Thoughts On The Disease

“Perfection”

2011-12-06T21:13:00.001-08:00

Sometimes I wonder if the most bitter pill in life to swallow is a deep disappointment. It’s like that moment when you realize your dad isn’t a superhero. Or when someone you thought was a genius makes a truly moronic comment. It seems so strange; we walk through molestation, poverty, death, and more. Yet there’s nothing quite like that feeling when you realize someone or something isn’t perfect--and that someone can be ourselves.

When that moment happens, there’s an innocence that dies. A hope gets dashed. Where we once held a belief in something as ironclad, we now see it in a colder, more realistic light. Our disenchantment can be mild, or it can be bitter as bile.

A lot of addicts I know (myself included) hold ourselves to impossible standards. We expect ourselves to be perfect. We expect others to be perfect, too. We expect situations, even life itself, to be perfect. And when it isn’t, oh are we ever bitter about it. In the rooms of Recovery, we say this: expectations are pre-meditated resentments.

I was thinking today about a situation I was involved in. A member at my home group was having some behavior problems (not unfamiliar for 12-step rooms). This member regularly talked far longer than the allotted time and had a very bad habit of interrupting other members during their shares. The member was talked to outside of meetings, asked multiple times to shape up and show respect to others in the meeting. The behavior didn’t improve, and the member ended up leaving the group after being told that their bullshit would no longer be tolerated.

Now, certainly anyone who’s been in 12-step rooms for any length of time knows that we can’t expect them to be perfect sanctuaries of peace and tranquility; they aren’t. They won’t ever be. Learning that they aren’t, seeing our fellows, our sponsor ‘fall from grace’ is difficult to walk through and a rough patch on the path to long-term Recovery.

But I wonder, too, about that member who walked out. They weren’t told to leave, but I wonder if there wasn’t an expectation there that the room was supposed to be perfect for them, the perfect place where they could say whatever they wanted and just talk and talk and talk. The fact that it was an unreasonable expectation doesn’t really matter. I imagine the bitterness that member felt had a very bad taste. Having reality intrude, get in our face, it seems to do it in the rudest way sometimes.

I try to remember that I’m not perfect. One of the best gifts Recovery has given me is the knowledge that not only do I not have to be perfect, but that I couldn’t be if I tried. Perfection isn’t possible. We are human. We are flawed. We make mistakes. It happens. In my better moments, I even find a way to laugh at myself and take joy in merely being human. In my worse moments, I am my own worst critic.

There is no such thing as perfect. Beating up on ourselves for not being perfect is a waste of time. Or worse, a form of denial because if we’re blaming ourselves for not being perfect, then we’ve forgotten a basic truth of our existence--that we are human. The same could be said of blaming life, situations, or circumstances for not being perfect. They aren’t; they won’t ever be. And that’s okay!

And of course, if it’s unjust to blame ourselves for not being perfect, it is truly unjust for us to blame others for not being perfect themselves.

“Thanks”

2011-11-24T09:52:00.001-08:00

Uh-oh. The last time I blogged was on Veteran’s day. Today is Thanksgiving. I’m in serious danger of becoming the holiday blogger! I wonder if that’s anything like being an Easter/Christmas catholic?

It is thanksgiving day here, a day for being with family, feasting, being grateful, and praising god for a holiday that isn’t full of buying shiny plastic shit for people who don’t need it because otherwise they’ll think you don’t love them. For the first time in a couple of weeks, I had time and desire to hit up my favorite coffee shop. But, alas, on my way there, the streets were covered with roadblocks, police cars with red and blue lights piercing the wet air, and runners. Lots of runners. Gotta admire them for getting out there in the rain, though. I ended up at another local coffee shop and am now enjoying the quiet room. It feels good to write.

Last night I was over at my folks’ house to prep Thanksgiving dinner for this afternoon. They’re both injured right now and not getting any younger. My sister had the brilliant idea for the two of us to take care of dinner this year. Our family actually does Lasagna for dinner instead of the traditional turkey. So I spent last evening putting that together under mom’s direction, a desert, and then we made a couple pumpkin pies. We actually had a good time. It’s a far cry from the days when I wasn’t communicating with my family at all.

It’d be pretty obvious to say here on my Recovery blog that today I’m grateful for my Recovery, but there’s no denying the truth of that statement. Everything about my life today, I owe to the success I’ve had in working the program. There’s the things that are easily seen, like my job, my relationship with my family, the improvements in my personal relationships with others.

But there are other benefits which aren’t visible that are even more amazing to me. Things like the peace of mind I feel, the reservoir of calm that emanates from my very being now, and the confidence I have in myself. It’s things like the ability to not take things personally, not let others’ insanity affect me, to have good boundaries and be secure in myself and the knowledge that I am okay for who I am just as I am. These are the kinds of things most people rarely find, regardless of whether they’re in the program or not.

So this is my thanks for today--thanks for a new life, for being one of the lucky ones who is surviving this deadly disease, and who had the willingness to discover that it really is true: people really can change.

“Freed From Insanity”

2011-11-11T14:14:00.000-08:00

That was the title for one of this week’s “Just For Today”. I saw it pop up in my email and it was almost as if an entire blog entry appeared before my eyes, fully formed in my mind, waiting to be written. And then, of course, several days went by while I did that whole life thing.

Today is a holiday and I’ve got the day off from work. There’s laundry to do, music to be made, and I’m starting it all off at my favorite coffee shop. Now that I’ve turned my attention back to the blog, I find myself thinking, “oh that’s right, I was going to write about THAT! Gosh, I had all kinds of good things to say about that... what was I going to say???” Oh well. This former stoner’s unreliable memory will just have to be accepted as I move forward. Because the topic is a good one, regardless of what I might have been going to say before.

We talk a lot in meetings about the insanity of the Disease. We’ve gone to all kinds of insane lengths to get drunk or to get loaded. We do all kinds of crazy things when we are intoxicated. But there is so much more to the insanity of the Disease than just how we relate to substances. The way we live our very lives is insane. We have poor boundaries at best; our personal lives are the shambles; we do things that affect others without any regard for them. We don’t think of other people; we are all too often incapable of doing so. We are stuck in our own little worlds, thinking that smallness to be the entire universe. And when reality intrudes, reminds us that there is a much larger world out there beyond what our limited perspectives are capable of perceiving, we react wildly. Violently. We don’t like it when the bubble of our denial is pierced.

As I’ve worked the program and found what I’ve found through doing so, I don’t really see myself as being ‘restored’ to sanity. If I were, that would somehow imply that at some point in my life I had been sane. Looking back, even before I first picked up, I can see the insanity of my behavior and my thinking. Now, being where I am, I can still feel those impulses in my brain. From time to time, they still get out, still run my life. Thank god for the tenth step. Because I still have everything in me that I walked into the rooms with.

As we go about our lives, we will encounter countless others who don’t live their lives by the spiritual principles we strive to live by. Sometimes they are active addicts, sometimes severe codependents, sometimes they’re just assholes. Sometimes, they’re none of the above, and simply don’t behave the way we wish they would. An ongoing struggle for me is boundaries. I meet people who are like I was, and I have to continually remind myself that I’m not responsible for them. I’m not responsible for their lives, their problems, I’m only responsible for me.

Some people get confused when I say things like that. They talk about that quote posted in so many rooms: “I am responsible.” And I explain to them as gently as I can how that means when someone asks for help, that’s when I help them. Because trying to help someone who doesn’t want it, who hasn’t shown the willingness to let themselves be helped, that leads straight to my going back to being insane. Because if I do that, then I’m not accepting the things I can’t change. When someone asks for help, that’s the key. It’s why I don’t tell people I’m going to sponsor them; I wait for them to ask me.

Some days it really breaks my heart to see others stuck in the insanity of their lives. So often, they live that way because they think they have to. I want to help them see that they don’t have to, that there is another way. But even those feelings are judgmental, because it’s not up to me to decide what is right or wrong for others. It’s up to them to decide if they want to be free or not. Because some people don’t! Some people would much rather stay with the insanity they know than try living differently. No matter how much they might hate it, they’ll stay stuck because it’s easier, more familiar. All I can really do is remember my boundaries, help them if they want help, and not take on responsibility that isn’t mine. And I can be grateful for my own freedom.

And I am. I am so grateful to have been freed, so grateful to not have to do all that anymore.

“Still Codependent, Too”

2011-11-06T11:00:00.001-08:00

It’s been a while since I ranted & raved about codependence here in this space. A program friend of mine has recently realized that he’s got some work to do in this department so it’s been on my mind lately. He’s already looked at his issues there a little, and I had a good book to loan him. Ha. I have more than a few books on the subject :)

If you’re not familiar with the term and are wondering what the heck this codependence thing is, there are a lot of ways to describe it. Some people call it the Disease without the substance addiction piece. Some people call it being addicted to or dependent on people instead of a substance. I tend to think of it as the ways of thinking, communicating, and behaving that we learn by being around people with the Disease (or people who are codependent themselves).

A lot of us with the Disease have codependence issues, and many of us end up going to the rooms of Al-Anon or ACA (Adult Children of Alcoholics) to sort them out. If doing the 12-steps for our addiction is college, then working on our codependence is like graduate study. A lot people suggest not working on codependence until we’ve completed our steps. And yeah, there’s a point to be made there, but it isn’t that we have to wait to work on this--it’s to finish your steps!

In my mind, the definitive book on the subject is still Melody Beattie’s “Codependent No More”--especially if you haven’t done any step work or have never been to a 12-step room. For those of us who have finished our steps (or are working on them), it’s still a great book. A short sample:

“Communication is not mystical. The words we speak reflect who we are: what we think, judge, feel, value, honor, love, hate, fear, desire, hope for, believe in, and commit to. If we think we’re inappropriate to life our communication will reflect this: We will judge others as having all the answers; feel angry, hurt, scared, guilty, needy, and controlled by other people. We will desire to control others, value pleasing others at any cost, and fear disapproval and abandonment. We will hope for everything but believe we deserve and will get nothing unless we force things to happen, and remain committed to being responsible for other people’s feelings and behavior. We’re congested with negative feelings and thoughts.

“No wonder we have communication problems.”

--from Chapter 17, ‘Communication’

I first read ‘Co- No More’ when I was at the very beginning of my Recovery journey. In fact, it’s no stretch to say that this book WAS the start of my Recovery journey. It was as I got into it, attempted to start putting the ideas in Beattie’s book into practice that I discovered I was putting the cart before the horse; I had to deal with my addiction first before I could address these issues.

A number of people who have the Disease in their life (friends who are addicts, parents who are alcoholics, etc.) have found a lot of help from this book. Many of them find their way into the rooms of Al-Anon so that they can get help putting these ideas into practice. As it is with those of us who learn how to deal with life without getting loaded, people who suffer from codependence need to learn a whole other way of dealing with life, themselves, with others.

The ways we learn to be in the world don’t happen by accident. We adapt to our situations. If we’ve learned to function in a codependent way, it’s because it is what we had to learn to do in order to survive. Making the change, learning to do something different, is difficult, difficult stuff. A lot of times, we can’t find the willingness to follow through on it unless we’ve reached some kind of bottom and admitted to ourselves that we can’t do it the same old way anymore.

We can learn a different way. Like our Disease, codependence is something we must continue to work on, but change is possible. If we want it. If we work for it.

“The Joy Of Living”

2011-11-03T20:35:00.000-07:00

We’ve had a few windy days here and I’ve been seeing something I’ve seen before that never ceases to amaze me: the way the wind whips across grass in waves. It’s an impressive sight, those ripples. So fluid, so natural, and yet so unnatural at the same time. Those tiny green blades, acting in concert as if they were an ocean surface. I have one of those ‘appreciate the little things’ moments every time I see it.

As crazy as life can get, with its ups and downs, its occasional total upheavals, and the random period of uninterrupted peace, I’ve found the old wisdom about the little things being the most important to be so true. Nature is a big one for me. I’ve always been a fan, and when I got clean & sober, I didn’t know if I would still enjoy it as much. Then I saw a sunset behind the mountains for the first time, stone cold sober, and was amazed at how its beauty was every bit as intense and wondrous.

There are some more mundane little things that are really enjoyable for me, too. Like paying my bills on time, not having to stress about creditors and collectors hounding me over the phone. For some bizarre reason, I really like cleaning my apartment, too. I’m not a neat freak, I just like having a clean place to come home to. As an introverted guy, my home is where I tend to recharge at, my retreat and safe haven from the world. Not that others aren’t welcome in it, of course! Simply that most of the time it’s just me there and my mind is more at peace with an orderly home.

The thing the cleaning, the bills, is they’re the normal humdrum stuff of day-to-day living. And I remember all too well a time when I didn’t do any of this. I remember, too, how hard I had to fight, the boundaries I had to establish, in order to learn how to take care of myself and have others in my life stop treating me as a near-invalid who had to have everything taken care of for him.

Sure, it’s true that as an active drug addict I wasn’t very capable at caring for myself. And even that affliction aside, my life skills were sub-par to none. So these days I carry a lot of private pride at being someone who takes care of his responsibilities, who takes care of himself. A small part of that is thoughts about those from my past who never thought I could, but mostly it’s the satisfaction of showing myself that I can.

That’s a big part of my joy in Recovery--being responsible, being a functioning member of society. For so long, my daily life was nothing more than a miserable existence. Now, instead of merely existing, I’m truly living.

“Drunk Talk”

2011-10-27T23:24:00.001-07:00

When I was seeing my last therapist (you know, the one that was actually so helpful that I haven’t had to go back to therapy since seeing him?), he and I would talk a lot about the ‘language of alcohol’. There are lots of different aspects to it: the use of ‘you’ when what someone really means is ‘I’, talking around subjects instead of directly about them, lying--especially by omission, and many others.

My therapist and I would talk about this alcoholic-speak as my first language--my native tongue, if you will. And it doesn’t have to be called alcoholic speak. A better descriptor of it might be the language of the Disease; alcoholics use it, addicts use it, codependents, etc. By any name, it was the way I learned to talk growing up. Sorting through this way of communicating helped me to get a handle on how the Disease shaped me in my early years.

It helped me, too, to understand what exactly it was that drove me so crazy as a child and as a teenager. To this day, I still hate being lied to--especially by omission. I’m a big believer that a lie of omission is far worse than an outright falsehood. But there are other things about this language: it’s a dishonest way of communicating, certainly; disrespectful? Absolutely; and in general, when someone communicates with others in this style, they in effect treat others as less-than. At least, that’s how it feels to me. It’s a recipe for failure because a lot of this communication is dependent on the other person figuring out what is actually meant instead of taking what is said at face value. If you can’t figure out what the person meant, well then that’s your fault; in their mind, they expressed themselves very clearly. But no human being is a mind reader.

Anyway, I have done a lot of work to learn a different way of communicating, but I still find myself in situations where people do talk this way. Like anyone who grew up speaking a ‘different’ language, I fall back into it easily, like putting on an old, comfortable leather coat. And it’s only after I’ve been wearing it a little while that I remember, “wait a minute--I hate this jacket!”

It gets my anger up. I can’t even say for sure what makes me angrier. Is it because I allowed myself to fall back into old patterns? Or is it that old feeling of being a failure for not being able to read someone’s mind? Or the failure at not being perfect? Or just general anger at the unreasonable expectations that this way of communicating is based on?

And yet... people communicate this way all the time. So it’s fair to say that this is a challenging area for me. Even if it’s something most other people handle without a second thought, it’s difficult for me. And that’s okay. Even amongst those of us with the Disease, we each have our specific challenges.

Call it whatever you like; it’s a communication style that I’ve worked very hard to change in myself, and it’s something I work with my sponsees on, too. The language we use shapes our thoughts. Changing the way we speak helps to change the way we think.

“Self-Harm”

2011-10-26T20:31:00.000-07:00

A little “what it’s like now” before I get to the “what it used to be like”: It’s a full life these days. I got hired permanently at my new job, which is a blessing and a curse. On my second official day, my coworker went out on maternity leave (which is in itself a very long story). One of my good friends went into a voluntary psychiatric hospitalization. And I even have a special someone in my life now. The job stuff, well I knew even before I accepted the position how utterly insane my work environment is so what’s happened there, while extremely stressful for me, is more or less par for the course. My friend made it through his time in the psych ward and it seems to have been good for him, but I’m still keeping my fingers crossed, regardless. And the special someone, while a wonderful addition to my life, is a subject I have a very strong policy about not blogging about for many reasons, not the least of which is respect for her privacy. So that’s the update on ol’ Z ;-)

* * *

I was doing some thinking recently about our stories, how we tell our stories at meetings, how the learning to talk about ourselves and see the patterns of our lives is such an important part of the Recovery process. I’ve got a version of my story here in the blog--called ‘My Story’ for some unimaginative reason--that I wrote a while back. I re-read it recently and was surprised. I’d thought it wasn’t very good, but it was. It rambles a little, and it’s a bit talky, but it was truthful and it covered the important stuff. One thing it didn’t mention, though, was my history of self-harm. If I ever do a revised version, I’ll have to be sure to include those details.

It was washing my hands earlier today that jogged my memory about all this. I did a little cutting, but mostly I was a burner--self-inflicted cigarette burns. There’s a scar on the back of my left hand that is all but invisible now, but I know it’s there and I can still see it. There’s one on my upper left arm, too. The rest are all on my legs.

I’ve forgotten how many there are, and some have faded over the years, but they’re all there on the insides, stretching from my ankles up to my knees. I suppose I could rub glycerin on them for a few months, but I’ve never really wanted to get rid of them. These days, they’re an important reminder of just hard it was for me, how deeply in pain I was at that time of my life, before I learned to dull that pain with substances.

I can still remember it, though. An intense, crushing pain. Sort of like having my mind squeezed by an overflowing of raw, negative emotion. I’ve heard people describe their experience with self-harm as a way to overcome numbness, a way to feel something. It wasn’t like that for me; for me it was about giving myself something else to focus on, and to give myself a reason for why I felt how I did. And there was a weird power thing to it. Like, I felt so powerless in my life, so weak and unmanly. Holding a cigarette to my skin and counting the seconds--sometimes minutes--was a way I had found to feel powerful, to feel strong, like I had some minor semblance of control. Maybe the extent of that control was nothing more than hurting myself but still. It was a desperate attempt to find something to hold on to.

Just as an aside, my suicide attempts were like that, too: a desperate attempt at control and escape from a painful, painful existence.

There was a news story not too long ago. It was an interview with an author who’d just published a book about self-harm. She talked about how the act is becoming more “mainstream”. Not that more people are doing it, but more people are talking about doing it, finding each other and being more accepting of the act. It’s not the hush-hush thing it used to be; less and less are people being thought of as sick or seriously mentally ill if they commit self-harm. Personally, I’m not sure that’s the greatest thing; I was seriously in need of real help when I burned. Most people I’ve known who self-harm do it because of deep, unresolved issues. I didn’t burn myself for sympathy (and most people I’ve encountered who cut or burn hide their scars) and if anyone had managed to see my scars or find out I was a self harmer and they gave me a ‘poor baby’ routine, I would have responded very viciously. The last thing I needed was for someone to see that very wounded part and feel sorry for me.

In fact, that reminds me of something I shared once, about why the rooms of Recovery were such a place of healing for me. It was because no one said, “poor baby” to me. No one offered my sympathy, just honest understanding. I didn’t (and still don’t) need to be coddled; I just need to be listened to. I need to speak my truths and just let them be spoken.

I’d stopped hurting myself years before I got into Recovery, but it wasn’t until years after I’d started that I finally felt okay with that part of my past. I remember the first time I wore shorts to a summer BBQ event. One of my close friends who knew why I never had before told me she was proud of me. And wouldn’t you know it, no one even noticed the scars, or at least certainly never said anything to me about them. Such a far cry from those years ago when people would ask me very pointedly why I did that to myself. I would try to answer them, but no matter what explanation I gave, they never really understood.

So much of Recovery is like that. The people we meet in the rooms understand us in ways no one else ever will--because they’ve been where we’ve been; they’ve felt how we feel.

These days, the scars on my legs are a reminder of where I’ve been. And they’re the physical proof, too, when I meet someone else who self-harms, they can know without a doubt that I understand.

"Centering"

2011-10-18T22:05:00.001-07:00

Okay, I'm going to break a guy-rule here and admit the following: I can get really emotional watching movies. I'm not talking about crying, I mean all emotions. A good film just taps into me and the feelings start flowing out. I was watching one tonight and paused it--right at really good part, too--because I felt some anger that I needed to take the time to process. I went out for a run, and now I'm at my favorite coffee shop. And wouldn't you know it, there are two friends of Bill here, discussing where the best women's step study meetings are.

We are everywhere.

The anger stuff isn't really about me; it's boundary processing, continuing to learn and practice the principles. Other people's stuff is not mine to deal with. And, ironically enough, the friends of Bill are talking about stuff that's 'outside their hula hoop'. Love it. Their conversation has nothing to do with me, and yet it's exactly what I'm thinking about. This Recovery thing is so amazing.

Tonight when I got home, I did some laundry. My toilet sprang a leak and I used half my towels cleaning the water up. I'd planned to work on some music, but that's not how things worked out. And as it turned out, though, I did get done what I needed to--the bathroom's clean and I got to be here on the patio listening to Recovery happen. And to top it all off, the gal who works the counter here at the coffee shop is involved in our local version of the 'Occupy' movements sweeping the world right now, so I got to chat with her about how those are going. She wants me to come out and join them. We'll see.

Life is so full of such amazing things. Moment to moment, things can and do change. And we get to choose how we deal with all of it. We can be awake for it, taking joy in all that goes on around us, or we can be sucked in to the chaos and insanity. We can ride all the ups and downs, letting ourselves get spun out until we've forgotten what it's like to not be swept away, or we can remain centered and watch it all happen.

We can fall all over ourselves, trying to control, trying to rescue, refusing to accept the things we can't change; or we can choose serenity instead. The choice is ours and no one else can make it for us.

“Four Corners”

2011-10-15T12:49:00.000-07:00

I had a dream the other night. The details are a bit fuzzy now, but each place I went to in this dream was empty. It was like at the end of a party where most of the people have left. There were a few stragglers, but even they were on their way out. The overall meaning I took from the dream was that it was about endings, and that I was the last one to be aware of things being over. You could say I was late to the party on that :)

As an addict in Recovery, the larger meaning strikes me as being about letting go of my old life. That part of my life is over. It could resume at any moment, of course, and that’s why I keep working the program--to do what I can to ensure it doesn’t. But after more than three years living clean and sober... On the one hand, it could be my subconscious working through the last bits of acceptance of living a new life. But with how I was in the dream, being surprised at the emptiness of these places, realizing I had come late, that everyone else had left, I wonder if instead it isn’t my brain telling me I still have some more letting go to do of the old me.

* * *

I’ve had some major changes in my life recently. They’ve got me thinking about something I heard shared once. I was at an NA book study and a woman with over a dozen years living clean and sober talked about how, even after all this time, she still had to struggle. She talked about wishing for something that would probably never come--the feeling that she had ‘made it’. As if one day, all her hard work would pay off and she would sit back with a contented sigh.

I’m remembering that because I’ve got a bit of that ‘made it’ feeling going on right now. My hard work in a number of different areas of my life is paying off. I’m grateful for the changes, amazed and surprised by the good things that are happening. And dealing, too, with all the fear and worry and obsession one would expect from a sufferer of the Disease.

Being so used to bad things happening, sometimes the most difficult thing for folks like us to accept is when things are going well. I’m reminding myself that God doesn’t give me anything I can’t handle. I learned that lesson by going through a tough trial in my life--the suicide of a sponsee. It would seem that it applies to good times as well as bad.

* * *

This month is something of a morbid anniversary for me. Fifteen years ago, I went through some of the most tumultuous, difficult events of my life. My second suicide attempt, my being in the mental hospital, and my being arrested all happened fifteen years ago this month. I’ve done the work to move through and get past all of these events, but there can’t be any denying the power and importance of how what happened shaped and changed my life.

Call it bizarre, but I’m much more at peace with the suicide attempt and the hospitalization than I am with the arrest. Even though I’ve never had any difficulty finding a job, I still do the tiniest bit of panicking every time I go through a background check. Fears aren’t always rational.

The scars of severe depression are something that have proven to be something very helpful to others I meet. Talking about being a suicide survivor, showing them the old burn marks up and down my legs, it helps them to know the darkness they’re suffering from doesn’t have to last forever, that there is a way out.

* * *

Maybe there is old stuff, old ideas about myself and who I am, that I’m still hanging on to that I need to let go of. And, as always, the fear that I feel is that of the unknown. If I let go of the idea that I’m not worthy of love, then I have to embrace the idea that I am worthy of it. If I let go of my false modesty when it comes to being a capable, functioning member of society, then that means I have to rise up to my full potential and follow through at my true level of capabilities. If I accept that it is possible for me to have a healthy, satisfying romantic relationship, then that means I have to give up not just unhealthy relationships, but being alone as well. And being alone is something for me that is pretty damn difficult to give up, not because I like it, but because it is so familiar.

Or maybe, just maybe, these are all things that I have learned, things that I already know, and what the dream is calling my attention to is that I’m forgetting them. Like, a one step forward, a two-steps back thing. It could even be my higher power reaching inside to encourage me not to fall back, not to give up and to continue to embrace the fact that good things just keep on happening in my life.

As I continue walking the path, the scenery is changing.

“Reason and Purpose”

2011-10-08T14:04:00.000-07:00

For some reason, I’ve got scenes and quotes from the movie ‘The Matrix: Reloaded’ running through my mind. The bit about purpose--that it drives us, defines us; about the importance of reason, how the ‘why’ is crucial and how without a reason for what we do, we have nothing. I think we’ve all heard it at some point in our lives that “everything happens for a reason”. Maybe; maybe not.

Generally, we can say that in active addiction, when we’re in the grips of the Disease, our lives don’t have much purpose beyond getting and staying loaded. We might accomplish other things, but ultimately the main reason for being is to get and stay fucked up. ‘Lived to use, use to live,’ as they say in NA. Finding Recovery gives us a different purpose, a new reason to live. Again, as a broad stroke generality, we stop living for ourselves and start living for others.

People find their way into the rooms for a lot of different reasons. For some, it’s because they will lose their family, their wife, husband, children, if they don’t clean & sober up. For others, it’s a job or a home they will lose (or have already lost). For some of us like myself, it’s for no other reason than the simple fact that we’ve admitted to ourselves we can’t quit on our own.

“Want to quit but can’t? We can help you with that.”

When we first start working the program, our purpose is pretty basic: get clean; get sober; stay that way. The Third Tradition covers this universal purpose very well: the only requirement for membership is the desire to quit. There’s something important here, a flipside to this tradition that isn’t stated outright--that if you don’t want to quit, if you don’t have the willingness to do something different, there isn’t much we can do for you.

We start with a purpose like that, a purpose that consumes us. We start putting time together and our purpose shifts a little. We see that it is possible to quit, and so we begin focusing more on reasons to stay quit. Just as there are many reasons why we want or need to quit, there are even more for why we want and need to stay quit. As we work steps, we find ourselves restored to sanity and discover--to our profound amazement--that our lives are actually working. We tend to find that living clean and sober, walking the spiritual path, is its own reward.

Sure, there are all kinds of fringe benefits. I hear people talk about saving their marriage, or getting a long-needed divorce. I’ve heard heartwarming stories of people getting their kids back. The homeless and unemployable find jobs and start supporting themselves. People buy cars, buy houses, find new love and rekindle old love. Bonds of friendship form that are stronger than anything thought possible. Deep, meaningful relationships of all kind happen.

But the thing that happens to us which is more meaningful than all of the above, is the peace we feel deep inside. Our lives aren’t empty anymore--because we aren’t empty anymore. Some people call it the ‘God-shaped hole’ that becomes filled with our higher power. And yeah, sure, that’s one way to describe what happens. But whatever you call it, however you chose to describe it, it is our innermost selves that are transformed. That’s the reason why our lives change. What happens to us inside is so powerful that it extends outward and sends ripples through the reality around us.

Our very souls become healed, and we discover an entirely new purpose in life: the healing of and maintaining of our spiritual condition.

“Survivor Guilt”

2011-09-28T20:04:00.001-07:00

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?

“Pity Parties”

2011-09-27T17:46:00.000-07:00

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.

"Dreams And Eskimos"

2011-09-25T09:32:00.001-07:00

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.

“Gossip Talk”

2011-09-23T18:12:00.000-07:00

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.

“Doors and Windows”

2011-09-18T12:25:00.000-07:00

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.

"Building Self-Esteem"

2011-09-16T18:53:00.000-07:00

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.

"Three For Friday"

2011-09-09T18:48:00.001-07:00

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...

“Saturday Night”

2011-09-04T13:40:00.000-07:00

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.

“Choosing To Be The Best Of Ourselves”

2011-09-03T01:04:00.000-07:00

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.

“What Goes Around Comes Around”

2011-08-31T19:19:00.000-07:00

We’ll make this very long story short. Last night I stood at my altar and prayed. Today, my prayers were answered. The specifics aren’t that important. The gist of it is that I prayed for guidance. The point is something that I realized on the way home today.

I was cruising through traffic, grateful to be done with work for the day, and thinking of someone I know who lost her job. She can’t prove it, but she’s pretty convinced she was sabotaged and I know enough about the circumstances to agree with her. As I flowed along in that sea of metal, I said a prayer for her, praying that goodness be visited upon her ten times the evil she endured. Then I got to thinking about how the prayer I had prayed last night had been answered for me today, and I realized how fortunate I was. So I said another prayer of thanks that the Infinite All answers my prayers.

It could be that I happen to pray for things just before they come to pass. Or it could be that I’ve learned to pray for the right types of things--things like guidance, help, strength, etc. I wonder if the big G answers all prayers, it’s just that not everyone is able to hear or see or understand those answers. Maybe I’m just lucky. Maybe the Program really works and my ever-deepening connection with a higher power is the direct result of my pursuing the spiritual. Shit, it could be any combination of all of the above.

I really want to write that there are some seriously fucked up people in the world, that some majorly bad shit really does happen. But I keep thinking about the Zen master story about avoiding judgment. I’ll try to keep it short. The story goes a little like this...

“One day a Zen master was tending his horse when the stallion broke out of its pen and ran away. When he told his neighbor about it, the neighbor replied with sympathy, saying how unfortunate it was. But the master just shrugged, saying, ‘eh. Good, bad. We’ll see.’

“A short time later, the horse returned with a filly. The law of the land was that any horse in your pen are yours to keep, and so the Zen master now found himself with a mated pair suitable for breeding. He mentioned this to his neighbor who was overjoyed at the good news. To which the Zen master replied, ‘eh. Good, bad. We’ll see.’

“When it came time for the filly to be broken in and taught to take a rider, the Zen master’s son volunteered eagerly to train her as best he knew how. But on the filly’s final day of training, she struck her hoof into a ground hole, breaking a leg. The Zen master’s son was thrown from her back and injured so badly he could not walk. Upon hearing what had happened, the neighbor rushed over to offer his condolences at such a bad turn of events. To which the Zen master replied, ‘eh. Good, bad. We’ll see.’

“A week later, the country went to war. Generals of the army began moving from house to house, collecting all young men able to serve, and pulling them from the arms of their weeping wives and mothers who feared they might not ever lay eyes on them again. But when they came to the Zen master’s house, his son was still laid up in bed recovering from his injuries. The neighbor watched the army officers leave then said in earnest to the Zen master what a fortunate stroke of good luck his son’s accident had turned out to be. To which the Zen master replied, ‘eh. Good, bad. We’ll see.’

The story continues, of course, but I think the point is made. What seems like tragedy at first may turn out to be a very good thing, and vice versa. Life will throw us all kinds of ups and downs; a calm peaceful mind looks at all of these with the same detachment (however loving) and thinks, “hmm... interesting.”

Some people believe it’s important to always hope for the best. I am not one of them. I think the thing to strive for is an unornamented acceptance. An event may turn out to be good, it may turn out to be bad. Life creates a pattern, with an ebb and flow, and one thing leads to another. When I am calm, centered within myself, I am best able to handle the oceans of this world, be they crashing waves or calm seas.

To my friend who was wronged, my heart goes out to you. You didn’t deserve it. Try not to let your heart and mind be drawn in to the evil done by poisoned souls. What was done to you has far more to do with them than yourself. Remember, too, what they say about Karma.

They say, “Karma is a bitch.”

“Being Understood”

2011-08-28T17:51:00.001-07:00

It’s a hot Sunday. The air is heavy, sticky, what weather in supposed to be like this time of year. I think the cool summer has spoiled me a little. I’m sitting inside at my favorite caffeinating hole, oddly enough drinking a non-caffeine concoction. The place is full, but relatively quiet. It’s a good thing, too, since I’m in need of some peace.

I went to a birthday meeting today, an AA group I go to only occasionally. Picked up my 3-year AA chip, and listened to the shares. It’s a good meeting, with a lot of joy and some petty damn good Recovery. It’s also a very clique-y meeting, and one that I’ve never felt especially welcomed at. And that’s ok. There are MANY meetings out there like that. I may hit an NA birthday meeting up later tonight, we’ll see.

Something someone shared at the meeting got me thinking. It was about having a desire for peace, for calm. He talked about how he wanted life to stop being so crazy, and how growing up [mentally] in the program meant learning that life was always going to be crazy; we can’t stop it, we can only learn how to deal with it better.

The voice of Recovery in my head hears that and launches into a standard shpiel of how, when we take care of and are centered within ourselves, the insanity of the world doesn’t bother us. And that’s true, but I’m a little tired and not really in a frame of mind right now to pontificate on it.

The chamomile & soy milk of my drink is very soothing. I sip it and can feel the warmth flowing like liquid solace through my veins.

I’m remembering something I learned in a psychology class--that people who suffer from depression are actually better in touch with reality than those who don’t. Most people go through life with rose-colored glasses, not seeing (or choosing not to see) the harsh realities of reality. Not sure why I find myself thinking about that, except perhaps that when I’m spiritually tired, I tend to see those things more than at other times.

I’ve spent more than my fair share of moments being frustrated at the world, wishing it would be different, or at the very least not so righteously fucked up. Learning acceptance, practicing letting go of things I can’t change, these are the tools I’ve gotten from working the program and they’ve helped me a lot with that, but I still find myself looking around at the world from time to time and shaking my head. It doesn’t make sense. It probably never will.

I think I’m just feeling a lot of that feeling-like-an-outsider feeling I get from time to time. And I’m not sure there’s much to be said or done about it; it’s just where I’m at right now.

I will share this, though: one of my friends from my homegroup called me ‘wise’ recently. Another talked (and not for the first time) about how much he appreciated my shares. I try to handle complements, especially those kind, with grace, balancing being appreciative with not overindulging my ego.

I really do appreciate it when people tell me those things, though, and they help me more than I’m usually willing to admit. The insecurity and worthlessness my Disease spits at me never really quits. It fades into the background, more and more so the longer I work the program. Those reminders that I am loved, by people who really know me, understand who I am and what I’ve been through because they’ve been there themselves, those are the moments I really treasure. They may be few and far between, but they are what sustains me on days like today where I’m tired and the insanity of the world feels like too much.

“Choosing Life”

2011-08-27T15:48:00.001-07:00

Today’s NA ‘Just For Today’ starts off, “Active addiction is a smoldering death-wish.” I read that and thought to myself something along the lines of ‘God, does it ever!’ For my readers who don’t frequent that fellowship, those who do know all too well that there’s more of an emphasis on the life-ending consequences of the Disease in those rooms. But the part of this JFT that I like the best is how it goes on to talk about our self-destructive behavior. I like it anytime the literature talks about how the Disease is about so much more than just getting loaded or drunk.

This central idea--the feeling of worthlessness--is a common thread through all of our lives. It’s one of the things so many of us hear others say when we’re listening for the similarities and not the differences. It’s something we all can relate to. Sometimes it’s buried; sometimes it’s close to the surface. Sometimes, we broadcast it for all to hear. Sometimes we fight with our last denying breath to admit it exists.

My feelings of wanting to die were pretty close to the surface. The fading scars of self-inflicted cigarette burns on my legs are proof of how intense it once was. I suppose the fact that I still smoke my cigarettes is proof that it’s not entirely gone.

Listening to others tell their stories is an important part of the Recovery process, for both the one talking and those listening. When we hear those stories, sometimes the similarities to our own are chilling. How many times have we heard someone say they heard a speaker tell ‘their’ story? The specifics can be what draws us in. Maybe it’s hearing some talk about being molested, or raped, or homeless, or rejected by their family. I personally tend to be especially drawn to those who’ve attempted or contemplated suicide, having been there several times myself.

But that one idea--the emptiness inside, the feeling of worthlessness, that seems to me to be something that we all share and can relate to.

I like how the JFT talks, too, about how any time we make a choice against that feeling, we are choosing Recovery. Whenever we stand up for ourselves, whenever we take action affirming ourselves, that is a stance that says ‘I am worth it’. When we start going to meetings, or start working steps, those are moments like that. We might not realize it at first, but even if we’re not aware of it on a conscious level, some part of us has decided we are worth living. Some part of us has decided we don’t want to die.

Crawling out of that deep, dark, hole and into the light is such a long, difficult process, but many of us have done it. Recovery is about so much more than being clean or sober (or both). It’s about reclaiming our humanity. Or perhaps even grasping it for the first time.

“Drama, Affairs, and Amends”

2011-08-24T21:53:00.001-07:00

Where oh where to begin? You know that one living amends I have about... no, no that’s not gonna work. Have you ever noticed that those of us with the disease find each other... no, that’s not it either. Hey, have you... no. Hmm... wait a minute, wait, I got it. I know how to start this blog--with the point. And the point, my readers, is this:

Drama stops when you say it does.

In one of my previous jobs, I worked with a woman I was very attracted to. She was beautiful (of course), way out of my league, and married. I’m sure she was aware of how I felt, but was very good about not teasing me, which looking back is something I really appreciate now.

Working through my steps the first time, another incident--one from my past where I’d had an affair with a married woman--came up on steps 8 & 9. There was no way I could make a direct amends to that woman without causing more harm, so my sponsor suggested a living amends: no more married women. Ever. Period. It’s a good suggestion and one that I have followed.

This living amends has guided me a number of times. For the situation I mentioned above, my plan--in the unlikely event that this woman ever decided she was interested in me--was always to tell her the story of my past, tell her about my living amends, and leave it at that. It never happened, but I have been propositioned by other married women since, and as it turns out, my plan works great when put into action. I’ve stayed true to my living amends.

There are plenty of men out there who would have no problem getting involved with a married woman. To them, having a hot, lonely, gal on their jock is a great thing. I’ve even heard some guys describe it as the ideal relationship because they get everything they need out of it and none of the stuff they don’t.

But the reason I hold on to this living amends... it isn’t because I’m a goody two-shoes or because of some higher moral authority I see myself as holding to. The reasons are really, really practical.

The first is that I won’t get what I need out of a relationship if I’m involved with a woman that’s married. These days, sex is only a minor part of what I need in order to have a fulfilling, satisfying relationship. The second is that I learned my lesson damn well from my experience. A lot of people--not just me--lost a lot because of what I did. Homes were destroyed, careers lost. What I did affected so many more people than just myself.

But the biggest reason, the one that overshadows those first two, is this: I am done with drama. No more. Finished. I have played my part in that production and exited Stage Left.

Those of us with the disease know drama. It’s like a member of the family. Some of us have the hardest time trying to deal with it, trying to rid ourselves of it. Some of us don’t know how to live without it. Some of us never even bother to try.

I’ve spent a lot of energy learning boundaries, working to understand exactly where that line is that defines my side of the street from someone else’s. And you know what I’ve learned? Drama stops when I say it does. Drama stops when I decide for myself to not get involved in other people’s business. It stops when I start allowing other people to be responsible for themselves, their own situations, and their own problems.

Some people don’t know how to live without drama in their lives or in the lives of the people around them--particularly family. Some people have some crazy twisted ideas about what it means to be there for others, and about sacrificing themselves out of guilt or fear.

I’m responsible for me. Period. If I don’t want drama in my life, I can say ‘no’ to it. Maybe other people won’t understand, maybe they’ll even consider me a selfish asshole for making that choice. So what? Someone else’s opinion of me is none of my business. There are plenty of things in life that contribute to unmanageability. Letting go of drama is something I can control, and when I do that, my life becomes more manageable.

I can never make up the harm I caused to the people I hurt. But I like to think that it does mean something that, when given the choice, I’ve made different decisions since.

And hey, I won’t lie; sometimes I still think about that gal I used to work with, her beautiful brown eyes and her thick, black curly hair. But I’m proud of myself that I’ve kept (and continue to keep) my living amends going, because that means more to me than any illicit affair ever could.

“Sobriety Birthday Blog”

2011-08-21T22:38:00.000-07:00

Today I celebrated three years of living clean and sober. I’d considered rounding some friends up to go shoot pool or something, but finally decided an easy day around home was what I really needed. That’s kind of how it goes, being an introvert.

I do have a sobriety-birthday routine of a sort, though. I once heard someone share about making a phone call to her sponsor, complaining that she hadn’t called to wish her a happy birthday. Her sponsor replied that she had been taught that, on your birthday, you should be the one to call your sponsor and thank them for helping you to stay sober. And any sponsees, too, if you have them. It’s a good story about showing gratitude, and one I’ve taken to heart. My sponsor--by no small coincidence--has the same policy.

I called my sponsor earlier today. He only had a quick minute to talk because he was sitting down with another sponsee, just starting the Big Book. I called both my sponsees as well. Birthday milestones are huge, and can be rough patches. I haven’t been too nutty this year, and I’m hoping that’s a testament to my continuing to work a strong program.

One of my sponsees recently made a request for a blog topic, actually. He was wondering what the difference is between calling a spade a spade and not being judgmental. The question reminds me of how we’re not supposed to take others’ inventories, and yet always end up doing so anyway. So dude, this one’s for you.

I guess I’d start with the reminder that our perceptions aren’t always accurate. There’s a compassion angle in there, too. We don’t always know the full story behind someone else’s behavior or the words they say. There’s boundaries stuff here as well. It’s not up to us to decide what’s right or wrong for someone else, only ourselves.

I have a little problem with the terms themselves, now that I think about it. So many people say they’re ‘just telling it like it is’ or ‘calling a spade a spade’ when what they’re really doing IS being judgmental. Pick your favorite stereotype about a stereotyped group. “They’re just like that.” As if all people in the category weren’t individuals with their own individual traits and characteristics.

So often, people claim a judgmental remark as the ‘truth’, and they somehow think because they’re speaking the truth, it’s not judgmental or that it’s okay to be so because it’s true and something everybody supposedly knows. Shall I make a list of all the things that humanity has thought were ‘true’ over the years? The earth is flat. Humans will never fly. Native peoples are savages. I’ll go ahead and stop there.

We need to be careful about certainty. We need to be wary of thinking we know ‘the truth’. Even the AA Big Book cautions us against this, saying that we have not found ‘The’ way, merely ‘a’ way to live without getting intoxicated. Never forget: even the things we think we do know for certain, we just might be wrong about.

As for what counts as being judgmental, well I don’t know any other way to say it than to say it’s when we pass judgment--we decide something is good or bad, or right or wrong. We don’t get to decide those things for other people, only ourselves. If we don’t like how other people live, we get to choose to not live that way. If we discover another person isn’t trustworthy, or is someone we don’t want to be around, we get to choose to not place our trust in them or to not have them in our life. What we don’t get to do is label them.

Recovery is about changing ourselves, learning to let go of the things we can’t control--and other people is one of those that takes a lot of work to learn how to let go. And that’s okay; it’s a process, not an event.

The best thing we can do is to strive for a Zen-like state, where we’re at peace with ourselves and with the world around us. We see what goes on around us, and we think “hmm.. interesting.” We can see the world, accept it for what it is, and not pass judgment on it. We can save our emotional investments and use them to work on making our selves healthier.

Passing judgment is a reaction, and part of the work of Recovery is transforming ourselves from people who merely react into people of action.

“Restored To Sanity”

2011-08-20T20:43:00.001-07:00

Yeah. The key word there being ‘restored’. As in, until we work the steps, we are straight-up insane. As in, fruity as a nutcake. Nuttier than Chinese chicken salad.

A group of us were having fellowship last week after a meeting. One of the newcomers was bemoaning the problems she’s having with her ex-boyfriend. Specifically, how he still calls her all the time. Those of us with a little clean time (and who have worked through the steps) made the very simple suggestion that she just not pick up when he calls. But no, oh no, she can’t do that. If she doesn’t answer, he’ll just call again. And again. And again and if she still doesn’t answer, he’ll show up at her house.

“That’s insane,” commented yours truly.

She didn’t get defensive, but she sure did take his side. She spent some time justifying his obscenely controlling behavior, then went on to mention how she’s done the same thing many times.

“So,” she challenged, “does that make me insane, too?!”

Ah, the sound of crickets on a warm Sacramento evening.

I’m pretty sure it’s not my job to tell newcomers they’re insane, that’s why I kept my mouth shut. Some folks feel that realizing how insane we are, figuring it out for ourselves, is an integral part of the Recovery process--and Step 2 in particular. And hey, maybe even just the having that conversation will plant the seed in that newcomer’s brain, get her thinking about herself, her behavior, and wondering about her own insanity. That’s a good thing.

To be clear, it’s not the driving over to someone’s house that is the insane behavior here. I’ve had a woman I was involved with drive over to my place because she couldn’t get a hold of me. I’ve even done it myself once or twice. No, the key here is the why, the reasons behind the behavior. Apparently, this newcomer’s ex- is so controlling, so insane (yes, he is a fellow sufferer of the Disease), that he is unable to deal with as independent a behavior as a woman who is not his girlfriend anymore choosing to not pick up the phone. He’s apparently driven over to her place enough times that she feels compelled to answer whenever he calls, because she knows what will happen if she doesn’t.

As if either of them were somehow responsible for the others’ behavior. They aren’t, of course. We aren’t responsible for anyone’s behavior except our own. Girl dumps you? Deal with it, pal. Ex-boyfriend can’t deal with being dumped and calls you all the time? Guess what, picking up the phone every time he does isn’t going to cause him to stop calling, it’s only going to encourage him.

Fear. Lack of trust. These are the things that lead people to such controlling behaviors in a relationship. Here’s a little truth: you’ve got no control over other people, and that includes those you’re in a relationship with. Attempting to control the uncontrollable? Leads to unmanageability.

Work the steps, people. Get restored.

“Zen Moment II”

2011-08-15T22:01:00.001-07:00

Ha, that was a good one, eh? Sometimes you gotta let the bullshit out first before getting to the truth. Not sure what that’s about. I don’t know if I’ll leave that previous blog up or not. It is true, in what it’s what I thought at the time. But there’s some deeper truth. It sounds like this:

I can NOT believe I am doin’ this shit.

No, I’m not talking about what I do for my job, and not even about the fact that I’m working, although sort of. Mostly, what I mean is how I’m doing this stressful job, but thinking the whole time about how it’s a trade-off. I’m doing it because of where I’m hoping it’s going to get me. I’m starting to think about things I never really have before, like buying a home, being set in a job, and am trying not to listen to the absolutely insane levels of stress going on. Because there is plenty to be legitimately concerned about.

Such as, am I future-fucking myself? Is this really the opportunity I think it is, or am I doing something I don’t want to do with the expectation it will get me something down the road? Because we all know what expectations are -- pre-meditated resentments.

Or is it the opposite problem? That I’m not recognizing the value of my skills, my value as an employee. Am I finally getting paid at an appropriate level, receiving the rewards of the hard work of the Program, and seeing what it’s like when life doesn’t just work, but life REALLY works? Am I just passing through another level of learning to be okay when things are good?

Perhaps it is nothing more complicated than what I already know--that where I work is a place that I extremely stressful, eats new personnel for dinner, and that my coworkers (at least one I’m sure of and two others I have my suspicions about) suffer from the Disease and are not in Recovery. Perhaps things are poorly run, and communication really isn’t the greatest.

I admit, I’m doing a lot of thinking about how things seem to be, and not trusting it because I’ve been wrong so many times before. What does it seem to be? It seems that I have a fantastic opportunity on my hands, that I’m doing really well with the job, and am being fast-tracked for even better things. Yes, it’s a seriously stressful job, a hard job, but I’m doing the hard work, getting it done, and being paid well for it. And what’s more, I’m being responsible about that part of it, too. I’m not out spending gobs of cash. I’m keeping almost the exact same buget as before and using the extra pay to take care of some debt and to save. There’s even the possibility that I might be able to buy a home in a couple years, depending on how things work out.

So I’m keeping vigilant, trying to keep my head above water and accept life on life’s terms--because that includes good things as well as the bad. And I’m keeping on in my Recovery, too. It’s the foundation that’s making all of this possible.

P.S. Wow. Maybe buy a home? Me? Really?! Too. Cool.

“Zen Moment”

2011-08-15T12:49:00.001-07:00

Even at the rare times I sit down to blog, I’m having trouble doing so. I try to construct my prose, tell my stories, plan out my arguments, and then the whole ‘simplify!’ part of the program kicks in. And then my blog turns out really short, like, a paragraph or maybe only a couple sentences. For example:

Damn, do I work with some seriously insane folks who don’t know how to communicate. It drives me up the wall and totally reminds me of growing up. Secrets, assumptions, and if you aren’t perfect well then you’re worthless. But hey, that’s a quality problem to have, right? Thank god for the Program that I’m sober, that I have a job, and that I’m lucky enough to have a job that not only utilizes my skills but also pays me well for it.

See? Just a paragraph. I don’t seem to have the patience to go into all kinds of detail. Here’s another one:

With all the stress from work, I’ve been reorganizing my life. I’ve pared down a lot of things, not the least of which is not spending my energy where it isn’t useful. Such as, not wasting time chasing after women who aren’t interested in me, purging my facebook account of all the ‘friends’ I don’t actually know, etc. Concentrating my energy on the things that matter, being focused and able to make those decisions, is a beautiful gift and one I’m truly grateful for.

Tah-dah! Even writing about these things, I feel like I’m attaching more importance to them than what they warrant. It’s almost as if the ‘intuitively know how to handle things’ promise from the Big Book is morphing, collapsing into something even more efficient. Taking action is becoming something that happens so instinctively, I can’t quite seem to detail it as it happens anymore. Is this good? Bad? Time will tell. How about another ‘blog-a-graph’...

The pace of life isn’t too fast, just faster than what I’d prefer. But it’s worth it to me because I have faith that the rewards from it will come in time. I’m keeping my boundaries strong, making sure to take time for and take care of myself. But damn do I still long for days on end of sitting around doing nothing. Who doesn’t though, right? There’s got to be a happy-medium. I just hope I find it sooner rather than later.

I suppose I could do one more...

I still have my doubts about whether I will meet a woman who’s right for me. At least I’m okay these days with being by myself. It would be nice to have someone to share life with, though.

There, see, just a few sentences. Is all this shorthand bizarre? Insane? It doesn’t feel insane, just very fast. Efficient. I don’t know. The journey of life is taking me somewhere, and I have no idea where. I’m staying in touch with my higher power though and doing my best to trust that all is as it’s supposed to be. Which isn’t very difficult. Mostly, I find myself being pretty zen and watching all of this, thinking, “really? This is what life is doing right now? Well that’s pretty interesting...”

"Update"

2011-08-12T18:33:00.000-07:00

Hello, readers. Thanks for stopping by 'Thoughts On The Disease'. Because of my new job, I'm not able to write on the blog very often. New posts will be few and far between. I've also pulled the videos from YouTube. Something about it didn't seem to be in true keeping with the 11th Tradition.

Remember, this entire blog's archive is searchable. If there is a Recovery-related topic or even just general life advice you're looking for, type your keyword into the box in the upper left corner and you'll see posts where I've written about it.

Best of luck all, and thanks for reading. Stay clean. Stay Sober. Remember, we're not human beings having a spiritual experience, we're spiritual beings having a human experience.

~Zach W.

“Letting Go Of People”

2011-07-31T00:14:00.001-07:00

One of my favorite books is “Illusions” by Richard Bach, the same author that wrote “Jonathan Livingston Seagull”. I first read it when I was about ten years old and I still keep it handy because there is so much powerful, amazing wisdom in it. I recommend the book to all my sponsees, have bought copies for ex-girlfriends, and tell anyone seeking deeper spiritual understanding about it.

It’s a short book, written in a first-person narrative, and the story is fantastic. It’s about a spiritual master who was going to become a modern-day savior, but instead changed his mind and quit. The plot of the book follows the author as he meets this almost-savior and learns the advanced spiritual wisdom he knows. As the book progresses, the author learns more and more from the master, ultimately becoming one himself.

There is a moment near the end, where the master is quizzing his pupil, pretending to be a seeker searching for deep knowledge and understanding. The author gives a long-winded reply and the master chides him about needing to keep it short, that he will lose his entire audience if he can’t learn to keep his responses brief. The author sort of throws up his hands and says something like, ‘so what? I know what I know and you asked so if you don’t like the answers, tough--no one’s forcing you to listen.’ The master then laughs and congratulates his student, telling him he’s just graduated. “How does it feel?” The master asks. The author replies, “frustrating as hell.” His teacher laughs again and counsels him that he’ll get used to it.

I think about that passage from the book sometimes. Like when I’m frustrated with people in the program who won’t listen, or when I hear about addicts who still drink or smoke pot, or when I feel down about how more people don’t follow this blog. There’s a little voice inside me that wants to shout, “hey! I’ve got some seriously profound shit to say over here that will literally change your life!”

But I can’t control others, I can’t make them listen, and even if I could, who is to say that what is right for me is right for them?

It always comes back to boundaries. My sponsor tells me from time to time that I care too much. And he’s not saying, ‘Zach, be more of a dick,’ he means that I’m taking ownership of stuff that isn’t mine. Even with my sponsees, it’s not up to me to make someone else ‘get’ the program. That’s an impossible task anyway. And even if someone else does get it, that has very little to do with me and much more to do with them, with their choices, and their insights.

I key into the 12-step program on the spiritual level. That’s where I ‘get’ it, where I relate to it and process the wisdom it teaches. But not everyone is looking to have a deep, meaningful spiritual experience. Some people are just looking to not get loaded anymore, and that’s fine. For me, that’s what freedom means--by not getting fucked up anymore, I am allowed to have a profound spiritual life. Part of that deal is allowing others to not have that if they don’t want it. How other people live their lives, how they work the program, none of that is for me to decide. I get to decide for myself how I live, how I work the program, and that is enough.

Letting go of other people is a big part of the program. Forget about trying to control our using; accepting our powerlessness over substances? That shit is piecemeal compared to learning how to stop trying to control others.

There will always be other people in our lives who don’t live the way we think they should. There will be people who think differently, who act differently, who feel and say things other than what we wish they would. Letting go of others is not an art I’ve perfected, just another thing I keep working on, and it’s a catch-all category that covers just about everything.

From an active addict who always flakes, to a battered woman who won’t leave her boyfriend. From a coworker who drinks too much, to a fellow in recovery who hasn’t yet learned to stop being an asshole. From an ex-friend who never returns messages, to a woman I might be interested in that only wants to be ‘just friends’.

Other people get to make their own choices, and I get to let them. Whether I think they’re bad or good is irrelevant. If I try to control other people, I go right back to being as insane as I ever was when I was using. My life goes right back to being unmanageable. My serenity is dependent upon letting go, upon my not trying to control other people.

If we want to truly recover, we have to let go of everything that isn’t ours. We don’t have to agree with how other people live their lives, the things they do and say, and we certainly don’t have to like it, but we do have to accept it. Because that’s What Is.

“R.I.P., Amy Winehouse”

2011-07-26T22:31:00.001-07:00

Over the weekend, news struck of the death of British singer Amy Winehouse at the tragically young age of twenty-seven. Though it hasn’t been officially confirmed as far as I know, I’m pretty sure she died from a drug overdose. To anyone familiar with this artist’s life, I don’t think we need official confirmation about that. Her struggles with substances were well-known and one of her most popular songs was about refusing to get clean.

After the news hit, I watched my social network connections and participated in a lot of the conversations about her death. There were a few haters out there, and a few conversations about the haters, too. Those were the ones I paid the most attention to. One comment in particular that sticks out in my mind was a very judgmental poster who wrote that addiction isn’t a disease, it’s a choice; that he was able to get himself off of drugs and that anyone who chooses to stay on them deserves the consequences, even if it means they die. Basically, he was saying she deserved to die and good riddance.

Maybe I’m being harsh in summarizing this poster’s comment, but it was a pretty harsh comment and I don’t see the need to beat around the bush about it. I didn’t smack him down, didn’t judge his judgmental words, I just wrote about how ironic it is that when someone gets themselves off of drugs without help, they tend to be even more judgmental towards the people who are still hooked. You’d think they’d be thanking their lucky stars that they were able to get off the stuff, but instead of gratitude, they are filled with animosity. This is what we refer to in the program as, “sobriety without Recovery.”

I was never into Winehouse’s music, but I’d listen to her songs when they came on. I even have a little hope that, because of her untimely death, she might be better remembered. That’s how these things tend to go. Regardless, the Disease has claimed another one of us.

Winehouse isn’t the first artist to die from a drug overdose and she definitely won’t be the last. Use and abuse of drugs goes hand-in-hand for all artists, and musicians especially. I’ve been there, myself, obviously. Yes, I am saddened by her passing, but at times like this I remember one of the most sobering slogans to be passed around the rooms of Recovery, something my sponsor first told me when my very first sponsee committed suicide--that some must die so that others may live.

Requiescat in pace, Amy Winehouse. God rest your weary soul.

“Depression Warning”

2011-07-25T18:03:00.001-07:00

When I was unemployed, I didn’t sit around doing nothing; I had my music, lots of meetings and service work, pool, friends, etc. Since going back to work, it’s been a little bit of a question as to how to keep all of that going and work full-time, too. The simple answer is that I haven’t. But, in general, I’ve been pretty successful at adjusting. I’m still doing everything--mostly--just doing less of each. Instead of going to three or four meetings a week, I do one or two. Instead of blogging every day or two, I write every three or four days. And I’m glad to say I only missed one day of exercise--that was really important to me to keep up. I haven’t gotten out to shoot pool yet, and I did have a stack of Netflix movies that sat unwatched for several weeks. But I just watched a couple of them over the weekend, and I will get back out to shoot soon enough.

Learning how to keep my life going, being back at work after not working for a year, is a process. And there have been some bumps along the way. After a really rough couple of days on the job, I had some serious doubts. So I reached out for conscious contact and received wisdom--it’s just a job; go to work, get paid, that’s what it’s for. Since that moment, stress has been much lower and I’ve felt a lot better. It’s a far cry from the days of agonizing in misery about having to work at all, and feeling depressed about not being recognized for the skilled employee I am.

Speaking of depression, though, I want to pivot a bit here. I’ve had my struggles with it, but have been fortunate enough that my issues in that area have pretty much vanished, thanks to my working the program. Not everyone is so lucky. I know so many people who just struggle, and struggle, and struggle. Finding the right meds is a challenge. Remembering to take them every day is even more of a challenge. Getting out of bed when they’re not working, or it’s just a straight-up bad day? Next to impossible.

I have one good friend in the program who, if he’s off his meds for even a couple days, the change is visible. His apathy-level skyrockets. His tendency to isolate increases dramatically. He fidgets constantly, as though trying to escape somehow from his own skin. It’s hard to watch, hard to see him suffering, and sometimes it’s even hard to remember to have compassion for him. It might seem like such a simple thing--just take the medication--but something so easily said is not so easily done. Kind of like, “if you have a problem, why don’t you just quit?”

Another real difficulty for those who suffer from Depression is that this particular evil really does not like it when you feel good. A lot of us who struggle with just plain addiction are aware of how hard it is to be okay with feeling okay. Especially at first, we aren’t used to feeling good. We’re so used to feeling bad that we find ways to sabotage ourselves, drag our lives back down. Learning to accept the times we feel good is a process of Recovery, too.

For those dealing with Depression in addition to addiction, the challenge becomes at least ten times as difficult. It’s a mental illness that will do everything it can to keep someone from feeling good about themselves, and the harder you push, the harder it pushes back. It’s like one step forward, five steps back. Constantly.

My heart goes out to all those who have this added challenge, and the only advice I can think to give is to remember what it says in ‘how it works’--“There are those too who suffer from grave emotional and mental disorders, but many of them do recover if they have the capacity to be honest.”

There is hope, my friends.

“Guy Talk (of a sort)”

2011-07-20T20:38:00.001-07:00

From time to time, I am reminded, that is to say I become even more keenly aware of the fact, that I am not like other men. And not in an AA Big Book kind of way. In a way that I’ve never really understood or been able to articulate. In fact, if you want to know a secret, I sincerely hope that after my life is over, it will be revealed to me just what exactly the fuck the deal is. And before I go any further with this, I want to say that, yes, I am aware of how I am ‘different’ in terms of being an addict/alcoholic. This post isn’t about that.

Over the years, I’ve had a lot of theories. One is that it has something to do with being raised around only girls when I was a little kid, that there’s something about me that just doesn’t ‘feel’ right for a man who’s straight. Like, I missed out on some early male-emotional-dampening training or something. Or maybe I just missed basic training in how to form male relationships, so I lack some kind of learned instinct there when it comes to relating to other guys.

Maybe it’s an alpha-male thing. Like, I’m not a follower; I’m my own man, but to contemplate that brings up some interesting thoughts. Such as, I’m not a dick, what is up with these other guys who lash out, attack? They’re like puffed-up bullies on the schoolyard from when I was a kid. Men do it as adults, too. What’s up with that? I mean, what did I ever do to them? And hey, maybe that’s a part of the puzzle that’s missing--that guys are just guys and it’s something I don’t really understand. Maybe what they sense in me is the kind of vibe that when other guys give it off it’s because they’re the type of man who does attack? So they attack first as some kind of pre-emptive action? I don’t even know what I’m saying.

Ah see, here we go again. I’m trying to guess at other people’s motives, trying to read minds. That isn’t possible. I have a difficult enough time trying to understand myself; understanding other people is mostly beyond me. But even having written that, something doesn’t feel right. Because I do understand other people. Often. There’s just something here that I don’t get.

Stepping back a little, I think a thought that I’ve had many times: why are people assholes? Sounds silly, after all I’ve been one more than a few times in my life. But seriously, I think about this: why are people so horrible to each other? Why do people treat each other like shit? And what is it about me that this very, very common fact about life still surprises me? Where did I get the idea that it’s not supposed to be like this? Certainly not from the available evidence!

One of my best guesses, knowing what I do about how boys are raised vs girls, and about female vs male children subculture, is that I spent my formative years learning how to relate to other people in a cooperative way instead of a competitive way. In a workforce, I work well with women and not so much with men. I’m not a ‘good old boy’. I have always been excluded from that club, for a reason I have never quite understood. But it feels like something that’s tied in with all of this... stuff.

This is all way too much analysis. The short? I have had a lonely life, one where I’ve often felt that I don’t fit in. It’s one of the big reasons I started getting high--I had a built-in group of friends. And all the shit that was always bothering me went away, too. I didn’t have to worry about being weird, feeling insecure, being smart, or any of the rest of that stuff. Maybe people accepted me just because I was the idiot stoner, but at least they accepted me.

Which is not to say that no one accepts me now, just that... a lot of people talk about the deep, abiding acceptance and friendship they have found in the fellowship. That has not been my experience. I have met people, made friends through going to meetings, but a deep friendship that’s lasted? Not as yet. And hey, maybe that’s just the nature of life, that friends come and go. ‘The only constant is change’.

Or shit, maybe I’m just inherently a loner and I’m feeling depressed because I’m working again, doing this clerical bullshit that I hate when I’d rather just be a hippie peace-loving artist type. There’s always that possibility.

“Sunday For Me”

2011-07-17T12:06:00.001-07:00

I’m inside at my regular coffee shop. It’s too hot to sit outside and smoke as I write, and plus some guy with a whole pack of huge dogs is sitting out there. So I’m in here enjoying a muffin, a carbonated caffeine confection, and a view of a very pretty redhead as she works on some type of school project. And wouldn’t you know it, my drink just spilled all over.

You gotta laugh. Or at least I do. What’s there to be embarrassed about, really? Was I actually going to try to talk to her? Most likely not. Does she care that I spilled all over the table, or that I cleaned it all up right away? Did she even notice?

So why laugh? Because of how seriously I still take myself. Because a pretty woman can still turn me right back into a insecure teenager. Because of all of that goes on inside my head while the outside of me is the picture of calm, like I got everything under control. It’s the strange dichotomy of knowing all the stuff that moves through my mind and how the surface rarely reflects any of it. It’s as one of my fellows likes to say: I still have all the parts of me inside, all the sides of myself I’ve ever been; the difference now is that (thanks to the program) they don’t rule me.

Although, I suppose if I’m still insecure enough not to go introduce myself to a pretty girl, then some of those things do still rule me. Guess that just means there’s still work to be done.

I’ve set today aside as a ‘me’ day. With all the stress at work, plus the other stuff I’ve been dealing with like the car, I knew I needed a day to myself for just... whatever. If I don’t take care of myself, then I’m no good to anyone else. I’ll take time to clean the apartment up, work on some music, and hopefully watch this long-ass movie I got through my Netflix that I’ve been putting off watching because it is so long.

Some people don’t have any trouble taking care of themselves, stepping back when they need a break. It’s something I’ve had to work to learn. Learning that’s it’s not only okay to take time for myself, but that it’s a necessary part of living, has been a very a good thing. Someone once told me a long time ago that being an adult means you have one job: to take care of yourself. That job entails a lot of different things--working so that you have money to eat, a place to live, etc. But also having good boundaries, dealing with your issues, and much more.

Lots of us in the rooms feel that we’ve grown up in the program, and that’s true for me as well. Though I think I’d phrase it a little more specifically than that. The program hasn’t taught me how to be an adult, it’s given me the tools to learn it for myself. It always seems to come back to that. The program hasn’t shown me how to live life, it’s given me a way of living clean and sober, a way that works, that provides me with the opportunity to change and to grow. I get the opportunity to live my life; whether I choose to do so is up to me.

“Sometimes Life Just Is”

2011-07-16T20:27:00.001-07:00

What a week. Work is good, in the sense that it’s good to be employed, better to be getting paid well for it, but the pay is earned through high levels of stress. I had a minor issue with Area to deal with, and my homegroup last night was... lame. Oh, and the clutch went out in my car. But it’s been fixed and I don’t really feel like going over the whole story about that. I think I used up all my complaining credits with the new tires ordeal.

I’ve started at least one blog this week but been unable to finish it. I had a look at what I’d written, but just wasn’t feeling the subject so much anymore. It was going to be a big diatribe on how so many new meetings have started because of resentments.

I’ve had other thoughts for writing, too, about smaller fellowships that have a hard time growing, like my Marijuana Anonymous group that I go to. People go to them for a while, get time, and leave because there aren’t people with time in those meetings. And yet, the reason there isn’t people with time is because when people get time, they leave because there aren’t more people with time. You’ve heard about Marijuana Anonymous, right? It’s a gateway fellowship; leads to harder and stronger fellowships?

There was an incident at work, well, not an incident, just the staff joking around about my baldness and cracking wise about my looking like a skinhead . But ya know, I don’t really feel like writing about all that either.

So there you are, I’ve chewed up half a blog writing about all the things I’m not going to write about. I’ll go ahead and throw in a casual mention here about how it’s not like thousands of people peruse this site everyday, depending on me for help living life on life’s terms.

I’m not bitter, just... tired I guess. Yes the job is stressful, but when I do finally see my paycheck at the end of this month, it will all have been worth it. There’s lots of potential at this place for a career track for me, and that’s promising. Sure, I was pissed beyond belief about the car, but it’s fixed now. And I spent some time with my dad today and really enjoyed that.

In a weird way, I feel like I’m settling into my own skin even more. Not worrying so much about always trying to be as spiritual as possible, just allowing myself to just be.

There’s something, too, going though my mind--a little bit of loneliness. And that’s okay. All things in their time, I suppose.

Maybe what I’m feeling is that life doesn’t necessarily have some big, overarching, deep meaning; maybe life just is. You live it, you make your choices, and it is.

Still sober over here, though.

“Writing After A Run”

2011-07-12T21:37:00.001-07:00

It cooled off enough today that I went for my run while it was still light out. I think I’ve gotten used to running at night, because on the way over to the park I found myself anticipating all the people that would be there and thinking how I hate running when there are other people around.

By the time I’d reached the park, though, I had shoved aside any resistance and put myself in to the mental discipline of the run. I’m very focused; I concentrate on my form, keeping a steady pace, and give myself a lot of positive energy. Maybe in time it will become easier, something I can just go out and do, but for now it’s still new enough that I need to motivate myself strongly to keep going. That may be one of the reasons I enjoy it so much--each time I go out, it’s like a triumph of mind over matter, of overcoming the body that’s telling me I can’t do it and proving to myself once again that I can.

The reason I don’t like having other people around is it’s more difficult for me to maintain my rhythm. I have to slow down for the walkers, watch out for the dogs, and stay clear of the cyclists. The cyclists in particular get to me. It’s a sand runners’ path; what the hell is wrong with them that they’re bicycling on it?

I suppose in the interests of rigorous honesty, I could mention that I feel a little insecure running around other people, too; a little bit less-than. I don’t go very fast, and I’m still heavier than I wish I were. Those things will change in time, of course.

It’s not such a bad thing for me to feel these things. Here’s where Recovery kicks in--to combat those insecurities and aggressive tendencies, the feelings that if I don’t deal with them I’ll end up getting drunk or high because of. The tape plays out like this: I feel less-than because I’m not in as good of shape as the other runners, or I’m so pissed off at having to deal with obstacles that I just give up and stop running altogether; then I feel like shit because I gave up, that I’m worthless and never going to accomplish anything. After that? It’s gettin’ fucked up time.

But I don’t have to take that road. I can choose instead to remember that I’ve got no control over other people, to give myself mad props for continuing to get out there and run over a mile 3-4 times a week. That perspective, that mental place, takes so much less energy than being hard on myself and feeling depressed. It's the difference between unmanageable and manageable. Plus, the more I do it, the better I feel about myself for continuing to do it. It’s one more thing that if you told me I’d be doing it back when I was still out there, I’d never have believed you.

They say addiction is a disease of the mind, body, and soul. We have to take care of all three to get the most out of our Recovery. I never thought I’d end up being the kind of guy who runs and lifts weights. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care about how it’s changing my body for the better; I love that shit. But I do it for the discipline more than any other reason.

It’s important to me now to take care of myself. I don’t go too crazy on it for the same reason I don’t go too crazy trying to go to lots of meetings or doing lots of service. Balance. That’s what’s most important. Having a balanced life. I have the program--the Steps, and the other people in the Fellowship--to thank for helping me to get here, to a mental place where I care enough about me to take care of myself. Spiritually, mentally, and physically.

“Negativity, Positive Thinking, and Balance”

2011-07-10T18:11:00.000-07:00

Think positive! You can do it! If you believe it can happen, then it can! Turn that frown upside down! Ugh.

Overly positive people piss me off. So many times, it feels just so forced. It grates on my nerves. And more than anything else it reeks of denial. I’ve known far too many people who weren’t genuinely positive, people for whom their positive attitude was nothing more than a front, a mask, a way to cover up how miserable they really were inside.

I don’t think there are any phrases in particular that bug me, but one that jumps to mind is when people say things will all turn out for the best. I always want to look them in the eye and reply with something like, “oh, you can tell the future? That’s pretty cool. You should use that shit to win the lottery.”

Thinking or saying things will turn out for the best isn’t something that works for me; I’ve found it much more useful to think or say that things will turn out however they turn out. What will be will be, and I will be alright, regardless. It’s the way I truly accept life on life’s terms--by not making any kind of judgments about it.

Of course, there is the flipside of a permanently positive attitude, the negative nancy--someone who’s always looking for the worst, who always has to point out the one cloud in the sky, who finds the gray in every silver lining. That’s not any fun either, and people like that are a real drag to be around. Especially the ones who feel it’s their duty, their obligation, to point out the negative. You know, like they’re doing us all a service by reminding us constantly of the worst possible outcome.

Few of us walk into the rooms having a positive attitude. Maybe at one point we used to hope for the best, but life taught us to expect the worst. That was definitely the case for me. I didn’t rail against God specifically, but I was convinced that Fate had it in for me. It didn’t matter what I did, life was never going to go my way. Believe me, I am so glad I turned out to be wrong on that one.

I grew up in an environment of forced positivity. That was what I leaned growing up, to always be positive, always have a smiling face, and act like everything is wonderful even when it’s not. Especially when it’s not.

Now that I’ve had some time in Recovery, some time practicing the principles in all my affairs, my outlook on life is more positive. Or at least, not nearly as negative. I try to stay balanced. It’s important to my Recovery, to my staying out of denial, to look at things for how they are. I don’t know that things will turn out for the best. They very well might, but for me to assume that they will, or to tell myself that just to get through? That still feels like denial to me, like that old way of doing things that stopped working for me a long time ago.

If thinking that things will turn out for the best works for you, then more power to you and good luck with that. It doesn’t for me. For me, what works is to think about the fact that no matter how things turn out, I will be alright. For me, that’s the real power of being positive, knowing that no matter what happens, I will be alight. Everything isn’t going to be okay; it’s okay now.

“Keeping A Level Head”

2011-07-07T18:23:00.000-07:00

This is one of those “what it’s like now” stories.

I’m driving my old truck right now, the one I drove for a short time before I started commuting to Berkeley back in 2005. My parents held onto it when I got a new cat because hey, it’s good to have a truck in the family. It doesn’t have any air conditioning and the stereo is... well, actually it’s exactly half a stereo is what it is. A number of years back, someone tried to rip the CD player out of the dash, unaware that I’d bolted it down when I put it in. Consequently, the thief succeeded only in ripping off the faceplate and the front circuitry connected to it. There’s a CD still in there from all those years ago. I can see it, lodged in the player, locked inside, unable to be ejected or forced out. Sometimes I wonder what’s on there.

The point of all this, though, isn’t a trip down memory lane or a gleeful telling of how I foiled a car stereo thief. No, the point of all this is gratitude.

I was headed home from work yesterday when I realized my tires needed air--again. This is the second time I’ve had to refill them in the space of a month. Doing so, I noticed an exposed belt on one tire, and another wouldn’t even take air. The remaining two were much balder than I realized, too. So in the 100+ degree heat, I popped on the donut spare, filled THAT up with air, and got on my way. I turned the hazard lights on, kept my speed down, and prayed the whole way home that I wouldn’t have a blowout on the causeway.

I hadn’t counted on spending my first paycheck buying new tires, but it looks like that’s what I’ll be doing. And it doesn’t even come for another three weeks. So like I wrote earlier, this is about having gratitude--gratitude that my folks still had the old truck for me to borrow.

My car is still pretty new to me. I haven’t had it a year yet, and this isn’t the first thing to go wrong with it. It’s needed a new clutch, and the gas mileage is significantly worse than what I was getting in my previous car. Or maybe it just seems so significant because gas prices are about a dollar a gallon higher than they were at this time last year. But I can’t complain too loudly; the car was a gift, after all. And I suppose another benefit of having a job now is that I can start saving for a different car if I so choose.

Changing the tire in the heat wasn’t fun. Neither was having the clutch go out on me while I was on the freeway that time. But both of these problems were times that really highlighted something that being in Recovery has done for me. I didn’t have any tantrums, no nonsensical rants. I took quick action to deal with both situations, and I didn’t experience any disproportionate emotions. Sure, there was some anger, some frustration, emotions you would expect. But no outbursts, no wild fits of anger. There are those who knew me when I was using who would tell you that that, all by itself, is a miracle.

Sometimes the miracle of Recovery is feeling so serene we feel totally at peace, at one with all of creation. Sometimes, the miracle is nothing more than keeping a level head through difficult times.

“When Family Has The Disease”

2011-07-05T20:30:00.000-07:00

A lot of people in the program come from families where the disease runs rampant. Dad’s a drunk, mom takes pills, sister’s on crank, brother’s in jail, and every combination of the above and more. Some of us have family members who don’t drink or use, but we’d swear they’re still ‘one of us’ because of their behavior. Maybe they’re totally self-absorbed, or maybe they’re obsessive worriers. Or maybe they’re just straight-up insane.

Whatever the case, whatever our past history, we all reach a point where we have to reckon with our family. Whether we’ve been abused growing up or were simply not our parents’ favored child. We might reconcile with our blood relatives, our family of origin, or we might choose to leave them out of our lives completely. Sometimes we want nothing more than to do that last one and it simply isn’t possible. Sometimes we beat our heads up against a brick wall for years, focusing on their actions (or lack thereof) and wishing beyond all hope that they would just miraculously become different people.

That’s the trap, of course. Our family members who still suffer, who haven’t found Recovery and don’t want to do something different, there really isn’t much we can do for them. We can spend our energy being frustrated at them for not being who we wish they were. We can rail against the disease for keeping our blood from being who we think they might or could be. But in the end, the one thing we can’t do, the thing that is so hard to admit to ourselves, is change them.

All we can really do is detach ourselves, and do it with whatever love we can muster. Trying to help them? Disaster. Buying booze or drugs for them? Not helpful. Giving them money instead of letting them suffer the consequences of their own actions? Totally wrongheaded.

We want to help, of course we do, particularly if we ourselves have found Recovery. Maybe we want them to find what we have found. Maybe we just want them to stop being assholes and treat us the way we feel we deserve to be treated. For once in our lives! But we can’t help them, they can only help themselves. And here’s the real kicker: it ain’t up to us to help them; that’s not our place. In case you haven’t heard it in a meeting, let me tell you now: don’t take other people’s inventory. We’re only responsible for ourselves, no one else--and that includes family.

We have only one avenue open to us that works: acceptance. Our family is who they are. We can’t change them, no matter how much we might want to. With time and with Recovery, we can learn to accept them, but that’s a process that takes a long time. And a lot of patience.

Here’s the thing about acceptance, too: we don’t have to agree with What Is, we don’t have to like it, we just have to accept it.

I remember splitting up with my ex-wife. My family insisted that they weren’t taking sides, but all I could see was that they weren’t on mine. My sister would call her and not me, go out to dinner with her and her new boyfriend, but not visit me. My mom wouldn’t listen to two sentences of my side of the story without changing the subject. My dad couldn’t even look at me straight when I expressed my frustrations at feeling abandoned by the lot of them. If they’d at least looked me in the eye, told me, “we still like her; she’s still part of the family to us,” that would have at least been respectful, but they couldn’t even do that. It sucked. It still does. But it’s something I’ve learned to accept.

My family is who they are. And with some Recovery (and no small measure of therapy), I can understand a lot better now their position. It’s still not something I like, or that I agree with, but it’s something I’ve learned to accept and let go of. My family is who they are, and my job is to remember that, to stay in the Real, and not fall into the trap of wishing they were different. Because they’re not going to be. They’re going to keep on being who they are no matter what I do. So I need to do the only thing I can: accept, and let go.

That’s what we can do about our family members who have the disease: accept, and let go.

“Dealing With Fear”

2011-07-04T14:06:00.000-07:00

It’s hot here right now. Really hot. We’re on day two of what is supposed to be a four day stretch of 100+ degree days. I’d planned to wake up early this morning to go on my run, but got hit with a bout of insomnia last night. By the time I was up today, it was too hot to run (at least, too hot for me). So I walked four miles instead.

Back at my apartment afterward, I stepped into the shower and found myself being irritated with my brain. It’s been on the busy side lately; lots of imaginary conversations, worrying, fears coming up, that sort of thing. I’ve noticed it in both my prayer and my meditation time. I’m hoping that it’s just stress from being back at work.

Actually, now that I think about it, it’s not really from being back at work, it’s just fear related to that. Here’s a great example: one of the things I’ve been worrying about is that I’m supposed to be at work today even though it’s a holiday. I know I’m not. I have paperwork showing that 4th of July is one my paid holidays. I know full well that no one else is going to be there, so even if I went, there wouldn’t be anyone there to let me in! And yet, even with all this knowledge, the fear is still there.

I was talking with a friend just yesterday about how irrational emotions can be--especially fear. A comment I made is something I heard the late great comedian Bill Hicks say often, that there is nothing to fear ever. That’s not something I can quite get my head around, but as a spiritual puzzle, it’s powerful to ponder.

So as I was soaping up my bald head in the shower today, I reminded myself that I had just yesterday passed on this little piece of spiritual truth and wouldn’t it be a great idea to take my own advice? And just like that, my whole mindset turned. With the fear dispelled, the force of my Recovery kicked ass and took names.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. Today IS a holiday, so enjoy your holiday, Zach! Go have a coffee and write a blog. Come home afterwards and work on some music. Oh and by the way good job working up a sweat with that four mile walk this morning. And didn’t you work out with your weights for an hour yesterday? Hell yeah, dude!”

It’s okay to relax and enjoy ourselves. I forget to do that all too often. And fear... fear is one of the biggest paralyzers. It causes us to react without thinking, keeps us from taking considered action. Even worse, it holds us prisoner in the future, in the past, in the domain of ‘what if’. Recovery is about the real, about ‘what is’, about living in the now.

I’ve heard people in meetings share about how they live their lives now without any fear. That’s great for them. For myself, I still feel fear from time to time. It’s much, much less than what I used to deal with, and I have the program to thank for helping me to sort through all that. I have the program to thank, too, for helping me learn how to deal with fears so that when they do show up these days, I can overcome them.

Now if you’ll excuse me, my music awaits :-)

“Judging Other Addicts”

2011-07-01T00:17:00.001-07:00

I was having fellowship after a meeting recently and we got to talking about the different vibes each of the fellowships have. How AA has a different feel from NA, talk like that. And it’s true, different meetings have different atmospheres. And there are plenty of judgmental folks in Recovery, people who think they’re somehow better (or worse) than others because they used such hard drugs, or drank so much more than others did.

For me, I try to remember that comparing myself to others, thinking of myself as better-than or less-than, isn’t Recovery-oriented thinking. I don’t care if someone was slammin’ dope and homeless or if they have a big house, beautiful wife, and five children. It’s not up to me to decide how ‘bad’ someone’s disease is, or to put a label on how much suffering they’ve been through. We all experience pain differently and I’m not about to discount someone’s own personal hell just because it was different from my own. Recovery is supposed to be about healing, lifting each other up, not tearing each other down.

During the conversation, I commented that a good speaker won’t talk about what they used, because ultimately that doesn’t really matter. Talking about what we were hooked on is carrying the mess, not the message. Focusing on what we used is focusing on the problem, not the solution.

This is a subject I feel very strongly about and I can get downright preachy sometimes. I have to be careful not to branch off into judgmental territory myself. It’s too easy for me to point out others’ flaws, how lost they are, moving from one program to another as they treat one addiction after another.

Don’t treat your addiction; treat the disease that causes it.

The disease is about so much more than our substance abuse. It’s in the way we think, the way we speak, how we act towards others and how we approach reality itself. We aren’t honest with other people or with ourselves. We’re pessimistic and lack trust. We’re quick to point out other people’s faults while refusing to take responsibility for our own. We’re flakes who let people down. We’re deeply insecure, raging egomaniacs. We hurt people, with our words and through our actions. We say we’re sorry over and over again but never actually change. We refuse to admit when we’re wrong. We take everything way too personally. We think we’re responsible for how other people feel and how they live. We make ourselves crazy trying to change other people and manage their lives, because we don’t know how to manage our own. We desperately try to control everything outside ourselves, all the while ignoring the glaring need for healing within.

This is the disease. This is what it looks like, untreated, without Recovery. Anyone who has lived with a dry drunk or an addict who has tried quitting on their own knows these behaviors. They are the ways we do life that don’t work. They are the behaviors that cause our problems. They are the reason why our lives don’t magically improve when we stop using and drinking.

This is why I believe it doesn’t matter what someone was hooked on. I’ve known people who whored themselves out just for a ten-sack of weed. I’ve known seemingly fully functioning members of society who were secretly crystal meth addicts.

Some people don’t think addiction isn’t a disease; cancer is a disease. Well guess what--addiction kills, too. And besides, how often do you hear a brain cancer survivor say to someone, “Oh…. You just had skin cancer? What a pussy.”

Being judgmental towards other addicts doesn’t help us recover; it keeps us in the disease, and it keeps us focused on the problem. I prefer to stay focused on the solution.

“Feels Good To Be Working”

2011-06-29T21:05:00.001-07:00

I’m on my lunch break now from my first full day back to work. I have an hour to eat, relax, and what do I do with it? Blog. Why? Because I have this giddy feeling bubbling up inside me, almost like a secret. It’s almost like I want to pull a random stranger aside and whisper, “Psst! Hey! I love my new job!”

I got here half an hour early this morning, met my supervisor, my coworkers. Things were a little slow at first. I had to get my computer access up and running, which required a trip to the IT department. There was a lot of reading about the department I’m in, the way funding sources are set up, how the coordination happens between local and regional offices. There were some details I probably didn’t need to know, but that’s alright.

In due course, they got to the nitty gritty of training me on the specific tasks I’ll be doing. I couldn’t help myself from smiling. It’s not exactly simple stuff. There’s lots of analysis, lots and lots of little details. I won’t be bored, and that’s a huge relief. I won’t be doing this work on autopilot, either; I’ll actually be using my brain, which is an outright joy.

One of the biggest frustrations at my last job was how tedious it was. It didn’t require much thinking at all. Monotonous--that’s probably a better word for it. Or maybe ‘mind-numbingly dull’. I read a personality profile on myself once that said, “avoid repetitive clerical tasks at all costs!” You know, like they’re the plague or something :-) One of my fears about this new job was that I’d be stuck doing just that. Again. And that the sneaking suspicion I had inside that I was capable of so much more would remain just that--an unconfirmed suspicion. It feels good to be doing more in-depth work, to be pushing myself, and confirming that idea. My employer is showing a lot of faith in me to start me at this level of pay, and I feel good about being able to rise to the occasion.

Probably in time I won’t feel so excited about the job, and that’s to be expected I think. The newness will wear off and I’ll adjust. The new What Is will be that I’m working, just like most people. And I think that’s part of why I’m feeling so giddy right now. After being out of work for so long, I still don’t quite believe that I’m back at it. Maybe it won’t even really set in until I get that first paycheck.

Something I’ve rarely written about through my long period of being unemployed was feeling worthless for not having a job. It’s not like the thought wasn’t there, I just kept it at bay. Truthfully, it was always there. It showed up most often when I would think about dating, for some strange reason. Ah, I’m rambling.

It’s only the first day, of course, and it may turn out that all the new information and training that I think I understand, I’m in fact actually clueless about. But for right now, I feel really good. It feels good to be working again. The people in the office feel like decent, nice folks. And it feels great to be using my gray matter upstairs. So I raise my coffee cup in gratitude for a good start.

“Going Back To Work”

2011-06-28T15:49:00.000-07:00

Okay, here’s some truth for you. This is how fucked up my disease is.

After being out of work for more than a year, I’ve finally gotten a job. It’s actually a better job than the one I was laid off from. A better organization, better benefits, and a dollar more an hour than I was making before. How do I feel about it? Terrified. But that’s not the disease, that’s actually just me.

The disease, this fucked up part of me inside my head, is the little two-year old. Good ol’ lil’ Joshua who when he heard the news that I’d be going back to work, threw a tantrum like you’ve never seen. “I. Don’t. Wanna!” And he stamped his foot and started pouting. No tears yet, but oh is he ever pissed.

That’s the diseased part of my brain, the part that tells me I’m special, I’m not like everyone else. It tells me I’m too good to have work, that the kind of work I’ll be doing is beneath me and stuff I’m not really that good at anyway. It tells me I’m more special-er than anyone else who ever lived, that the rules don’t apply to me. “I’m an artist,” pronounces little Joshua as he grabs his crayons and graffiti’s the walls. “I’m special. Everyone else should just support me because I’m the most wonderful person that ever lived. Don’t they know that? Don’t they know who I am?!”

I hear this; I feel the adrenaline that courses through my veins from that false sense of superiority, feel the top-heavy weight of my inflated ego. But the way through is not to backhand lil’ Joshua. The little snot isn’t suffering from a need in attitude adjustment. He’s just scared.

He’s scared that he won’t be good enough, that he’ll fail. He’s scared that he’ll be stuck like he was before, doing work that he hated for people who didn’t see him as a person and couldn’t really care less about him. That’s the thing about our inner child--they never really get over not receiving the love and support that they needed when they needed it. But talking down to that part of ourselves, cursing ourselves for feeling those feelings, that is not the way. That just plays into our insecurities. It repeats the patterns we’ve come to think are the way things are supposed to be. The cycle continues.

I don’t need anyone to tell me I’m worthless. I’m quite well accomplished at calling myself a lowly sack of shit. I don’t need anyone else to drag me down; I can drag myself down better than anybody else ever could.

When I hear the disease, what is for the moment given voice by the fears of my inner child, I can recognize it for what it is. I don’t have to act on it, and I don’t have to listen to it. I can stop, take stock of what’s really going on. The disease cowers in the face of What Is.

I’ve been doing this Recovery thing long enough now to know a few things, too, about how my disease reacts specifically. It doesn’t like it when I do good things for myself. Whenever I have a significant success, an accomplishment that someone else might normally be proud of themselves for, my disease tries to tear me down instead. This is how fucked up my disease is: the greater my success, the harder it works to make me feel like shit. Thank God that I’ve got some experience living the program, and in dealing with myself, that I don’t have to listen to it, that I can work to overcome it. It’s not easy but it is possible.

The disease never stops lying to me. The truth is that I’m lucky to have found a job, and a good one at that. I’m lucky to have some Recovery so that I don’t sabotage myself anymore. The war can still rage on inside my head, but it stays there now. Maybe even one day lil’ Joshua will throw his tantrums and I’ll just call out to him from the other room, “yes, dear, I see you. You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“Sharing Our True Selves”

2011-06-27T11:38:00.000-07:00

Sometimes at meetings, I’ll share knowing exactly what I want to say. I might have something big going on in my life at the moment that I need to talk about, or some good piece of advice about the topic that I want to pass on to newcomers, just as it was passed on to me when I was new. Sometimes I feel the quiet voice of my higher power telling me to keep my mouth shut and not say anything at all--let others share, listen.

Every once in a while, I’ll open my mouth to speak and not have the faintest idea what I’m going to say. It’s like that when I chair a meeting, too, but at those times it’s deliberate. I’ve found that there’s more authenticity to my words when I don’t plan them. A quick prayer, then let out what it was like, what happened, and what it’s like now.

A lot of times when I’m a speaker, and sometimes when I share, I get done speaking and don’t have a real conscious recollection of what I’ve said. Or I do remember and it feels stupid. It’s ironic, because I’ve found that it is at those times when people are most likely to come up to me afterward and tell me how much they appreciated what I had to say.

I’ve heard other people comment about having the same experience, feeling like what they shared was dumb or just flat-out not remembering what exactly it was that they said. There are those of us who feel that what is going on during these times is that we’re channeling.

No, I’m not talking about the spirit of Bill W. coming back from the great beyond, I mean our higher power is speaking through us. We’re tuned in, in the zone, aligned with the force greater than ourselves, and that energy flows through us and shapes our thoughts and our words. We’re plugged in to the power of Recovery, and it transforms us into beacons of healing.

I don’t always keep the newcomers in mind when I share. After all, it’s my five minutes and sometimes I gotta say what I gotta say. But when I am thinking of the newcomers, I try to pass on advice that was given to me that’s been helpful. It’s like I say to my sponsees: all this stuff that I’m telling you, it’s not bullshit that I’ve just made up on the spot; it’s the advice that’s been handed down to me by others who follow it because it works.

When I’m chairing a meeting, what I pray before I speak is that my words help someone. If something I’ve said is helpful to even just one person, then I’ve done a service. I can’t save anyone else, just like I can’t keep anyone else sober or make them go back out. All I can do is share my experience and hope that somebody else hears something useful.

There are differences in our stories, but many more similarities. The truth is that we are all far more alike than we are different. That’s why we can hear ourselves in others’ stories. We see ourselves in the way they think, the words they say, and the actions they take. There is nothing about us and our lives that is so unique that someone else hasn’t been in a similar situation (if not the exact same situation). Listening to others who have more experience living the program, hearing how they’ve handled the problems of living life on life’s terms, that’s how we learn.

I’ve been a speaker and had people come up to me after the meeting and thank me for telling their story. There’s no feeling quite like that, to share the story of my life--which includes a whole lot of feeling like I’m the only one on Earth like me--and have someone thank me for helping them to not feel alone anymore because there were so many similarities.

We don’t have to shape our stories to benefit anyone else. We don’t have to say the right thing, or try to make sure what we say is relevant to other people. All we have to do is speak the truth about ourselves, who we are and who’ve we been, what we really think and feel, and it will resonate. It’s the sharing of our true selves, and the finding of others who are as we are. That is the amazing journey of Recovery--learning that we aren’t alone.

“Deeper Understanding”

2011-06-25T15:45:00.000-07:00

I’m a Kate Bush fan. One of my favorite songs of hers is called ‘Deeper Understanding’. It’s loosely about addiction--computer addiction, actually. The chorus is my favorite part: “Hello; I know that you’ve been feeling tired; I bring you love and deeper understanding. Hello; I know that you’re unhappy; I bring you love and deeper understanding.”

Many times, I’ve closed my eyes and imagined someone singing those words to me. The same goes for that Sade song, ‘By Your Side’. Come to think of it, there are a whole host of songs like that, songs that capture the feeling of what I want from a woman. Maybe I should make up a playlist, drive to the ocean, roll the windows down, crank the stereo up loud, and play it as an appeal to the cosmic forces. Certainly, my perfect woman will emerge from the waves, walk right over, and profess her undying devotion to me. Yes, I am being facetious.

There was a news/opinion story today about couples with wide age differences. There was some analysis in there, looking specifically at older men & younger women. The women (re: girls) tend to have histories of abuse, absent father issues, etc. The men tend to think they’re hot shit, different from other men, special, etc. In both cases, a lot of it boils down to people being unable or unwilling to open themselves up, be emotionally available.

As a man who has been on both lopsided sides of that equation--I’ve dated women a lot younger than me AND been the much-younger part of a couple--I’d have to say I agree with that assessment. When I was with an older woman, it was because I wanted to remain childish, be taken care of. When I was with a younger woman, it was because I thought I was ‘special’ and ‘deserving’ and other egotistical bullshit like that.

I remember a friend of mine telling me, “Zach, let someone into your life who is your equal.” In other words, stop hiding, stop being afraid, let yourself open up to another person who you might actually make a real connection with.

Ironically enough, Melody Beattie’s book ‘The Language Of Letting Go’ had a passage on this subject for today’s date--how important it is to not do relationships out of fear, to leave that stuff behind, allow ourselves to be vulnerable and share our hearts with another human being. It was very timely advice.

It’s at least a little ironic that someone such as myself, who is always desiring that deeper connection, the deeper understanding, has so much difficulty making myself open. Or maybe it’s not a mystery at all; maybe it makes perfect sense that because I have such a hard time opening myself up, I haven’t experienced very much of that kind of a connection.

Relationships are disasters for a lot of us with the disease. Sometimes it’s the result of being abused as children. Sometimes it’s because of being sexually assaulted. Sometimes we just happened to be raised in families where intimacy--true, loving intimacy--didn’t happen. And it’s not like our culture gives us a hand at this, either. We’re bombarded with shallow, superficial messages from movies and television that teach us ‘true love’ that is in actuality codependence. Or stalking.

There is some good, old wisdom out there, though, for relationships. When you stop looking for love, that’s when you find it. You have to be okay by yourself first before you’re able to be a partner in a healthy relationship. You need to love yourself before you can love someone else.

I’ve had enough unhealthy relationships to know that being by myself is much better than being in a bad relationship. And these days, with some Recovery and serenity under my belt, I truly would rather be by myself than go crazy trying to do relationships the way I used to. That shit was straight-up insanity. But that doesn’t mean I particularly enjoy being alone. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to have someone to share my life with. It doesn’t mean I don’t get lonely sleeping by myself.

But hey, if everything was perfect, what would I have to complain about?

My sponsor got me going on a good mantra a long time ago: maybe the perfect woman is out there, maybe she isn’t. I can accept how I feel, know that it’s okay to feel it, and then let go. For me, it’s a trust the higher power thing. The point is to be okay with just me, by myself, because if I can do that, if I can be at peace with just me, then ultimately it doesn’t matter so much if I have a woman in my life or not.

“Practicing Perseverance”

2011-06-24T16:52:00.000-07:00

Go to meetings, stay sober, work the step or die, blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda, thanks for reading.

Naw, I’m just kidding :)

It’s a warm Friday afternoon and I’m in the shade of the patio outside my favorite coffee shop. They’ve got a new drink here I just had to try. It’s sort of like a root beer float--a can of A&W, a dash of half-and-half, and two shots of espresso. It’s supposed to come with whipped cream too, but I told the guy to hold off on that. It’s pretty good.

Grabbing my drink, I noticed there are a lot of good-looking women here today. I thought briefly about planting myself on the couch to observe the field, but what would my blog turn out like? I can see it now... “Working the steps is crucial to brunette in a really tight tube top.” “Going to meetings is the best way to pretty blond in a short skirt.” Yeah. Exactly.

Yes, I am in a good mood. And not because of the women, or even the tasty root beer concoction. No, today just feels like a good day. Yesterday I did a lot of exercise. I pushed myself on the weights. My shoulder muscles haven’t been keeping up with everything else so I worked those extra hard. Then last night it cooled off really nicely and I couldn’t resist going for a jog. I did a two and a half mile route, ran my usual 1.1 miles of it, but I pushed the speed up. This morning I stepped on the scales and was pleased with the reading (no, I’m not going to share what it said). I’m trying real hard to not stress too much over the weight loss not happening as fast as I’d like, trying to remember the point is to be healthy, be exercising. But on the days where the scale is down, I feel really good. And of course, on the days when it’s up, I get furious with myself. No surprise there.

The weight is coming down, regardless of how fast. That’s a good thing and something I am proud of, but the more important point is that I’m exercising every day. I was trying to remember the last time I missed a day and it’s been awhile. The weight is coming off gradually, and I know that’s because I’m keeping at it and persevering.

Ah, you knew a spiritual principle was going to show up, didn’t you?

I was talking with one of my sponsees earlier today. He’s going through a rough patch where the disease is just kicking his ass from all sorts of angles right now. We talked a lot about how this is one of those times where the tenth step comes into play full force. Life is hard. Recovery is hard. That’s what is. For those of us who’ve managed to put together some time, apathy is our worst enemy. We have to keep on working the program, keep on climbing that hill. We have to Persevere. Those of us with the disease have something of a catch-22 when it comes to life. Life is hard, so we became addicts; because we’re addicts, life is even harder. But it doesn’t get easier, not exactly. I shared with him one of my favorite metaphors for working the program and dealing with life:

Say you pick up a new instrument, like the violin. At the start, you need someone to show you how to do everything--where to put your fingers, how to hold the bow, etc. All you can play is some ‘Mary Had A Little Lamb’ bullshit and even that sounds terrible. But with time, with patience, and with practice, you move on to harder and harder pieces. Eventually you’re able to play world-famous concertos. The pieces didn’t get any easier, you’ve just gotten better at playing. As you become more and more practiced, you’re able to play more difficult pieces.

The metaphor works with lifting weights, too. At first, you can’t lift very heavy weights and you can’t do it for very long. As you keep at, keep practicing, as you persevere, you’re able to handle longer workouts and lift heavier and heavier weights. In time, you get a nicely toned body.

With Recovery, it’s life that we’re practicing; it’s our spiritual selves that we’re toning up. As we keep on keepin’ on, we get better at handling life itself. And just like working out or lifting weights, if we miss a day, we can feel our regression. We have to keep going, keep moving forward. We have to work the program on a daily basis, one day at a time. We don’t always see the effects, just as how going to the gym once doesn’t get us bodybuilder bodies. But if we persevere, we will see the results. They aren’t reflected in the mirror, but in the shape of our lives and the people in them. We are transformed and the change is undeniable.

“Lucky Is A Frame Of Mind

2011-06-22T22:07:00.000-07:00

I’m feeling a little pensive this evening. It was a good day. I worked out, got my laundry done, reworked & mixed a song for my own music project, visited with my mom, even gave my jade plant some love (I have a solid bonsai thing going, there). The evening has cooled off and there’s a nice, perhaps even blustery, wind blowing as I enjoy an iced decaf and turn my fingers to write another ‘TOTD’.

It’s not all wine and roses. My grandmother is in ICU recuperating from another bad fall. My uncle’s girlfriend may have ovarian cancer. One of my good friends is struggling with a budding cross-addiction. There is good news, though. My mom’s test came out negative for kidney cancer (it’s just an inert cyst). All of them will be in my prayers.

I’ve mentioned in previous blogs the luck charm I created recently, the newest addition to the altar in my bedroom. It’s not a luck charm, per se. The thing about luck is that people who believe they’re lucky tend to be. The opposite is true, too. So, the charm is more of a reminder to me that I am lucky, not so much trying to bring more luck into my life or make me luckier, just to help me remember that if I believe I am lucky, then I will be. Like a great master once said, “you don’t make miracles happen, you just see them done and they are.”

No sign yet of increased luckiness in my life, but I have been thinking about the subject. I don’t think of myself as lucky very often; it’s one of the reasons I made the charm, to help me tap into that force. I can see myself as fortunate, or maybe lucky in the sense that things could be so much worse. Like, lucky in that much worse things could have happened to me in life, not lucky in the sense that lots of good things have happened to me.

It’s true that I could have been through much worse in my life. I’ve never been homeless, I wasn’t abused as a child--not really. I’ve never really been poor. Broke maybe, without funds, but not poor. I’ve been blessed with a family that loves me and has always been able to help me out financially when I needed it.

I’ve had some challenges, sure. Lack of social skills, severely low self-confidence, and of course this devil’s disease always warping my perspective, trying to drag me back down. The worst hell I’ve had to endure in my life has been the prison of my own diseased brain. And it was hell, dear readers, so sayeth your humble author as he recalls his suicide attempts.

I’m lucky to have found the program, and damned lucky that it’s worked for me. Or maybe it’s that I’m lucky to have had the willingness to work it. I’m lucky that I didn’t permanently damage my body or my brain in the course of active addiction (though only time will tell about any smoking-related illnesses).

I’ve got a lot to be grateful for. Yeah, I’ve been pretty lucky so far. So many others haven’t been. What is it that lifts up one individual while another gets pushed down? Why are some of us subjected to torturous lives while others have had it so easy with so little effort? Maybe there is no why. Maybe it’s just the infinite diversity of the Infinite All’s chaotic creation.

I can look around and find someone who’s been more lucky than I have, and I can find someone who has had it worse. It’s not up to me to pass judgment on any of that, just to be grateful for the fortune I have had in my own life.

“Rigorous Honesty”

2011-06-21T11:16:00.000-07:00

We talk about this life of Recovery as being one of ‘rigorous honesty’. Honesty is the first spiritual principle we begin practicing when we start working the program. It begins with the honest admission that we have the disease and that we need help. From there, it spreads gradually to every aspect of our lives.

There’s a lot more to being honest than just not telling lies anymore. There are lies of omission, the things we don’t say, secrets we don’t share. Those can be as devastating as any outright lie. We don’t say we’re only as sick as our secrets for nothing. (A quick owning of my own stuff, here: I tend to be a little harsher on this point because I’ve been burned in the past by those lies of omission.)

Probably the most difficult part of the Honesty stuff is learning to be honest with ourselves. We are so good at self-deception, at rationalizing. We can find a reasonable explanation for any behavior. We’re addicts; denial is second-nature to us. The good news is that we can learn a different way. We can learn to be honest with ourselves about our wants, our needs, our true desires and motivations. It takes time and it takes practice, but that is the work of Recovery.

I was seeing a therapist for a while who talked a lot about emotional honesty. That’s an important one, too. We can be technically not lying, or not keeping secrets, but we still aren’t being fully (or rigorously) honest. Maybe we know something that we think shouldn’t be shared because it isn’t anyone else’s business. But we still feel that sinking feeling in our stomach. That intuition there is our spiritual selves letting us know something’s still not right. I read a great quote once about the need to listen to our conscience--it’s the measure of our selfishness.

Being honest is a part of being someone of integrity. People learn that they can trust us because we aren’t hiding anything. We give them the full truth, our honest perspective on things. We present an honest version of ourselves. We are who we say we are, nothing hidden, no hammer coming down or wild outburst waiting around the corner. This is the type of person we strive to be.

One of my favorite sayings is that no one trusts an honest man. I love that because it’s so true. Is honesty really so rare in our culture today? You’re damn right it is. Hidden agendas, hidden motives, secret plots, plans and pre-conceived notions. Everyone is so used to being lied to that when they’re confronted with someone who is honest, they don’t always know how to handle it. Personally, I think that shit’s hilarious.

What about the ‘little white lies’? I know a lot of people out there believe that ‘little white lies’ are okay, maybe even good, that they’re the glue that holds society together. I happen to disagree. There’s always a way to speak the truth in love, it’s just harder. Then again, if this Recovery way of life were easy, everyone would do it.

I prefer to challenge myself, to work on being honest with myself, and to strive to be emotionally honest with others. Sometimes that means I say things people don’t want to hear. Sometimes it means I have to say things I don’t really want to say, but that’s okay. For me, the point is to walk the spiritual path, try to be a person of integrity, that way I can know I’ve kept my side of the street clean. How others deal with that, how they deal with me and how I live my life now? That’s their opinion, and someone else’s opinion of me ain’t none of my business.

“Loneliness”

2011-06-20T18:19:00.000-07:00

One of my good friends in Recovery, someone I was actually ‘out there’ with who got clean a few months before I did, often shares about loneliness. It’s not a subject I share a lot about. In fact it’s pretty rare for me to talk about it. The reason why isn’t that I never feel the feeling, in fact it’s a feeling I have far more experience with it than I wish I did.

Remembering what it was like, I can go back to just about any relationship I’ve ever been in and recall a moment (or many) where I was lying in bed with my partner and felt lonely. Not just lonely, but desperately lonely. I remember thinking to myself many, many times about how fucked up it was to be lying next to a woman--oftentimes one I loved--and yet still feel isolated and alone.

Even after getting into Recovery, I still felt the pain of that feeling way more often than I care to admit. It’s been one of the more difficult feelings to learn how to deal with, and definitely one that’s taken longer to address and work on. I’ve had a lot of ‘my part’ to sort through when it comes to loneliness, not the least of which has been all the relationships I’ve gotten myself into out of fear that I’d always be alone.

I can feel lonely as fuck, even laying right next to someone. Something I’ve discovered in Recovery, though, is that I can also be by myself, not in a relationship, not even seeing someone, and not feel lonely at all.

This is the part where I’m supposed to launch into a big ol’ diatribe about the emptiness inside all us addicts, how it’s just another part of the God-shaped hole that we can only fill with the love of our higher power and a genuine love of ourselves. And that’s all true, but not quite the point I’m wanting to make. Not that it isn’t a huge, valid, really really important point. But having made it, I’m going to go over here.

Loneliness sucks, there’s no doubt about it. Not knowing how to handle this feeling can get us into all kinds of bad situations. Getting loaded so that we don’t have to feel it is one. Going to a bar and getting drunk enough we don’t care who we go home with is another. Staying with an abusive partner. Allowing ourselves to be used by “friends”. Keeping unhealthy people in our lives just so we don’t have to be stuck alone with ourselves. These are all unhealthy ways, and none of them truly address the emptiness inside.

I’ve made some really poor decisions in the past because of my loneliness. Some of that shit, only my sponsor knows about. It’s better now, but it’s still one of the ways my disease can fuck me over. I have to remember certain things: that I am loved by others; that my higher power loves me more deeply and richly than I could ever possibly imagine or understand; and that trying to fill the emptiness inside with anything else--using, relationships, or one-night-stands--doesn’t work.

Something else I’ve found helpful for dealing with this feeling is acceptance. When I feel lonely, I accept it. It sounds kind of like this: “Hmm. I feel lonely. This shit really sucks. I really wish I didn’t feel this way, but I do. How ‘bout that?”

Loneliness is something we all deal with. Even that persistent feeling that we don’t belong or will never fit in, or even that we’re not like ‘normal’ people, that’s still loneliness, and it’s just a feeling. It may be one we don’t enjoy, but it won’t kill us. And it will pass.

“Finding The Humor”

2011-06-19T12:12:00.000-07:00

I’m having a coffee at my favorite spot before heading over to my sponsor’s place for some step work. I finished up the writing for my latest round of 10, 11, and 12, and we’ve finally found some time in our busy schedules to go over it together.

It’s kind of interesting here at the coffee place. I walked in and somebody’s dog had just barfed all over the middle of the floor. Dude was just sitting in his chair, so either he didn’t notice or didn’t care. Or maybe he figured someone else would clean it up? Anyway, I walked up to the counter and the managing owner was here looking pretty damn pissed off. I don’t blame him. One of gals that works here took a mop out to the floor to clean up the barf and I heard the dog’s owner say he didn’t realize and that he’d clean it up himself. Which he did do. But I saw him sitting in his chair chillin’ when I came in. How could he not notice his dog heaving up all over the floor, five feet away? Ah well. It’s all cleaned up now and the dog’s owner left after doing so. All stuff that’s not my problem.

The JFT talked about finding the humor in life today. Not that life is always funny, in fact all too often it is definitely not. But I agree that it’s important to be able to find the humor in a situation. It’s like that old saying--you gotta either laugh or cry. Me and my fellow addicts talk often about our sick and twisted senses of humor.

My sense of humor is a lot better than it used to be. It used to be that I was so sensitive to any little thing. The idea of just relaxing and having a good a laugh was pretty foreign. And I never laughed at myself. Hell no, I never laughed at myself. I took myself way too seriously. I still can at times, but for the most part I’m able to relax, let go, and see the humorous side of things.

The JFT was right, too, about how keeping our sense of humor can get us through situations that would otherwise be unbearable. It’s so easy to jump to that place in our minds where everything is a crisis, the end of the world, and next thing you know we’re despairing. There’s no need to despair. There’s always help and there’s always Hope.

It’s strange, too, because it’s actually easier than being serious all the time. Or maybe I should say that it takes less energy. I like being able to laugh at myself. I’m not always able to do it, but when I can it’s because I’ve remembered something: that I’m human. Having a sense of humor through life’s difficult times can be a godsend. It doesn’t mean I’m not taking a situation seriously.

As for the dog barf, I’m not really sure what the humor is in that. Maybe it’s one of those things that’s funny when you’re not there ;-)

“It Works”

2011-06-18T20:48:00.000-07:00

I’m a little tired this evening, but it’s the good kind of tired. Earlier this week, I strained my calves a bit and had taken a day off from the running. I hate to miss a day of exercise, though, so I did my weights for three days straight. Today, it finally cooled down a bit. I stepped out to get the mail this afternoon and felt a nice breeze. My first thought was, “ah! Great weather to get back out and run.” I did my mile and felt fantastic afterward. Those folks who are always saying exercise feels good? They’re right.

I spent some time in the studio as well today. I’m working on a rock track that will go out as part of promotion for a book. It’s long-distance collaboration, and those are always fun. My friend wrote the song and recorded all the vocals and guitar tracks. Then I downloaded what he had done and brought it into my system where I added drums, bass, piano, and did the mix. I’m really pleased with how it came out--especially the drums. They sound like real drums to me, not something I programmed in the computer. After sending the mix off, the guy I’m doing the work for had some great compliments for how well it turned out. That was awesome to hear. After all, I’m just one guy working out of his apartment, but with practice and patience, I’m able to turn out work that sounds as professional as anything done in a pro studio.

For my bellybutton birthday a couple weeks back, my sister and brother-in-law gave me some free movie passes. Later tonight, I’m going to check out one of the latest effects-laded comic book hero movies. I don’t expect the story to be deep, I don’t imagine the characters to be toe deep either, and the dialogue will probably be terrible. But I don’t care. I just want to go to the theatre and enjoy the spectacle of the big screen. You know, just have a good time.

I spend a lot of time swimming in the deep end; I could use more time wading in the shallow end of the pool.

It’s an amazing thing to be able to relax. To not just take the time, but make the time for myself and enjoy it. When I look back at today, I realize that it’s been a day of being good to myself. I don’t always remember to do that, but I’m getting better at it. It’s happening more often. Bit by bit, I’m becoming more and more comfortable in my own skin.

I love that metaphor, by the way, of our skin ‘not fitting’. No matter how you say it--wanting to crawl out of your skin, our skin not fitting, feeling comfortable in our own bodies, etc. I used to need to be loaded on something just to be okay with . . . me. The truth, of course, is that even when I was loaded I wasn’t really okay with myself; I was simply too fucked up to care or worry about it. It’s a pretty incredible feeling to be at peace with myself now and to have that be a genuine feeling, something real that isn’t dependent on substances. I must admit: sometimes I wonder how many ‘normies’ are at peace with themselves. Probably not that many.

Somehow I doubt I’ll ever be grateful for having the disease, but I have immense gratitude for where I am these days. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t an addict. But I really wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t worked the program. And if I want to stay here, I have to keep on working it.

It’s like I said at that newcomers meeting a few days back: I wouldn’t keep doing this if it didn’t work.

“Acceptance”

2011-06-16T10:32:00.000-07:00

One of my fellows at my homegroup talks often about how the ‘wisdom to know the difference’ is the mot important part of the serenity prayer. Accepting things we can’t change? Definitely not easy. Having courage to change what we can? It’s certainly possible. Recognizing the difference, knowing which is which? That’s the real trick, now, isn’t it?

If we can tell the difference, then we can recognize the things we can’t change. After that comes the hard part--accepting them. Acceptance is a difficult thing in general. For those of us who suffer from the disease, it’s a whole other monster all unto itself. We are control freaks, sometimes (often?) like angry children, constantly trying to force the world around us to be the way we think it should. But nowhere is it written that the universe is ours for the shaping.

I’ve written it before, and it bears repeating: it’s when we try to control the uncontrollable, that is what leads to unmanageability in our lives. Learning acceptance, being able to get out of denial and see things for how they really are and not as we would have them be, and then letting go of them, that is the work of Recovery. Sometimes the work is in the letting go; sometimes it’s in the breaking out of denial.

This is all first step stuff. What’s the spiritual principle behind the first step? Honesty. What does the first step deal with? Powerlessness. Unmanageability. Admitting we have the disease (whether we call ourselves an alcoholic or an addict or something else) is a practicing of this first step. We reaffirm the honest truth about ourselves: that we have the disease; we’re powerless over it; our lives have become unmanageable because of it. Every time we introduce ourselves to share at a meeting and identify ourselves as someone who suffers, we are practicing this principle.

Translating that principle into the rest of our lives, practicing it in all our affairs, isn’t easy. We do have some tools to help us. What else are we powerless over? Other people, places, and things. We can’t control them. What can we control? Ourselves. We can control our words, our action. We can’t control life, we have to learn to accept it on its own terms. We can control how we respond to it. And there is a hell of a lot of freedom given to us by our higher power in how we are allowed to respond to life. We can act. We can react. We can choose to do nothing. The key, that all-important first step, is to get out of denial and accept what is.

It takes courage to change the things we can. I think it takes courage, too, to accept what is. Sometimes we have to face some harsh truths that we’d rather not face because it would mean leaving our comfort zones, facing something new, different. Even if our circumstances are horrible, we tend to stay in them because they are familiar. Sometimes, the only way out is to reach a point where we are so miserable that we’re forced to admit to ourselves that we just can’t go on with things as they are. Our pain overcomes our fear of the unknown. We become willing to change. Some would say it like this: we surrender to the need to change.
Whatever words are used, be it Honesty, acceptance, surrender, they are all part of the beginning. They are the words used to describe the change that has taken place within us. We have made an internal shift and are now willing to move forward. You could even say that we’ve become unwilling to remain stuck.

There’s an old saying: “somethin’s gotta give”. Sometimes, that something is us.

“Still Workin’ It On The Off-Days”

2011-06-15T11:46:00.000-07:00

Okay, now it’s hot.

Ever since I got back to Sacramento from Lake Tahoe, it’s been up in the 90s here. The forecast says the heat will continue for at least the next week. The solstice is next Tuesday. Summer is finally here. I find myself saying, “oh yeah, that’s right--summer is hot.” As if I somehow forgot.

I made the mistake yesterday afternoon of trying to run in the heat and only made it about half a mile before pulling back to a walk because I could barely breathe. I walked it for about a quarter mile, then started in again, but just couldn't go. I was feeling a little defeated about it. I've gotten into a good routine with my exercise and hated to miss or fall short on even one day. So I went back last night after it had cooled off and did a full mile on top of everything.

After I got home and showered, I couldn’t resist rewarding myself with a burger & shake. Too much carbs, milk, sugar, etc., and now today I feel shitty from the poor eating. Since I’ve been eating better and taking better care of myself, I notice much more intensely how my body feels when I fall off that particular wagon. Ah well, progress not perfection right?

There’s a number of things running through my mind right now. Probably part of that comes from not being up to snuff in the body. But it’s making it difficult for me to get words out in the blog today. No one thing on the brain seems like something I want to write about, or it could be that it’s all stuff that would be good to write about but I’m just not able to put any of it into words for some reason. Ah, let’s just call it a slightly off day. And hey, if the worst of my problems is that I’m at 75% in the brain instead of 100, well that’s what we call a quality problem. Guess I can still be hard on myself :) Gotta knock that shit off at some point.

I went to a newcomers meeting last night. It was pretty small, but I think it was a good meeting. I shared about how the disease isn’t about our substance abuse. If it were, then all our problems would just go away once we quit using and drinking. We read from the literature and there was a paragraph in there that really brought that point home.

Sobriety isn’t Recovery; the two are worlds apart. The disease is about our out-of-whack thinking, the way we deal with life, with other people, with ourselves. Recovery, the twelve steps, teaches us a different way of living life. Being sober is what gives us the chance to learn it. So many people start the program thinking all they have to do is quit getting loaded and all their problems will be solved. The harsh truth is that our real problem takes much longer to change.

I’m not sure how or why, but somehow I knew when I started working the program that it could teach me a new way of life, and I knew that it was something I desperately wanted. It hasn’t been easy, but the changes I’ve gone through and how my life is different now make it worth it. That was something else I shared at the meeting last night--that I wouldn’t keep doing this Recovery thing if it didn’t work.

“Grateful To Have A Life”

2011-06-13T09:50:00.001-07:00

Sitting cross-legged on my back porch this morning, smoking a cigarette and downing some bold and bitter iced coffee I’d made up last night, I read the NA ‘Just For Today’ and almost laughed out loud. It was about having a full, busy life. I thought to myself, “hmm, this sounds familiar; wasn’t I just writing about this… yesterday?”

Indeed I was. Those of us who follow the JFT have all noticed an eerie prescience to that daily meditation. Whatever it is that we’re experiencing in our lives, the ‘Just For Today’ meditation has an amazing ability to hit us spot-on for what we’re going through. It is timely in a way that is almost psychic. My Friday night homegroup is a JFT meeting, and I have shared many times about what a coincidence it is that the reading talked about exactly what I was going through at that moment.

Of course, it’s not really a coincidence at all. The issues the ‘Just For Today’ talks about are things all us addicts deal with. Of course the readings are going to hit home, they discuss the issues we face living life in Recovery. The feeling of wonder we get at the JFT ‘knowing’ what’s going on in our lives is no different than the feeling we get when we hear a chairperson or a speaker tell our story. We are not so different from each other as we would like to believe. That is one of the great lies the disease tells us--that we’re unique, alone. We’re not.

Today’s meditation made a point that I didn’t yesterday. How many times have we been in a meeting and heard someone complain about how busy or full their life is these days? They go on and on about everything that is happening. Maybe it’s ourselves who is doing the complaining. The thing we can so easily forget is what a miracle it is to be sitting there complaining about having a life!

How many of us were homeless before we got clean & sober? How many of us were unemployable? Or in a mental institution? Or in prison? Before we started Recovery, we weren’t capable of having lives, it wasn’t possible. Working the program, doing the steps, being of service to others, we find our way back from the edge. With patience and dedication, we can be restored to sanity.

Having lives becomes possible. We become employable. We learn how to handle life on life’s terms. We learn how to handle it so well that we take on too much life and have to first-step ourselves again--remembering our powerlessness; recognizing once more our unmanageability. If we find ourselves thinking how insane our lives are getting? Time to apply the steps, the spiritual principles of the program, in all our affairs.

We always need to be restored to sanity. As people who suffer from the disease, our natural direction is going to be towards being insane. That’s where the disease is always trying to take us. We don’t get to stop working the program. The good news, as ever, is that there is a solution--if we keep on working the program, we will keep on being restored to sanity.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Recovery didn’t so much as save my life, as it gave me one. Complaining about actually having a life? I’ve been guilty of it. But I try my best to be in a state of gratitude that I even have a life at all. It truly is a miracle.

“No Longer A Victim”

2011-06-12T10:56:00.001-07:00

I’m at my favorite coffee shop, having a muffin and a severely over-caffeinated coffee confection for the first time in about a week. Feels good to be back here blogging. The weather has finally turned and the sun is beating down. A bit of a breeze keeps it from getting too hot. Though, if the people at the table in the shade leave, you know I’m taking it after they’re gone. Ah! And they just did. Maybe I should have wished to win the lottery instead ;-)

It’s been a full week. I had my vacation days up in Tahoe, and that was fantastic. I did some more long driving yesterday. My aunt is moving and offered me her couch, which she can’t take with her. The only catch? I had to go get it. Okay, not a problem. She lives in the next state over, about a two and a half hour drive each way. But hey, it’s a nice couch and she gave it to me. I’m not complaining, not by a long shot.

In between all the traveling, I’ve been working on music, both for my project and the one I’m producing for a local artist, as well as a bunch of Area work. I’m writing up manuals for each of the Officer positions, including the official descriptions of their jobs and some notes specific to our District. I’ve also done some fiction writing with a friend; we’re collaborating on a novel. My sponsees are out of town right now, but staying in touch. That reminds me: it’s been a bit since I talked to my own sponsor. Gotta do that today.

I’m a big believer in not having a busy life. A full life is a good thing, but a busy one? Not so much. Some might say that’s just semantics, but I disagree. A busy life, that sounds to me like a life where you’re at the whim of external forces, a life full of things you ‘have to’ do. It borders on the victim mentality. A full life? That sounds like a life of my choosing, where the things I’m doing are ones I want to do. I don’t see the distinction as a splitting hairs. It’s the difference been being active in my life or being passive in it. One of the big miracles of my life, how the program has changed me, has been in learning to stop thinking of myself as a victim. Everything I do, I do it because it’s something I’ve chosen to do. It’s about taking responsibility for myself, for my actions.

I remember when I was first clued in to my own victim mentality. It was when I worked the fourth step for the first time. There, listed out in black and white in my own handwriting, were all the things that I thought other people had done to me. Then I started writing out my part, seeing the role I had played in creating my own misery. With time and patience, I came to understand that it was seeing myself as a victim, as someone helpless at the mercy of a cruel world, that was what allowed me to be victimized. When I stopped thinking of myself as a victim and started being responsible for my self, that’s when he victimization stopped. It took practice, and it’s something I keep working on, but the change in my life is like night and day.

It’s true, we can’t control other people. We can only control ourselves, our actions, how we react to others--if we choose to react at all. Other people pick up on how we feel about ourselves. If we think we deserve to be taken advantage of, then other people will walk all over us. If we believe--truly believe deep in our hearts--that we deserve all the best in life, from our friends, from our romantic relationships, that that is what we will receive.

Thinking of myself as a victim, as someone doomed to a life of misery, was a self-fulfilling prophecy. Taking responsibility for myself, for my actions, coming to believe that life really can be good, well, that too is a self-fulfilling prophecy.

"Lakeshore"

2011-06-08T20:29:00.000-07:00

About two hours' drive northeast of Sacramento is one of the largest freshwater lakes in the country--Lake Tahoe. It sits on the border between California and Nevada, right in the crook of, well, I don't know what else to call it except the California elbow. I'm up here for a few days and am currently sitting on the south shore of the Lake, watching as the sun sinks behind the snow-covered, majestic Sierra-Nevada mountains. My nights are spent in a swanky hotel room in one of the casinos on the Nevada side, thanks to a bellybutton birthday present from a good friend of mine.

((My phone is having some weird hiccup issue as I try to blog. Just pretend you hear me swearing at it every sentence or so.))

I love it up here, and have been many times. The environmental movement is very strong here, and the local activists work overtime to keep the lake as pure as possible. It's a little difficult for the local businesses and pure hell for new developers, but for us liberal hippie types, that's a good thing. I've done some gambling; won a little, lost a lot. I also took some time (as I can't seem to avoid doing) to do some deep thinking.

One of the most difficult things for addicts to overcome is the idea that we're different. I'm talking about the thought that *I* am different. *I'm* not like other addicts. They don't have the problems like what *I* have. They couldn't possibly understand *me*, *my* life, what *I* have been through and all I have to deal with. Aside from the obvious self-centered nature of this thinking, it presents another problem: a barrier is created between ourselves and others. If we don't learn to get over ourselves, then we won't allow ourselves to get the help we need. And then we go back out. And then we die. We have a phrase for it in the rooms: terminally unique.

I know I am not unique, that I suffer from the same disease other addicts and alcoholics suffer from. Maybe I can't relate to being in prison for years, or being homeless, but there are points in my story that others can relate to: my suicide attempts, for example, and the desperate need to not be miserable any longer. I know how to listen for the similarities, and I can talk with others. We can share about our experiences, and I know they understand where I'm coming from and vice versa.

Still, I'm all too aware of the ways I am different, too, and that old feeling of never fitting in can still show up. Loneliness is something I've battled my entire life. It's been present lately. First, it was from contact with the ex's (I don't have a special someone in my life at the moment). Being at the casinos, the feeling of not fitting in has come up as well. I'm not a big gambler, but I know plenty of people in Recovery who are. I'm not saying it's a problem for them, just that they do it and really enjoy it. Me? Not as much, which is why I don't do it very often.

Being at Lake Tahoe, though, there is so much more here than gambling. If you're looking for a party, this is probably not the best spot. What it is a good place for is enjoying some beautiful natural splendor. So after my gambling money ran out, I took a short drive up around the Lake. There are trails, beaches, and historical interest points all around the perimeter. I went to one that I had been to once before--a place I had unfinished business at. It's too long a story and probably not something that needs to be shared at this level anyway, so I'll make it short by saying I've been working on a luck charm to keep on my altar in my bedroom, and the spirits had guided me back to this spot so that I could get some closure and properly bless the items I needed from it. And I will add that after some deep prayer and conversation with my higher power, I felt much better. I'm hopeful the luck charm will be ready to be made up under the full moon next week.

Sometimes I think about this spiritual practice of mine, this bizarre blend of Christianity, Zen Buddhism, native beliefs, and paganism, and am aware how strange it might seem. So what? This is my journey, my path, how I connect with the spiritual realm. Sometimes, I think it's strange how I'm more comfortable communing with nature than dealing with people and the artificial environments they inhabit. How 'bout that?

I am who I am, and as I've recently been reminded, the only mission in life the Infinite All has ever given me is to be who I am as I have been created.

“I’ll Take ‘T’ As In ‘Tired’, Pat”

2011-06-05T22:32:00.001-07:00

If you don’t know it, learn it: HALT. Hungry Angry Lonely Tired. It’s one of those little sayings we have that help us to be in touch with ourselves, to know our limits, and to know when we’re on the edge. As sufferers from the disease, we’re not so good at being in touch with ourselves. Recognizing when we’re in one of the four states listed above helps us to remember that when we’re like that, we’re not functioning at full capacity. Tonight, I’m feeling the last of those--Tired.

This afternoon, I was at an Area meeting for three hours. It was very productive, but long. After that I went and had dinner with some family. It’s my grandmother’s birthday on Tuesday. That was a little difficult to deal with, but I dealt with it just fine. Then I went for a jog and pushed myself up another step. Today I jogged over a mile. I don’t think I’ve jogged a mile without walking since I was a kid. No, that’s a lie. I never jogged that much when I was a kid, so today I did something I’ve never done before that I never thought I could do. It’s a pretty huge milestone for me.

After taking a shower when I got home, I realized I needed some peace. Not the stay in my apartment and flop on the couch kind of peace, but more of a comfort-type action. So I decided to cruise over to my favorite coffee shop and do a little blogging. Cool night air, iced decaf, the patio, and my cigarettes. And wouldn’t you know it my ex-girlfriend is here. I saw her car in the parking lot when I pulled in and said a quick prayer. Inside, I saw her. She’s with a couple guys. And of course my addict brain checks the guys to see which is her boyfriend. Enough, brain, enough. I’m tired.

She asked how I was. I said exhausted, then went and ordered. Now, sitting outside, my thoughts keep trying to bring her into mind. Enough, brain, enough. I’m tired. For God’s sake, I even dealt with my ex-wife for the first time in years just last week. I wasn’t rude to either, but enough, brain, enough. I’m tired. I don’t have the energy to deal with any of that stuff on any level right now.

I accomplished a lot of good things today. I led a very successful Area meeting. Becoming an official district was the end result of many months of work. Now that we’ve made it, we aren’t resting on our laurels, we’re pressing ahead to bring our procedures and positions more in-line with the world services guidelines. We’re a pretty small District, so we have to figure out how much we can do, which positions to combine, so that all the bases get covered.

I’ve been slowly building up my workout routines for a while, too. Just the fact that I’m exercising every day is a big deal. I step up my weights on a regular basis, and I keep increasing the distance on my jogs. Pretty soon, I’ll be strong enough to start increasing my speed and that’s what I’m really looking forward to. Still, to crest this one-mile mark today feels good. Hopefully I’ll be more able to really be proud of that accomplishment when I’m not so tired.

These are the miracles of the program, working in my life today: Setting long-term plans for self-improvement and following through on them. Setting long-term goals for Service and achieving them. Having pleasant phone conversations with my ex-wife even though we haven’t spoken in years. Seeing my ex-girlfriend and having the wisdom to tell my diseased addict brain, “Not now, Uncle Steve; I’m tired.”

((Update: despite my exhausted state, I still remembered to park my car in a spot where there isn’t going to be street sweeping tomorrow--thus avoiding a $50 parking ticket. Now that’s what I call progress.))

“Tests And Opportunities”

2011-06-04T13:26:00.001-07:00

It’s raining again. The weather forecast tells me that it’s going to be like this for the next few days, culminating in thunderstorms on Monday. The talk amongst friends is that we’re tired of this, it’s June, and where the hell is Summer?! It’s a good thing this blog isn’t the soapbox for all my liberal causes, otherwise I’d be starting a long rant about the global climate change deniers. Alas, this is a Recovery blog and Recovery teaches us acceptance of others and letting go of the things we cannot change.

I’m a fan of rain, to tell the truth. Sitting here, at my computer in my studio upstairs, I have a great view of the drops coming down, washing over the leaves of trees that probably are supposed to have fallen off already. There’s a comfort for me in the rain, something about how it sends everyone running for cover. It’s just a little water, folks! Nature, God, Mother Earth--however you choose to describe it--is a powerful force, a great reminder of the power out there greater than ourselves.

Tapping into the spiritual energy, cultivating a deeper relationship with the power greater than ourselves, is such a an important part of the program. At first, we use that power to help us stay clean & sober (since we’re powerless to do so on our own). Later, as we progress in the program, we learn to rely on it more and more for our everyday lives (because our lives are unmanageable). Lately, I’ve been reminded how we get the help we need from our higher power--if we ask for it.

Something I have had major difficulty with in the past is having strong boundaries and not letting myself get taken advantage of. Making a long story very short, I recently stood up for myself on an issue along those lines. It was difficult, but I knew I needed to take action. I talked it over with my sponsor, then with his guidance did what I had to do. I felt like total shit afterwards. I called my sponsor to let him know how things had gone. He was really supportive and reassured me that I had done the right thing.

I wasn’t entirely convinced, so I started calling some other people in my life to get their opinions. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust what my sponsor had said, just that what my own diseased brain was saying was so much louder. So I called some other people whose opinion I really respect as well. They all reaffirmed what my sponsor had said. It was enough for me to say to myself, “okay brain, I hear you shouting over there, but I’m not going to listen to you this time.” I’ve been doing this Recovery thing long enough to know that my disease lies to me. All. The. Time.

Here’s where the Higher Power ties in, though: I had been doing a lot of praying and meditating about this issue, asking for guidance, for help. After I took action, the very next day I was presented with two more opportunities to practice my new and different behavior in this area. One was an issue of setting boundaries so that I don’t get taken advantage of, the other was not rescuing someone else and allowing them to be responsible for their own problems. It’s almost as if the Infinite All said, “Really? You really want to change how you do this? Well, here’s a little test to see if you’re serious.”

I’m a big believer in Three being a spiritual number; it has shown significance in my life. To have three examples on this issue, all with 24 hours, to me that’s a sign of my higher power at work in my life. I don’t know for sure if I was being tested, per se, but I lit up my spiritual space last night and gave thanks to the spirits anyway for it. I even burned a little sage.

Talking with one of my fellows after a meeting last night, we compared notes. I told him about what I’d just been through. He shared about his moving through a period of growth in his program as well, even though it’s over a different issue. The thing we both connected on is how we see these times, when they happen in our lives now, as opportunities for progress. We know that the disease wants us to fail these tests. The disease doesn’t want us to succeed, to take care of ourselves, or to feel good. The disease wants us to feel like shit so that we’ll go out, get loaded, feel even worse, and then (ultimately) die.

“An Interview At Last”

2011-06-01T14:27:00.001-07:00

Wow. Okay, so I was laid-off from my previous job last April. I’ve done a little temp work, done some under-the-table jobs for friends, played some gigs here and there, but have basically been unemployed for over a year. I’ve sent out applications, resumes, but it’s been really quiet on the job front. As in, dead silent. No calls, no interviews, nothing.

Last Friday, I finally got a call to come in and interview for a position. The interview was this morning. How does it feel? Well, if I do get the job, ask me then. Until I hear one way or the other, I must admit to being very on-guard against feeling anything too strongly. The interview went well, though, that much I can say.

It’s been said that those of us who really work the program end up being great employees. It has something to do, I think, with having a new lease on life, and about going about out lives intentionally. We suit up and show up. We’re honest, dependable, and grateful. Or maybe that’s a load of horseshit. Ah, I don’t know.

I guess I’ve got a lot of mixed emotions going on; that’s why it’s hard to sort things out. I’m not second-guessing myself, though, not thinking I got the job or didn’t. It’s other stuff. I want to be able to pay my rent, buy food, have money for other expenses. At the same time, I enjoy having time to work on all my artistic endeavors. I’m a little worried, too, about how working will interfere with my long-term plans to become a therapist. On the other hand, how can I even continue to pay for school without income?

There’s many thoughts swimming around my brain, threatening to turn into obsession. And yet... they aren’t. They’re below the surface, but not breaking through. It seems to be a Recovery thing. Like, I did the next right thing and it was almost instinctual. The past few days, as I had this interview looming, I wasn’t obsessing over it. I didn’t play out any imaginary conversations. If I felt myself starting to worry or obsess, I pushed it back and did that wonderful letting go thing I’ve been practicing for the past few years.

Today, when I went into the interview calm, relaxed, friendly, making jokes. I talked about my work experience, of course, but I realized something as I left. They say selling yourself is a big part of the interview process. I’ve always hated that idea. I don’t think of myself as a very good salesman. To me, making a sale is about convincing someone to buy something they don’t need. It feels like manipulation.

I didn’t try to manipulate the interview, and the only thing I ‘sold’ was my personable nature. That’s what I realized as I was walking away--that I was really letting that side of myself shine. Sort of like an audition for an acting role, almost. Except I wasn’t playing a character for the interviewer, I was just... me. This is me, this is who I am. If you hire me, this is who you’re going to get.

I have no idea if I’m making any sense in all this. The Recovery miracle today for me was in being centered within myself, knowing that I’m a good guy with a lot to offer. No ego about thinking they’d be lucky to have me as an employee, no insecurity about thinking I have nothing to offer. Confidence, that’s the word. And I got there by letting go, by asking for God’s help, and trusting in it. My job? Go to the interview and believe in myself. And I did.

I think that’s why I feel so good about the interview. We’ll keep the fingers crossed that I get hired.

“(Bad) Sports Analogies”

2011-05-31T12:53:00.000-07:00

One of the most amazing parts of walking the spiritual path is having the spiritual awakening that’s talked about in the twelfth step. The shape it takes is different for each of us. Some people experience it more intensely than others. For some, it’s more of a constant, gentle nudge in the right direction.

For me, I’ve learned to recognize (most of the time) when my higher power is working in my life. It can be prayers that are answered, direct and in my face, or it can be subtle. I like the subtle ones the best. They’re like that little touch of grace that gets me through, that little bit of extra help. One small example: I have a job interview tomorrow (finally!) and needed to get my slacks and a shirt dry-cleaned. I went to the cleaners, asked for same-day service, and the woman behind the counter informed me that I’d missed the cutoff time. BUT, her driver hadn’t shown up yet. Since I only had the two items, she went ahead and took them.

Some might call that a happy coincidence. For me, those kinds of events are evidence of my higher power at work.

There’s more to it than just the incident this morning, of course. What happened today is the end result of my prayers asking for help, my doing the footwork to find a job, calling employers back, and (in all honesty) praying for the willingness to work. I do my part, ask for help, and the Infinite All gives me what I need.

All this action on the Higher Power front lately has me thinking about the nature of ‘God’. I’m not a big sports guy, but for some reason sports analogies kept popping into my head to describe it. Things the HP is not: God isn’t the opposing team, trying to prevent us from achieving or winning; God wants us to succeed. I don’t see God as the referee, either.

God is like the guy in basketball who gives you an assist so that you can make the shot. Or in football, he’s running up ahead of you and blocking other players so that your path is clear to run it in for a touchdown. Or he’s the quarterback with amazing accuracy who can get you the ball at exactly the right moment when you’re open for that small fraction of time. God is the guy behind you in the lineup, racking up RBI’s while you cross home plate. God can be the fans in the stands, too, who cheer you on and still love you even when you get beaten by a better opponent

For my readers out there who aren’t sports fans, my point is this: your higher power is a source help, of hope and strength. It’s with the assistance of our higher power that we’re able to succeed--in staying clean and sober, and in life in general. We have to do our part, practice the principles and do the footwork, and we get the help we need.

Our higher power isn’t ever going to do the things for us that we can do for ourselves, but it will always give us the help we need and do the things for us that we can’t do for ourselves.

The help is there. We have to do our part, ask for help, and we are given what we need.

“Loud Neighbors--Again”

2011-05-29T14:22:00.001-07:00

After a few days of more unseasonable rain, we’ve finally got a sunny day here. I’m at the rose gardens in McKinley park, enjoying some shade and a comfortable breeze. I wasn’t the only one who thought coming here would be a good idea, either. Families stroll through the gardens, couples sit on the wooden benches with their arms draped around each others’ shoulders, and dog owners walk their dogs on the runners’ path. I’ll bet that really pisses off the runners.

I woke up this morning feeling pretty discombobulated; didn’t get a very good sleep last night. My neighbors threw a loud party again. About two dozen people started showing up after midnight. It was the same crowd as last week. I’d stepped out to have a cigarette, taking my phone with me and debating whether or not to call the cops. A group was out in the quad and they yelled ‘whuts up’ to me. I told them.

While I was on hold to repot them, the gal who lives there came down to speak to me. She’s young--early twenties. She told me how she’s already let everyone know not to invite any more people, and that they need to keep the volume down. I told her that’s great, but I’m still reporting her. She said how she wished I’d just gone to her and let her know they were being too loud. I told her that I don’t play games. I said to her that she needed to learn that you don’t start a party after midnight and that my calling the cops was the best way. She said she wished things could have been different. I said, “so do I.”

The thing is, I remember crazy parties. I’ve been to a few. Or maybe more than a few. I don’t actually have a problem with parties. What I have a problem with is starting a big one after midnight. This was the second week in a row. The gal just moved in and she’s throwing weekly shindigs and that’s not cool. There are consequences to our actions. I’m not responsible for my neighbor’s behavior, she is. She’d probably insist that she has a right to throw a party, but I have a right to a quiet place late at night.

Anyway, the situation was dealt with and maybe they’ll knock that shit off. Maybe they won’t and we’ll have to go through this exercise again. My real problem is that I got so pissed about it last night that I couldn’t get to sleep even after they’d quieted down. Damn I hate the insomnia. I’ve gotta wag the dog a little, now; set my alarms and see if I can’t get my sleep schedule back to something more normal.

I’m remembering being younger, being crazy, thinking that no one else in the world mattered but me and what I was up to at any particular moment. I’m not so naive or forgetful as to not see the irony of being the asshole neighbor now. How ‘bout that? That’s the journey of growing up, waking up, realizing that there are other people in the world and that we don’t get to do whatever the hell we feel like. It’s the journey of Recovery, too, because so many of us didn’t grow up. We walk into the rooms as children--whatever our actual age--and learn the things we would have learned just through normal life but didn’t because we were always loaded and stuck inside ourselves.

It doesn’t suck to have to be the asshole neighbor, either. And sitting here today, I don’t feel all that strongly about the incident. Maybe that’s because I’ve taken the time to work the program, share about it in this space. Or maybe it’s one of those ‘intuitively knowing how to handle situations that used to baffle us’ types of things. Ah, I’m not sure how much it matters really. It’s just one more bit of scenery on the journey.

Though I really wish I could have had this serenity I’m feeling now last night.

“District 18 (Greater Sacramento Area Marijuana Anonymous); est’d 2011”

2011-05-28T12:30:00.000-07:00

My homegroup is an MA fellowship--Marijuana Anonymous. I go to the other fellowships, to Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous, but pot was my main drug, my drug of choice. I feel most comfortable there, like it’s in those rooms that I truly feel I’m around ‘my people’. Even in sobriety, stoners are still stoners and there’s a certain bent to those meetings. It’s definitely not a glum lot.

We talk often about how pot is viewed by others in Recovery. Just recently I listened to someone share in a meeting about how a huge chunk of her support group has relapsed, but don’t think they did since it was ‘only weed’. My sponsor tells a story about going to an AA meeting and hearing one of the old-timers ask the group whether or not they thought he should reset his sobriety date after smoking a joint. I have a sponsee with whom I’ve had frequent conversations about people he knows in the program who think it’s okay for them to smoke pot because they’re “just an alcoholic”. I remember all too well the days of tearing my hair out at people who smoked pot everyday, multiple times a day, and yet thought they were sober because they didn’t do crank or heroin anymore.

Marijuana is a drug, just like alcohol is a drug, just like speed, cocaine, and opium are drugs. If you’re honest with yourself about having the disease, then you know that ANY substance is no good. Some people can use marijuana occasionally, just as some people can have a drink and not be an alcoholic. I am not one of those. And I’m a firm believer that anyone who is serious about their Recovery needs to stay away from any and all mind-altering chemicals. If I were to say that it’s okay for me to drink--thinking that alcohol wasn’t my problem, pot was--then that means it’s okay for me to shoot heroin. Or take peyote. Or go shrooming on the weekends. No. Sober means sober. But I digress.

Time and time again, newcomers have come in the door, grateful that we exist. They aren’t welcomed in AA meetings and get yelled at and talked down to because “we talk about ALCOHOL here.” They get laughed out of NA meetings, told to get a life and that they don’t really have a problem and “it’s just pot; don’t be such a loser. Shit, just put it down.” I’ve got news for you folks: that’s what it means to be addicted: you can’t just put it down. People have come to you for help, and you laugh at them???

The Marijuana Anonymous program does exist. It’s a smaller fellowship, a younger fellowship. And that’s okay. Personally, I enjoy that our meetings are smaller. It means that people don’t get as lost in the shuffle. Newcomers don’t get to hide in the back; they’re right there in the middle of the circle. My local area only has about half a dozen meetings a week, but they’re well-attended. We have a book study meeting. We have a speaker meeting. We even have a newcomer meeting.

We have a body of members, elected by the individual meetings, that function as an area service committee. We plan intergroup events, have centralized our donations so that we can make regular contributions to the world organization, MAWS. One of my current service commitments is as the chair of that body.

This weekend is the yearly Marijuana Anonymous World Services business conference. My local area was on the agenda. We’ve been growing steadily, making our donations to MAWS, and asked to become an official area. When the time came, the report on our area was read and the delegates present at the conference were overjoyed to hear that Marijuana Anonymous is thriving in the Sacramento area. Our petition to become an official District was approved unanimously.

My sponsor would give me a talking to if I didn’t take some credit. But I don’t want to crow too loudly. The way I see it is I did my part. MA in this area is healthy and growing. Becoming a District was a natural next step--the next right thing for us, if you will. And yes, I was the one who handled the official communications with MAWS, put together the appropriate reports for the business conference, etc., but I see all of that as part of my job as the area chair. It was the group conscience of the meetings here in the area to try and become a District. My job as area chair was to see the will of the area done.

I’m glad it has been, too. Marijuana Anonymous is doing good things, here in the greater Sacramento area. So here’s to you, District 18. You’ve saved my life and the lives of many others. God bless (or whatever name you give to your Higher Power) and congratulations!

"Keep Writing"

2011-05-25T13:18:00.000-07:00

The last time I was actively working steps, I sort of petered out in the middle of Step 10. I didn’t think too much about it. I do have an active prayer life, and I do a lot of service as well as sponsor other guys in the program. So I felt pretty comfortable with my program maintenance. But a few weeks ago, I was starting to feel a little itchy. Maybe it was nothing more than wanting to have bragging rights so could officially say I’d finished this latest round of steps. Or maybe it’s an integrity thing. Whatever. The point is, I’ve gotten back into the steps. I hauled my workbook and journal out and have been writing.

Ha! I seem to be on a writing kick lately. I do this blog, I’ve started doing some creative writing again, and now I’m putting pen to paper and doing step work. Maybe I’m trying to give myself Carpal tunnel syndrome.

I just wrapped my latest tenth step and am feeling really good. I can see, there in black and white, that I work a strong program. I was struck, too, with some good feelings about myself: I’m a good guy. For someone like myself who lived day to day hating himself and thinking he was the worst of the worst, that is a great change to not just see but feel as well.

I’m a big proponent of writing out step work by hand. There’s something too impersonal about typing it. When I see the words on the page in my own handwriting, they seem to have more power than if I’d just typed them up. When the truths of who I am emerge from steps like ten, four, and eight, it does so very intensely. I have my sponsees keep journals to do their step work in. I think it’s an important part of the process. There’s something ancient about it, in the way that sitting around in a circle in a meeting feels ancient and sacred. Talking with each other, writing our thoughts out, pen to paper, these are things humans have been doing for a long, long time.

Many of my leaps forward in Recovery have come from doing the work and being faced with what I’ve written. I see my own words in my own handwriting and I can’t argue with them. So often, I have been the last to know certain things about myself. At first it was that I was a selfish asshole. That was something everyone who knew me knew about me. These days, it’s that I’m a good man. Again, it’s something that the people in my life know and have even told me on occasion, but when I see it written out in my own handwriting, I can’t argue with it.

I don’t know if it’s like this for other addicts/alcoholics, but for me, with all the lies my disease tells me, I have the damnedest time knowing myself. I’m grateful to the friends I have in the program who help me with that, and I’m grateful for these tools and especially the steps that help me to catch up to what everyone else already knows.

“Get A New God”

2011-05-21T10:00:00.001-07:00

One of my atheist fellows likes to say, “if your God doesn’t want you to be sober, then get a new God.” Personally, I love that phrase because it really pulls together so many points about what kind of a Higher Power we learn to let work in our lives. Many of us come into the program believing in a God that’s punishing and vengeful, or that hates us. It’s a huge part of the Recovery process--learning to allow a loving God to care for us and guide our lives. In fact, I think one of my sponsees has said it best. He’ll share about wondering what the right thing to do in any given situation is, and he’s not quite sure what his higher power thinks, so he’ll ask himself the question, “what would someone who cares for me want me to do?” The answer comes.

This ‘get a new God’ phrase seems to show up a lot in response to birthday nights. People will be receiving their tokens for various lengths of sobriety, showing gratitude to the program and their higher power for finding a new way to live. Once in a while, someone will come up to receive a token for clean time but, because of where the birthday night falls, their birthday is during that month but is still a day or two a way. Often times they’ll say something like, “God-willing, I’ll have 5 years on Tuesday.” To which my atheist fellows deliver the quip, “Hey, if your God doesn’t want you to be sober, get a new God.”

Now, said in that way, yeah it’s a little rude. And also, when it’s said by someone who doesn’t believe too strongly in a higher power, it can be downright hypocritical. I’m fortunate enough to have a powerful God working in my life; I really don’t understand people who work the program without that help. But they do, so who am I to judge? So what makes it okay for someone who doesn’t believe to knock those who do? Nothing. And this is where my atheist friends, I think, have a fundamental misunderstanding about faith.

It’s almost like they hear a comment such as ‘God-willing’ and see it as something to poke a little fun at. What they fail to understand is that, for those who do believe--especially those who believe deeply--sobriety and Recovery isn’t possible for them without help from their higher power. They’ve admitted the depth of their powerlessness over the disease. They couldn’t get sober without God’s help. They can’t stay sober without it. Their faith is the basic ingredient of their new life.

When someone says, “God-willing, I’ll have” so many number of days or years, they’re acknowledging that they didn’t get to where they’re at under their own power. It’s an act of humility. They aren’t saying they don’t think they’ll make it, they’re saying there’s no way they could have gotten to where they’re at without God’s help.

"New Phone, Old Thoughts"

2011-05-19T11:40:00.000-07:00

1,001 one days at a time. How ‘bout that, eh? As usual, my addict brain, instead of allowing me to congratulate myself, has found ways to beat up on me. Uncle Steve isn’t just a liar; he’s abusive too. But we don’t have to go into all that. It’s just a bunch of lies.

I’m blogging now from a new phone. Over the weekend, I dropped my other one and shattered the glass. Instead of having a fit, cursing myself or my bad luck, or wailing about not having money to get a replacement, I shrugged to myself and put ‘get a new phone’ at the top of the to-do list. I researched, found a couple options, and went about finding the best price. There was a minor problem when I went to buy it at first. The guy at the store had me all set to go with a great deal and then it turned out he didn’t actually have the phone in stock. Weak. Everything turned out okay, though. I went to a different store and they were able to hook me up with the same phone, same deal. They even spread my payments out across my next few bills. Manageable? Check.

I love the new phone, too. It’s a slider design, a lot like a mini-laptop computer. The built-in keyboard is fantastic. The keys are widely-spaced and very easy to type on. The screen is good size with excellent graphics. It’s definitely better than my old phone and feels like it will last me just as long if not longer. Now if I can just avoid dropping it...

Hitting the thousand day mark yesterday, I talked to my sponsor last night and thanked him for his help. He gave me mad props for doin the deal--I stay in touch with him, I work the steps, I do service, work with others, etc. He made a special mention that I wasn’t bragging about my time, but continuing to give it away by thanking the people who’d helped me. I even spent some time with an old friend yesterday who’s kinda new to the program. It was good to see him. He’s in a sober living environment now, which for as hard as that is for him, is easier than living where he was.

I can give myself a break, but of course the disease says otherwise. Uncle Steve ain’t never gonna say he’s proud of me. Instead of looking at all the good I’ve done, instead of taking a measure of pride in my accomplishments, it tells me to focus on the bad: that I’m still unemployed, haven’t been able to quit the cigarettes, and then it jumps off from there. But I don’t have to do that. I have tools to handle that.

I can turn that perspective around and focus on the good. I can pat myself on the back for doing well in school this semester and commend my dedication for continuing on with that long-term plan. I can give myself approval for getting a good deal on a new phone instead of sitting in inaction and whining about life. I can be proud of the fact that just a couple days ago I put in another application for work; I am looking for a job and taking action to find one.

And more than all that, I’m not just sitting around on my ass. I have my music. I go to meetings; tonight’s the Area meeting and I’ve shown good leadership there over my term. I’ve even started a new writing project with a friend of mine.

I don’t just sit around anymore and let life happen to me. I’m an active participant in my life now. I do what I can and I leave the rest up to God. That’s the Recovery way.

"Thanks To You, Readers"

2011-05-18T18:43:00.000-07:00

Hey everybody. Today is a special day for me. No, not a sobriety birthday, but something my sponsor likes to call 'proud-time'. Today, I have 1,000 days clean and sober.

As a tradition on my sobriety birthday, I try to call people in the program who have helped me to stay sober. I call my sponsor, my sponsees, and then reach out to any others who've been a big help. It's important to remember that I didn't do this alone, that I did it with the help of my higher power and with the help of so many other people in Recovery.

In that vein, I want to give a shout-out to my readers. Thanks to Google's fancy-shmancy statistical features, I can look and see where readers of this blog are, and you truly are all over the world.

I've been writing 'Thoughts On The Disease' since September of 2009, and since that first post, there have been visits to the blog from 465 cities in 46 countries. Thanks so much for the support, I appreciate it, and it is my hope that you have been helped, too, by what I write. Keep comin' back!

'TOTD' readership, top countries:
United States
United Kingdom
Canada
Australia
India
Philippines
Brazil
Germany
Switzerland
Slovenia
South Africa
Russia
Macedonia
Italy
Mexico

'TOTD' readership, top US cities:
Sacramento, CA
Carmichael, CA
West Sacramento, CA
San Francisco, CA
Washington, DC
Roseville, CA
Alameda, CA
Phoenix, AZ
New York, NY
Los Angeles, CA
Seattle, WA
Portland, OR
Denver, CO
Elk Grove, CA
Oakland, CA
Salt Lake City, UT

"Strange Weather"

2011-05-16T11:45:00.000-07:00

It's been cold here lately. We even had some unseasonable rain yesterday. Check that--thunder, lightening, and hail. Usually, it's stopped raining by this time of year. Who knows? Maybe I'll get rain for my bellybutton birthday in June. I've always considered that a lucky sign the rare times it's happened.

I've got my big Statistics final tomorrow morning at 8am. Today will be spent, oh, studying certainly , but also de-stressing so that I'll have as much brain power as possible. Nothing worse than trying to take a big test with all sorts of other personal crap distracting me. I do have a time set up for studying with another student this afternoon.

There are a number of people in my life that are on my mind. One friend who's struggling to figure a way out of an abusive home situation. Another who's disappointed I'm not taking a trip with him. A sponsee who's struggling with the eleventh step. Another sponsee who I haven't heard from in a little while. Another friend in the program who's finding life unmanageable again after getting back together with an ex. Though I feel for all of them, their problems are their own. I can listen if they choose to talk to me about it, offer advice if I'm asked for it, and otherwise do them all the courtesy of letting them deal with and solve their own problems.

There was a time when guilt and fear motivated me into action. I'd jump on the codependent rescue cycle and charge my way over to insanity. I'd feed my ego and build myself up as a martyr, ever willing to sacrifice my own happiness and well-being to save others. I found fulfillment in defending others, feeding into their bullshit, keeping their secrets, and never ever suggesting to them that they might be responsible for their own problems and perfectly capable of finding their own solutions. Growing up, I'd learned that I was responsible for everyone else's emotional trauma and that the only worth I had as a person came from saving them from themselves. My God, I am so relieved to know I don't have to do that anymore. I'm grateful for the ability to let go of other people's stuff, knowing that it's not mine, that not only is it not my place to save them, but that I couldn't if I tried. And the biggest gift of all is that I don't have to feel guilty anymore for allowing others to be responsible for their own lives.

My favorite coffee shop here is packed with students today. I'm not the only one going through finals, of course. The laptops are humming, the papers are being edited, the books and the notepads, the pens and the pencils, and all the conversation too. There's three people working behind the counter and they can barely keep up. I'm happy for them, though. It's good to see a local place doing well.

Last night, I had a cigarette with one of my neighbors. She's the older of two young women. From the moment they moved in last year, I caught the familiar scent of chaos and drama. After watching the people who come and go from their apartment, being kept up by loud late-night parties in the quad, hearing stories told of feelings felt and thoughts expressed, I have smiled privately to myself many times that these two young ladies are so "one of us". Listening last night, it seems the drama reached a fever pitch and now one of them is moving out. I feel a little bit like the stereotypical old man looking down his nose and muttering, "young people!" under his breath. And of course, it doesn't occur to either of these gals that all the excessive partying might have something to do with their frantic, frenzied lives. A moment of silence for those that still suffer.

No matter what I do, life is going to keep happening--for me and for others. I can choose to get caught up in others' chaos and drama, or I can choose to remain centered in myself. In my better moments, I can stand tall, sure in my stable footing, and listen to the wind of insanity as it whips around me. Sometimes people caught in the storm will shout out for help and I extend them a hand. Sometimes they think they want help, but all they really want is to pull someone else into their chaos. The best thing I can do is to stay centered.

I remember taking lifegaurd lessons when I was a teenager. The biggest lesson was this: wait until someone has stopped thrashing before you try to save them; if they're still flailing about, they'll pull you under, too.

"Smelling Roses"

2011-05-14T23:07:00.000-07:00

I'm gonna go ahead and put the point up front this time: it's nice to be able to take joy in life, even if it's for just little things. In fact, I'm pretty sure that some of the great spiritual beings have said that it's the little things that matter the most.

The big statistics test is Tuesday. I studied for a few hours today, will do so again tomorrow, and am having a study session with another student in the class on Monday. It's much more productive for me to spread it out like that instead of just cramming the night before. Plus, it leaves me the time to continue living my life. I had time today to go for my walk/run, get groceries, clean up around the apartment some, and even spend some time on the phone with a friend who needed a little help.

Damn it feels good to still be going strong on the exercise. I share about it at my homegroup last night, how I'm working on bulding up, trying to run more and more, but building up slowly so that I don't injure myself (again). I mentioned how I was the kid in school who was always picked last for the team--even after all the girls. The weight still isn't dropping nearly as fast as I'd like, but I'm okay with that. For now, it feels good to just stick with the exercise. I can feel the effects when I'm out there running, the satisfaction of adding more distance a little at a time. I see it in the mirror when I'm working with the weights. Exercise isn't about how much you can do in one go, it's about being consistent, continuing to do it for a long span of time. Following through, that's what feels the best.

Settling in this evening, I decided to go browse the used movies at a local store here in town that re-sells. I like supporting them; I'd much rather do that than give my money to the big chain stores just for the privilege of buying something new. I go to this local place, sell them my used movies, and get store credit to buy other ones. Lately, I've been picking up seasons of South Park.

While I was there tonight, I saw a collection of Star Trek shows. I can't remember if I've ever outed myself in these pages as a Star Trek fan or not. I may have mentioned it once or twice. Anyway, I am, and a huge one at that. This collection I found had about a dozen episodes from all the different series and it was at a good price. I picked it up and another season of South Park and--with my store credit--got out of there for about what I would have paid to buy just one new movie. Good deal.

Watching an episode of ST:Next Generation, I found myself smiling, realizing how much I enjoyed the show. It's probably been at least ten years since I've seen it. ST:Deep Space Nine is the show I have all the episodes of, but in high school I would record the late-night repeats of Next Gen and watch it when I got home from school every day. So I know all those episodes. Still, it's been so long since I've seen them... I was smiling because they're just darn good stories. And the acting in this one particular show was great. Star Trek, well, it's not for everyone. But if you like it, then when it's a good one you REALLY like it.

There was a time when I couldn't just lay on the couch and enjoy my quiet time. But nowadays... I'm responsible. I tended to the things I needed to do today; I made the time to take care of myself; I spent some time helping others. And wouldn't you know it, at the end of the day I feel great just being here in my apartment with my itty bitty kitty asleep on the back of the couch and an old show playing on the tv. I'm filled with gratitude, so much so that I just had to write about it.

This Recovery thing is some pretty amazing shit. It's turned this helpless, miserable, lazy, coward and drug addict into a responsible, happy human being.

"A Little Venting"

2011-05-13T18:29:00.000-07:00

I remember being at a meeting once and hearing the Secretary share an interesting observation. She had around seven years and had brought in a speaker with a similar amount of time. She talked about her confusion at how few people there were in the rooms with the 5-10 range of clean/sober time. There were plenty of newcomers, and always those old staple old timers, but for some reason that breath of clean time, it seemed to her, was strangely under-represented.

One of the regulars at my home group, who moved into that time range last year, and I have had discussion not too long ago about how much patience it takes to deal with newcomers sometimes. We have to remind ourselves that we were once new, and that it took time for us to get the Recovery we have today. And of course, that we need the newcomers to remind us of how things were for us when we were new, how bad things had gotten for us, and how downright insane we really were before we had begun practicing the principles of the program. But I think I do get at least part of the reason behind the missing people with time.

I remember, too, when I was in college the first time going to school for my music degree. I was a pianist and a composer (still am), but every music major had to be in an ensemble. For me, that meant singing in the choir. Badly. One day in my first year, a woman in the Soprano section who actually could sing and was a voice major confided to me that she hated singing in the choir. She said it was bad for her. When I asked her why, she explained that younger girls' voices hadn't developed enough, that they sang improperly because of it and because of lack of training. By singing next to them, it dragged her back into all her old bad habits.

As a therapist of mine liked to say, this is what we call a parallel process.

We change and grow through our Recovery. We become different people. Our old ways can become repugnant to us, like the surface of a hot stove we recoil from because we know how much it hurts to be burned. All the insanity of the disease, fresh and ripe in newcomers who've just walked in the door; the crazy codependence and egotism of those with a little Recovery who think they now have all the answers and are on a personal quest to save everyone who suffers; and of course the drama drama drama of lives lived in absence of emotional sobriety. Don't even get me started on the hookup culture. These are all things that fall away as we continue to progress in our Recovery, and being around them can be difficult. Speaking only for myself, I've worked so hard to leave that shit behind.

This is not to say I'm perfect, and I am definitely not in any place to judge, having done all of the above. But people are still people. Newcomers will get involved in relationships too soon and their Recovery will suffer. It breaks my heart to see it, but it happens a lot. I hate having to listen to lies and bullshit, words said out of insecurity and fear. When the disease is running things, we act like total children. I should know; I've done it enough times myself. Sponsees will ask to be sponsored and never call. Active sponsees will refuse to listen, then get angry when you call bullshit on them. I've fired sponsees for consistent refusal to follow suggestions. Because why waste my time giving advice when it's not followed? And more than that, what I want is to see my sponsees succeed in the program. It's really simple: if you aren't going to listen to me, find someone you are willing to listen to.

Even though it might break my heart to see others suffer, even though I know there's an easier way and that all their misery would melt away if they would just do this thing, I know too that I'm not responsible for anyone else, just myself. I can't make anyone listen, and I can't keep anyone else sober. All I can do is work the program for myself, keep on in my own Recovery, and trust in God that that is enough.

"Creatures Of The Earth"

2011-05-11T11:02:00.000-07:00

"Recovery is like balancing grains of sand..." "Then I looked back and saw only one set of footprints..." "The child was throwing starfish back into the ocean..." "Sand, sand, everywhere and not a drop to drink..." Okay, I made that last one up.

There's lots of metaphors out there about sand, the beach, the ocean. I'm a California native and it's hilarious to me how people who don't live here think all us Californians live at the beach. We don't, of course. My homeland has the beaches, but also deserts, mountains, forests, lakes, rivers, foothills and valleys. I have been to the beach, though, many times. Days spent on the beach as a child, my feet in the cold waters of the Pacific Ocean, were some of my earliest experiences in communion with God.

I can feel God in places other than the ocean. Standing in a clearing in the forest, late at night with thousands of stars overhead; or on top of a mountain, looking out across hundreds of miles. I've taken long hikes through old-growth forests on the northern California coast and been amazed at the sheer bounty of life. I've stood the base of giant redwood and sequoia trees, wider around than I am tall, and been struck dumbfounded by the thought that they have been alive for thousands of years.

There are a number of Native American sayings that express the idea that the earth doesn't belong to us humans, we belong to the earth. Whenever I have immersed myself in nature, I have felt the overwhelming truth of that. As we humans become more and more urbanized, live more and more in sterilized environments of our own making, is it any surprise that we forget our place in the natural order? I've known people that the only wildlife they've ever seen is an opossum running across the driveway or a raccoon rummaging through garbage.

In Recovery, we learn that we are not the center of the universe, just one of an infinite number of pieces that make up the whole. Being connected to nature can help us to remember that, too. There's a kind of peace and power that comes from it, a connectedness that happens when we take the time to be away from all our electronic things. We get away from the television, leave behind the phones and the music players, and exist as just ourselves.

I've heard people say they don't like doing that, being without all their creature comforts. It makes them feel nervous, strange. Perhaps it's because we've become dependent on technology to tell us who we are? But we aren't our computers, our cars, our email, or voice messages. Or maybe we're so disconnected from the natural state of our being that we don't know how to behave as just ourselves without all the attachments.

Personally, I think it's important to spend a little time, here and there, letting go of civilization and connecting with nature. It helps us to remember who and what we really are--creatures of the Earth.

"Winding Down"

2011-05-10T12:41:00.000-07:00

I'm on break from classes, sitting in the shade next to a waterfountain/sculpture here on campus. Students of all races chatter around me. A group of four is at a table, grimacing about whatever subject they're supposed to be working on, wishing they could just enjoy the beautiful day. A pair of girls eat a snack of a lunch and gossip about boys. A spikey-haired older woman is across the way, hunched over on her cellphone in a vain attempt at privacy. The sky above is clear blue without a wisp of white cloud.

I attended my last Statistics class of the semester this morning. Immediately afterward, I took my last Social Psychology test. When I turned it in, I made a point of letting the professor know how much I enjoyed the course and asked him if he'd be willing to write me a letter of recommendation when I apply for transfer to a four-year school this fall. He said he'd be glad to. In about an hour, I will sit on the Ageism panel for my Issues Of Diverse Populations class. I've got my notecards all ready and am actually glad to have this topic; it isn't nearly as controversial as some of the others have been.

After I'm done today, I'll hit the ground of finals week with both feet running. I don't have a final exam for Social Psych. I have class for Diverse Populations, but it will be a massive review for the actual final exam which is taken online, so I'll go to that Thursday, then take the test right when I get home. My Statistics final is the monster: cumulative, all the material we've had all semester will be on the exam. There will be some multiple choice answers, some fill-in-the-blank, and a bunch of manual calculations. It is a math class, after all. But that final isn't until next Tuesday, and I've got all weekend to study up for it. Plus, I'd have to basically bomb it to end up with less than a 'C' in the class, so I'm not feeling nearly as much pressure as I otherwise might.

I'm also not nearly as stresed out as I thought I was going to be. Part of that is having done well in my classes over the whole semester so far, part of it has been good planning for this last week. And part of it has been luck of the draw with the way the professors have structured the end of their classes. I'll be glad for the summer break. In the fall, I'll be taking the last couple of classes I need for the 2-year degree. Then, it's (hopefully) a transfer over to Sacramento State to finish the 4-year Psychology degree. My long-term plan is proceeding apace.

Since I knew I needed the break from school, I chose not to take classes this summer. It would be great to find some work, and I'll do my part towards that end. In the meantime, I've got music projects to work on, and of course there's still my Recovery. I'm definitely feeling a winding down of sorts from school, and that's a good feeling. With a good break over the summer, I'll be recharged and ready to tackle the next step this fall.

Suddenly, I'm thinking about feeling good and remembering the adjustment to being okay with feeling good. It still shows up from time to time, but for the most part, these days I can just accept the good feeling and enjoy it.

The feeling good isn't a coincidence, and it's not just the joy of being sober or the relief at the end of classes. Yesterday, I had a great workout. I did a 'burnout' day where I just pushed all of my muscles as far as they could go and it felt great to do so. The day before, I stepped up the distance that I run as part of my walking/running exercise.

The literature talks about the Disease as being a disease of the mind, body, and spirit. To truly recover, we need to treat all three, and I have definitely been doing that. It's no suprise that I'm feeling good; I'm being good to me.

"Boundaries And Bullshit"

2011-05-09T11:02:00.000-07:00

I think when I look back on this spring what I will remember most is that the weather was beautiful and the allergies were a nightmare.

Hey there, all. Zach here. I started taking the allergy pills again. Grr. I hate taking anything and try to avoid it wherever possible, but after a meeting on the grass Friday night, working in the foothills hauling brush for my folks Saturday morning, then having a picnic in the park all Saturday afternoon, the allergies have beaten me down. I started in on the Claritin again yesterday morning and bit by bit things are coming back under control. They're not habit-forming, they're not narcotic, they're totally kosher under the program, so no worries there. Guess I just still have a hard time accepting help sometimes. However, sneezing blood got real old real fast.

Today I'm thinking about crossing lines, respecting boundaries, that sort of thing, and knowing when and where it's appropriate to call people on their bullshit.

I have some good friends in the program who I count on to call me on my shit. My sponsor is a big one. I need their perspective, their advice. I may not like it when they call me out, but I know that I need it. It keeps me out of that denial place; I can fool myself far easier than I can fool others. And I don't always realize I'm doing it. It helps me to stay in the Real, to know when I'm fucking up, because I can't always see it. That's especially true if I'm stuck inside myself, confined to my own perspective, thinking that the world revolves around me. Sometimes I need to be reminded that it isn't all about me.

That's an important aspect of sponsorship, I feel. Taking on a sponsor is admitting that our way isn't best, that we need help to deal with life. Ideally, it's someone we respect enough that we're willing to follow their suggestions even when we don't agree with them. Heh. Some might say 'particularly' when we don't agree with them. It's a speech I've given to my own sponsees before: you don't have to agree with it, you don't have to like it, you just have to do it. It's part of a sponsor's job to call someone on their bullshit. The sponsee has asked for help, asked for guidance. A sponsor isn’t there to blow smoke up a sponsee's ass, but to tell them when they're fucking up.

We can do this for close friends in the program too, and as I said earlier, I depend on mine for it. Other people in the program, however, are another story.

One of my character defects is thinking that I know what's best for others. Before I got into the program, I spent a lot of time and energy letting others know exactly what was wrong with them and what they needed to do to fix it. I made it my business to tell everyone I met how they should act, think, etc. It was the great irony, really, and yet not a surprise at all. It was how I learned to be in the world. I was always at the mercy of other people telling me what to think and feel; I didn't know how to do those things for myself, but I was real good at telling others what they needed to do.

It's so indicative of the diseased way of thinking where everything is reversed. Instead of controlling what we can--ourselves--we try to control others and think we can't control ourselves. It's the exact inverse of what's real--that we aren’t responsible for others, only ourselves.

If someone is my sponsee, I have a responsibility to let them know (with love) when they're falling short. If it's just someone else in the meeting, acting all crazy, my job is to shut the fuck up. Newcomers especially. I have to remember what it was like to be new, stumbling my way through as I tried to learn this new way of life. Others showed me compassion and understanding, and it's my job to show the same courtesy. Because I can't control other people, only myself. When I try to control others, the results can be disastrous. I lose my serenity, my life becomes unmanageable, and who knows what harm I might do to the other person.

It's a fine line to walk, but a critically important one. And I have a lot of gratitude for knowing that it exists and where it is, now. It's the allowing others the freedom to be themselves that gives me the same freedom to be myself.

"Drug Culture"

2011-05-08T11:12:00.000-07:00

We live in a drug culture. Setting aside all the illegal ones for the moment, there are advertisements everywhere--on movies, on TV, in magazines--for perfectly legal remedies to whatever ails you. Modern medicine has a pill to fix everything. Pharmaceuticals is a multibillion dollar industry, with constant research and development, scientists and doctors working to come up with more pills, more effective pills, better pills. We have over-the-counter medicines, doctor prescriptions, and highly-controlled substances that pharmacies keep in safes under lock and key.

The message in our society is clear: if there's something wrong, take a pill to fix yourself. Just don't take any of those 'evil' illegal drugs. Those are bad. Our drugs are good! Sure they are. As comedian Bill Maher once said, "they don't want you to not use drugs, they just want you to use their drugs; Prozac can't go up against marijuana--it will lose."

I saw a therapist once who didn't really buy in to the whole 'brain chemistry' thing. He liked to say that brain chemistry was easy to change. Do vigorous exercise for an hour or two and *BOOM* dopamine all over the place. I've read some very interesting research being done right now that the only reason pharmaceuticals work for psychological conditions is because people think they do. In the field, we call that the placebo effect. Personally, I tend to hedge my bets when it comes to this subject. I've known some people who really seem to be helped by being on medication. I've known some people I think need to be on medication. And I know that psychiatric drugs are vastly over-prescribed. My feelings are, if you think you need the help, and your doctor thinks you need the help, and it seems to help when you take them, then by all means take the meds.

My problem is with the bigger picture. The very culture we live in is all about finding something outside ourselves to 'fix' ourselves. Feel bad? Take a pill to feel better! We're all happy, happy, happy over here. But, oh, don't deal with your problems; don't look at what's actually upsetting you; don't address your own issues. We've got a fast-food solution, right here: it's a little pill to... fix you.

Thus implying that there's something wrong with you to begin with.

All day long, all our lives, we are told that we are supposed to be a certain way, feel a certain way, think certain thoughts. If we don't, then something is wrong with us and we need to be fixed. Children see adults take pills to fix themselves all the time, then they’re for some reason surprised to learn that their kids are all on drugs. But if you take a pill to make you happy, you aren't really happy. You haven't solved anything. Therefore, you need to keep on taking the pills. And that makes the pharmaceutical companies very happy. I mean, wealthy.

The real solution is to give up the fast food way of dealing with life. Real problems need real solutions. You have to do the deep work, face the hard truths, and move through them. We have issues to deal with, and some of us more so than others, but that's called being human.

We don't need to 'fix' ourselves--we're not broken, just human.

"Lighten Up"

2011-05-06T14:25:00.000-07:00

"We learn to lighten up," says today's Just For Today. Indeed. Some of the best times I've had in this life have been when I was standing around with some other addicts after a meeting, laughing with our sick senses of humor at a world that is so insane there aren't words to describe it. I'm sure there are plenty of people out there to whom the world makes sense, to whom other people's behavior isn't a confounding mystery. I am not one of them. I'm lucky to have people in my life who I can share a good laugh with, because from where I look at the world, you gotta either laugh or cry. And I've done enough of the latter.

There is a freedom and a joy that comes from working the program of Recovery. I love the part in the big book of Alcoholics Anonymous where it talks about how "we are not a glum lot". It's so true. And it's a depth of joy and mirth that I'm not sure normies can really understand. They've never been prisoners of the disease, so how can they know the joy of being free? 'How does it happen?' they might ask. 'Where does all this mirth come from?' 'With the horrors your lives have been, how can you crazy addicts & alcoholics possibly ever sit around just laughing??'

We just do. It's actually pretty simple. We don't have to lie all the time anymore. We are filled with hope and faith, whereas we were once lost and without direction. We know the past no longer holds sway over us, that how we live our lives today is what truly matters. Fear no longer paralyzes us, drives us, or dictates our actions. We have been through our own worst tragedy--the hell of our lives--and lived to tell the tale. Our lives today are miracles. We go about them with gratitude, knowing how fortunate we are, and seeing the humor in a world that allows such amazing changes in fortune.

At the height of active addiction, we are in constant crisis mode. Every little thing that happens is the end of the world. As we gain clean time, life balances out and we come down from the adrenaline rush of that constant, heightened state. We see the crisis-mode in others, too, regardless of whether or not they're addicts. We can't help but laugh because we know it so well. We know how exhausting it is, how unmanageable. We laugh because we know there is another way, and how much happier we are following it. We're laughing because we're remembering how we used to be like that, and how insane we were. By learning to not spend all our energy responding to life as if it were a constant crisis, we gain the ability to experience the full range of our humanity.

Occasionally, I'll find myself in a meeting that feels like a funeral. When I do, I don't go back to it. That is not Recovery. Morose despair is the past. Joy and laughter are the present, and--if we keep working the program--the future too.

"Strangers Yelling"

2011-05-05T12:51:00.000-07:00

I've got some tenth-stepping to do. Here's the story:

I was having trouble getting up this morning. It was one of those days where I hit the snooze button on the alarm over and over and over again. At about quarter after eight, an email came through saying my first class was cancelled. Awesome. I could relax a little. I had time before my next class to run to the post office and grab a coffee. On my way to the post office, I apparently cut off some pedestrians who were trying to cross the street. I know this because, once I got to the post office, two different people yelled at me. Not just a quick, "you're an asshole," but seriously long, in-depth, "I'm gonna teach you a lesson/you should be thrown in jail/why don't you eat shit and die" yelling. I didn't yell back, mostly because I was caught so off-guard by the sheer hatefulness that was being spewed at me. When all was said and done, I thought to myself, "well, damn. I must be in the wrong."

I'm a little tempted to sit here and defend myself, say that it was a wide street, that the people crossing weren't inconvenienced, that no one was hurt; maybe even drop a few lines about what is wrong with people that they think it's okay to just lay into a total stranger like that, or ask the question to them if they had considered the possibility I didn't realize what I had done? But no, that is not the 12-step way. Clearly, I was in the wrong, so there you have it. I was wrong. I'll try and be more observant in the future. If people are crossing, I'll let them cross, even if I have plenty of time to go ahead of them.

The yelling really shook me up. You'd think I had murdered a child, the way they came at me. Later today, I'll call my sponsor and fess up to what happened. But the whole incident really got to me. Complete strangers had been appointed by God to make sure I knew what a horrible thing I'd done. I guess I needed to be told. Sure it would have been nice to hear, "excuse me, maybe you don't realize this, but you totally cut off those people back there." Oh well, message received, regardless.

On the way to school, I was thinking about all this a lot. Then I realized I was obsessing and had a laugh at myself. "Guess I'll just be thinking about this all day." Having had that moment, though, I felt better. And I think it's about acceptance. I'm not perfect, I'm human. I'm going to make mistakes. The best I can do is admit where I've been wrong, learn from it, and try to do better in the future. Maybe I didn't deserve as harsh a reaction as those people gave me, maybe I did. It doesn't really matter; I've got no control over others people.

So yeah, I was wrong to cut those pedestrians off. I'll try to make sure it never happens again. Since this is the first time it has, I'm pretty confident I'll be able to do that. No one was hurt. The people yelling at me probably spent more time yelling at me than the half a second they'd had to wait for me. I had some serious anger thrown my way, but I know it wasn't personal--even though they tried to make it personal. To the strangers who yelled, I'm not a human being who makes mistakes, I'm a selfish asshole who doesn't give a shit about other people. I know THAT's not true, and I know that if someone else has a problem with me, it's their problem.

I heard someone share once in a meeting that they don't have bad days anymore; they can have bad moments here and there, but that's all. And I must admit, I'm still feeling like it's a good day over here. Kind of a 'whoops, I fucked up/damn that was kinda scary/glad no one was hurt' morning, but that happens. It's life. Life keeps on happening, and I can deal with it from the center of my spiritual self, or I can let my disease dictate what I do. I could wallow in self-pity about what a horrible person I am, drive around in sheer panic and terror the rest of my life, or I could go get fucked up and spew all kinds of negative energy at the people who yelled at me--how dare they? Don't they know who I am?!

Or I can work the program of Recovery: admit where I was wrong; remember that I'm human, not perfect, and do better in the future; not take things personally; and finally, let it go.

“Spiritual Space”

2011-05-04T22:27:00.001-07:00

I remember living in Oakland in my mid-twenties. I was on the fourth floor of an old building that had no elevator. It wasn’t in the worst part of town, more of a halfway point between a bad area and one that, well, wasn’t as bad. It was a nice place, with good sized rooms and a tiny-ass kitchen, but that didn’t matter too much to me. No central heating, though. One winter I was there, the radiator broke and wasn’t fixed for a long time. Those were some pretty cold nights.

My home has never been a place where tons of people hang out. Part of that is that I have always tended to have a few close friends rather than many casual acquaintances. On the rare times I had people over, they always commented on how barren my bedroom was. Basically, all I had in it was the bed. And with my insomnia, I can tell you there were plenty of times I didn’t even use the bed and slept out in the living room on the couch. To tell the truth, I hated the bed. Not because it was uncomfortable, but because I hated the act of going to bed. It was at a time in my life where I dreaded going to sleep because I was just going to have to wake up the next morning and go through the whole miserable existence of daily life all over again. For the longest time, I didn’t give much thought to my sleeping space--aside from resenting it.

For Christmas last December, my parents were gracious enough to buy me a new bed. That was a real blessing. Up to that point, I’d still been sleeping on the one that was leftover from when I split up with my ex-wife. Even if it hadn’t had all that negative energy attached to it, it was old and totally lacking in back support. I found a very reasonably priced frame, one that looked nice. It’s sort of an Asian/modern/platform frame. It looks great, and the bed itself is a nice firm mattress; very supportive, and it’s been doing wonders for my back. I’m still popping spinal bones back into place on a weekly basis.

After getting the old bed out, I realized that for the first time in my life I actually wanted my bedroom to be a special place. I wanted it to reflect me, who I am. I wanted it to be more than a place where I merely physically recharged; I wanted it to be a place to spiritually recharge as well. No one faith or religious tradition works for me, in terms of the expression of my belief in a higher power. Buddhism. Christianity, Wicca, and native American traditions are all ways I have found that are helpful to me for expressing my relationship with the spiritual.

I found a Shinto-style bench and set it up as an altar, aligned with the foot of the bed. Underneath it went my spell materials and blades. I have a quilted wall-hanging my mom had made for me a few years back. It’s called ‘the path’ and looks a lot like a row of stones. I hung it above the altar. I went out and bought new night stands. I found a pair that were inexpensive, but with a simple, minimalist design that matched with the rest of the furniture perfectly. I set candles on the altar, and on the nightstands too, where they’re inset in trays filled with river rock. My sobriety medallion now rests on the altar, centered. A gold chain that has special meaning to me surrounds it, shaped into a triangle by my own hands. There are 27 stones in the wall-hanging (3 x 3 x 3). There are a total of 13 candles. I took down every picture I’d had on the walls, then decided on three to re-hang: my bachelors degree in music, the concept art for my sobriety tattoo, and a print I own of a Van Gogh painting.

When it was all done, I stepped back and was instantly amazed. I could feel the power of the energy in my bedroom, now. But it was nothing compared to how it felt with candles lit. The first time I did that, I realized I had been feeling was the mere hum of a readiness. With the candles lit, the spiritual space was… well, I don’t know how better to describe it than to say that it got turned ‘on’.

Each of these changes has been taking place over the past few months. All the while, my mom had been working on a new quilt for me. I knew that, once the room was done and the quilt was done, it would be time to bless it. When I went away this weekend, I visited a friend of mine who is very connected to native American beliefs. He always has white sage for smudging--a cleansing ceremony that removes negative energy. I brought some sage back with me. Last night was a new moon, which I’ve read is an excellent time to smudge. I read up on the best way to go about it, the sat down last night to purify my new spiritual space.

When I light the candles in my room, I do it in a very specific way--in a circle around the room, and with a single, long match. I light the candles whenever I’m holding Session (as I like to call it). That can mean prayer, meditation, spellcasting, working on totems, any activity where I am attempting to directly connect with the spiritual in a powerful way. Last night, because it was a special night and I was going to be blessing the space, I turned off everything in the apartment: air conditioning, fans, lights, all went off. I stood by the first candle to light, said a prayer to the Infinite All, then struck the match. Fire burst into being.

Around the room, I lit each of the thirteen candles. I placed the burnt match on my altar, as is my custom when holding Session. Then I stood in front of the altar, ready to light a second match to burn the sage, and called upon the spirits of the earth to join me. I struck the match and it…didn’t light. I realized my error immediately. I had been egotistical. I had spoken to them with an air of superiority. I didn’t need them to join me, I needed their help. It was something I had to ask for and I’d gone about it without a trace of the appropriate respect. At once, I fell to my knees. I prayed three times for forgiveness. Then, with the utmost humility, and with a humbled heart, I asked for the spirits again for their help. This time, the match came alive.

I lit the sage, let it burn, then when the flames died down I blew on the embers and let the smoke flow. I began at my feet, then worked up to my legs, my torso, and circled my head. Then I passed the smoke over my altar. After that, I went to each corner of the room. The smoke from the sage traps the bad energy. When I was finished, I opened the windows to let the smoke out, and it carried all the negativity with it.

When it was done, I sat before the altar and thanked the spirits for their help. I knew at once that I had made my bedroom a sacred space, and that I would have to respect it as such from now on. They even came to me and told me that I could no longer wear shoes there. I smiled, agreeing to their terms. It was a small price to pay. For many hours afterward, I was overcome by a deep sense of peace and calm. I felt the spirits holding me, surrounding me with love, like a spiritual hug. It was so powerful. I had heard that a smudging could be draining to the one performing the ceremony. I didn’t feel drained, but I wasn’t full of energy. I was simply in a deep state of peace and calm. I left the windows open a long time, and I let the candles burn all the way down.

Today, my mother dropped off the new quilt. Tonight, I will light a new set of thirteen candles and hold Session for the first time in my fully cleansed spiritual space. There’s praying to be done.

"You Should Be Grateful"

2011-05-03T18:33:00.000-07:00

Ho boy. The JFT was on gratitude today. I looked to it for inspiration to write and I'm not sure how much I have to say on that subject at the moment. There are plenty of things I'm grateful for--like being sober, having the opportunity to understand myself better, and the general feeling of peace and serenity I've gotten from working the program of Recovery. Still, I'm on the upswing from one of my dark places, so I'm not exactly bubbling over with joy, happiness, and love for the world. To be fair, though, I'm hardly ever... bubbly.

A big miracle of Recovery is that we have choices, now that we're sober. We can choose to not put in. We can choose not to act on our character defects. We can choose to help others instead of focusing on ourselves. I can choose not to shit all over the 'Just For Today', even though I think it's a little too free-love, hippie, la-la-la today. Gratitude is an important subject, and an emotion that we show more and more of the more time we have and the more we work the program.

I'm coming up on finals week for school. I've done a quick calculation to see where I'm at in my three classes. Two of them, I've got solid A's in; the other I've missed enough homework assignments that I'll only be able to pull a 'B'--even if I ace the final. The good news is that I'll still pull a 'B' in the class even if I get a 'C' and that takes a lot of the pressure off. The A's I'm getting are ones I worked hard for and it feels good to be getting the rewards of that hard work. I suppose I can admit that I worked for the B, too, but it's tough to do that without beating myself up for the 'A' I won't get.

Suddenly I'm thinking about how strange it has been, going back to school and doing well. Yes, I'm a smart guy and I'm working hard, but there's still those old childhood holdovers. All the years I didn't try, or thought I didn't need to. Being told the sun shined out of my ass at home, and getting my ass beat at school. Ah, that's not fair, it wasn't quite like that. Sure I was bullied pretty bad, didn't have friends. And from the home front I got a lot of messages about being naturally smart, special, and wonderful that I knew weren't true because if they were then why were all the other kids always being so mean to me? Perfection was the expectation, and failing to live up to that was a sin worse than... well, I don't know what exactly. But if I did do well in school, I got it even worse from the bullies, so I learned to not try hard, just accept 'good' grades. That way, I could find the best balance between the taunts of the bullies and the frustrations of my parents who couldn't understand why I refused to live up to my potential. Oh sure, they still loved me, just not as much as if I had gotten the straight A's they knew I should have been getting.

Hmm... I may still have some work to do on this subject.

The point I was trying to make, is that one thing I'm still struggling with is not being hard on myself. It's tough for me to be proud of myself for getting the grades I'm getting because I keep holding myself to the standard of perfection. It's tough to not beat up on myself, remember that I'm a great guy that any woman would lucky to have, when I'm sitting here by myself and seeing couples walking around all the time. All the shades and shadows of 'should' and 'supposed to' still circle. Hehe. Instead of focusing on all that, what I 'should' be is grateful--HA!

Ah, 'should'. I hate that word. It's nothing but negative.

On another note, I've been working on spiritual-izing my room. I brought some white sage back with me from my trip this weekend. Tonight's a new moon, perfect for a cleansing smudge. More on that tomorrow.

Be well, my readers. Stay sober--you're worth it.

“First Fix”

2011-05-02T10:21:00.000-07:00

Oh man. It’s barely nine o’ clock, and I’m up and blogging. Not sure if I’ve ever mentioned it here in these pages, but I am NOT a morning person. I’ve got a pot of very strong coffee brewing downstairs.

I’m back home after my trip down to Pacific Grove. I woke up this morning to a clean apartment. Before I left last Friday, I took the time to clean the whole place from top to bottom. I vacuumed, dusted, the whole nine yards. I even made the bed ;-) I know there’s a lot of guys out there who don’t care too much about how clean their home is. There are plenty of people, men and women, who thrive on chaos in their homes, in their activities, in their relationships with others. And I suppose it can be said that that was once true for me. Nowadays, it’s the exact opposite. Cleaning my place, and certainly waking up in a clean home, does wonders for calming my chaotic mind. It’s just another facet of needing peace and quiet, preferring peace and serenity to drama and trauma.

This weekend was rough. The brain is still a little busy today. I’m doing a lot of praying, asking for help, and trying to remember that it will pass. I’ve got a full day ahead of me, and that will help. An artist I’m working with is coming over and so I’m gearing up for some good studio work. The cat has a vet appointment this afternoon. She’s overdue for her yearly checkup and needs her shots. At some point I’ll get over to the bank and to the landlord and get the rent paid.

Over the weekend, I wrote about being uncomfortable being in the church environment. With the disease still kicking, and realizing that it was doing so even before my trip, I have to admit that it wasn’t being down there that was the problem. While it’s true that being around wealthy people can piss me off, and that the naïveté that many good church-going folk possess truly grates on me, there’s something else going on that is the real cause of why my disease is acting up. I’m pretty sure what it is, too, but I’m hesitant to write about it here. Oh well, here goes anyway. Heh. Yeah, enough stalling.

I have an old-timer friend in the program who found her way into the rooms because of a crank addiction. She’s got a lot of time now, and would have even more if she hadn’t had a relapse on alcohol years ago. She shares frequently about how the disease is about so much more than drugs or booze, saying she can fix with anything because the stuff isn’t the problem. She’ll talk about how her first fix was food, something she still struggles with to this day.

It’s been said in the rooms many times, and I’ve joined the chorus, too: I don’t have a drug problem, I have a me problem.

My first fix was relationships. It was lying in bed next to a girl when I was fifteen that the committee of voices in my head first went silent. We hadn’t had sex. In fact we’d only been making out. But I remember that moment well. It was a lot like when I found pot. I felt a sense of peace and a feeling of purpose, like that was how I was meant to exist. I know a lot better now what true peace is, that it comes from within and not because of something external. I can look back now and see that what I was experiencing was escape. And I can understand, too, how that was why my emotions went so haywire when it came to relationships.

Yes, I was a teenager and hormones go crazy when you’re at that age. Yes, emotions run rampant during any love affair. But for me, there was the added element of a budding sufferer from the disease: I had learned that I could quiet my brain by being in a relationship. I could fix myself by being the ‘perfect’ boyfriend. If I was the perfect boyfriend to a girl, then I was okay as a person. My life had value, I was a worthwhile person--not the sack of shit I thought I was--if I made a girl happy. My happiness, my feeling good about myself, was dependent on someone else.

Fixing with relationships, or with sex or food, really isn’t all that different than fixing with drugs or booze. It’s still the same old story of using something outside of ourselves to escape. We don’t feel good inside, and so we do whatever we can to escape that feeling.

The reason my disease has been kicking lately is because I’ve started looking into dating again. I dusted off one of my online dating profiles and started looking around to see if there was someone I matched up with. I’ve been meeting women, and the disease is having a field day with it.

I spent a number of months deliberately not dating, doing a bit of hibernation you could say. And I gotta tell ya, right now I’m half-tempted to go back into that mode. Just say ‘fuck it all’ and not date. Give up. Enough. But I know that’s not the way. Refusing to walk through the tunnel doesn’t get you through to the other side.

I get so sick of this damn chatter. Every little thing becomes an excuse for the brain to go crazy with what-if’s. I have some tools to fight it; I can remind myself of What Is, and I can apply the knowledge and Recovery I’ve gained, but damn Uncle Steve always has that tv up so fucking loud when he watches this channel. What’s worse is I know lil’ Joshua is hiding behind Uncle Steve’s recliner, thinking of childhood pain and all the love he needed that he didn’t get.

So I have to try and ignore the blaring committee of my diseased brain. I need to stay on guard against the inner child who is chomping at the bit for the chance to grab the steering wheel of my life and drive it into a tree. And even though I know all these things, even though I’m aware that my brain just DOES THIS when it comes to my attempting to meet people or be in a relationship, I’ve learned that it really is all more than I can handle on my own. It’s Unmanageable. So I have to call in the big guns.

The last set of twelve steps I worked, I worked them specifically on my relationships with women. And just as I can’t stay sober on my own without God’s help, I can’t do relationships on my own without God’s help either.

As I wrote those words, my brain kicked back at me. It told me that I should be able to, that I’m not a real man because I can’t do it on my own. And you know what I think about that? At those thoughts, I smile and know that I’ve dealt the disease a powerful blow. ‘Should’. ‘Less-than’. That’s the language of the disease of addiction. Those are the things my disease tells me to try and drag me down, make me feel low. My disease doesn’t want me to succeed. It doesn’t want me to be happy. It does one-armed pushups and waits, salivating for the chance to tear me down and make me feel like shit. Not to get all mythological here, but it is the devil in my mind telling me that I am not a child of God.

I am a child of the Infinite All. I do deserve to be happy. I do deserve all the best. When the disease says different, it is lying.

So I’ve been doing a lot of praying and meditating lately. I’ve asked God’s blessing. I’ve asked God’s help. I’ve admitted, once again, that this is an area of my life that I really can’t handle on my own. And that’s okay. That’s one of the things God is there for, to help us, to do the things for us that we can’t do for ourselves.

I believe that there is a healthy peace, calm, and comfort that can come from relationships. But in order to get that, I have to go into it with healthy intentions. If I’m trying to escape myself or give my life meaning through being with someone else, then it won’t work; I’ll choose a partner who isn’t good for me. I’ll end up hurting her and myself. I can’t save and I can’t rescue.

I can’t not date forever, and I don’t have to. If I try to do it on my own, the results will be a disaster. I’ll end up hurting someone else and myself, too. If I ask God to walk with me, if I let myself be guided by his will for me and not my own for myself, then life becomes manageable. Relationships become possible.

The disease is still there, forcing out a last gasp, telling me how self-indulgent I am by writing so much about this issue. Yeah, I hear you in there. Yes, Uncle Steve, I know you’re watching the Relationship channel. Thanks for turning it down. Keep it down, will ya? And as for my inner child, the part of myself that I write about here as Lil’ Joshua? Self, I’ll be honest with you: you’re never going to get what you didn’t get. But it’s okay. How about I hoist you up onto my shoulders? Let’s go play ‘airplane’ in the park.

(Wheeeeee!)

"Been To Hell, Thanks"

2011-04-30T13:19:00.000-07:00

I'm at Asilomar, a state beach down just south of the Monterey bay here in California. Most of the year, it's cold and clouded over, but this weekend there's nothing but clear skies and a mild wind. The green-blue ocean sends waves to crash over protruding rocks, shallow tidepools, and a gray-white, sandy beach. Across the ocean road is an area of protected sand dunes covered with local flora. A mile-long boardwalk winds through the dunes. Along the walk are many benches facing out to the ocean, and it is there that I have parked myself to blog. It's beautiful here, and a great spot to get centered. 'Cause I gotta tell ya, I'm still an addict and my brain still does some weird shit sometimes.

There's a conference center here, and a conference is going on this weekend. It's a business session for the northern California / Nevada churches for the demonination I grew up in. Undoubtedly I know many, many people there. I'm sure a lot of them would be glad to see me. But I'm not here for the conference, I'm here to play piano for a church service tomorrow. And besides, I need to get my head straight before I even attempt to walk through the world of all those people I used to know. There are a few people here this weekend, too, that I owe amends to, but even that isn't what's troubling me.

Strange, that I should write about prayer and meditation as a way of getting my head straight. It used to be firing up a bowl or a joint--that was getting it together. Now, it's the need to be more spiritual, check in with what's going on inside, instead of ignoring the feelings and squelching them. I got into town last night and felt great. Even this morning when I woke up, I was fine. Then, all of a sudden, insecurity hit and it came like a crushing blow. I remember earlier in my sobriety, when serenity was becomming the norm. I would have moments where it would disappear, vanish, and my brain would once again be awash in all the addict insanity. I always hated it. Today has been like that, except it's the self-confidence issue.

I know many addicts in Recovery who are gregarious personalities. The friend I'm staying with this weekend is like that. They naturally put themselves out there; they're friendly, funny, the kind of people others are drawn to. Folks who are like that, and who suffer from this disease of addiction, often find one of their main challenges in Recovery to be the reigning in of their egos. For an addict like myself, who was plagued by his insecurity, I have the opposite challenge. I have to work on not selling myself short, on standing up for myself, being present in conversations with others and in my life. I have to remember that I am enough--no matter what the bullshit I carry around in my head might try to tell me.

I've made great, amazing strides at improving my self-esteem. So much so that I now consider myself as someone with a higher than average self-confidence. I've done the work. I've looked at the past and done what I could to make amends for the wrongs I've caused. I've looked at myself and deliberately worked to build up my self-esteem in healthy ways. I'm aware of my character defects and know that, with God's help, I can live life without acting on them. I have learned to accept myself for who I am as I am. An addict may be what I am, but it is not who I am. Working the program has given me the opportunity to learn and change and grow.

For whatever reason, today the brain kicked down this bullshit 'Zach, you're worthless' crap. And now I've got to work through it. I've got the tools, thougth, to do so: pray, meditate, try and help someone else. I've got the knowledge and experience now to recognize what is going on, to know that what the disease is telling me isn't truth. It's just a tv show Uncle Steve is watching. It's just a feeling. It won't kill me, and it will pass. Because all things do.

It's not an unfamiliar or unexpected feeling for me, either. I'm not involved in church anymore. This place I'm at, right now, is a deeply spiritual one for me, a place I went to often during the time when I was involved in the church. I know I have program business to do--the amends--and that can be scary stuff. Mostly, though, I'm feeling a touch of less-than because I don't really fit in with these folks anymore (if I ever really did). I don't want to go on a long diatribe about why I don't participate in church these days. Maybe the best way to simplify it is to say that I went to church all the time growing up, but never did I see God there. I don't recall hearing about how to let God work in my life. It wasn't until I got into the rooms of Recovery that I truly saw God working directly in people's lives.

In meetings, we sit around and discuss the harsh realities of our lives. That feels far more real to me than sitting in pews or chairs at a church service. Church is a social place where polite conversation is had. I've never been to a church function where people talked to each other about the horrors of abuse, of being homeless, of not feeling comfortable in their own skin. Those kind of conversations fall under the Too Much Information banner, it seems. The things we deal with in the rooms are the issues polite society doesn't discuss, either because they condemn us or because they flat-out have no idea what to say or how to handle it.

I need the Real that we talk about in meetings. I need to hear the stories of being raped, of being strungout, of being passed-out drunk in jail. I need to hear others talk about their emotional pain--feeling lonely, desperate, and hopeless--because it's how I felt for so long. I need to share and talk about my own trauma, too. I need to have a spiritual practice, a fellowship, with other people who I can talk to about what it's like to be me, listen to them talk about what it's like to be themselves, and where we all nod and understand because we can relate. We truly do understand. It's right there in the literature: the theraputic value of one alcoholic or addict helping another is without parallel. Only we truly know what we go through.

They say religion is for people who don't want to go to hell; 12-steps is for people who've been there.

"Just Asking Questions"

2011-04-26T16:03:00.000-07:00

This blog is about my life in Recovery. Some days, the focus is a little less on the 'recovery' part and a lot more on the 'my life in' part. Today is one of those days.

I've just come from my first day back at class after being on a very late-term spring break. We had another panel discussion in my Issues of Diverse Populations class and today's was about Heterosexism--the oppression of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, & Transgendered individuals. As was the case for when we did the Sexism panel, there were some comments from my classmates that I strongly disagreed with.

I suppose before I go any further, I should re-out myself as a progressive liberal hippie commie pinko, just in case anyone reading this isn't familiar with my political beliefs.

There are a couple of my classmates who are extremely prejudiced, who hauled out their bibles yet again to talk about how gays are evil and should be killed. Okay, I'm overstating, they didn't go that far. But it's the kind of opinion and argument that really pisses me off. I have to practice a lot of patience and tolerance when someone voices that opinion. I don't argue with them or try to change their minds, but I don't remain silent either. My comment today was about a piece of legislation being considered in one of the US states that would make it illegal for the word 'gay' to even be said in public schools. I thought it an excellent example of institutional oppression. Ultimately, that's what any 'Ism'--racism, sexism, etc.--is about: the institutional practices that perpetuate the oppression in our society. But I'm getting away from my point.

One of the people who was making thinly veiled anti-gay comments was a black man. I don't want to wade into the waters of bad blood between blacks and gays here; suffice to say, if you aren't aware that it exists, trust me it does. It surprises me, though, every time, to hear biblical arguments used by blacks against gays because it was those same exact arguments that were used against blacks to justify slavery. The idea that being gay isn't 'natural'? When slavery was legal, it was thought that the black man's 'natural' place in society was as a slave. The bible says being gay is wrong? The bible talks about slavery a LOT more than it talks about being gay.

My point with all this (and yes I do have one) is a question I discuss with other deep-minded individuals from time to time: must a tolerant society be tolerant of those who are intolerant?

Many say, "yes, absolutely; that's what being tolerant means!" But I wonder. Here in America, we get all up on our high horses about 'free speech'. An example that comes to my mind is how organizations like the Ku Klux Klan are allowed to organize and march in parades. People don't like it, but it's allowed because of their first amendment rights to speech and assembly. But how willing are we to allow a black nationalist group to march? Less so, to put it politely. I see the Tea Party faction of the conservative political spectrum in this country holding rallies with their anger and their guns, and how it's broadcast with almost a celebratory air on national television while they shout angrily with their antigovernment agenda. Would a group of well-armed Muslims be as well publicized and in such a favorable light?

And at the end of the day, how much of this is just opinion? My opinion is that anyone LGBT is as much of a human being as I am. Some people think that it's their personal mission handed down to them from God to get rid of LGBT folks. Who is right? Is anyone?? What about when intolerance becomes more than just harassment? What about when it turns to murder or genocide? If it's agreed that we need to step in and stop that kind of intolerance, why is it okay to be accepting of lesser forms of intolerance?

I'm not pretending there are any answers to these questions, I'm just putting them out there, asking them, because they're questions I ask myself and others. Asking questions leads to debate, leads to new and different ideas. Change happens when we stop going along with the status quo and start examining what goes on around us, in our lives, and inside ourselves. Maybe even it's the asking of questions that says more about who we are as human beings that any answers ever could. Who am I? Why am I here? What is my purpose? What do I stand for? What will I accept from the people around me?

It's a privilege to be awake, to be sober and clear-minded enough to ask questions. It means I have the opportunity to examine my life, the people in it, and the world around me. It means I have the opportunity to stand up for what I believe in and take action on causes I care about. It beats the hell out of mindlessly going along with whatever is thrown at me.

“Easter Miracles”

2011-04-24T14:41:00.000-07:00

I have a saying: St. Patrick’s day is just another day if you don't drink. I'm feeling a little like that about Easter today. I was raised Christian, was very involved in church growing up. I've spent a lot of time studying the bible, Christian history, and had many conversations with my friends who are ministers. At one point, I had seriously considered going into the ministry, had even applied and been accepted to seminary.

These days, I’m barely involved at all. I never go to church. Occasionally, I’ll play piano for services, but that’s pretty much it. And that’s okay. I have my spiritual practice, my own faith discipline, through going to meetings. It’s what works for me and that’s what’s important. Later today I’ll be getting together with my family for Easter dinner and that will be the extend of my holiday-related activities. I think I better change subjects; I’m feeling a bit of Easter scrooge creep in.

I’m feeling better today, regarding all the stuff from Friday night. I had a long, good talk with my sponsor. The brain is much calmer, thankfully. Right now I’m enjoying an iced coffee at one of my local cafes and doing some people watching. It’s great weather outside and very few cars on the road. Lots of folks here, though. Lot’s of parents with their kids; lots of couples with their little tiny dogs; lots of couples, period.

I seem to be having a gratitude moment. I may not have a girlfriend or a wife & family, but that’s okay. I’ve got good friends, clean air, a place to live. It’s one of those moments where everything feels just fine. I can take notice of little things. Birds chirping, bugs in the dirt. Hmm. Suddenly I want to call, ‘ya goddamned hippie!’ on myself :)

You know, early Recovery is tough. Bit by bit, though, you get those moments of peace and serenity. There’s the big crash coming down off the pink cloud and things get much harder. And then they get harder. And then they get even harder. In time, and with continuing to work the program on a daily basis, things do finally start to get better. The ups and downs even out and life just becomes... life. We get the opportunity to make life what we want it to be.

For me, a lot of what I want out of life is what I have right here and now--sitting peacefully, being a part of the world, being okay with myself. Fame? Fortune? Eh, that’s not exactly top priority. Just being okay, happy to be me and be at peace. That was what I wanted for so long, and it’s through working the program that I’ve found it. It’s not like that all the time, not every moment of every day, but more often than not and much more so than I would have guessed possible. That’s the Easter miracle in my life: being sober and being at peace within myself.

"Meeting Drama"

2011-04-23T18:39:00.000-07:00

About half a mile from my apartment is a huge city park. There are tennis courts, tons of picnic tables, huge grassy areas, a duck pond, baseball diamonds, huge wooden castles for kids to climb on, and--at the far end--a rose garden. I'm sitting on a bench there today, watching a wedding rehearsal. Okay, I'm also watching the occasional scantily clad jogger go by. Springtime really brings out the shoulders. Seriously, though, I pass this park many times throughout the week. It's on one of my main walk/run paths. Today, I have a lot on my mind, so I've sat myself down on a bench to calm my mind and see if I can slow down all thoughts and take stock of what I'm actually feeling. The air is pleasant. Not too warm, not too cool, and a hint of a breeze moves the leaves of the rosebushes and a nearby... whatever kind of tree that is. Bored little kids in the wedding party run and laugh and screech.

The program teaches us to simplify, but even if I simplified, I'm not sure how short I can make all that I'm thinking. How about this: at my homegroup last night, a member rudely interrupted another member while they were sharing. It was really inappropriate and I said so right then and there. He copped a resentment and bailed, saying he hated the meeting and everyone in it anyway. After the meeting, a third member came up and told me I was wrong to do what I'd done.

Actually, yeah, that is pretty well simplified. Here's the extra stuff I'm leaving out, though: the person who was rude has been warned before about it. He's been called on it, both outside of and in meetings. He's been reminded that it's a non-crosstalk meeting. It was still enough of a problem that there have been multiple complaints by other members--so many that we had a discussion about it at our last business meeting. It was decided that the way to handle it was to be very direct, to let this member know immediately when he was being inappropriate. As the General Secretary, the job fell to me. The other part that I'm leaving out is that the member who criticized the way I handled the situation was someone who I've had personal conflicts with before and was not at the business meeting where we discussed the situation. He and I didn't come to blows but it got heated enough between the two of us that the other folks standing around were saying, 'calm down'.

I've had a brief conversation with my sponsor about what happened, and he gave me some good prayer homework to do, but I'm waiting for a chance to talk to him about it some more.

The reason I'm having trouble sorting through my thoughts on this is I'm just having so many thoughts about it. I could write about the importance of maintaining the integrity of the meeting so that everyone has a place they know is safe. I could write about how we walk into the meetings without any sense of discipline or compassion and that part of going to meetings and listening to others' shares is learning to be respectful. I could write about my own issues with confrontation, how being assertive is something I've had to learn and that it is still difficult for me (very tempting). I could easily go off on this member I've had issues with, about what shoddy recovery they have and how judgmental and disrespectful their own shares are. Actually, that was some more good simplification.

But there is deeper stuff going on here. As I was walking over, and even sitting here in the rose garden, I thought about how I wish I had a girlfriend to support me in all this. As in, to stroke my head [re: ego] and tell me it's okay, that I did the right things, handled both situations well, etc. There were a couple of people last night who let me know my actions were very appropriate. Three of us had a coffee fellowship following the meeting and there was a lot of talk about how something needed to be done and, now that the situation has been dealt with, the vibe in the meeting is much better.

This happens from time to time in meetings. People are loud, rude, and disruptive. When they get called on it, they cop a resentment and leave. I know that I'm not responsible for this guy's feelings, and I'm not sure I feel too bad about letting him know he was out of line. I mean, how else can we learn when we're fucking up if no one tells us that we are? I depend on the people in my life to tell me when I'm in the wrong because I can't always see it. I wish I hadn't had to have said something to this guy, though. I wish he'd been able to hear when people talked to him before. I just hope that he finds another meeting that he wants to go to, a sponsor he wants to listen to, and learns how to listen when his friends call him on his bullshit.

Enough people expressed their support that I feel more or less okay that I did the right thing, and it was what the group had decided needed to be done. I still wasn't happy about having to do it, and I was really sorry to see him bail, but that was his choice--no one made him leave or even suggested to him that he do so. I can remind myself that he was the one who had been consistently rude. I can tell myself that I did my job as a trusted servant, carried out the will of the meeting as expressed by group conscience.

As for the personality conflict, I can counsel myself that even though I let somebody get to me (who gets to me far too often), I wasn't an asshole back to him; I was being attacked in a very underhanded way but I stood my ground without resorting to personal attacks back. It was choppy waters, spiritually, but I navigated it to the best of my abilities. Not perfectly, definitely not perfectly, but better than I would have in the past.

Progress, not perfection, I guess. That's all any of us get. It's the best any of us can do.

"Old Journals"

2011-04-22T12:38:00.000-07:00

Last night I stumbled across one of my old journals from about ten years ago. Reading it was a bit of a trip.

Many of the things I wrote about were things I still think about today. Things like needing a job, feeling fat, and generally wondering what the fuck is wrong with the world--especially when it comes to how miserable so many people are with their jobs. The insomnia issues were there, and obsessions about women too. Some things I wrote about were very different than how things are today. There were many of entries about weed, like trying to control the smoking by taking breaks to 'prove' to myself I didn't have a problem. Booze was in there, too.

I wrote a lot about being unhappy with life and waiting for it to get better. Things like, if only I moved; if only my band got discovered; if only this, if only that, etc., etc., then I'd be happy. There would even be the occasional entry about how things were going well and I was happy. There were entries too--particularly from the times I wasn't smoking--where I talked about how miserable I really was and how that’s why I was always getting fucked up.

As has been shared by others and is true for me, what's different now is that everything has changed and nothing has changed.

I still look at the world and think, "what the fuck?!" In fact, one of my big hopes for when I pass from this world into the next is that I get that question answered. I'm not drinking or smoking myself to sleep anymore, obviously. The weight is an issue for me right now, but it's something I'm working on; I exercise these days--whether it's running, walking, pushups or dumbbells--and that's something I never used to do. Sometimes I do still get that feeling of waiting for life to happen, but for the most part I combat it by taking action, doing something to make sure I'm living life in the here and now.

I can see the differences between then and now, but the similarities are what struck me. And it isn't so much any of the things I've written about here, just a general 'I know this guy' feeling. Like, I'm still who I am--or maybe even more so that who I am is who I was. The Zach inside is still the same Zach. On the one hand, I have no idea if that makes any sense. On the other, well duh of course I'm still Zach and always have been.

It was interesting, regardless, to get a better picture of myself and be reminded that there are just certain things about who I am. One of those is that I'm someone who thinks about the world around me; I don't just go through life on autopilot. Ten years ago, I was restless, irritable, and discontent. Today, I do still feel those things from time to time, but as part of the normal human experience.

A couple similarities stood out that were really good to see, but even in those I can see how I've changed. The importance of my music was in there. My music is still very important to me, but I no longer do it under the sole hope or justification that I'll become rich & famous for it; it is truly my art now, my hobby, and I do it for myself because I enjoy doing it. God was the other thing. There were entries, prayers to God to save me and lift me out of my misery. I've shared in meetings that I came into the program having a higher power in my life, but I didn't know how to use it. Now I understand that I have to do my part, take action, even if that action is nothing more than letting go and letting God take care of whatever it is I’m obsessing over.

I’m not always diligent about keeping a journal, but it’s something I’ve done off an on for most of my life. Going back and reading about what it used to be like is an education, both in terms of my forgetting how bad things were and also seeing that even in the midst of my active addiction, I was still me. It’s another stepping stone on the path of self-acceptance.

"Women And Men"

2011-04-20T20:03:00.000-07:00

Less than an hour ago, I stepped out to have a cigarette. My eyes darted up the block to watch an attractive woman in a low-cut top and skin-tight sweats step onto the street and start walking towards her car. On the sidewalk was a man pushing his baby in a stroller. His wife was a few paces behind him, walking their dog. If I could see his head turn to follow the tight sweats, she had to have seen it, too. Two thoughts occurred to me simultaneously: "damn dude, your wife is hot; what's the problem?" and "we men really are all just men aren't we?"

I suppose, in all fairness, I should mention that I've seen the occasional woman glance my way even though she was in the company of her own male escort. And I'm not about to pontificate about the glories of men being horny bastards. Some men hide it better than others; I am not one of them. More than once I've had female friends talk about my constantly darting eyes, wondering why I don't get whiplash from turning my head all the frickin' time. It's something I keep working on.

Whether coincidence, or by the will of my higher power, I had actually been talking with my sponsor on this very subject earlier today.

From time to time, a newcomer will walk into the rooms that catches my attention. Now, I'm a firm believer in the 'no new relationships for a year' suggestion and especially its flip-side 'leave the newcomers the fuck alone'. But I came to that by not listening to it and making some unfortunate, painful, mistakes. Suffice to say, I learned my lesson. I've also done plenty of work through therapy when it comes to my relationships with women. Followers of this blog know that I'm not dating right now while I take some time to work on being okay by myself. None of this means, though, that I don't notice when a good-looking woman sits down next to me.

The thing I was talking to my sponsor about was how frustrated I get by how I still obsess about a newcomer from time to time. I told him it's unwanted emotions. I don't act on it, don't try to hook up with her or call her, but I'd still rather not feel that, you know? He picked up on the guilt and shame I was feeling and had some good things to say. He reminded me that my actions are what counts, and that if I'm being genuinely nice and welcoming, but not crossing the line to where I'm hitting on her, then that's a very good thing. It's progress worth being proud of. As for being attracted to a good-looking woman? Congratulations, Zach, you're a man! He polished it all off with some of his loving sarcasm. "You should be ashamed of yourself for feeling that shame, dude." Love that guy.

I wasn't around other boys growing up. I didn't have any strong male influences in my life to explain to me that being a horny dude is just part of being a man. I didn't know that it was normal and okay to feel that. It feels stupid to write, but it's the truth. And somehow I doubt I'm the only guy who's ever been made to feel guilt and shame when it comes to sex. (Heh-heh. 'Comes' to sex.)

Something my sponsor is real big on is turning the 'unhealthy' obsessions into positive ones. It's just as easy to imagine a wildly good thing can happen as it is to let fear turn your mind to something terrible. Today he suggested why don't I imagine this: a sexy newcomer walks in and sits down. She sticks around, works the program. In a year or so she approaches me and says, 'ya know, Zach, I've worked through my steps and I've been doing this Recovery thing for a year now. I've always appreciated how sweet and respectful you've been to me. How'd you like to go have coffee?"

Maybe the one fantasy isn't any better than the other, but it seems to me that it's a much better thought than beating myself up for just being a man.

"Dealing With Conflict"

2011-04-19T11:55:00.000-07:00

One of my sponsees is currently a meeting secretary. I'm proud of him for finally taking on that service position. It's been a little difficult for him and he's discovered an interesting little tidbit--that meetings 'look' very different when you're sitting in that chair. He's not someone who has any trouble with public speaking, but is finding a little bit of difficulty in keeping order. We've talked about it, how it relates to self-esteem and fear issues, and how it's a growing opportunity for him.

Sometimes he has difficulty with the louder members of the fellowship. Not everyone in a meeting is polite, of course. Most people wait their turn, wait for others to finish, are good about not engaging in crosstalk, etc. Not everyone is like that, though. He & I have talked about his hesitance to shut someone down when they've shared too long, or when they're sharing more than once and not giving others an opportunity to speak. He doesn't want to hurt anyone's feelings. He doesn't want to be rude. I try not to laugh too hard at this, because it is such a common feeling, and one that I know well and have struggled with plenty myself.

I've encouraged him to be assertive and to remember that a big part of his being the meeting secretary is keeping order and making sure the meeting runs smoothly. The other night, he managed to answer his own question. He was talking again about how he didn't want to be rude, then realized that it was actually the loud mouths who were being rude. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that he will continue to grow and that this will prove to be a good experience for him in terms of learning assertiveness and having stronger boundaries. I've reminded him that he doesn't have to be rude when keeping order, just assertive. It sounds like this: "_____, you've already shared. Let's give everyone a chance to speak before sharing again." If the offender takes it personally, that's on them. Part of being in meetings is learning to listen.

For myself, I'm doing a little learning of the opposite of this right now. Sometimes, the appropriate thing to do is to let go, let a comment go by and not respond to it at all. A fellow member of the program sent me an email recently that was rude. He asked me to take over one of his service commitments, and he prefaced his request by making a comment about how, since I was unemployed, I should have plenty of time to do it. To make matters worse, he started off the email by admitting that he knew what he was saying might be considered rude.

This is one of the most frustrating things for me to listen to--when someone starts off by saying they know they're going to say something rude and insensitive and then proceed to say it anyway. It's like announcing, "I know I'm being an asshole, but I'm going to be an asshole anyway." It's so the opposite of what the program teaches us. Part of learning to be more spiritual is practicing compassion. If someone doesn't realize they're being a dick, I can mostly let it go. When someone DOES realize they're being a dick and then goes ahead and does it anyway, that's pretty damn lame.

Anyway, I didn't respond to the email, didn't buy into it, didn't tell the guy off or anything. I was all set to, was ready to rip this person a new asshole and explain to him that this is why people don't like him--because he knows he's being a dick and then goes ahead and is a dick anyway. He actively chooses not to change the thing he can--himself. But I didn't. And I called my sponsor up to tell him so. My sponsor gave me mad props for it, let me know he was proud of me for not feeding in to the bullshit. He reminded me that someone who doesn't have very good Recovery isn't going to be helped much by my telling them they're being an asshole. With sponsees, we can say that to a certain extent because they have asked us for help in improving themselves. Random program members, people we meet in real life? The best thing we can do is let it go. Or maybe even say a prayer about that individual learning some compassion.

Conflict is a part of life. Knowing the appropriate response is a skill we develop, as is being able to follow through and take the appropriate action. Sometimes that means speaking up, sometimes it means letting go.

"Strange Dreams"

2011-04-18T14:14:00.000-07:00

I had some vivid dreams last night.

One of them was a using dream. It's been a long time since I had one of those. Can't say I like them any more now than I have before. It's always very emotional. All the drama of having relapsed, having to resign my service positions, etc. Usually I wake up and it takes me a little while to realize it was all just a dream. This time around, I actually went through that part of the process in the dream itself. Ugh. Not fond of those.

The other dream I remember is really weird. I was playing for the SF Giants (they're my favorite team in real life). Huff was at the plate, and for some reason I was behind him at the plate. No, not as the catcher, but like as an additional batter and I was way on the left side. When the pitch came in, it went by him, and I slammed it--hit a home run in fact. But then I 'realized' that I was doing it wrong--I was actually supposed to be standing opposite him at the plate and giving him advice. A lot like a batting coach but while he was at bat. I apologized for hitting his home run and he said it was all good. We must have been playing the world series or something, because the next thing I knew we'd just won big. I remember having a red squishy ball in my hand for some strange reason. In the midst of the celebration, I broke down into tears about how I don't belong there, that don't know anything about playing ball. Someone (I don't remember who) comforted me, and that's when I ended up with the red squishy ball. Totally bizarre.

I'm real big on dream interpretation, and what happens in a dream is almost never literal. I've looked at some of the scientific research, too. When we dream, it's our brain processing information, storing permanent knowledge. Think of how people will say that when you start dreaming in a foreign language, you know that you're really learning it. There are lots of books and websites out there with the meanings behind dream symbols. I had a look to see if I could piece together the baseball dream.

Playing in the baseball game could mean that I need to work on setting goals. The red ball is actually a good symbol; it denotes wholeness, completeness, and perhaps and need to get in better touch with the child within. The color red, just by itself, is an extremely potent dream symbol. It's deeply emotional and spiritual. It can symbolize passion, aggression, power, courage, as well as danger, violence, shame, or rejection. But how do you integrate these possible meanings into what the specific dream actually means? By relating it to what's happening in your life.

I've been praying a new prayer lately. I've been asking God to help me to find my place. Specifically when it comes to work. Being unemployed for going on a year now hasn't been easy. The jobs I had in the past were jobs I took because I didn't have any faith in myself to really be successful. I didn't see myself as a person of worth and value, someone who could succeed, so I took jobs that didn't challenge me, where I was treated as less-than, because I thought it was all I deserved. But I have an issue trying to relate this dream to my current circumstance. I do have goals--I'm going to school in order to become a therapist. Of course, that doesn't help me with income in the meantime.

Maybe the dream is just an acknowledgement of my continuing depth of excepting myself for who I am as I am--knowing that I am enough, as we say in the program. Maybe I have more confidence in myself than I realize. That's been a pretty common theme in my Recovery, actually. There have been many times where I've been the last to realize some character strength that I have. Everyone around me can see it, but I can't, because my brain is still trying to catch up to the new me I'm becoming.

Or it could always be that the dream is just a dream.

If I were to step back and look at it, my instincts tell me this: that the significant part of the dream is me being part of the 'winners' and feeling like I don't belong there. Three decades of feeling like one of the losers doesn't disappear overnight, and even with all the good things I do know about this new person I am and am becoming, there's still that holdover that I'm a worthless sack of shit. Thank God for Recovery, that I can trust now that that voice, the one that tells me I'm no good, is just my disease talking. It doesn't want me to feel good, because then the disease is losing and I'm winning. Maybe that's what the dream is for--so that I can look down at the red squishy ball in my hand and remember that the disease--as always--is full of shit.

"The Selves, They Are a-Changin"

2011-04-16T11:45:00.000-07:00

A few days ago, I went to one of my regular meetings and didn't get what I needed from it. Stepping outside, I talked with a couple guys from the fellowship. They said they felt the same way, so we took ourselves out for after-meeting coffee and conversation. We ended up having a great time. We talked about the program, the experiences of our lives, what had brought us into the rooms, and the disease in general. We ended up comparing notes (so to speak) and got into some deep waters about the commonalities all of us with the disease share--things like not fitting in, feeling worthless, the struggle to become comfortable in our skin, etc.

Relationships with women came up. We shared horror stories of previous relationships, then we spent a lot of time talking about how Recovery seems to cause romantic relationships to crumble. We wondered why that might be. Someone mentioned that they just didn't have patience for the bullshit anymore. Someone else mentioned that they used to just look for sex and now they needed more than that. I talked about how Recovery changes us, how we become different people. The kind of people we used to be attracted to, we aren't attracted to them anymore and vice versa. As we change, become different people, we attract different people into our lives.

The literature talks about this. As we progress in our Recovery, we become less attracted to drama and trauma, and more attracted to sanity and serenity. I've seen it happen in my own life and it's surprising to me when it does. Maybe it's a girl I used to be obsessed with, then I'll see her months later and wonder how on earth I was ever interested in her. Or it can be that I meet someone new who has that goofy, zany personality I used to find so irresistible, that I now find myself saying, "eh... no thanks" to.

We all have a natural magnetism. Because of who we are, we naturally attract a certain kind of person into our lives. When we begin Recovery, who we are inside begins to change. Sometimes the change is subtle, sometimes drastic. Regardless of the scale, the change is real. Who we matched with before is, most of the time, not who we might match with now. A lot of the relationships we got into while we were in the grips of our disease aren't healthy. Holding on to those relationships can prevent us from making progress in Recovery. The unofficial 'rule' of not getting into any new relationships for the first year is a really good suggestion to help us guard against this.

As addicts/alcoholics, we are control freaks and we resist change. If we take away our main fix, we look for something else to fix with. Until we've gotten some experience living a new way of life, our disease-colored instincts are still in major effect. Many of us haven't yet learned that we are enough, and so we look to a relationship--another person--to do those things for us that we need to learn to do for ourselves.

Unless our partners are willing to change too, staying in our old, unhealthy relationships can prevent us from changing into the new people Recovery turns us into. It’s not that Recovery itself is death to relationships; Recovery is death to all the old, unhealthy aspects of our lives. As we become more spiritually healthy, the kinds of people we bring into our lives changes. There’s a lot of letting go to be done, a lot of faith to be had, and a lot of trusting in our higher power that needs to happen. But then again, isn’t trusting in our higher power to do what’s best for us the whole point?

"A Recovering People-Pleaser"

2011-04-13T16:37:00.000-07:00

NA's 'Just For Today' hit me hard today. It was about people-pleasing--doing things just to gain the approval of others, and how it stems from low self-esteem. Sure, we like to feel good about ourselves. When people tell us they're proud of us or that they like us, or what we've done or said, that feels great. But doing things or saying things specifically to get people to like us? We just end up feeling worse about ourselves. Putting all that in some program terms, it doesn't help to fill the hole inside. It's as empty a feeling as the high we got from using.

I used to be a major people-pleaser. There was a time when I don't think there was a single action I took or comment I made that wasn't designed to get someone's approval. It showed up especially in my relationships with women. And honestly, it still can show up there. I still catch myself obsessively trying to form exactly the right words, measuring my responses out almost scientifically, all in an attempt to get a girl to like me, or to approve of me, like a little two-year-old trying to get mommy's approval. I'll come back to that in a minute.

Some folks don't see anything wrong with people pleasing. They say that if we can make other people happy, that's a good thing. It helps us to feel better about ourselves. What's wrong with making others feel good? In a word, everything.

Allow me to peel back a few layers of denial. First of all, people-pleasing is a type of manipulation. If we're trying to make someone feel better, how is that any different from trying to make them feel worse? It isn't. The problem isn't trying to make someone feel _bad_, it's that we're trying to make them feel what we want them to. We're exerting our will, forcing it on others; we're manipulating them. Just because we're manipulating them to feel good doesn't make it okay. Second, if we're saying something or taking an action to gain someone's approval, we're being dishonest; we aren't being who we really are. Worse than that, we've given away our own power, given someone else control over us. If the only way we have to feel good about ourselves is by having others approve of or praise us, then our happiness is dependent on the reactions of other people.

We can fall into a vicious cycle, one where we are constantly acting not according to the meeting of our own needs, but manipulating our behavior in an attempt to manipulate the behavior of others. And all the while, we aren't being our true selves. The psychologists refer to this as 'external locus of control'--and it is devastating for self-esteem. How we feel about ourselves is entirely at the whim of others. When they don't respond the way we want them to, we feel even worse about ourselves because we didn't manipulate them properly. I'm not saying anyone literally thinks in these terms, just describing the process.

A lot of us learned to be people-pleasers and peace-makers. It was the rules for my family-of-origin. It was what I learned growing up as the way to be in the world, to relate to other people, and to conduct myself. I was a smart kid and I learned it well. Like other addicts who grew up in dysfunctional families, I learned this behavior because I had to in order to survive. I learned that what other people thought was of prime importance. I learned nothing was more important than avoiding conflict at all costs. I learned that my own wants, needs, thoughts, and feelings were secondary. So I spent many years trying to please others, trying to make other people happy, because I had learned that my self-worth is tied directly to how good I was at doing that. If I failed, if other people didn’t respond ‘properly’, then the fault was mine.

It wasn’t until I got into Recovery that another way of living was presented to me. In Recovery, I learned new things: that I can’t really control other people and that my attempts to do so were a big part of what made my life so unmanageable. I learned that others don’t have to respond the way I want them to or think they should--even if all I’m doing is trying to make them feel good. I learned that I wasn’t a failure if they didn’t, and that I was creating my own insanity by continuing to try.

It used to drive me so crazy. I would do what I’d learned to do, but people wouldn’t respond the way they were ‘supposed’ to. It wasn’t until after a lot of Recovery (and some good therapy, too), that I began to see how I was playing out the patterns of my childhood. It was like a script I’d learned as a kid. I do this, then other people do that. And when they didn’t, I’d go crazy, kind of like a loud-mouthed director who was constantly shouting at his actors and crew that they weren’t doing it right. And because I had learned that I was supposed to be perfect, I thought it was my fault when other people didn’t follow the script. I had to learn that I’m not responsible for other people, for their actions, their words, and their feelings.

Pretending to be someone we’re not is not a recipe for building healthy self-esteem. Having our own happiness dependent on how others are feeling is a trap. Real self-worth comes from how we feel about ourselves, not how others feel about us. Learning to love ourselves for who we are, just as we are, is an huge part of Recovery.

“Walking The Walk”

2011-04-12T16:02:00.001-07:00

I’ve got some tenth-stepping to do here. Followers of this blog have seen me rant about my issues with my Issues Of Diverse Populations class. It’s frustrating for me to sit through lectures on stuff I’ve spent most of my life learning on my own. I don’t like the professor’s teaching style. I really struggle a lot with keeping my mouth shut in the face of ignorant attitudes--because it’s not my place to tell others what to think, and I’m not about to act as if it’s my class to teach.

One of the coolest parts of working the program of Recovery is being able to admit our own mistakes. I won’t say that I’ve come to like this professor’s teaching style any better, or that she’s become less pedantic, but I will say that I have found a growing respect for her. Here, let me explain.

We’ve been covering the different prominent ‘ISMs’ in American society--Racism, Classism, Sexism, etc. Each student in the class was assigned one of these topics and wrote a research paper on it (mine was on Ageism). For the past few weeks, we’ve been having panel discussions. All the students who wrote their paper on Racism, for example, sit in front of the class and basically ‘teach’ it for their particular topic. Today’s panel discussion was on Sexism.

There were a couple of students in the class who clearly did not get the subject. Someone tried to argue about how women are second-class and need to be kept in their place. There was a point about how women shouldn’t be allowed into combat. My internal response to that was ‘why the fuck not?!’ We even had a bible thumper who started quoting scripture about the proper place of women. Okay, maybe I’m overstating things just a little bit, but that’s because it’s easier to me to type the gist of what people said than to list out the long ways they talked around their points.

We’ve had other heated discussions in this class, too. The units on homosexuality were rough. Lots of bible comments there. I suppose this would be the point where I could digress about how bizarre it is to me that just because someone is a member of one particular oppressed group doesn’t mean they won’t make every effort to oppress another.

My point is that I’ve had to listen to a whole LOT of ignorance this semester. I haven’t remained totally silent, I’ve made a few choice comments here and there, mainly because I’ve learned that, in situations like these, you have to really choose your battles carefully. People who believe gays are against God or that women are subordinate to men frequently believe that because it’s a tenant of their faith. Messing with people’s faith is, well, choppy water for sailing in.

As time has gone on, though, I’ve had to revise my opinion about the professor. Through all this ignorance, she’s remained far calmer than I ever would have been able to. She’s let everyone have their say, made sure that everyone’s opinion has been valued. It’s been pretty damn impressive.

I don’t always enjoy being wrong, but sometimes I do. Being able to admit it when I am is a skill I have learned through working the program. It’s important to be able to admit when I am wrong. The tenth step tells us to promptly admit when we’ve been wrong. So today, I waited until everyone was gone after class and let the professor know how impressed I was and that she had really earned my respect. And now I’m putting it down in print here, so y’all can know too.

Understanding differences, realizing the advantages that some people have over others, and the importance that everyone’s identity plays in who they are, is a big deal. I’ve probably said this before, that being ‘colorblind’ is the wrong approach to racism because people’s culture and heritage are important to them. The catch is to be ‘color-affirming’, to recognize the differences and embrace them. There’s nothing ruder than saying to someone that they ‘don’t act gay’ or that they ‘don’t sound black’.

We’re all people. The color of our skin, whether we’re men or women, if we’re gay or straight or something else entirely, these are all important aspects of who we are. Recognizing those differences and not judging each other according to them is the real challenge. Understanding that men and women are different, yet knowing that those differences do not mean women are less capable than men, that is the answer to sexism. Not falling into the trap of thinking all black people or latinos are ‘like that’ is the way out of racism.

Hmm, I seem to have ended up preaching a little here. How ‘bout that. All politics and activism aside, though, the real point is that for all my differences with my professor, she’s managed to earn my respect and admiration. And so I told her so.

"Work And Willingness"

2011-04-11T11:21:00.000-07:00

Ugh. See, this is why it's so important to enjoy the good feelings while they're there--because this too shall pass. My allergies are really driving me crazy today. I know that's all it is, but it feels almost like a nasty cold. I hate being sick. Well, the good times pass, the bad times pass, and life keeps going on and on.

I've assigned myself the task today of getting caught up on my journal entries for my Issues of Diverse Populations class. After coffee. Yesterday, my folks took me out to dinner as a 'thank you' for helping them out. School came up and I mentioned that I'm doing well, but that it's because I'm doing the work. Last night, my friend that I took to the meeting and I had a similar conversation. Her son is in school and doing well, too. We talked about dedication, having the drive to do the work.

The speaker at the meeting last night was really good. It was a woman with ten years and you could just tell, listening to her talk, that she had really good Recovery. She was a bit of a book thumper, but the passages she brought up were important ones, like how no one who lives the program relapses. It got me thinking about how relapse isn't a part of my story and how I don't say much about that because I don't want other people to get the idea that I think I'm better than they are--I don't; it's just a part of my story, of what is.

For a topic, the speaker asked for people to talk about spiritual principles, and that was a great topic. The program is a spiritual one, after all, and it's living by the spiritual principles we learn in the program that allows us to Recover. I didn't get called on, but if I had, I would have talked about Willingness. If there is a reason why I haven't relapsed, my best guess is that I'm lucky enough to have been blessed with a lot of Willingness. I've been willing to keep going to meetings, willing to get a sponsor and work steps, willing to take service commitments, and willing to sponsor others. I've been willing to work the program of Recovery.

But willingness isn't the 'gift that keeps on giving' either. Doing the work isn't easy. It's simple, but it isn't easy. The reason I'm doing well in school is because I'm willing to do the work; the same is true for my Recovery. I have to keep on being willing. I try to call my sponsor regardless of how my life is going. I still take myself to meetings even when I don't feel like going. I pick up the phone when my sponsees or other people in the program call needing help; I'm there for others because they've been there for me.

A lot of people refer to the 12-step program as a new way of life. It is, most definitely. I tend to think of it more as a way of living. To me, thinking of it as a way of life would mean that all I do is the program. Thinking of it as a way of living means that the program is the foundation that allows me to have a life. The spiritual principles of the program are guides to help me deal with myself, with other people, and with this crazy world I live in.

Some people say no one's born with an instruction manual on how to live life, but I've found the 12-step program to be a really useful guide. Maybe it doesn't cover everything, but it comes pretty close. The program works, so I keep working it.

"Sunday Slice of Life"

2011-04-10T13:11:00.000-07:00

Allergy season is upon us. Those of us who live here in the central California valley have a saying--if you didn't have allergies when you got here, you will soon. A friend of mine at the meeting the other night was bemoaning it, talking about how he just didn't feel right all hopped up on the antihistamines. It's a necessary evil. Either spend all day sneezing your head off, or take something. Speaking for myself, my nose and throat have been itching for a week. I've been taking my pills, too. In fact, last night I made the mistake of taking the wrong thing about ten o' clock and didn't get to sleep until around 5 am. Thank god for South Park on DVD.

It's a beautiful day, otherwise. Blue sky, warm air, and a slight breeze. The coffee shop I'm at is across the way from a park and there are plenty of opportunities for people watching. Dog watching, too. In fact, lots of cute girls on their bicycles. Moms are pushing their kids on the swing sets. It's a good day. Later today I'll be helping my folks out with some yard work, then this evening I'm taking a friend to a meeting. My schoolwork for the weekend is mostly accomplished. I got my Social Psych paper written, and I'm feeling good enough about the state of my music projects to let them be for a day or two. My brain feels pretty calm today, which is surprising, considering the insomnia from last night. There was a touch of not good stuff last night, fears about money, loneliness, all perfectly normal for someone unemployed and without a girlfriend.

Right now my view is filled with a group of people. I'm staring from behind my sunglasses at a sexy stoner chick. She's got long hair that's mostly a dark red, but with a healthy streak of white and a hint of blue in there somewhere. I notice her smooth skin and ample bosom. Her tall, lanky boyfriend stands beside her with his arms folded, not saying much. His gauge earrings and tiny hipster hat express the 'cool' fashions of the times. The two of them listen and laugh at the random ramblings of a couple of their stoner friends. They all seem like good people, just out enjoying a nice day. Behind me, a pair of guys talk nuclear politics. The damaged reactors in Japan, the moratorium on oil drilling and its effect on energy research. They pause occasionally to bark behavioral commands at their dogs which sit here with us unleashed. A 30-something mom, her nose and ears adorned with multiple earrings, talks on her cell phone while making sure her infant is out of the sun. A man picks up the free local liberal rag newspaper, flips through its pages of medical marijuana ads, and talks on his own cell phone about being hung over and how much he had at the different bars he went to last night.

This is life. Most of the time, there's not much happening, and how we perceive it has a lot to do with what our reality is. So much of what I'm feeling, I get to choose. Do I glance through the pot ads and think wistfully on getting stoned? Or do I just chuckle at how many there are of them? I could stare at the cute girls and wish I had someone to share my life, or I can just enjoy the sight and know there's nothing wrong with admiring a good-looking gal. Do I look at the good-looking guy and wish I was him? Or do I wonder privately how much speed he has to do to maintain that figure? Or maybe--just maybe--I take it all in and don't think much about any of it.

This is what being at peace is like, and I'll take a brief moment here to show some gratitude. This is what freedom from active addiction is like for me: having the opportunity and ability to just be in the moment and enjoy it. Not reacting to any of it, just taking it in and experiencing it. Very Zen.

For someone like myself, who in the past was accused so many times of never being satisfied, I have to admit that I'm feeling pretty satisfied right now. Maybe I don't have lots of money, or a big house, or a fancy car, but so what? Those things are nice, and I'm sure it'd be nice to have those nice things, but here's the thing about inner peace--it means being at peace, no matter where I am or what my circumstances are.

"Still Unemployed"

2011-04-08T13:08:00.000-07:00

I'm at my favorite coffee shop, smoking a cigarette and waiting for my caffeine infusion. My plan had been to read, but wouldn't you know it, I've got other things on my mind. The book is for one of my classes. I have thirty pages to read and an online quiz to take about it. I've also got a research paper to write this weekend as well as six journal entries to catch up on. Oh and I seem to be falling behind in my statistics class, so it would probably be a good idea to do some general studying for that class as well.

The music side of things is getting better. I've been reworking the tracks for the Hip-Hop album and that's going well. I've still got one or two to remix, and I'll probably spend some time today on that. I'm pleased with what I've done. We'll see what the artist thinks, but the sound I'm looking for is there now. That's the thing about being a Producer--it's about the sound. The album stands at 8 tracks right now, and it feels about half done. I always try to overshoot the mark when it comes to the number of songs on an album; you always end up cutting something. Plus, I hate when people go totally lazy and do a ten-song album. Weak. If I can get the artist I'm working with to sign off on these 8, I can kick back on the project for a little while, let him write & record vocals. It's turning out to be a big project and that feels good. We've been throwing around names of other local artists we want to bring in to do guest vocals.

So what's on my mind? The thing I haven't mentioned in a while: work. Or, more specifically, the lack of it. This month is the one year anniversary of my being laid-off. I have done some temp work here and there, played some gigs, worked under the table for a friend or two, but I am still gainfully unemployed. It's not like I've been sitting around doing nothing. Lots of music. School is going well, and maybe I even put a little extra effort into doing those things well because I don't have a job right now. But there's still a weight on me because I don't have a regular job.

I've got a lot of feelings on the subject, but I try not to let them take over because most of them aren't healthy. The last job I had, I got it because I was trying to do what I was 'supposed' to do, what society told me to do: get a good stable job; start at the bottom & work your way up. Just get a job--any job--and be miserable because that's what everyone has to do. It's the whole erroneous conceit of America-the-meritocracy, this idea that if you just keep your head down and work hard, you'll be rewarded.

And hey, I know people that that's worked for them. It hasn't for me. My 'stable' job turned out to not be so stable after all. Being in a union didn't help me to hold on to my job, it was actually the direct reason I got laid off. Being a smart worker didn't lead me to promotions or new opportunities, it lead me to being stuck in my entry-level position. Standing up for myself & bringing my good ideas to the table didn't lead me to bigger and better things, it led to my not being trusted by my superiors because I was seen as a troublemaker who rocked the boat.

The teacher in my Issues of Diverse Populations class has a saying, talking about how just because you're a member of the dominant culture doesn't mean you will receive the benefits of it: "you can live in a rainy city and not get wet". Translation: just because I'm a straight-white-male from the middle class doesn't mean life is going to be easy for me. Just because society is set up for me to succeed doesn't mean I will.

Maybe if I had been someone to sit down, shut up, and go along with the way things are, I would have been more successful in life. But no, I have to be the guy who holds onto this crazy idea that I don't deserve to be treated like a bottom-feeder. I have to point out the racist, sexist, classist attitudes of those above me. 'Why can't you just play the game, Zach?!' Because that is not who I am. And I have not spent the past two and half years learning how to pretend to be someone I'm not. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Well, caffeine infusion time is done. Time to go home and make some more hits. Still stayin' sober over here.

"Okay Being By Myself"

2011-04-05T11:54:00.000-07:00

Insomnia kept me awake again last night. I didn't make it to school on time and was late enough that there didn't seem to be much point in going to my first class. So I've sat myself down on a slab of concrete underneath the many giant oak trees here on campus.

It's a nice day out here, blue skies and warm sun, but my legs are still hurting from when I pushed myself too hard running this weekend. I guess I'm feeling alright, overall, but I really would rather be at home. Ah well, at least I'm here. Better to be late and miss one class than to not go and miss three. Suddenly I'm remembering being in college the first time, all the times I had insomnia back then, all the classes I missed. More than one professor got the impression that I thought I was hot shit and didn't need to go to class. If only it were that simple.

I really hate the insomnia. I've had it for as long as I remember. No amount of psychotherapy was ever able to find a cause. Without a job & health insurance, medical assistance is out of the question. Besides, the only drug that ever really helped me get to sleep was weed, so there's that. Exercise helps some, eating better helps some, but even so. Anyway, I don't want this blog to be an insomnia rant. I actually have relationships on the mind today.

My sponsor and I talk about this issue a lot. It's one I have had major struggles with. Lately, I've been doing something different. I haven't fully sworn off dating, but I'm not putting myself out there. I'm not doing anything to try to meet women, not going out, not actively seeking. I've even given my online dating profiles a rest. I've been saying that I'm unofficially not dating, taking time to just be okay by myself. It's been about two months now.

Honestly, there is some bitterness there. It's not at the 'fuck it' level, but there's frustration. I don't know how much of it is about me, or the way I was trying to meet women, but I just wasn't meeting the kind of woman that I wanted. My last therapist told me to think about what I want, and that is important. Even more important has been letting go of what I don't want. 'Cause the truth is that I still meet women, just going about my life. Sometimes there's a connection there, but I haven't met anyone that I really wanted to pursue something with, so I haven't pursued anything. And hey, that's a good thing. My sponsor was pointing out to me over the weekend what progress that is. I'm not jumping into a relationship or jumping into bed with someone, then realizing afterwards I wasn't really interested in after all.

I know a lot of single people out there are bitter. Some people don't have any trouble meeting someone they can get along well with. Others of us have a harder time of it, but I think that the letting go is a big step towards finding a relationship that's healthy and satisfying; to get to the good, you have to let go of the bad. I mentioned that to a good friend of mine and she was seriously impressed. I kind of laughed a little when she said that, though, because it isn't some grand self-improvement thing for me. It's much more of an 'ack; no more; enough; my give up'.

A few years back, I made something of a promise to myself--that not being in a relationship is better than being in a bad one. For the most part, I'm pretty content being by myself these days. My sponsor is real quick to point out how different that is for me. Personally, I think he's astounded that I'm doing this well. That makes me smile. But it's the truth--I'm doing alright, feeling okay just being by myself. And I really don't want any more insanity in my life. My own is more than enough for me to handle. So I'm gonna do this for awhile, not worry about the relationship issue, not stress over it, and just be okay with me.

A number of friends have told me 'good for you', and that when you stop looking is when you find that special someone. Maybe that's true. We'll just have to see. In the meantime, I've got a class to go to. It's my Social Psych class. We're studying attraction.

"Why I Write"

2011-04-04T11:41:00.000-07:00

It's been a progress not perfection weekend over here and that's a very good thing.

On Saturday, an old friend of mine was in town playing a gig and I went out to see him. I was feeling a little un-centered heading out there. The last time I'd seen him play was at that same spot, but I'd gone to see him there with my ex-girlfriend. When I got to the gig, the cover was really high. I paid it, though, and went in. Inside, I saw my friend, gave him a CD that I'd been needing to get to him, and began to reckon with a feeling that had been brewing inside: I really didn't want to be there at all. So I bailed. If I'd been more on the ball, maybe I would have been able to stop when I found out how bad the cover was, and just gone inside to give him the CD. Or maybe if I was more spiritually advanced, I would have been able to let go enough to say to myself, "welp, that sure was a lot of money, but I paid it and I'm here so I might as well enjoy the show." Neither of those happened, but oh well. My main goal that night was to get the CD to him, and I did that, so I'm going to laugh at myself a little, cry a little, and move on.

Yesterday, I drove down to San Francisco to see another old friend. She just got accepted into graduate school and threw a party to celebrate. I got there early and gave her a hand getting ready. At the party, I ate some good BBQ, met and talked with the other guests. I was there for several hours. Not bad for someone who used to not go to parties and, when I did, could only interact with other people if I was stoned out of my mind. After I left, I went across the SF bay to Oakland and spent a little time with my sponsor.

I did some music work this weekend, too. I'm getting frustrated with one of the projects I'm working on. It's a hip-hop album and I was listening back to the beats I've come up with so far. Some of them are really good, some are terrible. They sound to me like some white guy who don't know nothin about hip-hop trying to write beats. Which, strangely enough, isn't far from the truth. I've listened to hip-hop over the years, I played in a hop-hop band, but I've never been into it the way some of my friends have. I was seriously tripping at one point, but instead of just saying, "fuck it", I went back and started reworking what I'd written. I listened to a lot of tracks from the genre, got the feel & the groove into my creative flow, and overhauled what I'd already done. I still have a lot of work to do, but the tracks are sounding better.

It feels silly sometimes to write about this stuff (especially the music), but this blog isn't my bullshit space; it's where I let out the truth about what's really going on inside. I think men especially are discouraged from admitting their true feelings--especially fears, so writing here is good practice for me. Holding stuff inside isn't good for me. It gets me into all kinds of trouble, breeds resentment. Writing helps me to get stuff off my chest, helps me to check in with myself, and to work out what's going on.

The thing with my friend's gig is about insecurity and self-pity--I feel sorry for myself that I can't command a high price at gigs, that I'm not very good at self-promotion, that for all my talent my music hasn't taken me anywhere. Going to my friend's house yesterday is about overcoming fears, and the fact that I did go and I continue to get better at being around people I don’t know is progress I need to be aware of and congratulate myself on. The fears about working on the hip-hop album are more of the pity and insecurity, but I can give myself a break there, too, and recognize that I’m not giving up, I’m doing the work and overcoming my fears. They used to keep me paralyzed.

And writing here in this blog, letting others know what I go through, is a way to pass on the message. We all have fears, we all have issues we need to work on. I suppose there are people out there who read all this and laugh. To those who are feeling smug and superior, I congratulate you on your judgmental selves. How nice it must be for you to be perfect and have all the mysteries of life worked out. The rest of us mere mortals are over here, doing what we can, taking baby steps, to try and do better. It's for folks like me that I write--people who are in touch with their fears and their failings, who are trying to do better. I want you all to know, because it's what I need reminding of more than anything else:

You are not alone.

"Powerless vs. Powerful"

2011-03-31T15:33:00.000-07:00

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.