to be the friend or family member of an addict and not have heard Melody Beattie's name. Her books on codependency are widely read and recommended. My own 12 Step home group regularly uses Codependent No More, Codependents' Guide to the Twelve Steps and The Language of Letting Go as part of our meetings and Step work.

Beattie's latest book, Codependent No More Workbook, is something of a companion piece to Codependent No More, intended to move the description and understanding of codependency into the action of recovery. In the first chapter, Beattie compares the work of recovery to mountain climbing, and these are no idle words. Many of the activities in the Workbook are intense and demanding and require a firm commitment to doing the hard work of recovery.

Still, while the overall quality of the activities didn't disappoint me, I was surprised by how few there were. Beattie seemed to have chosen to focus on a few intense activities interspersed with what sometimes seemed like an unnecessary amount of expository text, especially given that each chapter starts with a suggestion for readings from Codependent No More. In particular, the first chapter contains quite a bit of background information on codependency, which seemed unlikely to either convince any skeptics or enhance recovery work. Despite these flaws, the activities and text are helpful and inspirational enough overall that I consider the Workbook a useful addition to my recovery library.

The Workbook is based strongly on the 12 Step model, so in working through the exercises, you will be working the Steps. As such, it will not be a method that everyone is comfortable with or that will work for everyone.

I believe this book will work best for people who:

• are already part of a 12 Step fellowship.
• already accept both the concept of codependency generally as well as their own codependency OR feel they will benefit from working a program like this and can do so without feeling threatened by the label.
• conceive of their Higher Power as a male deity with the power to directly intervene in their lives OR are comfortable enough with their own different conception of a Higher Power to be able to take what they can use and leave the rest.
• are ready to make a commitment to devote the time and energy necessary to work through the activities in the book over the course of many months.

The Workbook also pays special attention to "double winners," people who struggle with both addiction (particularly to drugs and alcohol) and codependency.

This book may not work well for people who:

• are not part of a 12 Step program, particularly those who have negative or hostile feelings about 12 Step.
• do not accept codependency, especially if they feel negative toward or threatened by the concept, either in general or for themselves.
• have negative, hostile or unresolved feelings about an all powerful male deity.
• aren't ready to commit to the necessary work.

Having read the book through over the course of the past few weeks, I've come away with a renewed commitment and inspiration to continue my own daily work on the 12 Steps, and I'm eager to try some of the more involved activities in the book.

And good news! I have an extra copy of the book to give away, so you can get an opportunity to work through it too.

Leave a comment on this post between now and Sunday, May 8, 2011 for a chance to win a free copy. The winner will be announced on Monday, May 9, 2011.

A quick post to let you all know that next week (Monday, May 2) I'll be posting a review of Melody Beattie's latest book Codependent No More Workbook, and I will have one free copy of the book to give away to some lucky reader, so be sure to stop by.

Harry: Do you ever think about death?
Sally: Yes.
Harry: Sure you do, a fleeting thought that jumps in and out of the transom of your mind.  I spend hours, I spend days...
Sally: And you think that makes you a better person?
Harry: Look, when the shit comes down, I'm gonna be prepared and you're not. That's all I'm saying.
Sally: And in the meantime you're going to ruin your whole life waiting for it.

~When Harry Met Sally

The caller ID read "Linton, Isabella." I didn't recognize the name or number, but I picked up anyway.

It was my husband calling from an old fashioned land line in the administrative building of the retreat center where he was spending the weekend with other members of his SAA group. His annual three days and two nights of 12 Step fellowship in a cluster of cabins tucked in the woods, out of range of cell phone towers.

Like any good wife of a recovering sex addict, I thanked him for letting me know he arrived safely, told him to have a wonderful weekend, hung up the phone and promptly googled "Isabella Linton."

Because, hey, he might call from the home phone of a sexual liaison rather than his cell. It doesn't make a lot of sense. But that's not important. What's important is that you never know.

Turns out Isabella Linton is the manager of the retreat center. Oh.

See. My husband is where he says he is, doing what he says he's doing.

Or not. Maybe there is no SAA retreat. Maybe for seven years he's been pretending to go on these retreats when he really has a romantic weekend away with someone else at this retreat center.

Or maybe the woman he's meeting is Isabella Linton, retreat center manager. And he met her at the retreat center. Where they get together every year. During a big SAA retreat? Right under the nose of his sponsor? Devious!

Or there is no conspiracy, no big lie. He really is where he says he is, doing what he's saying he's doing.

But all of that -- and the how-do-I-know that follows -- leads only one place. Can you hear it?

"Now boarding! Bus to Crazytown. Population: Me. Attractions include an obsessive search for 'truth' to the exclusion of all other activities."

But I'm not getting on that bus. True, I may still go to the station and hang out there googling Isabella Linton. But I'm not getting on that bus today.

Because here's my truth. I can't know what my husband is doing every moment of every day when he's out of my sight, even if I ruin my whole life trying. But I can choose to focus on what I do know and what I can see, which is that my life is good and I'm happy to be where I am right now. So I closed my computer, and asked my daughter if she wanted to help me make cupcakes. And they were delicious.

And the only thing that stands in the way of our enduring love is the fact that I'm not a cartoon character. (Oh, and he already has a thing for that cartoon reporter, Roxanne. Whatever. I'm sure the animators can just draw me as her. I mean, let's not get picky about it. I'm sure we can work through those little details in the name of true love.)

Yes, that's right. My new imaginary boyfriend is Megamind, the blue space alien evil genius with the soulful green eyes voiced by Will Ferrell (for whom I totally would not leave my husband). But to tell you why he's so hot, I'm going to have to include some (moderate) spoilers, so if you're the kind of person who likes to approach movies as a blank slate, go watch it now.

So, did you see it? Did you see how Megamind was alone in his dark prison cell as a child, working on his plans for a popcorn maker to get the other kids to like him? And how it didn't work? And how he sat alone at a table at school with the fish that was his only friend? Did you see how he said the only thing he was good at was being bad? And how guys like him never get the girl?

Did you see how everyone abandoned him his whole life long? Did you see how lonely he was? And how misunderstood? And how he pretended to be someone else? And he lied? (Favorite line in the movie: in response to the question of what he will do when the girl he loves finds out about his deception, he says, "She'll never find out! That's the whole point of lying!" If you were in the theater with me, I apologize for the fact that you couldn't hear the next five lines of dialogue over my howling laughter.)

That all is so. freaking. hot.

That's like a cartoon portrayal of my dream man, which I recognized, because I was sitting next to the man I've adored for twenty years now, who was lonely and never felt good enough to get the girl and pretended to be someone else and lied. And it ate my heart out that no one would love this poor space alien right. I was cheering so hard for him to get the girl, from the deepest reaches of my codie soul, I was yelling at Roxanne to recognize the goodness and fragility beneath his evil exterior. For crying out loud, couldn't she see it? She could save him, and he would love her forever. Sigh. So goes the fantasy.

Ok, I'm off to hang a picture of Megamind up by my bed, and wonder what our children will look like. Only not really, because please, I'm like 40-something, I've had my tubes tied and which makes me too old for the sad geekiness of cartoon romance. (You know, if I were 30, maybe...) And besides, who needs Megamind? I've already played out that fantasy with his real life counterpart, and I'm happy to hold hands with him as I walk out of the theater, smiling.

Occasionally, folks ask to interview me about my experiences in a relationship with a sex addict. And (provided that I'm able to maintain my anonymity and that I'm fairly certain the content won't be used inappropriately) I am always happy to oblige. The more information there is about sex addiction and recovery (both for addicts and those who love them), the better. As we say in my 12 Step meetings: "This disease thrives in darkness. We can bring it out into the light."

In that spirit, here is an interview I did recently for AllTreatment.com: The Wife of a Recovering Sex Addict Tells Her Story. Enjoy!

So, have your read the recent New York Times article on toddlers and iPhones? It's shocking and alarming! More and more parents (oh, ok, moms -- only one nameless man is mentioned in the entire article and we are not told how he handles his toddler's request) are giving their badly behaved children iPhones in order to shut them up! It's the 21st century version of plopping them in front of a TV! Only worse! Because it's interactive and kids like it better! It's damaging their developing brains! And deluded parents moms (colluding with evil marketers) pacify themselves by imagining some of this is educational for their children!

So, having kept on top of articles criticizing mothers for not being perfect and blaming them for everything that's wrong in the world the latest in parenting news, let me parse this for you:

• Letting your child ever, for one second of her life, touch an iPhone = bad parenting. You let your child touch an iPhone? Congratulations! You just caused brain damage. Your child will grow up to be a friendless alcoholic who is a drain on society. The collapse of Western civilization is entirely your fault, Mom.
• Having a child who is unable to remain motionless and quiet at all times in public without an iPhone = bad parenting. See above re: friendless alcoholic and it all being your fault.
• Wanting 10 minutes of quiet time, free from your child's demands = bad parenting. You must not really love your child if you are not constantly enraptured by them. Plus you clearly don't know how to set limits. Oh, and you're taking the easy way out. There's so much wrong with you, I don't even know what to say, other than: friendless alcoholic!
• Focusing your constant, developmentally enriching attention on your child for every single waking instant of your damn life, so that your child behaves to everyone's satisfaction without a minute of boredom and without ever touching an iPhone = bad parenting. Actually, the worst parenting. Helicopter parenting! (I wish I had a really spooky font for "helicopter," but that's okay, you can just read it in a spooky voice to yourself.) Your child will not only end up a friendless alcoholic, but he will have been so coddled he will be unable to dress himself, leading to an arrest for indecent exposure. Just you wait!
• "Free-ranging" your child so that they learn to entertain themselves without an iPhone = bad parenting. They will just steal someone else's iPhone while you are irresponsibly shirking your duty to watch them every moment (but the right way, you know, not by being a "helicopter parent"). Still, you can comfort yourself with the knowledge that your child will not become a friendless alcoholic. But that's only because she won't live long enough. She will be abducted and murdered by a stranger or will drown in a puddle or will fall and break her neck. And you will deserve it. Don't expect any sympathy. You got what was coming to you, bad Mom. And we are all better off without the worthless criminal your child was sure to become.
• Using your own best judgment about the use of various tools and techniques in moderation = bad parenting. Stop being lazy and making excuses for giving your child brain damage by handing him that iPhone for a 15 minute car ride! There is a right and a wrong way to do things. And anything less than 100% perfectly right all the time will lead to friendless alcoholic, drain on society, end of Western civilization, etc.

So, how can you be a good parent? It seems hopeless. Fortunately, there are two options:

1. Provide your child with wooden toys. (And make sure there's no lead paint on those! Oh, and don't be too uptight about it, because nobody likes a killjoy). Also, provide developmentally appropriate books. (And do start with picture books. After all, you did read that article about how bad parents moms are pushing their kids into chapter books too fast, right?) Nothing with batteries, nothing with screens, no BPA plastic, no potentially toxic anything, no choking or strangulation hazards. But do that all effortlessly, because if you suck all the fun out of childhood, you are also a bad mom.
   
   Next, focus your complete, perfect, developmentally enriching attention on your children for some unknown ideal number of hours each day. Too much or too little and we are right back to friendless alcoholic. If you don't already know that perfect number, I'm not going to tell you; all good parents already know it. If you don't, you were clearly raised by wolves yourself, so there's no point. You're beyond hope, and so is your child. You'll have to skip to Option 2.
   
   Now (and this is the most important part) have a child who behaves perfectly at all times and entertains herself on cue in quiet and educationally appropriate ways whenever your perfect, developmentally enriching attention is not on her, and who voluntarily (but politely and without seeming uptight or brainwashed) refuses offers of other kids' inappropriate toys and effortlessly redirects them into fun, educational, developmentally appropriate play. If that sounds tough, it is. Fortunately, there's an easier way. Which brings me to...
2. Be a man. When fathers hand their kids iPhones, it's cute, because those silly men don't know any better. And besides, he's trying to train Junior to be an engineer! When fathers refuse iPhones and the kids throw a tantrum in public, Dad is being a tough disciplinarian who is raising an upstanding citizen.
   
   Be a man and no one will mention you by name in a New York Times article full of dataless speculation about things that might, maybe, in some unknown quantities be harmful to children (or not, but of course they are, we all know that). No one will criticize your sad inability to breastfeed. No one will picture your fatherly face when they read about a 12-year-old who can't operate an ice tray because his "helicopter parents" (read: mom) spent too much time with him, gave him too much attention or was too helpful. No one will imply that you are heartlessly shirking your duties or that you don't love your child adequately if you drop him off at daycare.
   
   Now, I know what those of you born with vaginas are thinking, "But I can't just become a man!" To which I say, sure you can. Halloween is just around the corner and I bet all those fake beards will be on sale soon. And let's face it, even sex reassignment surgery and a lifetime of testosterone supplements would be a hell of a lot easier than Option 1. Or you could, oh I don't know, use your own best judgment and trust other people to do the same. Oh, right! That would be bad parenting.