"What It's Like Now"

(This blog is fourth in a four-part series, "My Story")

WHAT IT’S LIKE NOW

Recovery for me has been a process of learning a new way of living. I've had to unlearn most of what I learned growing up. It isn't easy to let go of those things. I didn't learn those things by chance. I learned them and practiced them in order to survive. It was what I had to do. One of the things that makes Recovery so difficult is that the program asks us to abandon all the thinking and behavioral patterns that kept us alive. But we have to abandon them because they no longer work—if they ever really did; because if we keep on in the same way, we will die anyway.

From my very first meeting of Marijuana Anonymous, I knew I was in the right place. I was surrounded by people like me. I could hear it in their stories, in their jokes. They welcomed me with open arms and gave me a slew of suggestions to follow to help me stay quit. I did my best to go to 90 meetings in 90 days. When there weren’t MA meetings to go to, I attended other fellowships and was surprised to hear how much their stories reminded me of mine, too. It was probably the first time in my life that I felt a part of something. It was definitely the first time I ever felt included, or that I belonged. To this day, when I feel myself going through hard times, one of the best things for me to do is to get myself to a meeting.

I got a sponsor and started working the steps right away. When we had finished the third step, he told me there was nothing more he could do for me. I got a different sponsor who could take me through all twelve. Having a sponsor gave me someone I could call when times were tough, and there were plenty of those. Working the steps helped me to see the patterns in my life, how the disease had affected everything about it. More than anything, the steps gave me a new way to live. They gave me a set of tools to help me deal with things I’d never been able to before, especially myself. The gears of my life slowly came to a stop and began turning in a different direction.

It was suggested that I get into service and I did so. At first, I made coffee and handed out birthday chips. As I accumulated time, I took Meeting Secretary positions, then a Group Treasurer position. I have held one service position or another virtually my entire Recovery and intend to continue doing so. It was how I starting learning to be responsible, and it puts me in a position of visibility to newcomers. I chair speaker meetings and carry the message as best I can that there is a reason for hope, that people can change, and that life really can be different. When the time came, I started sponsoring others.

I’ve learned to experience my emotions, not repress them. I’ve learned how to deal with them appropriately, as an adult not a willful child. Each day, I get better and better at accepting the things I can’t change and at taking action on the things I can. I now live life on life’s terms and I know, without a doubt, that there is nothing so wonderful that getting loaded won’t ruin it and nothing so terrible that getting loaded will make it better.

There have been so many benefits of the program, I couldn’t list them all. It was through sharing at meetings that I learned to speak in my own voice, not just say what I was expected to or what others wanted to hear. I’ve gained a freedom I never thought I’d feel by accepting that I am not perfect and not going to be. Being imperfect is what makes me human. I’ve learned to accept others for who they are and not expect them to be perfect either. Most importantly, I am learning better each day how to love and accept myself for who I am, as I am. I know, now, that I am enough.

I’ve learned also that I must remain vigilant in working my program. If I don’t, old patterns of thinking and behavior return and my life begins heading back toward what it used to be. I must be active in my Recovery, and the best way I’ve found to do that is by helping others. As the saying goes, I only keep what I have by giving it away. I share at meetings. I use the phone. I write this blog.

Life isn’t easy. It’s full of ups and downs, good times and bad. I do my best to be honest with my sponsees about this. Recovery, learning a new way to live, takes time—and time takes time. The difference today is now I get to live my life. I get to be present for it and deal with it with the best of myself, not the worst. I know that, when things are bad, the way through is not to wallow in self-pity and isolation, but to pray and seek support from my friends in the program. We help each other.

I have a new definition for happiness now. Happiness is the freedom of a new way of life. It is the relief of knowing that I don’t ever have to use again. It is the joy of being able to experience the full range of what it means to be human.