Wednesday, September 28, 2011

“Survivor Guilt”

Sacramento is a two-river town. We have the American river, flowing roughly east-west, and the Sacramento river going mostly north-south. I’m currently on a foot bridge crossing the former tonight. It’s not a big bridge, a replica actually of the Golden Gate bridge down in San Francisco. About fifteen feet wide, it crosses the American river from a business section of eastern Sacramento to the east side of our local University. I sit, cross-legged, directly in the middle as I write, occasionally glancing up at what stars can be seen here on a cloudless night. As people step onto the bridge, I feel the weight of their footsteps bouncing it ever so slightly up and down.

I caught a summer cold a couple weeks ago. It’s all but gone now. For a week and a half, though, I held off on my exercise, working the weights only 20 minutes or so every few days, and not running at all. Over the weekend, I put on my stinky gym shirt and started the practice back up. I could still feel the weakness in my body, so I didn’t push things. Tonight I did my first full mile since before I got sick. I’d say it felt good, but running doesn’t exactly feel good; it’s more like I feel good about myself for the doing of it.

I’ve kept my weight down, and have started dropping a little more now that I’m ramping the exercise back to what I used to do. Since I started things earlier this year, I’ve lost over 20 lbs. Someone asked me recently how much more I was going to ‘try’ to lose. I replied that another 10-15 would put me down firmly into the technically ‘healthy’ range, but that it’s more about just being healthy--eating properly, exercising regularly, and however much I end up weighing, well, that’s what it’ll be.

I’ve done this before--lost weight, ballooned back up, lost it again. I won’t say I’ve struggled with weight, but this time around it definitely feels like I’m the healthiest I’ve ever been, physically. One thing I’ve noticed from the times I’ve weighed less is the comments from others. Sometimes snide, sometimes spiteful. Jealousy is an ugly emotion. I was warned about it, the first time I started losing weight. I forget who it was, but they told me that as I found success to watch out for those who wouldn’t be happy for me, but envious.

I think that’s a difficult piece of being successful (regardless of what the particular success is) that doesn’t get talked about very much. It’s not enough to just have success with something. You have to guard your success against those who aren’t supportive or affirming of it. You have to continue being successful in the face of others who aren’t happy about it. Or I do, at any rate. Maybe there are folks out there who have achieved successes in their lives and received nothing but praise from those around them. It hasn’t been like that for me. I can relate a lot more to the unearned guilt others have tried to saddle me with than the well-wishes of those genuinely happy for me.

I had a conversation once with a therapist I used to see about something called ‘survivor guilt’. This is something that comes up for some of us who have had success working the program of Recovery, too. We do well, the program works for us. And we see others for whom it doesn’t work so well. Maybe it’s people who came in at the same time we did, or even members of long-standing who just haven’t found the joy and benefits of Recovery that we have. They still suffer. They still struggle. And they hate on us because we have found success where they haven’t.

But holding back our progress, sabotaging ourselves in the face of that? We don’t have to do that. Remember: we aren’t responsible for anyone else’s program. We aren’t responsible for anyone else period! Not what happens in their lives, not the choices they make, and not the feelings they have. It’s not our fault if someone else has a problem with us for being successful--in any way. That envy, it is not about us at all; it’s about them. Boundaries, my friends, boundaries.

If you are someone who is surrounded by emotionally healthy people who lift you up and congratulate you on your successes, then I offer you my congratulations. If, on the other hand, you are like me and have been faced far too often with jealousy, with the bitter and careless remarks of those who have yet to resolve their own insecurities, then I offer you this advice: you don’t need anyone else to be proud of your successes; you can be proud of yourself.

When was the last time you looked in a mirror and told yourself you were proud of you?

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

“Pity Parties”

From time to time, people will complain to me about something that’s not going right in their life. Maybe it’s a job that sucks, a relationship that isn’t working, a feeling of being stuck, or something else. I like listening, being the one to be there for them with a friendly ear. It’s the least I can do, given all the ears I’ve chewed off over the years. Sometimes people just want to be listened to.

Sometimes they’re looking for advice. They want the situation to end or to change, and no idea they’ve ever come up with has ever made a difference. Sponsor/sponsee relationships are like that a lot. There’s an underlying ‘everything I try doesn’t work; help me to do something different’ undercurrent to most conversations. But whether it’s someone looking for advice or just needing to be heard, I still like listening.

One thing that’s frustrating, though, is when someone isn’t looking to change or unload or distress, they just want to bitch and piss and moan so that others will feel sorry for them. I’m thinking of someone I worked with a few years back who was always going on and on, whining and complaining about the chaos and insanity of her life. If anyone tried to give her advice on how to change things, she’d just interrupt and run ramshod over whatever it is you were trying to tell her with more ‘poor me’. She didn’t want things to change; having others feel sorry for her was the only way she knew to make herself feel good. And to extend this twisted logic, why would she want her life to improve? If things went well, she wouldn’t have anything to complain about and no way to manipulate those around her into feeling sorry for her.

No one likes to be dragged into a pity party. I’ve probably pissed off more than a few people by refusing to be drawn in. They say, “woe is me!” And I say, “yep, sucks to be you.” I use this technique a lot with panhandlers who spin their yarns trying to get me to give them money. They launch into a big diatribe about missing a bus or needing to fix a car so they can get to the funeral of some distant relative, or whatever. I listen for as long as I feel like, and then say, “yep. That sucks.”

If you want my advice, I’ll give it. If you just want to be heard, I’ll listen. If you want me to feel sorry for you, I suggest you take your sob story to the convenience store down the block. The ‘poor me’ currency carries very little weight over here.

In Recovery, we learn to become people of action. If we’re unhappy about a situation, we take action to change it. If there’s nothing we can do about it, we give it over to our Higher Power and let it go. Sometimes there’s nothing more aggravating than listening to someone whine and complain about how horrible whatever it is that they’re going on about, only to have them climax the story with a determination to not do anything to change it.

We don’t need others’ sympathy. Other people feeling sorry for us doesn’t help us to change our situations, it only keeps us locked in them, feeding off that false sense of love. Someone feeling sorry for us isn’t love, it’s pity, and it doesn’t help our self-esteem--it makes it worse. Whining and complaining in order to get others’ sympathy is manipulation. And that is not the way.

What helps our self-esteem is taking action to change what we can. What helps us feel better is the empathy of someone who has been where we are. We change what we can; we let go of the rest. No one can pull us out of the pity-party hole. But we can choose to pull ourselves out.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

"Dreams And Eskimos"

I don't talk very often about my drug of choice. For the record, it was (is?) marijuana. I'm not sure if I heard it said in a meeting or by someone in the medical profession, but one of the things about potheads is that we all have big dreams. I think I was ten years old when I first decided it was my purpose in life to change the world. And the way my sick and twisted mind worked, if I didn't change the world, well then I was a total failure as a human being. Yeah. Yeah, that's some serious egotism there.

I'm not sure if I can even really put the twisted mindset I carried around into words any better than the description above, so I guess that will have to do. But I carried this two-headed beast of an idea for a long time. Over the years, it took different shapes, some positive, others not so much. As a young teenager, I thought it was my mission to go into the ministry. As my love of music grew, so did my dreams of becomming a rock star.

There's nothing wrong with dreams, having goals, ambitions. There's nothing wrong with wanting to change the world for the better, either. For me, this desire didn't come out of a genuine place of altruism or goodwill. I felt worthless, like someone who just took up space in the world, consuming valuable air; I had to make some huge momentous change in the world just to justify my existence. It was about as far from right-sized as you can get.

Through working the program of Recovery, I've learned a few things. Not the least of which, of course, is that it is possible to live life without being loaded all the time. But more than that, is that I don't have to save the world, that I in fact don't have to do anything, say anything, or be anyone other than who I am as I am in order to be loved.

I've gained a different perspective, too, on the whole changing-the-world thing. As I've moved through my life, I know I have touched others. I remember being a teenager and knowing a girl who got pregnant. Years later, she would tell me how much she appreciated my compassion, understanding, and absence of judgment. One of my close, long-time friends has mentioned many times how I was one of very few people who didn't treat her as 'different' when we were kids because she was black and poor. Being in the rooms of Recovery is no less than a blessing as I get to watch and help others people come in, sit down, and begin changing their lives for the better. So maybe I'm not changing the world, just helping to change the worlds of those whose lives I get to share in.

I was at a meeting last night and someone told the story of the Eskimo. It's a common enough story in 12-step rooms, and one I've retold in this space before. I've had many eskimos in my life; I get to be the eskimo in others' lives. And that's a very good feeling, very powerful.

Whatever you call your higher power, when we follow it, we become aligned with that powerful force and become agents of its will. We start the Recovery process wanting nothing more than to learn how to live without getting loaded. What we get is so much more.

Friday, September 23, 2011

“Gossip Talk”

In the rooms, we talk about a whole lot of very personal stuff. I’ve heard shares ranging from stories of rape and childhood abuse, to events that lead to imprisonment and institutionalization. We talk about these things because we need to talk about them, because others who have gone through the same thing can relate to and understand what it feels like. We talk about them with our sponors and in meetings because those are supposed to be the people it is safe to share these stories with.

Yes, I said ‘supposed to’. Every meeting I’ve ever been to has said quite clearly, “what you hear here, when you leave here, please let it stay here.” But confidentiality isn’t always kept. Almost always, but not always.

Certainly it’s true that we shouldn’t gossip, that doing so is not Recovery-oriented behavior. After all, if we’ve ended up in the rooms of Recovery, we have no standing on which to judge others. We’re about as far from perfect as you can get. Anyone who thinks they have the right to gossip about another member’s life has clearly not taken a good look at their own, has not yet found the humility necessary to walk the spiritual path. But people do gossip. It may be rare, but it happens. So what can we do about it?

We can start with ourselves, being mindful about our own actions. We can choose not to gossip, to protect the anonymity of others in the meeting and lead by example. If someone else wants to gossip with us, we can choose to not participate; we can let them know that we’re not interested and that what they’re doing is hurtful.

We may even find ourselves the subject of gossip. That’s when we have to really work the program. We can’t allow the behavior of others to drag us down or keep us from getting the miracles the program has to offer. When others talk about us, either behind our backs or to our faces, we need to remember to keep our boundaries strong and to keep moving forward with our Recovery.

“Someone else’s opinion of you is none of your business.” We can’t live our lives in fear of what others think about us. We can’t control other people. The moment we allow someone else’s opinion to affect us, we give them power over us. What truly matters most is our honest opinion of our honest selves.

Jealousy is an ugly emotion. What others say about us can hurt, and it’s important that we find trustworthy people to talk to and to lean on when life throws us a curve. Part of the Recovery process is learning to open ourselves up, become willing to be vulnerable. When we do this with trustworthy people, that’s when we discover the amazing healing power that is such an important part of the process.

It takes time to learn who to trust. As time goes by, we may find ourselves revising our opinions about who is trustworthy and who isn’t. And that’s fine. When we first start our Recovery, we may be so used to others betraying our trust that we ourselves don’t trust the people who actually are trustworthy. And that’s fine, too. Because as time goes by, as we keep on going to meetings and keep on working the program, we learn.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

“Doors and Windows”

There’s a saying out there: “When one door closes, another opens.” Some people say it like this: “When God closes a door, somewhere he opens a window.”

Things happen to us in our lives. Sometimes they’re events and circumstances we’ve brought on ourselves, sometimes it’s stuff we had nothing to do with and have no control over. Whether we believe in fate or destiny, or think that all of life is just one big, random clusterfuck, we can look and see both perspectives playing themselves against each other. They intertwine, like a tangled knot. It's the reason some people argue that the last part of the serenity prayer--the wisdom to tell the difference--is the most crucial.

I can look back over the course of my life and see the chain of events that moved me from one place to another. I can see, too, how my own choices, the decisions I’ve made in each moment, have affected the outcome and led to the places I found myself later on.

I’ve written here before about how I don’t like the idea that all of life is predetermined--that there’s no such thing as free will. If that were true, then there’s no responsibility. We aren’t responsible for our successes and we aren’t to blame for our failures. I don’t like it because I disagree with the whole ‘victim’ mentality of it. Yes, some righteously fucked up shit can happen, but we always have a choice in how we respond to it. We always have the choice of what our attitude is going to be as we go through life. And the choices we make are what shows our character. It is in the how we respond to what life deals us, how we play our hand, that truly speaks to the kind of people we are.

Most of us can look back over the course of our lives and see definite stages of it. Sometimes we can even draw lines or point to specific events, transition points that led from one phase to the next. A powerful enough event can change the entire course of our lives. For some, the moment we entered Recovery is one of those pivot points, just as much as the moment we first picked up. Early childhood trauma can be a point. So can any unexpected great success.

We can look at these transitions like walking through doorways. Sometimes after we’ve passed through a doorway, we find it has been locked behind us. When I was twenty years old, I went through a very intense, tumultuous six months. During that time, I had my second suicide attempt, was arrested on a false felony charge, and did time in a mental hospital. Going through those events changed my life in a profound and permanent way; there was no going back to who I was.

There are moments like these throughout our lives, but change is normal. Change is always happening. Sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. And no matter what the forces are at play, we retain the choice of how we handle ourselves as we go through them. We can give in to fear and doubt. We can become panicked and distraught. We can be egotistical and angry. We can be calm, centered, and accepting.

Change can be scary, but in the end all it is, really, is just a door--and you go through it.

Friday, September 16, 2011

"Building Self-Esteem"

After a long week in white long-sleeved shirts, it feels so good to throw on a blue t-shirt and swim around in my baggy-ass, tattered jeans. I sit on the patio of my favorite coffee shop, waiting for my iced decaf. I've got about an hour before my homegroup starts, and I've been waiting for a chance to write for days. I'm fighting off a summer cold as well, so that combined with the exhaustion from an even more stressful week than normal well, we'll see how the brain does with the blog.

I've had self-esteem on my mind lately. It's one of the medicines my totem animal brings, specifically self-confidence. With what's been happening in my life lately with the job, the opportunities that are presenting themselves, I've needed that help. But I'm also seeing and hearing the subject discussed around me a lot lately.

When I was taking my psychology classes, I remember having multiple discussions about self-esteem. We'd talk about the movement in primary school education to avoid anything that might damage a child's self-esteem. We talked about it as a tact in child-rearing, how parents will tell their kids they're wonderful, beautiful and smart, attempting to build their children's self-esteem and how the only thing children actually learn from this is that their parents are liars. Or clueless. Or both. I remember an old joke from a tv show where the nerdiest loser kid in school is humilated and walks off in tears, wailing, "but my mom says I'm cool!" Oh no wait a minute, that was me.

No amount of telling someone how great they are can truly make them believe it. Belief in one's self comes only from experience. You may have heard it in the rooms: to build self-esteem, do esteemable things. It's only one of the many things we in the rooms of Recovery have in common; low self-esteem is a huge problem for so many of us. But, like our other issues, it can be addressed. It can get better. We have to do our part, do the footwork, and let our higher power take care of the rest. Like the rest of Recovery, improving our self-esteem and our self-confidence is a process--sometimes a painfully slow one--but if we set ourselves a good course and keep on keepin' on, we will make progress. It is the way of things.

How do we do this? How do we improve ourselves in this area? It's different for each person, but some of the common threads are already known to us if we've been in Recovery for a while. Just as getting away from people who are still getting loaded helps us to stay clean and sober, getting ourselves away from negative influences--people who tear us down--helps us to change. Besides, if you're anything like this addict/alcoholic, then you don't need anyone else to tear you down; I can tear myself down better than anyone else ever could!

We can't control other people. We can't make them change. We can only change ourselves. Giving ourselves permission to get rid of the bad influences in our lives is an important step to building up our sense of self-worth. By doing so, we're taking action to show ourselves we deserve better, that we deserve more. Even if we don't quite believe it at first, we're moving in the direction towards being good to ourselves.

Something else we can do is set achievable goals for ourselves, and then achieve them. We learn this the moment we walk into our first meeting when we learn to stay clean or sober one day at a time. It's a mangeable goal, something achievable. I applied this principle when I started exercising. Even though I had never been physically active in my life, I am now running multiple times a week. I didn't start out by running a marathon, I started out by running a few blocks and slowly built up over time.

Another thing that's really crucial is our own attitude. Again, that's something we do have control over. Beating ourselves up is a bad habit and not something that changes overnight. But it is a behavior we can unlearn. We can intentionally look for the good things in ourselves. When I take my sponsees through the steps, I have them write a up a character assets list as part of the fourth step. Then, later on when they feel low (as we all inevitably do from time to time) I remind them of it, have them pull it out and read it to themselves. I have lists of my character assets, too, and reading those truths about myself, written in the black and white of my own handwriting, is every bit as powerful as the other parts of the 4th Step inventory are.

We say pain is the price of admission, that pain is the motivating factor which brings us the willingness to change. It's as true regarding our low self-esteem as with anything else. At some point, we decide that we can't endure feeling that way anymore, and we find the willingness to do the work necessary to make real, permanent changes in our lives.

Things can be different. There is a solution. Become willing, do the work, and reap the rewards of it.

Friday, September 9, 2011

"Three For Friday"

Here's a complaint I hear a lot in the rooms: one of the hardest parts about living by spiritual principles is that most other people don't.

How true. And perhaps even truer is that THAT's the point.

I could go on for paragraphs and pages about how hard it is to be honest in a world where most people don't tell the truth, how being a spiritual seeker in a materialistic culture irritates those who aren't, or how easily the peace and serenity of good Recovery can be mistaken for egotism. But really, my fellows, that really is exactly the point. Recovery begins with the desire to quit, and then becomes so much more. It's simple, not easy, but the more we follow the spiritual path, the easier it becomes. The deeper we explore our own spirituality and our own relationship with that force greater than ourselves, the more we continue Becoming who we are as we were created to be.

* * *

I had a memory pop up today, one from my childhood. Each summer, I went to a week-long church camp. There are plenty of pictures of me from those camps, and in every one of them I'm a smiling, laughing face. Happy Zach, that's how it would appear to anyone looking at those pictures, and no doubt that's how I seemed to those around me. The truth is a little more complicated. I can remember those camps, the friends I made and the good times I had. I remember especially learning to connect with the spiritual there, in the forest, underneath the stars. But such a large part of my joy was in having escaped from my life outside those woods. And even there at camp, I was still picked on, bullied, taunted.

One year, I must have been about 8-10 years old, I was one in a group of half a dozen who were following one of the cool kids around, waiting to be entertained, trying to figure out how to belong and be a part of. At one point the cool kid stopped, picked up a rock, and pointed to a wide tree 30 feet away. He was going to show us his 'powers'. He told me to imagine myself standing in front of the tree, and that he would imagine it too. We both focused intently. Then he wound up his arm and flung the rock at the tree, striking it square where I was 'standing'. On cue, I let out a yelp of "OW!" But. Instead of being impressed with the cool kid's amazing powers, laughter ensued, all directed at me. It had all been an example of how gullible the young Zach was, what a fool he was to be say or do anything to belong.

Afterward, the cool kid took me aside, tried to make sure I understood the point of the 'lesson'. He talked to me about how I didn't really feel any pain, that it was all inside my mind. I listened, mute, struggling with every fiber of my young self no to cry anymore at the humiliation I'd endured. I certainly didn't say anything to him about how I'd only said, 'ow' because it was what I thought I was supposed to do, what I thought I was expected to say. But that's why I had done it, not because I actually felt any pain.

No, there's no real point to this story, and I don't repeat it here to whine, just to share. Just because it came to my mind today and it was something I hadn't thought about in a long time. It would take me another 25 years before I began learning that people don't respect you for being who you think they want you to be, only for who you are. Stories like this one, though, are what I remember most from my childhood. And this is how I remember them, too: always trying to be a part of, always trying to belong, and never succeeding beyond being the kid who got laughed at or picked on.

* * *

I had a spiritual revelation this week. The other night, I took myself over to the river to do some journaling. I haven't been to the river in a while, and it's been even longer since I put pen to paper to let out my innermost thoughts. Both place and action are sacred to me.

As I wrote, pondering my place and jotting down truths of my being, I had an amazing experience. My totem animal appeared and chose me. To those of you who aren't familiar with Native American spiritual beliefs, this might not be very impressive. If that's the case, I encourage you to broaden your knowledge a little. For purposes of this blog, it's enough for me to say it was a powerful spiritual experience to me. Two days later, the animal appeared to me again and I knew that my original feelings about the power and importance of the first visit had not been mistaken. It was almost as if my higher power was reassuring me, saying, "yes, that was real. Don't forget."

I've been doing some research on the significance of the animal, both as a totem and as a spirit guide, though it has yet to appear to me in a dream. I'll be on the lookout for a small sculpture of it to add to my altar at home, and it wouldn't surprise me if one day soon I find a charm version of it on a leather necklace available for purchase.

Still clean and sober over here...

Sunday, September 4, 2011

“Saturday Night”

I live in a part of town that has lots of 20- and 30-somethings. Not a lot of kids, some couples. Mostly it's just a bunch of people who are young and not interested in living out in suburbia. I won't say drug use and alcohol abuse is rampant--I've lived in places where that was true--but going out and drinking, that's pretty normal behavior where I'm at. Hell, getting fucked up is pretty normal behavior for most people--Shh! Don't tell the deniers who live in the suburbs!

Last night I was doing my laundry and watched a group of people from a neighboring apartment head out for the local bar. One of the gals said hi to me and commented on how I was doing laundry, saying something slightly sarcastic, but also slightly sympathetic. My response? Well, what do you want? Laundry needs to get done, the machines are usually free Saturday night, and hey, when you don't drink, going out on a Saturday loses a lot of its glamour.

When my laundry was done, I went out for a run. After I got back, I sat out in front of my apartment to recuperate. Another crowd walked by, also on their way out to have a good time. Suddenly I was struck by a heavy wave of loneliness and a strong wishing for a group of friends to go get smashed with.

I remember something I've heard shared time and time again in the rooms, something I've said myself during my own shares and chairs. We talk about wanting to be 'a part of'. We feel lonely, alone, outcast, so we get fucked up and suddenly have a whole group that we fit in with, a crowd we belong to. For me, there was some of that when I was out there, but not a lot. It seemed like a lot to me because it was more than I'd ever had.

Most of my life has been pretty lonely, and I've written about that in this space before. Having the fellowship is helpful, and I feel very grateful for the friendships I have found in the program. For the most part, they're honest relationships with people where I've been able to trust the bond to be what it seems to be. Whether it's a deep friendship or a casual acquaintance I know not to take too seriously, I know where things stand between us. That's more than I can say for most people outside the rooms.

Some people get into the Recovery journey and fall right into the middle of huge groups of friends. They learn how it feels to actually be a part of, be honestly accepted, and they learn true acceptance of themselves. Some people, like myself, get only some relief and discover what so many others who have gone before us have learned--that sobriety can be a very lonely path to walk. A friend of mine from the fellowship and I talked about this over dinner just yesterday evening. Maybe that's why the subject was on my mind.

There have been plenty of people not in sobriety who have commented on the loneliness of life; it's not a new phenomenon. I don't have any answers for those who feel this feeling strongly, as I do. At least nothing more than the usual: this too shall pass; don't act out of fear of always being alone; keep working on yourself, keep working to improve your ability to be good to and love yourself.

One time, after going through a really hard period of loneliness, I had a friend suggest I reward myself for staying clean & sober through it. My solution was to go rescue a cat from the pound. I've had her a year and a half now, and having her definitely helps my home to not feel like such a lonely one.

Speaking of the Sheena, I should mention that, while I was writing this blog, laying on the couch typing it on my smartphone, she came and snuggled up with me. Maybe she sensed my loneliness. Maybe she wanted company herself. Maybe she just wanted to be petted and I was handy.

Whatever works.

Saturday, September 3, 2011

“Choosing To Be The Best Of Ourselves”

Not too long ago, a friend of mine from the fellowship commented saying he saw me as a type-A personality. My instinctual reaction (re: the Disease) was to insist I wasn’t and respond with a bunch of false modesty and bullshit. Instead, I sort of nodded my head, acknowledging what was minimally a compliment.

Before I started my Recovery, back when I was still married to my now ex-wife, I remember an argument she and I had. I don’t remember all the details, but I do remember insisting to her I was never going to be one of those type-A personalities, never going to be one of those guys who worked out all the time, or who was a leader.

One time, back when I was seeing a therapist at the beginning of my Recovery, I insisted to him that I wasn’t a type-A personality. I think I might have even said something about how I hate guys like that, that I could never be one, etc. I don’t remember his words, but looking back I recall his reaction. I’d even go so far as to say he was amused, able to see my potential at a time in my life when I still didn’t have the faintest idea what I was capable of or who I could one day be.

This is the part, here, where I mention that I’m currently serving a second term as the local MA District’s Chairperson. So much for not being a leader. Oh and tonight I went for a three mile walk because, you know, no other reason than I just happened to feel like it. So much for not being someone who enjoys exercise. And by the way, my boss called me ‘svelte’ the other day. As in, having a trim physique.

It’s pretty miraculous what happens when we start caring about ourselves enough to actually start taking care of and being good to ourselves. As for being a type-A.... in the strictest sense I am not. I do possess some of those qualities, character traits such as drive, determination, leadership, etc., but if you were to test me, I’d come up as a type-B. Maybe all the pot I smoked has left me permanently mellowed. Or maybe Recovery brings about an inner peace that helps keep the blood pressure low. And hey, either way it’s good, since heart disease runs in my family. Something I will agree with is that I have a lot of strength of character, that I am not easily swayed from my spiritual course, and have come out ahead in some serious ‘top dog’ struggles.

I mention all this as a way to illustrate how who I am today is not anyone I ever expected to be. And that I’m as surprised as anyone at the difference.

Recovery does this to people, changes us, allows us to discover who we really are. To a certain extent, we even get to decide who we are. It’s the power of having the freedom to choose. If we’re loaded all the time, we don’t have a choice; the Disease chooses who we are for us. Even if we’re clean and sober, if we’re not working a program of Recovery, the Disease will still make our choices for us.

The program gives us a choice. It gives us a way to clean up the wreckage of our past and a way of living going forward so that we don’t create more. We learn how to take action instead of merely reacting to the world around us. We get to actually live a life free from the paralyzing chains of fear. No longer are we wrapped up in the what-ifs and maybes. If we chose to, we can even learn to have strong boundaries, take responsibility for ourselves and allow other people to be responsible for themselves. It’s about becoming who we really are, as we were created to be, free from the chaos and insanity of the Disease.

In the grips of the Disease, we are the worst of ourselves. With Recovery, we can choose instead to be the best.