You don't have to go to very many meetings to hear about being powerless. It is in the first step, after all. It's the first thing we admit to ourselves: we're powerless over our addiction--whatever that addiction is. When I take sponsees through the steps, I throw in a little extra knowledge in there, the idea that we are powerless over anything we can't control--not just whatever it is we're hooked on. It's early training for practicing the principles in all our affairs.
A lot of people have a hard time with the idea of being powerless. They have yet to understand the amazing freedom that comes from letting go. Maybe their ego won't let them. Maybe it's fear that holds them back. Or maybe they're the victims of assault and have spent too many long years feeling powerless. I'm going to take the compassionate route, here, because my story is more like that last one than the first two.
I was having coffee a few weeks back and one the things we talked about were 'non-traditional' 12-step meetings. Meetings for folks that, for one reason or another, haven't found what they need in an AA or an NA group. There are Wiccan meetings, secular recovery meetings, all kinds. Even the rooms are supposed to be welcoming, too often they aren't.
It's an unfortunate truth that you can't find good Recovery in every room. There are the people who think they know all about the program just because they have a lot of time--even though haven't worked the steps. Know what that's called? Sobriety without Recovery--just being dry. I got news for you--just getting off of whatever you were hooked on is NOT Recovery. There are the people who proselytize like religious fanatics, who spend their entire shares telling the newcomers what to do. That's the exact opposite of Recovery; it's an attempt to control others and make them do what you think they should. Recovery is about letting go of all that. Then there are the cranky ones who think they're doing the newcomers a favor by reciting grim statistics about how small their chances are of staying sober.
Know what I say? Fuck all that shit. Even with all that insanity, it is possible to find a good room. A homegroup where people are loving, accepting. Where they talk about what they have done, how Recovery has benefited their life and the only instruction they give to newcomers is to keep coming back. How does all this relate to being powerless? We're powerless over other people. I can't make anyone work the program the way I think they should. All I can do is work the program as best as I can, contribute my experience, strength, and hope in meetings I think have good Recovery.
This idea, that I do have power over myself, is not something I was born with. It's not something I learned growing up, either. Life taught me that I was as powerless as a person could be. I had a talk with my sponsor once about it, just bemoaning the fact that I was so powerless, that no matter what I did life was always going to fuck me over. He chuckled (as usual), pulled me back from the edge, and told me to spend some time thinking about the things I do have power over. And rightly so.
I've been called 'powerful' before. It's not a term I like, but mostly because it's inaccurate. I always think of something Melody Beattie wrote once, about how if we align ourselves with God (or whatever name you give to the spiritual force greater than yourself), that power flows through us. I am not powerful, but God is and by aligning myself with his will for me instead of trying to run my life according to my own will, then that incredible force of spiritual energy flows through me.
Those of us who learned, either through some form of abuse or just general life experience, that we are powerless have a differently lesson to learn. Or, more specifically, to unlearn. We're not so different from the egoists on the other side of the spectrum who think they can control everything. It's all right there in the serenity prayer: 'the wisdom to know the difference' between the things we can control and those we can't. Some of us need to learn more of the letting go of things we can't control; some of us need to learn more of the responsibility for the things we can.
In some ways we are powerless. In others, we are more powerful than we can possibly imagine.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
“Different Grams”
I have one grandparent still living. She’s my dad’s mom, and at 91 years-old, her mind is still sharp as a tack. Her body, unfortunately, isn’t doing as well. At the moment, she’s in a skilled nursing facility, recuperating from back surgery. She’s been living in an assisted care facility for a number of years. She’s anxious to get back there, but is still too weak. She can’t really do much on her own and even the simplest act--like eating lunch--exhausts her.
I went to see her today, to just sit and talk with her just because. I know my family would have loved for me to encourage her to work hard and getting well, but I was more interested in just having conversation. Two people talking, me letting her know she is loved. I don’t think it will be the last time I see her, but one never can be too sure about these things. I wasn’t going to spend my time or hers giving her a hassle. And besides, my instincts tell me that, with all the prodding she’s been getting lately, what she probably needed was just to sit and talk.
We talked about her late husband, my grandfather, dead for some time now. We talked about family, about her friends, about music. She was an avid piano player in her younger days, though her fingers haven’t been able to make the notes come out in a while. We talking about the meaning of life, why we’re here, and I listened to her wonder why she’s still here. After hearing her talk about some of her fears, I told her maybe the reason she’s still around is because she still needs to let herself be loved a little while longer.
Driving away, I found myself tearing up. I’ll miss her. She’s a sweet woman, and always has been as far as I’ve been able to tell.
I’m reminded of when my other grandmother--my mom’s mom--passed. She was taken ill with pneumonia and died less than a week later. I went with my (now ex-) wife to visit her. It was a similar kind of day, actually. We just sat and talked. I told her she didn’t look so good. She replied weakly, with a half-smile, that she didn’t feel so good either. Ultimately the family was able to bring her back home and she died in her own bedroom, surrounded by her children and grandchildren.
That story is the sad one for me. I was going through hell with my wife, and I was at the height of my active addiction. After the funeral, I collapsed on the couch after a day of running around. My wife could tell something was wrong that I was upset. She tried to get me to talk about it. I didn’t want to. I just wanted space to sit and grieve. She wouldn’t give it to me and started in on a tirade of how I needed to let my emotions out. It was one of the biggest fights we ever had and I remember it as example number one of how I could always count on her to kick me when I was down. I used to think to myself, “if only she would just give me space when I needed it,” but the truth was more like I could always count on her to NOT give me space when I needed it.
Nana’s been gone three and a half years now, and I’ve been divorced from my ex- for nearly two. Those stories don’t hold nearly as much power in my mind as they once did; they’re filed away now in the ‘sad’ cabinet, mostly because I was so loaded through the whole thing.
I’m glad that I am in a better place now, to be able to go see my grandmother when she’s not well, to just sit and talk with her, tell her about my life and listen to her about hers. Loving, strong support isn’t something my family is very good at. I’m glad to give what I can. She doesn’t need someone to harp on her or to tell her what she should do, she needs to be treated like a human being. As do we all.
I went to see her today, to just sit and talk with her just because. I know my family would have loved for me to encourage her to work hard and getting well, but I was more interested in just having conversation. Two people talking, me letting her know she is loved. I don’t think it will be the last time I see her, but one never can be too sure about these things. I wasn’t going to spend my time or hers giving her a hassle. And besides, my instincts tell me that, with all the prodding she’s been getting lately, what she probably needed was just to sit and talk.
We talked about her late husband, my grandfather, dead for some time now. We talked about family, about her friends, about music. She was an avid piano player in her younger days, though her fingers haven’t been able to make the notes come out in a while. We talking about the meaning of life, why we’re here, and I listened to her wonder why she’s still here. After hearing her talk about some of her fears, I told her maybe the reason she’s still around is because she still needs to let herself be loved a little while longer.
Driving away, I found myself tearing up. I’ll miss her. She’s a sweet woman, and always has been as far as I’ve been able to tell.
I’m reminded of when my other grandmother--my mom’s mom--passed. She was taken ill with pneumonia and died less than a week later. I went with my (now ex-) wife to visit her. It was a similar kind of day, actually. We just sat and talked. I told her she didn’t look so good. She replied weakly, with a half-smile, that she didn’t feel so good either. Ultimately the family was able to bring her back home and she died in her own bedroom, surrounded by her children and grandchildren.
That story is the sad one for me. I was going through hell with my wife, and I was at the height of my active addiction. After the funeral, I collapsed on the couch after a day of running around. My wife could tell something was wrong that I was upset. She tried to get me to talk about it. I didn’t want to. I just wanted space to sit and grieve. She wouldn’t give it to me and started in on a tirade of how I needed to let my emotions out. It was one of the biggest fights we ever had and I remember it as example number one of how I could always count on her to kick me when I was down. I used to think to myself, “if only she would just give me space when I needed it,” but the truth was more like I could always count on her to NOT give me space when I needed it.
Nana’s been gone three and a half years now, and I’ve been divorced from my ex- for nearly two. Those stories don’t hold nearly as much power in my mind as they once did; they’re filed away now in the ‘sad’ cabinet, mostly because I was so loaded through the whole thing.
I’m glad that I am in a better place now, to be able to go see my grandmother when she’s not well, to just sit and talk with her, tell her about my life and listen to her about hers. Loving, strong support isn’t something my family is very good at. I’m glad to give what I can. She doesn’t need someone to harp on her or to tell her what she should do, she needs to be treated like a human being. As do we all.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
"Strange Prayers"
School is hitting me pretty hard. Spring break is less than a month away, but before I can get to it, I've got quizzes, midterms, and a research paper due. I took my Statistics midterm this morning and was about five minutes late for class. It was a tough test, and I hadn't done nearly as much studying for it as I would have liked. My insomnia has been bad lately. The lack of sleep hasn't been a problem for me so much as getting up this morning was. I watched the clock the whole way to school, ended up with a far-ass away parking place, but made it just in time.
On my way to class, I said what seemed to me like the weirdest prayer. I admitted to God that I hadn't done much studying, then asked for help to do my best. I didn't ask for a miracle 'A' or an easy test or for the magical strength to totally outperform in spite of my lack of studying. I owned up to what I hadn't done, and just asked for some help to do as best I could under the circumstances. It's almost like I said, "Dear God, I'm fuckin up; help me to do better." Maybe it's not such a strange prayer after all.
The brain's been loud. Thank god for some sun today. I hear the weekend will bring more rain, but for right now I've got springtime California weather like it's supposed to be. Not too hot, mostly sunny, and a light breeze. Weeks of clouds and rain don't help me to feel better, for sure. And my disease has been doing that tear-Zach-down thing in the fiercest voice lately. I think that's another reason why the prayer felt so strange--I didn't waste any time beating myself up. My Recovery instinct kicked in, took over. 'Well, I didn't really study, but there's nothing I can do to change that now.'
I didn't do something else, either: no excuses. I could have done some justifying, looked at all the good I accomplished this weekend and given myself a pep talk. 'I helped out my parents, I started running again and did it on both Saturday and Sunday. I did some good studio work with my buddy yesterday, took a friend to a meeting, conducted a business meeting, and still made time to do my weights too. Oh yeah, I also wrote three new tracks over the weekend and did some mixing.' None of that went through my mind. It was just, "get to class; no, I haven't studied as much as I wanted to; God help me to do the best I can."
I'm a good test-taker. I know how to budget my time well. Taking the stats test this morning, I felt panic at the edge of my brain and pushed it back many times. Panic doesn't help me to do my best. Taking my time, relaxing, focusing on what I can do--those are the things that help me to do well. The wisdom of Recovery can be applied in every aspect of my life: accept what is; don't worry about the things I can't change; do my part; do the next right thing. Probably the most amazing thing through all of this morning is that I didn't panic. Even when it became clear to me I was going to be late, I was still calm. Even though panic was nipping at the edges of my consciousness, it didn't take control of me. Amazing shit, really. And so, so different. Hell, I even made sure to buy a parking pass so that I wouldn't get a ticket. Just another slice of progress.
On my way to class, I said what seemed to me like the weirdest prayer. I admitted to God that I hadn't done much studying, then asked for help to do my best. I didn't ask for a miracle 'A' or an easy test or for the magical strength to totally outperform in spite of my lack of studying. I owned up to what I hadn't done, and just asked for some help to do as best I could under the circumstances. It's almost like I said, "Dear God, I'm fuckin up; help me to do better." Maybe it's not such a strange prayer after all.
The brain's been loud. Thank god for some sun today. I hear the weekend will bring more rain, but for right now I've got springtime California weather like it's supposed to be. Not too hot, mostly sunny, and a light breeze. Weeks of clouds and rain don't help me to feel better, for sure. And my disease has been doing that tear-Zach-down thing in the fiercest voice lately. I think that's another reason why the prayer felt so strange--I didn't waste any time beating myself up. My Recovery instinct kicked in, took over. 'Well, I didn't really study, but there's nothing I can do to change that now.'
I didn't do something else, either: no excuses. I could have done some justifying, looked at all the good I accomplished this weekend and given myself a pep talk. 'I helped out my parents, I started running again and did it on both Saturday and Sunday. I did some good studio work with my buddy yesterday, took a friend to a meeting, conducted a business meeting, and still made time to do my weights too. Oh yeah, I also wrote three new tracks over the weekend and did some mixing.' None of that went through my mind. It was just, "get to class; no, I haven't studied as much as I wanted to; God help me to do the best I can."
I'm a good test-taker. I know how to budget my time well. Taking the stats test this morning, I felt panic at the edge of my brain and pushed it back many times. Panic doesn't help me to do my best. Taking my time, relaxing, focusing on what I can do--those are the things that help me to do well. The wisdom of Recovery can be applied in every aspect of my life: accept what is; don't worry about the things I can't change; do my part; do the next right thing. Probably the most amazing thing through all of this morning is that I didn't panic. Even when it became clear to me I was going to be late, I was still calm. Even though panic was nipping at the edges of my consciousness, it didn't take control of me. Amazing shit, really. And so, so different. Hell, I even made sure to buy a parking pass so that I wouldn't get a ticket. Just another slice of progress.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
"Self Esteem Is On My Mind"
I was at an NA meeting tonight and the chair was great, as were the shares. An old-timer had a fantastic, quotable comment. He was talking about when he had four years, went to a convention, and saw someone there he had seen when he first came in to the rooms. They were excited to see each other and he said to him, "I did everything you said--I went to meetings, I was of service, I got a sponsor, and I worked the steps."
The other guy replied to him, "I know."
"You know?? How could you know?"
"Cause you're still here."
This Sunday meeting is one I have yet to share at, interestingly enough. I've been many times, always put my name on the list, and somehow always seem to be there on a night where they don't use the list and allow people to just volunteer instead. Which is fine. I did find myself thinking about what I might share, and my thoughts went to my feelings about being unemployed, about my music, and about how I still have this feeling from time to time that I have to do something totally amazing in order to justify my existence.
The chain follows from my music because I know that I'm really good at it. Maybe it's not stuff that would make millions or get teenagers screaming, but it's damn good. I've put a lot of time and energy in the crafting of my sound. And the beauty of doing it as my art is that I don't have try and move millions of sales units. I can uphold myself to a standard of quality, write music that I like, and do it to please my tastes, not those of the masses or some record company executive.
And yet... I live in this place called 'America' where my culture says that you're not really good at something unless you're making money doing it. And I'm a perfectionist. And I have *ahem* issues with self-esteem. All of those combine into a terrifying force that makes the pursuit of any art just for art's sake a challenge, to say the least.
The path of my low self-esteem starts simple enough. Maybe I feel sorry for myself because more people aren't into my music, ignoring the fact that there are many people out there who make great music and aren't recognized for it. Maybe I beat up on myself a little because I can't produce tracks in some particular genre, forgetting for a moment the wide variety of styles that I CAN produce in. It starts so innocuously, and then *BOOM* I'm questioning the waste of skin I am and feeling guilty for misusing the air I breathe.
Okay, I exaggerate a little. Certainly there are dark days where that is what I'm going through. Thankfully, they continue to be fewer and farther between. Sometimes I just call it my fucked up brain, sometimes I call it my disease. The disease still wants me dead; that's the clue as to why these thoughts are circling. Why would I be feeling down? Because over the past week I've been working hard in my home studio and have busted out three new fantastic tracks, of course. And because they're good, my disease-distorted instincts respond by causing me to feel shitty about myself.
I didn't share this in the meeting, but I'll share it here: I'm fucking great at what I do. I'm a good person and it shows in my actions. It sucks that I've got this shit in my head always telling me the opposite. It sucks that I have to work so hard sometimes just to be who I really am. But this is What Is, and continuing to stay sober, continuing to work the program, gives me the opportunity and tools to fight.
I'm thinking now of a couple years ago when I was exploring the idea of becoming a minister. In all my prayers and seeking guidance, the only concrete message I heard back was that I don't have to prove anything to anyone anymore. The only mission in life that God has ever given me is this: Zach, just be who you are as I have made you.
The other guy replied to him, "I know."
"You know?? How could you know?"
"Cause you're still here."
This Sunday meeting is one I have yet to share at, interestingly enough. I've been many times, always put my name on the list, and somehow always seem to be there on a night where they don't use the list and allow people to just volunteer instead. Which is fine. I did find myself thinking about what I might share, and my thoughts went to my feelings about being unemployed, about my music, and about how I still have this feeling from time to time that I have to do something totally amazing in order to justify my existence.
The chain follows from my music because I know that I'm really good at it. Maybe it's not stuff that would make millions or get teenagers screaming, but it's damn good. I've put a lot of time and energy in the crafting of my sound. And the beauty of doing it as my art is that I don't have try and move millions of sales units. I can uphold myself to a standard of quality, write music that I like, and do it to please my tastes, not those of the masses or some record company executive.
And yet... I live in this place called 'America' where my culture says that you're not really good at something unless you're making money doing it. And I'm a perfectionist. And I have *ahem* issues with self-esteem. All of those combine into a terrifying force that makes the pursuit of any art just for art's sake a challenge, to say the least.
The path of my low self-esteem starts simple enough. Maybe I feel sorry for myself because more people aren't into my music, ignoring the fact that there are many people out there who make great music and aren't recognized for it. Maybe I beat up on myself a little because I can't produce tracks in some particular genre, forgetting for a moment the wide variety of styles that I CAN produce in. It starts so innocuously, and then *BOOM* I'm questioning the waste of skin I am and feeling guilty for misusing the air I breathe.
Okay, I exaggerate a little. Certainly there are dark days where that is what I'm going through. Thankfully, they continue to be fewer and farther between. Sometimes I just call it my fucked up brain, sometimes I call it my disease. The disease still wants me dead; that's the clue as to why these thoughts are circling. Why would I be feeling down? Because over the past week I've been working hard in my home studio and have busted out three new fantastic tracks, of course. And because they're good, my disease-distorted instincts respond by causing me to feel shitty about myself.
I didn't share this in the meeting, but I'll share it here: I'm fucking great at what I do. I'm a good person and it shows in my actions. It sucks that I've got this shit in my head always telling me the opposite. It sucks that I have to work so hard sometimes just to be who I really am. But this is What Is, and continuing to stay sober, continuing to work the program, gives me the opportunity and tools to fight.
I'm thinking now of a couple years ago when I was exploring the idea of becoming a minister. In all my prayers and seeking guidance, the only concrete message I heard back was that I don't have to prove anything to anyone anymore. The only mission in life that God has ever given me is this: Zach, just be who you are as I have made you.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
"There Is Hope"
It's nasty out there. I'm sitting in my car, on break from my classes. It's cold, wet, and windy. One of those days where the wind just whips through my clothes like pure bitterness. The rain pelts my face from all directions and feels like chips of ice being flung at me. Hard to believe that I normally get to sit out in the sun and write at times like these. This storm has been going on for awhile now and even though it's now technically spring, it seems someone forget to tell Mother Nature. A friend of mine said we're dealing with a front that's come down from Alaska and that's why it's so cold. That might be interesting, but I'm still shivering.
The lack of sun these past few weeks hasn't helped my mood. I've managed to do a few little things here and there to feel better. Yesterday I cleaned my apartment from top to bottom. I knocked off one of my classes on Tuesday to get some work done in the others. I've been going to my meetings. And my sponsees are still calling, that's always a help. I'm the General Secretary for one of my groups and we've been having some personality conflict between the meeting Secretaries. I don't know if I'm going to have to address it at the next business meeting or not, but the positions are all switching over anyway, so I'm inclined to just let it pass.
Not every meeting is great, of course. My Monday night book study had a lot of newcomers, which is awesome, but they sorta took over the meeting. It's difficult to listen to a bunch of newcomers who think they know all the answers. I just try to remember that I was like that--and can still be at times.
One of my sponsees started a beginner's meeting last fall and I went to that last night. We get some young kids in there. Sometimes they've got their parents in tow and that's a bit frustrating to me. I can't help but remember being a teenager and how the last thing I wanted was to have my parents with me anywhere. It's just my personal opinion, but I don't think forcing anyone into meetings is the best way to go. Trying to make someone 'get' Recovery just doesn't work. People get it when they're ready. Period. And at a stage in life where kids are trying to break free of the stranglehold their parents have over them? I fear that kids who go through that will be less likely to go back to meetings one day when they do finally decide they're ready and need to be there. My heart always goes out to them.
I had a conversation once with a parent--a dad who said he was proud of his son and wanted to know how the whole Recovery thing worked. I watched the dad's beady eyes, his on-guard demeanor, and tried not to scrunch my nose up at the heavy stink of booze on his breath. It wasn't a stretch to imagine this father beating the snot out of his son. I might be wrong. I wanted to tell him the best thing he could do for his son would be to go to his own damn meeting. But it's not up to me to take another's inventory.
At the beginner's meeting this week, we had a lot of people talk about how hard it is, doing this clean and sober thing. It had me thinking of a friend of mine who's been doing this long enough now to have come down off her pink cloud. She shares, too, about the real honest and true difficulty of dealing with life on life's terms. When I shared at the meeting last night, I found myself talking about her and to the newcomers, letting them know that it does get better, trying to give them some hope.
My sponsor likes to share that he wouldn't still be doing Recovery after ten years if things weren't better. It's so true. That's not to say that times aren't tough, of course they get like that sometimes. But the swings even out. Experience is a great teacher, and with a clear head and a desire to truly life a full life, we become more fully human each day. Each new day we add to our sobriety age, we grow and we become more of who our higher power created us to be.
Giving that hope to the newcomers was the first time I've given a share quite like that, so specifically to address their need. I didn't tell them to get a sponsor or work the steps. Come to think of it, I don't think I even told them to keep coming back. I just promised them that it does get better, and I made that promise with the weight of my own experience. It's the truth of my experience, strength, and hope. Things really do get better. It takes awhile, and life is still life--with all its ups and downs. But it does get better. A lot better. Anyone with time who's worked the program will tell you so. Like my sponsor, I wouldn't still be walking this spiritual path if it weren't true.
The lack of sun these past few weeks hasn't helped my mood. I've managed to do a few little things here and there to feel better. Yesterday I cleaned my apartment from top to bottom. I knocked off one of my classes on Tuesday to get some work done in the others. I've been going to my meetings. And my sponsees are still calling, that's always a help. I'm the General Secretary for one of my groups and we've been having some personality conflict between the meeting Secretaries. I don't know if I'm going to have to address it at the next business meeting or not, but the positions are all switching over anyway, so I'm inclined to just let it pass.
Not every meeting is great, of course. My Monday night book study had a lot of newcomers, which is awesome, but they sorta took over the meeting. It's difficult to listen to a bunch of newcomers who think they know all the answers. I just try to remember that I was like that--and can still be at times.
One of my sponsees started a beginner's meeting last fall and I went to that last night. We get some young kids in there. Sometimes they've got their parents in tow and that's a bit frustrating to me. I can't help but remember being a teenager and how the last thing I wanted was to have my parents with me anywhere. It's just my personal opinion, but I don't think forcing anyone into meetings is the best way to go. Trying to make someone 'get' Recovery just doesn't work. People get it when they're ready. Period. And at a stage in life where kids are trying to break free of the stranglehold their parents have over them? I fear that kids who go through that will be less likely to go back to meetings one day when they do finally decide they're ready and need to be there. My heart always goes out to them.
I had a conversation once with a parent--a dad who said he was proud of his son and wanted to know how the whole Recovery thing worked. I watched the dad's beady eyes, his on-guard demeanor, and tried not to scrunch my nose up at the heavy stink of booze on his breath. It wasn't a stretch to imagine this father beating the snot out of his son. I might be wrong. I wanted to tell him the best thing he could do for his son would be to go to his own damn meeting. But it's not up to me to take another's inventory.
At the beginner's meeting this week, we had a lot of people talk about how hard it is, doing this clean and sober thing. It had me thinking of a friend of mine who's been doing this long enough now to have come down off her pink cloud. She shares, too, about the real honest and true difficulty of dealing with life on life's terms. When I shared at the meeting last night, I found myself talking about her and to the newcomers, letting them know that it does get better, trying to give them some hope.
My sponsor likes to share that he wouldn't still be doing Recovery after ten years if things weren't better. It's so true. That's not to say that times aren't tough, of course they get like that sometimes. But the swings even out. Experience is a great teacher, and with a clear head and a desire to truly life a full life, we become more fully human each day. Each new day we add to our sobriety age, we grow and we become more of who our higher power created us to be.
Giving that hope to the newcomers was the first time I've given a share quite like that, so specifically to address their need. I didn't tell them to get a sponsor or work the steps. Come to think of it, I don't think I even told them to keep coming back. I just promised them that it does get better, and I made that promise with the weight of my own experience. It's the truth of my experience, strength, and hope. Things really do get better. It takes awhile, and life is still life--with all its ups and downs. But it does get better. A lot better. Anyone with time who's worked the program will tell you so. Like my sponsor, I wouldn't still be walking this spiritual path if it weren't true.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
"Still Got Issues"
The past week has been rough for me. This is my third attempt to blog about it. I keep starting to write, get a ways in, then end up coming down on myself for whining. I think about what I'm going through, how hard it is for me, then do that thing where I remember that others have it much worse. Problem is, that isn't making me feel better, it just makes me feel like what I'm going through doesn't matter and that I'm a whiny little bitch for even wasting my brain time thinking about it. Like some disembodied voice is saying, "Zach, people are starving the whole world over. Dissidents in the middle east are being shot. Japan is in ruins with half a million people displaced. And you're writing about feeling fat and not having any friends? Please shut the fuck up you self-centered sack of shit."
Yes, the voice of my insecurity still sounds like that.
So, do I write about feeling fat? How I put on 20 pounds last fall that aren't coming off, even though I'm doing weights three times a week and walking at least a couple miles every day?
Do I write about not having any friends? That I still haven't figured out how to make friends, or be one? Maybe a brief whine about how I always have tons of minutes left over on my cell phone plan each month.
How about my frustrations at not working? My fears that even if I find a job, I'll be treated like dirt and will make even less money at it than if I'd stayed on unemployment??
Or maybe I could write about being single, and feeling fat, and how my brain is telling me I'll never find an attractive woman? Or my fears about being a misogynist, or that the fact so many of my choices in women have been disasters and the fear that brings up--that even if I meet someone, she'll either be an Oedipus-inspired nut job like my mom. Or worse still, that I'll meet someone who is emotionally healthy, able to be a good partner to me, and I'll push her away with my own insanity?
Or hey, I could blog about how I still feel worthless even though I'm getting A's in school.
Maybe I could waste some space about how futile it is that I keep wasting my time making music when I'm never going to make much money from it.
Better yet, there's always the looming draw of a big fat joint, or double shots of ice cold vodka, or three fingers of bourbon.
Too surface level? I could take it a few steps deeper and delve into how I don't feel like I'm allowed to bitch about any of this, which brings up all the childhood lessons of how what I feel isn't important. Perhaps I could let out a tirade about how 'acting as-if' doesn't work for me, because it's the basic way of learning to deal with life that I picked up as a kid that stopped working for me a long time ago. Or maybe even indulge myself in some good old-fashioned self-hatred because I still have issues from time to time, that I'm not perfect. And as a bonus, I'll flog myself over how I can't keep from staring at every woman who walks by in a high skirt or a low-cut top.
Actually... I do feel a little better for letting that all out.
I'm not having a pity party, I swear. This is the shit that is flowing through my mind. I'm trying not to listen to it. I'm doing a lot of praying, a lot of turning it over. I'm trying to remember that it will pass. I just feel like... on this journey of life, I've driven through this town before. What I'd really like is a sign that says, "Happyville, 43 miles ahead."
God, grant me the serenity...
Yes, the voice of my insecurity still sounds like that.
So, do I write about feeling fat? How I put on 20 pounds last fall that aren't coming off, even though I'm doing weights three times a week and walking at least a couple miles every day?
Do I write about not having any friends? That I still haven't figured out how to make friends, or be one? Maybe a brief whine about how I always have tons of minutes left over on my cell phone plan each month.
How about my frustrations at not working? My fears that even if I find a job, I'll be treated like dirt and will make even less money at it than if I'd stayed on unemployment??
Or maybe I could write about being single, and feeling fat, and how my brain is telling me I'll never find an attractive woman? Or my fears about being a misogynist, or that the fact so many of my choices in women have been disasters and the fear that brings up--that even if I meet someone, she'll either be an Oedipus-inspired nut job like my mom. Or worse still, that I'll meet someone who is emotionally healthy, able to be a good partner to me, and I'll push her away with my own insanity?
Or hey, I could blog about how I still feel worthless even though I'm getting A's in school.
Maybe I could waste some space about how futile it is that I keep wasting my time making music when I'm never going to make much money from it.
Better yet, there's always the looming draw of a big fat joint, or double shots of ice cold vodka, or three fingers of bourbon.
Too surface level? I could take it a few steps deeper and delve into how I don't feel like I'm allowed to bitch about any of this, which brings up all the childhood lessons of how what I feel isn't important. Perhaps I could let out a tirade about how 'acting as-if' doesn't work for me, because it's the basic way of learning to deal with life that I picked up as a kid that stopped working for me a long time ago. Or maybe even indulge myself in some good old-fashioned self-hatred because I still have issues from time to time, that I'm not perfect. And as a bonus, I'll flog myself over how I can't keep from staring at every woman who walks by in a high skirt or a low-cut top.
Actually... I do feel a little better for letting that all out.
I'm not having a pity party, I swear. This is the shit that is flowing through my mind. I'm trying not to listen to it. I'm doing a lot of praying, a lot of turning it over. I'm trying to remember that it will pass. I just feel like... on this journey of life, I've driven through this town before. What I'd really like is a sign that says, "Happyville, 43 miles ahead."
God, grant me the serenity...
Sunday, March 13, 2011
“Not All Who Wander Are Lost”
A book I’m reading had a great thought that has me reflecting. The passage I was reading was about how those of us who go through monumental change (like learning to live clean and sober) go though a period of time where we feel lost. When we feel that way, we need to learn to accept it. Not wish we weren’t lost, not search frantically for our way, but just sit in that feeling of being lost and learn to be okay with it.
I’ve felt lost at many times during my life. There have been many others where I haven’t exactly been lost, but I’ve wandered without any sort of specific destination in mind. Sometimes I know I’m firmly on a path, but I have no idea where it’s going, what I’ll see along the way, or what my destination will be like.
Recovery is a lot like that third option. When we start out, we often have no other goal than to just get off whatever it is we can’t stop using. As we progress, as we see the miracle that it is possible to live clean and sober, we begin to wonder what other miracles are possible. A healthy relationship? A good job? Renewed relationships with our spouses, parents, and children? We’re told that Recovery is a process, not an event; a journey, not a destination.
I must admit, I enjoy being a wanderer (or is that wonderer?). I enjoy doing my best to go through life with an open mind, trying to free myself from preconceived notions about the way things are or are supposed to be. It’s part learning to see the world around me and myself in terms of what Is, and part learning to let go of my expectations for what might be. That last one can be really hard. We’re human; we can have expectations without knowing it. The skill then becomes learning to let go. Life didn’t turn out the way we think it should or thought it would? Well, how about that!
Not everyone wanders. Some people set out for a destination and go straight there. And that’s fine for them, it just doesn’t work for me. I like enjoying the journey, watching the scenery around me change, and noticing how I change as time goes by and I stay on this spiritual path. There’s something about the mystery of where life will take me that is really appealing.
From time to time, I get frustrated with not knowing where my life will take me. I can become stuck and become frustrated with that, too. That’s when I reach out to my higher power and ask for guidance. When I’m really spiritually fit, I don’t wait until I’m stuck to ask for guidance.
Feeling lost, in the end, is just another feeling. As we learn a new way of life, through working the program, we are going to feel lost. A lot. The best way to handle it is the same as with any other feeling--accept it. “I’m lost.” Boom. It doesn’t mean the world is over, it doesn’t mean we will always feel that way. In fact, we can be certain that we won’t feel like that forever, because all feelings pass.
It’s okay to be lost. If we can learn to accept the feeling, be comfortable with it, then we move into a different place, a place where we aren’t exactly lost anymore, we simply aren’t sure where we’re going or how we’ll get there. It’s like being lost, but without the fear.
I’ve felt lost at many times during my life. There have been many others where I haven’t exactly been lost, but I’ve wandered without any sort of specific destination in mind. Sometimes I know I’m firmly on a path, but I have no idea where it’s going, what I’ll see along the way, or what my destination will be like.
Recovery is a lot like that third option. When we start out, we often have no other goal than to just get off whatever it is we can’t stop using. As we progress, as we see the miracle that it is possible to live clean and sober, we begin to wonder what other miracles are possible. A healthy relationship? A good job? Renewed relationships with our spouses, parents, and children? We’re told that Recovery is a process, not an event; a journey, not a destination.
I must admit, I enjoy being a wanderer (or is that wonderer?). I enjoy doing my best to go through life with an open mind, trying to free myself from preconceived notions about the way things are or are supposed to be. It’s part learning to see the world around me and myself in terms of what Is, and part learning to let go of my expectations for what might be. That last one can be really hard. We’re human; we can have expectations without knowing it. The skill then becomes learning to let go. Life didn’t turn out the way we think it should or thought it would? Well, how about that!
Not everyone wanders. Some people set out for a destination and go straight there. And that’s fine for them, it just doesn’t work for me. I like enjoying the journey, watching the scenery around me change, and noticing how I change as time goes by and I stay on this spiritual path. There’s something about the mystery of where life will take me that is really appealing.
From time to time, I get frustrated with not knowing where my life will take me. I can become stuck and become frustrated with that, too. That’s when I reach out to my higher power and ask for guidance. When I’m really spiritually fit, I don’t wait until I’m stuck to ask for guidance.
Feeling lost, in the end, is just another feeling. As we learn a new way of life, through working the program, we are going to feel lost. A lot. The best way to handle it is the same as with any other feeling--accept it. “I’m lost.” Boom. It doesn’t mean the world is over, it doesn’t mean we will always feel that way. In fact, we can be certain that we won’t feel like that forever, because all feelings pass.
It’s okay to be lost. If we can learn to accept the feeling, be comfortable with it, then we move into a different place, a place where we aren’t exactly lost anymore, we simply aren’t sure where we’re going or how we’ll get there. It’s like being lost, but without the fear.
Friday, March 11, 2011
"Reward Yourself"
((Earlier today, a magnitude 8.9 earthquake struck off the coast of Japan, devastating that country and sending tsunami thousands of miles across the Pacific Ocean.))
Not all of the lessons of Recovery are harsh. One of the better ones is learning to reward ourselves. We can do it when we've worked hard and achieved a goal, or as a pat on the back for staying sober through a difficult time. The first big way I put this into practice was when I had about a year and a half sober. To make a very long story short, I went through a bout of crippling depression. I wasn't exactly suicidal, but I was definitely out of my mind. A good friend of mine suggested afterward that this was a time where I really needed to reward myself. I went out to the local animal shelter and rescued a cat. She's a sweetheart. I'm very glad to have her and now I can't imagine coming home to my apartment without her there.
Yesterday, I had a big test in my Social Psychology class. I've been monitoring my progress in there, unhappy about having a high 'B' and not an 'A' (because, like others with the disease, I have a slight problem with perfectionism). I'd done some calculations and knew that if I got a solid 'A' on the test, I could push my grade in the class up into the 'A' category. Problem was, I had an 8-page paper due this weekend for a different class. I knew better than to work on both at the same time. I didn't want to be studying for my test with the paper nagging in the back of my mind, and I really didn't want to be rushing to get the paper finished at the last minute. So I did the research and wrote the paper early, then studied hardcore for the test. The results? The test went well. I was even able to get my other professor's feedback on my paper & write a better draft before turning it in.
When I got home from school, I uploaded my paper, then went online to check my test grade. Not only did I get an 'A', I made the top grade. Wrecked the curve, in fact. Almost instinctively, I felt it was an occasion to reward myself. Nothing major, I just took myself out for a coffee and shot some pool. Before heading in to the pool hall, I called my sponsor to give him the good news. We had a tongue-in-cheek conversation about how remarkable it is that when you're not stoned, you do a lot better in school.
I had a conversation with a friend in the program on this subject recently, too. We agreed that those of us in Recovery tend to do really well when we go back to school. Maybe it's something about the challenge of seeing what we're capable of now that we're not loaded all the time anymore. It could be that the dedication we practice through working the program gets applied well in all areas of our lives, school being just one of them. Maybe we pay just a little bit more attention because we have a better understanding about how precious life is. I'm sure the perfectionism comes into play as well.
Speaking just for myself, it was a very satisfying experience to have the clarity of mind to be able to look ahead, plan things out, to have the drive and determination to work hard, and then to see such a good result. I'm really proud of this grade. I earned it, ya know?
I called my dad to let him know about what had happened and that I am proud of myself. I suppose I could have waited until the next time I saw my parents and told them both, but I have the feeling that my mom will respond by reaffirming that I'm "so smart". And sure, I've got a brain. But I didn't get this 'A' because I'm smart, I got it because I planned well and studied hard. I worked for it. That's why I rewarded myself yesterday, not because I got an 'A' but because I worked hard and got the grade I deserved as a result of it.
Not all of the lessons of Recovery are harsh. One of the better ones is learning to reward ourselves. We can do it when we've worked hard and achieved a goal, or as a pat on the back for staying sober through a difficult time. The first big way I put this into practice was when I had about a year and a half sober. To make a very long story short, I went through a bout of crippling depression. I wasn't exactly suicidal, but I was definitely out of my mind. A good friend of mine suggested afterward that this was a time where I really needed to reward myself. I went out to the local animal shelter and rescued a cat. She's a sweetheart. I'm very glad to have her and now I can't imagine coming home to my apartment without her there.
Yesterday, I had a big test in my Social Psychology class. I've been monitoring my progress in there, unhappy about having a high 'B' and not an 'A' (because, like others with the disease, I have a slight problem with perfectionism). I'd done some calculations and knew that if I got a solid 'A' on the test, I could push my grade in the class up into the 'A' category. Problem was, I had an 8-page paper due this weekend for a different class. I knew better than to work on both at the same time. I didn't want to be studying for my test with the paper nagging in the back of my mind, and I really didn't want to be rushing to get the paper finished at the last minute. So I did the research and wrote the paper early, then studied hardcore for the test. The results? The test went well. I was even able to get my other professor's feedback on my paper & write a better draft before turning it in.
When I got home from school, I uploaded my paper, then went online to check my test grade. Not only did I get an 'A', I made the top grade. Wrecked the curve, in fact. Almost instinctively, I felt it was an occasion to reward myself. Nothing major, I just took myself out for a coffee and shot some pool. Before heading in to the pool hall, I called my sponsor to give him the good news. We had a tongue-in-cheek conversation about how remarkable it is that when you're not stoned, you do a lot better in school.
I had a conversation with a friend in the program on this subject recently, too. We agreed that those of us in Recovery tend to do really well when we go back to school. Maybe it's something about the challenge of seeing what we're capable of now that we're not loaded all the time anymore. It could be that the dedication we practice through working the program gets applied well in all areas of our lives, school being just one of them. Maybe we pay just a little bit more attention because we have a better understanding about how precious life is. I'm sure the perfectionism comes into play as well.
Speaking just for myself, it was a very satisfying experience to have the clarity of mind to be able to look ahead, plan things out, to have the drive and determination to work hard, and then to see such a good result. I'm really proud of this grade. I earned it, ya know?
I called my dad to let him know about what had happened and that I am proud of myself. I suppose I could have waited until the next time I saw my parents and told them both, but I have the feeling that my mom will respond by reaffirming that I'm "so smart". And sure, I've got a brain. But I didn't get this 'A' because I'm smart, I got it because I planned well and studied hard. I worked for it. That's why I rewarded myself yesterday, not because I got an 'A' but because I worked hard and got the grade I deserved as a result of it.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
"Equality Fetish"
This is one of those blog posts where I've started writing, not knowing quite what I want to say or how to say it. I guess the general topic I have floating around my head is that I really appreciate how accepting and diverse meetings are and that it still frustrates me when I'm confronted with a world that doesn't feel the same way--especially if those intolerant attitudes come from people who claim to be tolerant.
The disease is no respecter of divisions. It doesn't care if you are a man or a woman; it doesn't care if you're rich or poor; if you're red, black, brown, yellow, or white; it doesn't care if you are gay or straight; and it really doesn't care if you're smart or if you're stupid. If you're human, you can have this disease; even if you don't have the disease, you can still be affected by it. There's something about being in 12-step rooms and seeing that born out. It's one of the things that helps us to increase our compassion for our fellow human beings. We look around the rooms, see many different people, and we realize that we do all have something in common. In a strange way, the disease can be a powerful unifier.
I don't have any black sponsees, but I haven't been asked by a black man to sponsor him. I do have an Hispanic sponsee, but the difference in our heritages doesn't change the way to work the program. I do adhere to the rule that men need to stick with men and women with women for sponsorship, but that's because I think it's absolutely appropriate and essential to someone's Recovery. How many women would feel comfortable talking to a man about being raped or molested? How many men would feel comfortable talking with a woman about their masturbation activities or how many prostitutes they've been to? But I digress.
My point is that 12-step rooms can be an amazingly accepting place. Not always, but most of the time. And certainly, I feel, more so than the world at large. It doesn't matter who you are, where you're from, or what you've been through: you're welcome here. If you go to a meeting where you aren't welcome, then find one where you are.
Right now I'm taking an 'Issues Of Diverse Populations' class for school. It's frustrating for me. Not because I'm a straight white male, and not because I don't have my own biases, because I do; we all do. But because of the overall air, the attitude that prevails in the classroom. My opinion isn't valued, it's questioned. So much so that I've taken to just keeping my mouth shut. Every once in awhile I speak up, get shouted down, and then go back to being quiet. I have to remind myself that the other students, the professor, they don't know anything about me. They don't know who my friends are, what my life has been like, or how I conduct myself.
But I find it... ironic... that in a class that's supposed to be about not judging people on the basis of assumptions and stereotypes, I find myself being judged by assumptions and stereotypes. It reminds me of a conversation I had once with a friend of mine. She would talk about how awful men have been to women over the centuries. I agreed with her, of course, but then she went on to say how what we really needed to do was let the women be in charge. I laughed in her face. Here she was, railing against prejudice and oppression and her solution was to let the oppressed group become the oppressors. I told her, "Ah, I see. You don't really want to stop discrimination, you just want revenge."
Where I live, there are a lot of bumper stickers that read, "equality fetish". I like them. I feel the same way, but instead of putting up a sticker on my car or in my apartment window, my solution has always been to, instead, live that ideal. It's about walking the walk, not just talking the talk. In terms of working the Program, it means that I conduct myself with Integrity. I don't need to put a bumper sticker on my car; I show that I believe in that idea through my actions.
I went to a slam poetry session once. One of the poets was a black man who started talking about the mistreatment of women in our culture. An audience member--a woman--got very irate and started heckling him. Things got so heated, I thought the two would come to blows. She told him that he had no right to talk about the oppression of women because he wasn't one. She told him, "you're black, talk about black issues" and to leave the talking about women's issues to her and other women. I watched with heightened interest until things calmed down and the show continued.
Because here's the truth, my friends, it is people in the oppressing groups who need to change. And when we see folks who are in the dominant place in our culture, who are on our side and are working towards that goal of understanding and respect, who are working to reduce prejudice and discrimination, we need to join them and make partners with them, not tear them down because we think they don't have anything to offer.
If we truly believe in tearing down stereotypes, then we have to avoid judging EVERYONE. Prejudice cuts all ways, my friends. If you're asking me to not hold someone accountable for stereotypes against their group, to judge them based on who they are and not what group they appear to belong to, then you have to do the same for me. If we accuse those in the dominant culture of all being the same, we're visiting the same evil on them that they visit on us.
Or hey, maybe I'm just flapping my gums here. Maybe my Issues of Diverse Populations class isn't about reaching a common understanding. Maybe the point is that we all stereotype, that we all have biases, and we're condemned to act those out. People who are oppressed aren't really interested in stopping oppression, just punishing the oppressors. There are some pessimists out there who might think I'm just upset because my 'privilege' isn't being respected in the classroom. Maybe that's true. Or maybe what I've written here is true, that I'm someone who has observed prejudice, cares deeply about ending it, and has spent his life understanding it and working to make sure I do my part--that I change my own behavior--to end this vicious cycle of better-than and less-than.
The disease is no respecter of divisions. It doesn't care if you are a man or a woman; it doesn't care if you're rich or poor; if you're red, black, brown, yellow, or white; it doesn't care if you are gay or straight; and it really doesn't care if you're smart or if you're stupid. If you're human, you can have this disease; even if you don't have the disease, you can still be affected by it. There's something about being in 12-step rooms and seeing that born out. It's one of the things that helps us to increase our compassion for our fellow human beings. We look around the rooms, see many different people, and we realize that we do all have something in common. In a strange way, the disease can be a powerful unifier.
I don't have any black sponsees, but I haven't been asked by a black man to sponsor him. I do have an Hispanic sponsee, but the difference in our heritages doesn't change the way to work the program. I do adhere to the rule that men need to stick with men and women with women for sponsorship, but that's because I think it's absolutely appropriate and essential to someone's Recovery. How many women would feel comfortable talking to a man about being raped or molested? How many men would feel comfortable talking with a woman about their masturbation activities or how many prostitutes they've been to? But I digress.
My point is that 12-step rooms can be an amazingly accepting place. Not always, but most of the time. And certainly, I feel, more so than the world at large. It doesn't matter who you are, where you're from, or what you've been through: you're welcome here. If you go to a meeting where you aren't welcome, then find one where you are.
Right now I'm taking an 'Issues Of Diverse Populations' class for school. It's frustrating for me. Not because I'm a straight white male, and not because I don't have my own biases, because I do; we all do. But because of the overall air, the attitude that prevails in the classroom. My opinion isn't valued, it's questioned. So much so that I've taken to just keeping my mouth shut. Every once in awhile I speak up, get shouted down, and then go back to being quiet. I have to remind myself that the other students, the professor, they don't know anything about me. They don't know who my friends are, what my life has been like, or how I conduct myself.
But I find it... ironic... that in a class that's supposed to be about not judging people on the basis of assumptions and stereotypes, I find myself being judged by assumptions and stereotypes. It reminds me of a conversation I had once with a friend of mine. She would talk about how awful men have been to women over the centuries. I agreed with her, of course, but then she went on to say how what we really needed to do was let the women be in charge. I laughed in her face. Here she was, railing against prejudice and oppression and her solution was to let the oppressed group become the oppressors. I told her, "Ah, I see. You don't really want to stop discrimination, you just want revenge."
Where I live, there are a lot of bumper stickers that read, "equality fetish". I like them. I feel the same way, but instead of putting up a sticker on my car or in my apartment window, my solution has always been to, instead, live that ideal. It's about walking the walk, not just talking the talk. In terms of working the Program, it means that I conduct myself with Integrity. I don't need to put a bumper sticker on my car; I show that I believe in that idea through my actions.
I went to a slam poetry session once. One of the poets was a black man who started talking about the mistreatment of women in our culture. An audience member--a woman--got very irate and started heckling him. Things got so heated, I thought the two would come to blows. She told him that he had no right to talk about the oppression of women because he wasn't one. She told him, "you're black, talk about black issues" and to leave the talking about women's issues to her and other women. I watched with heightened interest until things calmed down and the show continued.
Because here's the truth, my friends, it is people in the oppressing groups who need to change. And when we see folks who are in the dominant place in our culture, who are on our side and are working towards that goal of understanding and respect, who are working to reduce prejudice and discrimination, we need to join them and make partners with them, not tear them down because we think they don't have anything to offer.
If we truly believe in tearing down stereotypes, then we have to avoid judging EVERYONE. Prejudice cuts all ways, my friends. If you're asking me to not hold someone accountable for stereotypes against their group, to judge them based on who they are and not what group they appear to belong to, then you have to do the same for me. If we accuse those in the dominant culture of all being the same, we're visiting the same evil on them that they visit on us.
Or hey, maybe I'm just flapping my gums here. Maybe my Issues of Diverse Populations class isn't about reaching a common understanding. Maybe the point is that we all stereotype, that we all have biases, and we're condemned to act those out. People who are oppressed aren't really interested in stopping oppression, just punishing the oppressors. There are some pessimists out there who might think I'm just upset because my 'privilege' isn't being respected in the classroom. Maybe that's true. Or maybe what I've written here is true, that I'm someone who has observed prejudice, cares deeply about ending it, and has spent his life understanding it and working to make sure I do my part--that I change my own behavior--to end this vicious cycle of better-than and less-than.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
"Is AA a Cult?"
In my Social Psychology class today, we went over cults. We discussed how they work, how people get drawn in, and some of the crazy things people who get involved in them end up doing. There were even a couple of slides in the professor's powerpoint presentation titled, "7 Steps to Creating A Successful Cult". I found myself thinking about someone I know who has for years refused to go to 12-step meetings because she insists AA/NA/etc. is a cult. She even has family members in Recovery, real living examples that the program works, and these people have patiently tried to explain to her that it isn't a cult. Still she insists it is and refuses to go herself. Talk about a case of not being able to make someone 'get' Recovery.
There are many books out there about the makeup of cults, but I'm going to go ahead and go off these seven points we discussed in lecture today. If you're someone who is wondering about the question, here's the makeup of a cult, how it works, and why 12-steps isn't one.
1. Cults exist in isolation, apart from society. They may start out in a city or a town, but ultimately they break off and form some kind of a commune. There's no AA commune anywhere that I can think of, and the idea goes against the 12 Traditions. The primary purpose of our meetings is to help those who still suffer from the disease.
2. Cults have charismatic leaders. I almost laughed out loud at this. A fundamental piece of Recovery groups is that we don't really have leaders; we're much more like a functioning anarchy. In fact, I've always shied away from groups who talk too much about Bill W. and Dr. Bob. To cite the traditions again, it's principles before personalities. A wise piece of advice you'll hear is to avoid any meeting known as "so-and-so's meeting".
3. Cults have ingroups and outgroups. Some might argue with me that they have been to plenty of meetings where there are cliques, and I answer that by saying no more or less than life outside the meetings. What happens in cults is that ingroups and outgroups are created specifically to create dissent among the members. In every fellowship, there is a strong measure of unity for our common purpose. Meetings that become too clique-ish fall apart and fail. Why? Because they aren't welcoming to newcomers. The members stop growing, stop changing, and for people like us to stop growing is the same thing as regressing. Those of us who've put together some time need newcomers. It's how we remember where we've come from.
4. Cults have a fixation on 'outside' evil. This creates an 'us versus them' mentality. The traditions are clear on this as well--we have no opinion on outside issues. Period. We try to be welcoming to everyone. If we take any position an any issue, we risk alienating someone in need of the benefits the program has to offer.
5. Use a 'foot-in-the-door' approach. This is a psychological manipulation tool where you can get someone to do a big thing by having them do something small first. Now, maybe you're thinking that putting a dollar in the plate is a small thing that will lead to more, but I've never been to a meeting where they asked me to put in $100. We suggest people be of service, but no one is forced to. No one is forced to work steps. The best Recovery sounds like this: "I went to meetings, I took a service commitment, I worked steps with a sponsor. It worked for me. I suggest giving it a try."
6. Distract members. I think a lot of meetings go out of their way to make sure members aren't distracted. Most have a 'no crosstalk' rule to ensure that people aren't interrupted while they're sharing and aren't singled out in any way afterwards. I went to a crosstalk meeting once and I can tell you it was not the healthiest meeting. Not by a long shot.
7. Send members out to recruit others. This is a little sticky. We're supposed to carry the message, that the program works, but we don't put on suits and go door-to-door. We don't stand on street corners, shouting. Mostly, what we do is keep our ears open. When we hear someone say they've had enough, that they can't do it anymore, that they're sick and tired of being sick and tired, we speak up. We don't tell them they need to go to 12-step meetings. We say, "well ya know, I used to be where you're at and then I did this thing. You might want to give it a try and see if it works for you."
That's it. Those seven things are the building blocks of a cult. Pretty far away from what we do at meetings, isn't it? Someone might still try to press their point, insist that 12-steps brainwashes people. My response? It goes something like this: yeah, sure. It brainwashes us into thinking about other people instead of just ourselves. It brainwashes us into becoming productive members of society instead of derelicts. In brainwashes us into accepting our own humanity and having compassion for others'.
How terrible ;-)
There are many books out there about the makeup of cults, but I'm going to go ahead and go off these seven points we discussed in lecture today. If you're someone who is wondering about the question, here's the makeup of a cult, how it works, and why 12-steps isn't one.
1. Cults exist in isolation, apart from society. They may start out in a city or a town, but ultimately they break off and form some kind of a commune. There's no AA commune anywhere that I can think of, and the idea goes against the 12 Traditions. The primary purpose of our meetings is to help those who still suffer from the disease.
2. Cults have charismatic leaders. I almost laughed out loud at this. A fundamental piece of Recovery groups is that we don't really have leaders; we're much more like a functioning anarchy. In fact, I've always shied away from groups who talk too much about Bill W. and Dr. Bob. To cite the traditions again, it's principles before personalities. A wise piece of advice you'll hear is to avoid any meeting known as "so-and-so's meeting".
3. Cults have ingroups and outgroups. Some might argue with me that they have been to plenty of meetings where there are cliques, and I answer that by saying no more or less than life outside the meetings. What happens in cults is that ingroups and outgroups are created specifically to create dissent among the members. In every fellowship, there is a strong measure of unity for our common purpose. Meetings that become too clique-ish fall apart and fail. Why? Because they aren't welcoming to newcomers. The members stop growing, stop changing, and for people like us to stop growing is the same thing as regressing. Those of us who've put together some time need newcomers. It's how we remember where we've come from.
4. Cults have a fixation on 'outside' evil. This creates an 'us versus them' mentality. The traditions are clear on this as well--we have no opinion on outside issues. Period. We try to be welcoming to everyone. If we take any position an any issue, we risk alienating someone in need of the benefits the program has to offer.
5. Use a 'foot-in-the-door' approach. This is a psychological manipulation tool where you can get someone to do a big thing by having them do something small first. Now, maybe you're thinking that putting a dollar in the plate is a small thing that will lead to more, but I've never been to a meeting where they asked me to put in $100. We suggest people be of service, but no one is forced to. No one is forced to work steps. The best Recovery sounds like this: "I went to meetings, I took a service commitment, I worked steps with a sponsor. It worked for me. I suggest giving it a try."
6. Distract members. I think a lot of meetings go out of their way to make sure members aren't distracted. Most have a 'no crosstalk' rule to ensure that people aren't interrupted while they're sharing and aren't singled out in any way afterwards. I went to a crosstalk meeting once and I can tell you it was not the healthiest meeting. Not by a long shot.
7. Send members out to recruit others. This is a little sticky. We're supposed to carry the message, that the program works, but we don't put on suits and go door-to-door. We don't stand on street corners, shouting. Mostly, what we do is keep our ears open. When we hear someone say they've had enough, that they can't do it anymore, that they're sick and tired of being sick and tired, we speak up. We don't tell them they need to go to 12-step meetings. We say, "well ya know, I used to be where you're at and then I did this thing. You might want to give it a try and see if it works for you."
That's it. Those seven things are the building blocks of a cult. Pretty far away from what we do at meetings, isn't it? Someone might still try to press their point, insist that 12-steps brainwashes people. My response? It goes something like this: yeah, sure. It brainwashes us into thinking about other people instead of just ourselves. It brainwashes us into becoming productive members of society instead of derelicts. In brainwashes us into accepting our own humanity and having compassion for others'.
How terrible ;-)
Sunday, March 6, 2011
“Step Twelve: Service”
(This blog is twelfth in a multi-part series, “Thoughts On The Steps”. This series is not a guide on how to work steps; steps can only be worked under the guidance of a sponsor. The twelve-step program is a spiritual program; it teaches us how to live a spiritual life. Working each of the steps gives us the chance to practice a spiritual principle. Whatever your particular fellowship, the Steps are the same, as are the spiritual principles behind them. These are my thoughts on the steps and on those principles.)
Step Twelve: Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message […] and practice these principles in all our affairs.
Depending on what fellowship you’re working the steps in, this final step will read a little different. Those in AA carry the message ‘to alcoholics’. In NA, it’s carrying the message ‘to addicts’. My home group of MA says ‘to marijuana addicts’. Al-Anon simply says ‘to others’. These and other versions are all variations on the same theme: we carry the message. What is the message? It’s that the program of 12-step Recovery works.
Those who are thorough in working the program, who do the hard work asked in each of the steps, have a spiritual awakening. We wake up to the idea that we are all connected, that how we conduct ourselves affects the lives of others. We can have a positive influence on them, or we can have a negative influence. We can’t control others, but we can control ourselves. We can choose to act in our own self-interest, or we can choose to do what we can to help others who are suffering.
Being of Service is an important part of the program, and there are many ways to do that. Just showing up to a meeting is a way to be of Service. Making coffee, providing refreshments, are others. We can take positions of greater responsibility as trusted servants--as meeting secretaries, treasurers, and literature persons. We can get involved in area service, helping to make sure the meetings stay healthy and continue on so that others who need help will have a place to go.
Probably the biggest way to be of Service, and one that I personally feel doesn’t get enough stress or attention, is sponsorship. Some would even argue that the real point of the twelfth step is sponsorship. One of the best ways I have found to help my recovery is by helping others through sponsorship. It’s a powerful thing to watch other guys gradually awaken to the spiritual way of life, to see them become clear-eyed and open-minded. And it helps me to stay clean and sober.
‘Practicing these principles in all our affairs’ is not just idle talk, either. The spiritual principles we have learned through working each of the twelve steps are not to exist in isolation. They don’t just apply to our addiction. They are meant to be used in every aspect of our daily lives. That’s what real Recovery is--it’s not just the cessation of use. It’s not just that we no longer drink or get loaded. It’s that we truly become changed people. We act differently. We treat ourselves differently, we treat others differently.
There’s no need to preach to others who still suffer. It’s not our place to take someone else’s inventory, tell them they’re an addict or an alcoholic. It’s not our place to tell the newcomer what they should do. If we tell others what to do or attempt to force them to work the program or the steps, then we’re trying to control them. That’s the exact opposite of what the program teaches us--to let go.
Instead, we talk about ourselves, our experience, how working the program has changed our lives. We suggest that people get a sponsor and work the steps because each of us has to make that choice inside ourselves to do so. We have to find the willingness within to work the program. If it’s forced on us, then we aren’t responsible for our Recovery. And in order for Recovery to work, to truly change someone’s life, they need to make the decision for themselves to work the program.
The twelve steps of Recovery give us a way of living that works. It’s about thinking of ourselves less, not thinking less of ourselves. On the contrary, many of us find an amazingly powerful sense of self-esteem through the practicing of these principles. It’s not up to us to tell others how to live their lives, but it is up to us to reach out and grab the hand of those asking for help. As it says on the walls in so many of the rooms, “I am responsible.”
By an interesting coincidence, this happens to be blog #200 of 'Thoughts On The Disease'. I write it because working the program of Recovery has changed my life and it's my responsibility to carry that message to others. In this modern age, anyone in the world who wants to know about Recovery can search the internet and maybe find their way here. When they do, my hope is that they will read my words and that it will be helpful to them. It's just another way I have to carry the message and be of Service.
Thanks for reading.
Step Twelve: Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message […] and practice these principles in all our affairs.
Depending on what fellowship you’re working the steps in, this final step will read a little different. Those in AA carry the message ‘to alcoholics’. In NA, it’s carrying the message ‘to addicts’. My home group of MA says ‘to marijuana addicts’. Al-Anon simply says ‘to others’. These and other versions are all variations on the same theme: we carry the message. What is the message? It’s that the program of 12-step Recovery works.
Those who are thorough in working the program, who do the hard work asked in each of the steps, have a spiritual awakening. We wake up to the idea that we are all connected, that how we conduct ourselves affects the lives of others. We can have a positive influence on them, or we can have a negative influence. We can’t control others, but we can control ourselves. We can choose to act in our own self-interest, or we can choose to do what we can to help others who are suffering.
Being of Service is an important part of the program, and there are many ways to do that. Just showing up to a meeting is a way to be of Service. Making coffee, providing refreshments, are others. We can take positions of greater responsibility as trusted servants--as meeting secretaries, treasurers, and literature persons. We can get involved in area service, helping to make sure the meetings stay healthy and continue on so that others who need help will have a place to go.
Probably the biggest way to be of Service, and one that I personally feel doesn’t get enough stress or attention, is sponsorship. Some would even argue that the real point of the twelfth step is sponsorship. One of the best ways I have found to help my recovery is by helping others through sponsorship. It’s a powerful thing to watch other guys gradually awaken to the spiritual way of life, to see them become clear-eyed and open-minded. And it helps me to stay clean and sober.
‘Practicing these principles in all our affairs’ is not just idle talk, either. The spiritual principles we have learned through working each of the twelve steps are not to exist in isolation. They don’t just apply to our addiction. They are meant to be used in every aspect of our daily lives. That’s what real Recovery is--it’s not just the cessation of use. It’s not just that we no longer drink or get loaded. It’s that we truly become changed people. We act differently. We treat ourselves differently, we treat others differently.
There’s no need to preach to others who still suffer. It’s not our place to take someone else’s inventory, tell them they’re an addict or an alcoholic. It’s not our place to tell the newcomer what they should do. If we tell others what to do or attempt to force them to work the program or the steps, then we’re trying to control them. That’s the exact opposite of what the program teaches us--to let go.
Instead, we talk about ourselves, our experience, how working the program has changed our lives. We suggest that people get a sponsor and work the steps because each of us has to make that choice inside ourselves to do so. We have to find the willingness within to work the program. If it’s forced on us, then we aren’t responsible for our Recovery. And in order for Recovery to work, to truly change someone’s life, they need to make the decision for themselves to work the program.
The twelve steps of Recovery give us a way of living that works. It’s about thinking of ourselves less, not thinking less of ourselves. On the contrary, many of us find an amazingly powerful sense of self-esteem through the practicing of these principles. It’s not up to us to tell others how to live their lives, but it is up to us to reach out and grab the hand of those asking for help. As it says on the walls in so many of the rooms, “I am responsible.”
By an interesting coincidence, this happens to be blog #200 of 'Thoughts On The Disease'. I write it because working the program of Recovery has changed my life and it's my responsibility to carry that message to others. In this modern age, anyone in the world who wants to know about Recovery can search the internet and maybe find their way here. When they do, my hope is that they will read my words and that it will be helpful to them. It's just another way I have to carry the message and be of Service.
Thanks for reading.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
“Step Eleven: Spiritual Awareness”
(This blog is eleventh in a multi-part series, “Thoughts On The Steps”. This series is not a guide on how to work steps; steps can only be worked under the guidance of a sponsor. The twelve-step program is a spiritual program; it teaches us how to live a spiritual life. Working each of the steps gives us the chance to practice a spiritual principle. Whatever your particular fellowship, the Steps are the same, as are the spiritual principles behind them. These are my thoughts on the steps and on those principles.)
Step Eleven: Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood God, praying only for knowledge of God's will for us and the power to carry that out.
12-steps is a spiritual program. The steps themselves and the process of working them are all designed to bring about a spiritual awakening. In the early history of Alcoholics Anonymous, the founders were searching for a cure for their alcoholism. They learned that the only people who had been cured of this incurable, hopeless condition were people who'd had a profound spiritual experience. The twelve steps are designed to bring about just such an experience. And if I may be so bold, it is rare to meet someone who has thoroughly worked the steps that hasn't had a spiritual awakening of some kind. Working the eleventh step is how we practice increasing our own Spiritual Awareness.
The biggest key here, in my mind, is the very first word: sought. We seek out the power greater than ourselves. Many faith and religious traditions have the concept that as we seek our higher power, it makes itself available to us. Christianity expresses it by saying 'for every step we take towards God, God takes two steps towards us', or some variant like that. We are spiritual beings, by our very nature, and access to the spiritual is available to us. If we truly seek, we will find. It is the way of things.
As we've worked the previous ten steps, there have been a number of prayers said. In Step Eleven, we pray for something simple and very specific: the knowledge of our higher power's will for us and the power to carry out that will--whatever it might be. We don't pray for happiness or that we'll stay clean & sober. We don't pray for the health of our family or the success of our friends. We don't read a wish list. This prayer is a natural following of the third step prayer. We've turned our will and our life over. Now we seek guidance on what to do with it. We pray, too, for the strength to do whatever it is our higher power directs us to do.
This step talks about meditation. If prayer is talking to our higher power, then meditation is listening to it. We pray, and we listen for the answers to our prayer. We open our hearts and our minds and our souls so that we might hear the guidance we have asked to receive. If your mind is anything like mine, then you know that quieting that inner chaos takes a lot of practice. But it can be done.
This is another step that talks, too, about having our own understanding of our higher power. One of the reasons the program works so well for so many is because it encourages us to come to our own understanding of just what exactly this ‘God’ thing is. Ironically, it is because of the atheist and agnostic members of those early AA meetings that this turn of phrase appears in the steps. It’s a crucial one.
We have a spiritual malady. By working to increase our Spiritual Awareness, we increase our contact with the spiritual. We heal our spiritual selves.
Step Eleven: Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood God, praying only for knowledge of God's will for us and the power to carry that out.
12-steps is a spiritual program. The steps themselves and the process of working them are all designed to bring about a spiritual awakening. In the early history of Alcoholics Anonymous, the founders were searching for a cure for their alcoholism. They learned that the only people who had been cured of this incurable, hopeless condition were people who'd had a profound spiritual experience. The twelve steps are designed to bring about just such an experience. And if I may be so bold, it is rare to meet someone who has thoroughly worked the steps that hasn't had a spiritual awakening of some kind. Working the eleventh step is how we practice increasing our own Spiritual Awareness.
The biggest key here, in my mind, is the very first word: sought. We seek out the power greater than ourselves. Many faith and religious traditions have the concept that as we seek our higher power, it makes itself available to us. Christianity expresses it by saying 'for every step we take towards God, God takes two steps towards us', or some variant like that. We are spiritual beings, by our very nature, and access to the spiritual is available to us. If we truly seek, we will find. It is the way of things.
As we've worked the previous ten steps, there have been a number of prayers said. In Step Eleven, we pray for something simple and very specific: the knowledge of our higher power's will for us and the power to carry out that will--whatever it might be. We don't pray for happiness or that we'll stay clean & sober. We don't pray for the health of our family or the success of our friends. We don't read a wish list. This prayer is a natural following of the third step prayer. We've turned our will and our life over. Now we seek guidance on what to do with it. We pray, too, for the strength to do whatever it is our higher power directs us to do.
This step talks about meditation. If prayer is talking to our higher power, then meditation is listening to it. We pray, and we listen for the answers to our prayer. We open our hearts and our minds and our souls so that we might hear the guidance we have asked to receive. If your mind is anything like mine, then you know that quieting that inner chaos takes a lot of practice. But it can be done.
This is another step that talks, too, about having our own understanding of our higher power. One of the reasons the program works so well for so many is because it encourages us to come to our own understanding of just what exactly this ‘God’ thing is. Ironically, it is because of the atheist and agnostic members of those early AA meetings that this turn of phrase appears in the steps. It’s a crucial one.
We have a spiritual malady. By working to increase our Spiritual Awareness, we increase our contact with the spiritual. We heal our spiritual selves.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
“Step Ten: Perseverance”
(This blog is tenth in a multi-part series, “Thoughts On The Steps”. This series is not a guide on how to work steps; steps can only be worked under the guidance of a sponsor. The twelve-step program is a spiritual program; it teaches us how to live a spiritual life. Working each of the steps gives us the chance to practice a spiritual principle. Whatever your particular fellowship, the Steps are the same, as are the spiritual principles behind them. These are my thoughts on the steps and on those principles.)
Step Ten: Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.
For folks like us, complacency is the enemy. There's an old program saying: you're either moving away from your last drink/fix, or moving towards your next one. If we aren't progressing in our Recovery, doing at least something each day, we start to regress. If we don't actively work to keep our Recovery, we'll lose it. Our disease is incurable. I will never not be an addict/alcoholic. Those tendencies in thought and action will always be with me, but if I Persevere and practice my Recovery, then my Recovery will prevail.
I think of it like a sports star at the top of their game. A pro football player doesn't practice less. If anything, he practices more. The same is true of a professional musician. An ace trumpet player doesn't get to put her horn down and rest on her laurels. If she wants to keep up her skills, she has to practice everyday. The same is true of Recovery. We need to keep practicing the spiritual principles of the program to keep getting the benefits. We need to keep on keepin' on. That's Perseverance.
There's lots of ways to do the tenth step. A full formal working of it can involve a whole lot of writing, everyday, about our thoughts and actions throughout the day. A more informal working of it means maintaining a tenth-step attitude--we check in with ourselves. We pay attention to the things we do, examine our motives of why we do them. And, of course, when we mess up, we fess up to it right away. We're practicing being this new person we're becomming. We're going to make mistakes, we're human. When we do, we admit where we've been wrong.
There's another common saying from the program that comes into play in the tenth step: this, too, shall pass. When we're new to Recovery, and even for a while after we've been coming to meetings, life can be a rough ride. We're new to the whole idea and way of living without getting loaded. It takes a while for things to settle down. Once they do, we tend to realize that it isn't life, but ourselves that's settled down. Remembering that all things pass is so crucial. Good feelings, bad ones, they all come and go. Nothing is permanent. Our thoughts, our feelings, they are all changing, as is the world around us.
As addicts/alcoholics, we hate change. We're control freaks, and a world that changes so rapidly around us can be infuriating. The tenth step helps us immensely to deal with that outside world as well as our internal one. We work at becomming practiced observers of what is happening inside our heads. We try to get to a place where we see our thoughts go by with a measure of dispassion. We allow our thoughts and our feelings to flow through us, knowing we don't have to act on them. If we see something objectionable, we take action to correct it. Thoughts are just thoughts; we don't have to act on them. Feelings are just feelings; they won't kill us.
The 'daily' part of this step reminds us of something else that's crucial: this is a one day at a time program. Maybe by the time we've gotten to the tenth step, we've fallen off the 'Just For Today' tack. Step ten brings it back to the basics. Just for today I'm going to stay sober. Just for today, I will pay attention to my actions and my motives. We don't list out a month's worth or even a week's worth of activities. We check in with ourselves and examine ourselves on a day-to-day basis.
The last three steps are sometimes called 'mainetnance' steps, and I get that. For myself, I've found it useful to work all twleve steps more than just once, but the tenth step is a great tool all by itself. It reminds me that I need to be vigilant in working the program. I need to keep on working it, every day. I need to check in with myself and pay attention to what's going on inside me. If I get lazy, my Recovery suffers and I will be back on the path to relapse. And long before I do, I will have created a wake of wreckage a mile long behind me.
Step Ten: Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.
For folks like us, complacency is the enemy. There's an old program saying: you're either moving away from your last drink/fix, or moving towards your next one. If we aren't progressing in our Recovery, doing at least something each day, we start to regress. If we don't actively work to keep our Recovery, we'll lose it. Our disease is incurable. I will never not be an addict/alcoholic. Those tendencies in thought and action will always be with me, but if I Persevere and practice my Recovery, then my Recovery will prevail.
I think of it like a sports star at the top of their game. A pro football player doesn't practice less. If anything, he practices more. The same is true of a professional musician. An ace trumpet player doesn't get to put her horn down and rest on her laurels. If she wants to keep up her skills, she has to practice everyday. The same is true of Recovery. We need to keep practicing the spiritual principles of the program to keep getting the benefits. We need to keep on keepin' on. That's Perseverance.
There's lots of ways to do the tenth step. A full formal working of it can involve a whole lot of writing, everyday, about our thoughts and actions throughout the day. A more informal working of it means maintaining a tenth-step attitude--we check in with ourselves. We pay attention to the things we do, examine our motives of why we do them. And, of course, when we mess up, we fess up to it right away. We're practicing being this new person we're becomming. We're going to make mistakes, we're human. When we do, we admit where we've been wrong.
There's another common saying from the program that comes into play in the tenth step: this, too, shall pass. When we're new to Recovery, and even for a while after we've been coming to meetings, life can be a rough ride. We're new to the whole idea and way of living without getting loaded. It takes a while for things to settle down. Once they do, we tend to realize that it isn't life, but ourselves that's settled down. Remembering that all things pass is so crucial. Good feelings, bad ones, they all come and go. Nothing is permanent. Our thoughts, our feelings, they are all changing, as is the world around us.
As addicts/alcoholics, we hate change. We're control freaks, and a world that changes so rapidly around us can be infuriating. The tenth step helps us immensely to deal with that outside world as well as our internal one. We work at becomming practiced observers of what is happening inside our heads. We try to get to a place where we see our thoughts go by with a measure of dispassion. We allow our thoughts and our feelings to flow through us, knowing we don't have to act on them. If we see something objectionable, we take action to correct it. Thoughts are just thoughts; we don't have to act on them. Feelings are just feelings; they won't kill us.
The 'daily' part of this step reminds us of something else that's crucial: this is a one day at a time program. Maybe by the time we've gotten to the tenth step, we've fallen off the 'Just For Today' tack. Step ten brings it back to the basics. Just for today I'm going to stay sober. Just for today, I will pay attention to my actions and my motives. We don't list out a month's worth or even a week's worth of activities. We check in with ourselves and examine ourselves on a day-to-day basis.
The last three steps are sometimes called 'mainetnance' steps, and I get that. For myself, I've found it useful to work all twleve steps more than just once, but the tenth step is a great tool all by itself. It reminds me that I need to be vigilant in working the program. I need to keep on working it, every day. I need to check in with myself and pay attention to what's going on inside me. If I get lazy, my Recovery suffers and I will be back on the path to relapse. And long before I do, I will have created a wake of wreckage a mile long behind me.
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