My name is Neil Douglas-Tubb. The sir-name is doubled barreled, the
Douglas’s go back to The Black Douglas of Scotland (Sir James) and he begat
children all over hell’s half acres and he ran around with Robert Bruce and the
like ... and in all probability drank too much. On the Tubb’s side of things
the history gets lost in antiquity somewhere around Newcastle the UK in the mid
1800’s.
I am a Registered Clinical Counselor in British Columbia, prior to this
I had a number of callings that I identify with as being my vocation for
various periods of time. One of the more predominate endeavors I had a go at was
member of the RCMPolice. I honed my
drinking skills there and continued in the family tradition that traced its
roots back to the 13th century. I continued honing my skills for
some time after I ended my employee with the Force.
I no longer drink. Have not done so since Feb 22nd 1996.
I have struggled with the issues of codependency since my earliest
memory.
I have written this book in a semi poetic fashion. It seems to parallel my journey from RR#2 Hell
back into The Real World.
I have only recently arrived back in the real world, although I thought
I had made it many times many years before; my
best thinking not necessarily being my best friend. This thing called my
journey is a lengthy and circuitous journey that really goes back in time to
the early 1950’s, and as I recall when I was about 5 years of age.
I hale from small town Ontario, the politics there are slightly right
of center; St Thomas Ontario has one or two interesting facts. First: there are a lot of people from St
Thomas and two: Jumbo the elephant met his Waterloo there, hit by the Wabash Cannon
Ball trying to save his friend Tom Thumb.
That happened on September the 15th 1885.
St Thomas has always been a sleepy backwater sort of a place, and when
I was a youth the Railways determined who was who and where they were in the
social pecking order of the town. It was my high school chemistry teacher who
told me to “get the hell out of Dodge” because this place did not hold much of
a future for anyone. Thanks Mr. Norm Lancaster that advice opened up a world
for me that was unimaginable in its dimension both in beauty and oddly enough,
in despair.
I have traveled the world literally; got to do things that most only
dream about. I have to experienced
things that most would like to avoid “like the plague” ... but from all that,
from all those things that I experienced, I learned and I gleaned experience
and it would seem I have been blessed with a small amount of wisdom.
There was a time in my life in the mid 1970’s where the front door of
Hell kicked open literally.
It was then that I had my first real experience with a “Power Greater
than Me”, one that I could relate to, truly in a Step Two Tradition and I had
no idea at the time that it had anything to do with a Second Step. It was a profound experience for me. The nature of the experience and the depth of
the experience were over shadowed by the person who actually went to the time
and trouble to create the experience for us ... Not just me but for both of
us. I now know that neither really knew
what we were doing outside of I was in deep trouble and about to fall of the
end of the earth and he stepped up to the plate and held out a hand and allowed
me to swing back into life. His name was Marty Bremner; we were both living in
Ottawa Ontario at the time. He has since passed from this life but he did save
my life.
I supposed my first experience with “A Power Greater than Me” happened
when I was a child but nothing in my memory was as profound as what happened to
me in early 1977.
It was then that I experienced both the opening of the front door of
Hell and at the same time seeing the path to my own growth and recovery.
It took damned near 30 years to put it all together. In fact this year
is the 35th anniversary.
I have met several others on the path.
One I would like to mention is Larry B ... my sponsor in the program ...
he walked with me and still does at a distance to this very day ... Larry I
thank you old buddy.
I hope this work expresses what it was that I experienced on my
journey, but in a soft and gentle way. For anyone who has done the journey you
know that it is difficult to put into words, this is my best effort for the
moment.
I have worked with 12 Steps and A Course In Miracles extensively. I
have worked with the outline for recovery that Julie Cameron expresses in her
work books. I have sat in therapist offices, attended workshops, read books,
did group work, sought out people who were supposed to know and during all this,
I have craved understanding of who I am by both me and others and finally I
craved salvation from this Hell that I was trapped in. Craved is a good word to describe the intensity of my need.
It took too recently for me to come to terms with I was in the middle
of my salvation all of this time that I had been here on the face of this
planet. That one took a long time to settle in.
My problem was: I just had no
idea what to do with it.
One of the things this whole experience of having my “life and recovery”
has taught me is that we all have souls, and more importantly that each and
everyone one of us has a particular curriculum for their particular soul to
grow too.
Most of us fight this concept of the curriculum hammer and tong. When in actual fact it is the initiation
point onto the path.
For me, I had felt since my earliest memory that I did not belong, I
was always an outsider wondering why I did not belong, and I knew that everyone
else knew that I did not belong and could see that in how I felt and thought they
treated me.
That whole sense of me goes back to my earliest memories. I felt from
my earliest memory that I was inferior. I was raised in and around alcohol and
alcoholics some of whom have been immortalized by John Kenneth Galbraith in his
book The Scotch.
Mr. Galbraith was writing about his home town and most of our respective
relatives in that book.
As I remember it my Grandfather purchased a house on Shackleton Street
from one of Mr. Galbraith’s relatives and I got to play with some the Galbraith
family’s electric trains, all that happened when I was about 10, apparently they had been left or stored it in
my now Grandfather’s basement. The house has traded hands several times since
my grandparents passing but I still wonder if the electric trains from the
1930’s were still in the basement.
In particular Galbraith wrote about what happened in the quadrangle
behind the McIntyre House Hotel in Dutton on any Friday or Saturday Night after
the beverage room closed. I can remember
sitting up nights watching from my room in my grandfather’s hotel. It was better than watching TV ... in those
days TV was a little iffy ... the antenna had to be just so, and or the rabbit
ears needed to be strung with foil. Iffy
was the word, but the action in the quad behind the hotel was very visible and
very real. My Grandfather owned that hotel for quite a space in time, all
through the late 1940’s and the 1950’s and up to the mid 1960’s. It was there
that some of my fondest memories from childhood hail. It burnt to the ground several years ago. The
main street of Dutton now has a missing tooth in its main street smile where
the old hotel used to stand.
I chased down recovery for a number of good reasons. I mean I chased it
down. I wanted it, I was lost and I
wanted out and as I have come to understand it, it, the recovery process is
primarily made up of spirit in action and it rose to the occasion and walked
with me gently.
For a very long time actually but I never released it until I was
deeply immersed in my recovery process. Spirit, I have discovered, has no time
table. In fact if I understand it
properly time simply does not matter to spirit. It is always waiting, waiting
for each and everyone one of us to awaken and to begin the task of birthing our
soul. Waiting for me to turn and see what was next that needed to be done, and
then get on with doing it. Never
demanding anything other than the truth; oh yes, I have discovered that the
hard way of life is demanding; is the ego but never the spirit. If I was not
ready for this or that, it would simply wait me out.
So I wrote The Metaphor after being inspired by a fellow 12 stepper. I
have expanded on it to include some of My
Experience, Strength and Hope.
I hope that you can find in these pages something that speaks to you
about what it is that you need to do for you so you can find your way out.
Neil Douglas-Tubb
Victoria 2012
