Tag Archives: addiction

FAITH SIMPLIFIED

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I was telling a non-addict friend about how hard it is for addicts to let go of control. We are such control freaks that the lesson of “letting go” is our greatest struggle once we enter recovery – nevermind letting go on a deeper level.

I know this is pretty cornball – especially since last week I prefaced my blog with a Peggy Lee song – but I’ve been trying to find a way to write about having faith and this song suddenly popped into my head.

I really don’t know why songs that were background radio music during my childhood keep filtering into my consciousness these days but they do let me know that the answers we discover for ourselves through trial and error in the personal growth of our recovery – well – they are not new answers.

When it comes to things like “having faith” or “letting go” there are two choices on how to live: Do you want to experience the stress and emotional exhaustion of trying to control the outcome of situations, exerting your will and best laid plans? Do you want to ignore fear and allow it to be disguised as diligence and motivation to push your plans through by force? Do you want to hold onto to the superstitions or OCD behaviors that covet obsessional thinking, behaviors that create a tightening in the chest, that keep you living in the state of anticipation and dread while relying on your horoscope, your psychic, your tarot cards,or whatever extra-worldly help you hope will bend the future to your liking?
OR do you want to take a few deep breathes, acknowledge your dreams and fears, and practice living in the present moment, trusting that however the future unfolds everything will be as it should be.

If you have any doubts about letting go of fear – which shows up in the desire to maintain control even when it’s truly impossible – try this exercise: make a list of all the times you forced things to go your way. Don’t let your selective memory list only the times there were good outcomes. List the times when shit hit the fan and things didn’t work out or when the outcome was terrible. Now revisit that emotional place – do you remember how nuts you felt, the inner panic, the adrenaline spent on the mental hamster wheel of obsession compulsion and fear? Now list times when you “let go” and gave up control, times when you let life happen. When you were disappointed, how bad did the bad feel? How often were you surprised by the outcome?

Does this mean that to live a life of surrender we stop taking action? Hell no! In fact, by taking one step at a time toward your dreams it is the same as showing the universe what your intention is – then allow the future to unfold however it is supposed to. Sometimes you don’t get what you want but you definitely will end up on a ride worth taking. LET LIFE SURPRISE YOU.

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Is that all there is?

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peggylee

When I was a little girl I would listen to Miss Peggy Lee  singing, “Is that all there is? Is that all there is?” Even at seven years old I felt this song deep in my bones. Listening to it now, it so profoundly describes a feeling so familiar to addicts and alcoholics. In the song the solution is booze and dancing but in recovery how do we get through those days when we feel bored, lonely, unsatisfied and empty – days when our disease holds us hostage to these disproportionately magnified feelings?

I looked in the mirror and a blonde woman with a suntan stared back. I didn’t recognize myself. Was I really wearing pink gym shorts and sneakers? I ripped off my tortoise shell sunglasses and started looking for track marks, scars, something to prove it was really me. New Age music came over the speakers and two men began discussing their mutual enlightenment.

“John, when I first heard you lead a meditation, I found myself carried away by the melodic rhythm of your voice and suddenly I envisioned myself conducting and entire symphony around you.”

“Oh that’s beautiful” replied John as he droned on about his twenty-five years in Twelve-Step communities. That’s when it hit me. My track marks were gone. My punk rock youth was over. And all I seemed to care about was healing my inner child and shopping at the Beverly Center. My God – what happened to my personality?

I wrote the above story when I had just over two years clean. I’d been on a pink cloud most of that time, super-happy with the life I’d put together from scratch in recovery. There’d been no warning signs that everything would change with one glance into a mirror. Shortly after this experience, I shut my down my life in Los Angeles and spent six months alone in a car traveling the country, reflecting and writing a novel. Rather than allow my existential identity crisis to push me toward a relapse, it motivated me to pursue my dreams.

Fast-forward to six years later. I’m in a therapy session saying, “I go to meetings, I work out, I’m of service, I eat healthy, I have good friends, I’m in therapy – but really- big fucking deal. Is this it? Is this all there is? I feel so bored and crazy. Where’s the euphoria?” I knew I was going to leave her office and stir up the pot. The feeling of restlessness and urgency was familiar – it was what drove me out to buy drugs back in the day. I knew I didn’t want to get high but I craving something to make me feel more alive and, like with drugs, felt powerless to stop myself once the idea got into my head. Within days I’d seduced a dangerously attractive unavailable young active alcoholic and I’d started smoking. I have to admit I felt pretty badass and was charged with the electricity of that euphoric high I’d been craving.

Within weeks I was back in my therapist’s chair only now I was crying. I felt lost from myself – anchorless. All I wanted was to go back to the way I felt before I abandoned myself with escapist behaviors. And I was pissed. Why does everything that makes me feel more “alive” always have the price of self-abandonment attached to it?

I mention these two stories because in both cases I was hit by the same feeling –  that life on life’s terms was not enough. At the time I didn’t know how to value peace of mind and I didn’t know how to find comfort in the grey areas of day to day life on its own terms. I was still grieving and romanticizing aspects of the unpredictability of my former drug-using life. I wanted drug-like excitement without picking up a substance.

While the first existential identity crisis lead me on a six-month odyssey of America rediscovering and challenging myself, it wasn’t an impulsive act. That road trip required patience and planning. The second story illustrates a pretty typical addict response to feelings of restlessness. It’s usually knee-jerk compulsive self-destructive behavior disguised as fun.

In recovery there will be days when life on life’s terms will not be enough to satisfy you; days when boredom will make you pace like a wild animal desperate to break out of the cage. The disease gets a lot of mileage from the language of denial. I considered myself “unstoppable” rather than compulsive. If I’d been able to recognize that the intense pull toward acting-out was a compulsion I was powerless over, I could have applied some recovery principles to it. Instead I saw surrender as a compromise of “my free spirit”. Besides, even in recovery I’ve often been willing to suffer the consequences to get what I want when I want it. Thing is – although the consequences are always the same, when I set out on a mission for thrills. I forget the price is always some version of feeling lost from myself, of being lost and anchorless at sea.

The ability to sit with my feelings – especially the ones that can be avoided by thrill-seeking behaviors – didn’t happen over night. First I had to become willing – which happened when I was no longer willing to pay the price that came with avoiding them and then I needed courage to have blind faith that if I sat with my feelings they would not destroy me. I quickly discovered that the emotional discomfort didn’t last long. Feelings pass – even cravings for excitement pass.

The key to gracefully getting through the existentially angsty days is to let go of the need to make shit happen as a solution to feelings. Sit with the feelings no matter how much the disease is screaming for you to not sit still. Trust me – this can save you ridiculous amounts of negative consequences and inner turmoil. Meditation and breathing can help with this. If you suspect that you’re meant to shift gears or make major changes, you will know it because the need to force change won’t be there. I am NOT saying that life in recovery can’t be exciting. Maybe it will be more exciting if you can stop imposing your old ideas of excitement onto it and see where you end up.

 

 

 

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Dancing with Myself

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If we get four more inches of snow this week it will beat NYC’s snowiest winter. Crazy! I’ve been so distracted by the constant below-zero weather I hadn’t noticed the extra snow. I have, however, noticed that the winter blahs are catching up with me – even with my active daily participation in an anti-seasonal affective disorder regiment (an hour of fresh air, exercise, and mega amounts of citrus and dark leafy vegetables). I’m not the only one feeling this way. Almost every conversation lately is about being over the weather, the need for a vacation to sunny states, and seemingly serious considerations about moving away. Although I’m dedicating this week’s post to everyone who’s had to put up with this year’s brutal winter, I’m hopeful even warm-state recovering addicts will accept my challenge.

There are two things about “cabin fever” that are especially treacherous for recovering addicts. There’s both lethargy and lack of motivation and way too much time to think about ourselves. When we’re actively participating in our life time spent overthinking is minimized. Isolated and inactive, we can think our way into despair and anxiety. I propose it is time to start moving. Have some fun and lighten up your mood.

When I was an only child in a household where there was active alcoholism, I found solace by creating dance routines in the basement. I spent a lot of time in a fantasy world where one day I would get to be one of the dancing Golddiggers on the Dean Martin Show. To prepare myself for this destiny I’d turn up the volume on my favorite tunes and dance my ass off. While my amateur dance routine days have come and gone (ironically exhausted by years on a strip club stage), this winter I keep renewing my spirit by blasting music and dancing like a fool.

Go to your music collection or to Pandora and locate the favorite tunes from your life and turn up the volume. Dance like a fool in the privacy of your own home. You can dance with your friends, with your pets, or by yourself. Try those crazy moves you know you can’t do and laugh a little. Sing along. JUST START MOVING! I guarantee that if you can keep this up for 30-45 minutes you’ll flip out by how much better you feel. Free your body and mind, dance as wildly as you can, break out in a sweat, and enjoy the fact that you still have a heartbeat (even if it feels like its going to pound right out of your chest). For 45 minutes a day you can lift your spirits and get a break from thinking about yourself. It’s a win-win and a perfect way to begin March. By the time the weather breaks you’re going to be able to translate this dance time into exercise time. For anyone who’s been on the fitness fence, take this post as a challenge. Who knows – maybe it will kickstart the desire to include regular exercise into your life.

Remember – recovery happens in mind, body, and spirit. Dance your way out of the winter blahs. You can lighten your existential load by weakening the grip of seasonal affective disorder. Have some fun!

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ACOA and the Recovering Addict

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For ten years I lived in a cute one-bedroom railroad flat. It was a great apartment by New York standards. A railroad flat is a series of rooms that open into one another. From the desk in the furthest room I could see clear to the other end. I sublet my place in 2003 and moved into an enormous apartment in Los Angeles. The rug, which had been wall to wall in my largest room in New York, was now an area rug in the living room. There was a dining room, a large kitchen, 2 huge bedrooms, a balcony and a backyard. I arranged the furniture and put my desk in my bedroom. It took several months before I noticed that I only left my bedroom to go to the kitchen. With all this glorious space, I continued to live inside the square footage of my NYC apartment. I was going to have to make a conscious effort to spend time in different rooms until it felt natural. I’m sure people who’ve spent extended time in prisons share this experience when returning to the outside world.

Children adapt to their environment in similar unconscious ways. Children growing up in a household impacted by addiction or alcoholism will turn their fear and pain inward and adopt negative belief systems about themselves and the way the world works without question.

If you grew up in an alcoholic family and are now in recovery, you’re probably doing things and feeling things that don’t make sense to you. You watch friends who got clean around the same time as you did move forward in their life and you start thinking that maybe you’re just too broken – even for recovery. You suspect that the happiness you see in others isn’t in the cards for you so you try to practice acceptance and find gratitude for what you do have. You slogan yourself to death and jump into step work – but progress is slow and most days you are a breath away from losing whatever good mood you are having. When you’re happy you feel anxious because you know something will fuck it up, when you fall in love you brace yourself for heartbreak. You can’t understand why you can’t even really enjoy the good times without anticipating disappointment. You question whether you aren’t working a good program or think maybe you need to have more faith, do better step work, find a new sponsor, or take more commitments. (For anyone sober outside of a 12-step fellowship, you may often feel hopeless because you are out of ideas how to think your way into feeling better). You know something isn’t right but you can’t put your finger on it. You do a lot of comparing of yourself to others.

Growing up in a dysfunctional or alcoholic family, feelings from childhood have shaped your relationship to yourself and to the world and these don’t miraculously heal without being addressed. Children of alcoholics adapt the same way I adapted to a small living space. Even when there was room to move around, I didn’t. If you feel like something is keeping you boxed in – even in recovery, it is time to uncover how being a Child of an Alcoholic affected you.

The damage done in alcoholic households vary but one thing is common – children don’t feel safe. For some children of alcoholics, violence and emotional abuse is the norm and for others it’s the internalized disappointment from years of broken promises. Safety and security can be threatened by the fear of drunk driving accidents, threats of divorce, or the ongoing silent treatment between parents. Whatever forgiveness or acceptance you have gained by saying “They did the best they could with the tools they had” these words do not heal the child who was frightened, wounded or abused. Until a recovering addict addresses their ACoA issues, they continue to live inside a box constricting their freedom to grow in recovery, to find peace, self esteem, love, and to enjoy their life without waiting for the other shoe to drop. For some addicts and alcoholics, staying sober is impossible unless their ACoA issues are excavated and healed.

There are a number of books written about ACoA and trauma, there are therapists who specialize in Adult Children of Alcoholics, and of course there is the ACoA 12-step fellowship. I think 12-step fellowships are especially healing for recovering addict/alcoholics because the empathy, compassion and camaraderie provide a lovingly safe place that many ACoAs have never experienced. This safety will give you the strength and courage to work on ACoA issues (with outside help) so that you can truly experience freedom from the past. ACoA work will take you out of the one room (of your sobriety) and teach you how to move around the entire house.

This is the Laundry List (taken from www.adultchildren.org) :

The Laundry List – 14 Traits of an Adult Child of an Alcoholic
1. We became isolated and afraid of people and authority figures.
2. We became approval seekers and lost our identity in the process.
3. We are frightened of angry people and any personal criticism.
4. We either become alcoholics, marry them or both, or find another compulsive personality such as a workaholic to fulfill our sick abandonment needs.
5. We live life from the viewpoint of victims and we are attracted by that weakness in our love and friendship relationships.
6. We have an overdeveloped sense of responsibility and it is easier for us to be concerned with others rather than ourselves; this enables us not to look too closely at our own faults, etc.
7. We get guilt feelings when we stand up for ourselves instead of giving in to others.
8. We became addicted to excitement.
9. We confuse love and pity and tend to “love” people we can “pity” and “rescue.”
10. We have “stuffed” our feelings from our traumatic childhoods and have lost the ability to feel or express our feelings because it hurts so much (Denial).
11. We judge ourselves harshly and have a very low sense of self-esteem.
12. We are dependent personalities who are terrified of abandonment and will do anything to hold on to a relationship in order not to experience painful abandonment feelings, which we received from living with sick people who were never there emotionally for us.
13. Alcoholism is a family disease; and we became para-alcoholics and took on the characteristics of that disease even though we did not pick up the drink.
14. Para-alcoholics are reactors rather than actors.

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Is the FUN over now that I’m clean?

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funI was so grateful to finally get clean it never occurred to me to question what fun would look like in recovery. Although it made me sad, a part of me was prepared to adapt to a fun-free existence if that was the clean and sober trade off .

When I had less than 90 days clean I ended up at a 12-Step picnic in Griffith Park in Los Angeles. I’d been exposed to the  hip Hollywood recovery crowd at a world convention a few months before I got clean. When I got out of rehab in New Orleans, I boarded a Greyhound Bus back to LA. I knew I needed these people in my life if I was going to make it. The only person I recognized was a teenager with 6 months clean who I’d lived with in someone’s kitchen when we were using. I kept my eye on him for some sign of acknowledgment all day while going through the motions of selling sodas for the hospitality committee. The day was a series of  my self-conscious awkward attempts to fit in.

The picnic ended with a meeting. Everyone shared their gratitude for the gorgeous day and the fun they’d had – everyone that is except me. I wanted to cry. If this was what fun was going to look like in recovery, God help me.  I only had one idea of fun and it was a memory or fantasy I’d been chasing for a million years. Fun would be a hotel room, a lot of drugs, a lot of money, and a lot of sex with someone who I was attracted to and excited by. Anything less was not going to cut it as fun in my books. The happier people sounded the deeper inside myself I went. I was consumed by such immense sorrow  it left me lost and alone. I hated this and was not having fun. “Patty, would you like to share?” Suddenly everyone was looking at me and before I knew it I was saying out loud everything I’d been thinking. Fuck it. Too late now for pretend gratitude. When the meeting ended people told me to hang on, that it would get better. More people talked to me that night than in the previous week of meetings strung together. By the time I went to bed, I felt pretty good.  I had hope that there was life after drugs.

I share this story because everyone experiences something similar to this when they first get clean. I had absolutely no clean fun reference points. I’d been high from 12 to 28 so whatever fun I’d had happened under the influence. The only thing now that was impeding my ability to have fun was my self-obsession.  Feelings of insecurity, self-consciousness, and adolescent awkwardness permeated my every activity in public. The pressure I put on myself to “appear cool and unaffected” was killing me. In truth, life without drugs was unchartered territory and I’d always relied on the comfort of the emotional detachment heroin had provided in social settings. Without it I felt exposed and vulnerable.

In spite of my cynicism, I said yes to every invite and we traveled in sober packs – to concerts, to parties, to dance clubs. Soon my life was as rich as it had been before drugs isolated me. Along the way I developed deep friendships that exist to this day.

The interesting thing is rediscovering what fun means to me as I get older. Every few years, I have periods where I no longer know where I belong socially. Things that interest me now tend to be more solitary. Too much solitude- even if it’s spend doing things I enjoy – becomes lonely and I’ll think “I need to enhance my personal life, meet new people, go out and have fun” but these thoughts are filled with that question “What does fun look like to me now?” Sometimes I will go out and realize I am the oldest person in the room and start to wonder where my peers are.  It can make me feel as awkward as my early days in recovery. Thankfully I have enough experience to know that if I keep an open and curious mind my experiences will reflect this. When I shared my thoughts at that picnic years ago, I discovered that I wasn’t alone.  I find this to be true now too. I talk to other people who are single and over 40 or over 50 and ask them what they do for fun and – maybe it’s my generation – but it seems a lot of them are asking themselves this question and have started trying new things, testing new waters and are more than happy to include me.

It is so easy to get caught up in life and responsibility that we forget to play. If we lose our sense of playfulness and joy old ideas will creep in that say the only real fun is found in a bottle or a substance. Don’t let your disease trick you with this lie. If you feel like your life is lacking fun, commit time to exploring different things until you discover what fun looks like for you.

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You don’t like relationship drama. Really?

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How many times have we heard I am not into drama? Ever notice that whoever says this usually follows it by complaining about an emotionally exhausting  situation involving a relationship (romantic, family, friends, or co-workers)?  Are you the one complaining about drama or are you the type who suffers in privacy by guarding the secrecy of your emotional chaos and all-encompassing anguish?

Drama was such the norm when I was getting high that I didn’t even register it. Perhaps it’s from having moments of serenity in recovery that make us all too aware when drama  comes along and throws off our emotional balance. We don’t like it – but damn there’s almost comfort in its familiarity.

Whether the source of drama has roots in a platonic or romantic relationship, the feelings are the same – obsessional thinking and a compulsion to continue engaging in it expecting different results. Sound familiar? Without drugs and alcohol, it’s pretty common to discover ourselves in a situation that we seem unable to walk away from no matter how horrible it makes us feel. With romance, like drugs, when it stops working we always hold out for some sign that it is returning to that place of euphoria or bliss that we experienced at the beginning. The cycle of obsessional thinking, compulsion behavior, denial of the reality, and the default setting of turning the pain inward is so familiar that we are able to withstand it long past a healthy expiration point.  But why is it when we are able to bring affirming recovery actions into every other area of our life we feel incapable of letting go of certain relationships or behaviors in relationship even when the pain is causing us to fantasize about using again?

When we were getting high most of us watched our lives shrink. Pretty much our only concerns were getting and using and finding ways and means to get more. Anything else happening in our life had no real emotional effect on us unless it got in the way of our using. Oh – one feeling persisted – shame.  When our sober lives fill with drama centered on another person (usually a romantic or sexual interest) our emotional lives shrink. Everything takes second place to the source of our obsession. We think about him/her all the time, replay past conversations searching for a clue to make sense of the situation and indulge our daydreams in future conversations. We find ourselves reaching out to friends (or suffering in silence) only to describe how we feel in relation to the object our desire/drama.  The fullness of our life is shrinking as we become a broken record of same story different day.

Do we really hate the drama or is it serving us in some way? By having one feeling – pain – displacing all other emotions we retain some level of control. The other feelings can’t affect us if we are blocking them out by our current drama. If we go from one dramatic relationship to another we have succeeded in getting out of experiencing the full range of emotions that life in recovery offers. It almost makes sense for someone in early recovery to jump on the relationship bandwagon because extreme pain and extreme pleasure are safe whereas the whole gamut of grey area feelings are unfamiliar and usually uncomfortable to sit with.

Take a risk and disengage with the drama – give yourself a set abstinence period and acquaint yourself with what might really be going on inside of you.  Journal, meditate, take walks and share your process with someone you trust.  Self-discovery is necessary for deep self-acceptance. How free do you want to be? Recovery is limitless.

 

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Getting Okay with Now

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I don’t know about anyone else but when things aren’t going well I hate hearing “Everything happens for a reason.” Does it really? Or is this another story people tell themselves to take the sting out of admitting powerlessness against the randomness of life? In the moment of disappointment or pain, does this saying even bring genuine comfort?

It’s less painful to accept what’s happening in the moment and roll with it (letting go of the expectations we hadn’t even realized we’d assigned to an outcome) than it is to continue trying to force a square peg into a round hole. It took years for me to learn this lesson – that my will doesn’t have the ultimate power to control my destiny – no matter how pure my desire driving it. Sometimes the only power my willfulness has is to keep me swimming circles in a fish tank not knowing I’m not free.

How can you have goals, wants, and dreams and still leave room for life to happen?  How can you recognize when you’re too afraid to trust in the process or have become married to your intended results?

If you find yourself going along “acting as if” but have a constant nagging sensation that you’re bracing yourself for disappointment,  waiting for the other shoe to drop, then you’ve become married to your expectations. It probably feels like if things don’t go as planned nothing will be okay. Not only will you have failed but that you are a failure. The disease mind is always waiting to unleash negative self-talk . Maybe  desire for control is born out of the fear of how brutally we beat ourselves up when we don’t get our own way.  The danger for recovering addicts is that if we feel bad enough long enough, we will eventually get high.

My friend, psychotherapist and transformation coach, Terri Cole, has a great analogy: think of what it feels like to swim against the current. It’s invigorating and challenging but it quickly becomes exhausting and you don’t cover much distance. Once you flip over and float, there’s no struggle and you travel further. By letting go our life and recovery can mirror this experience.

Here is an exercise: think back on a time when you wanted something intensely and the pain you experienced when it became clear not going to happen. Fast forward to the next time you experienced great joy and fill in the blanks – what random event turned things around to ultimately lead you to the next wonderful experience? Chances are, you will see that many of the major thrills of your life happened when you hit a wall and gave up on trying to force the square peg into the round hole because you were up against a wall of pain or frustration.

Things happen because they happen.  It’s only in hindsight that we can assign any logic to it and dress it up as an intended part of a longer story. Time has to pass, life has to unfold, and when things seem to be making sense again – when we are content and not struggling with control –then we are able to look back and say something like “Everything happen for a reason.” The trick is being able to come to this kind of acceptance while it is happening.

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National Suicide Prevention Week and the Addict

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tumblr_msiwtpy3kP1sgdgjso1_500I want to honor National Suicide Prevention Week September 8-14th here because sometimes addicts and alcoholics, both using and in recovery, start to consider suicide as an option when they feel trapped by feelings or circumstances. In recovery, we’re taught share these feelings with someone in our support network to diffuse the power, gain clarity and seek practical solutions to whatever ails us. Talking about what we are going through is always the first step toward change. To hole up in isolation with suicidal thoughts, emotional despair, or hopelessness is dangerous. It’s so easy to lose perspective and fall deeper into the darkness. The disease of addiction gets a lot of power and leverage from emotional pain and benefits from secrets and isolation because if an addict is in pain long enough, drugs and alcohol will begin to appear as the only logical solution for relief. I have known a number of people who have committed suicide while on a relapse. In almost every case, they ask for help getting clean again but always give up after a few days and begin to isolate. I don’t know what anyone is thinking when the kill themselves but I think it’s fair to guess that whatever they are thinking or feeling all they want is for it to stop. This is why it is so important to make time to listen to anyone who is asking for help and to extend ourselves by checking up on them and making sure they are connecting with others. Whether you are on a relapse, have never stopped getting high, are suffering from depression or have experienced a terrible event – no matter what you think or believe right now, don’t give up. If you have anyone to talk to, make the call or stop by and let someone know what is going on. Call a suicide hotline. Get help for yourself. Do not trick yourself into believing that there is no help because you have no money. The suicide hotline will have resources for therapists or support groups. You can go into any 12-step group and raise your hand and say how you feel or grab someone when the meeting breaks up and tell them you need help. If you feel you are a danger to yourself go to a hospital and tell them. Go and talk to your spiritual advisor if you have religious beliefs. People will listen. The first action is to break the cycle of obsessional thinking. This is done by sharing your thoughts and feelings with another human being and asking for help. Do not stay alone with your pain. A friend once told me that however big and dark the feelings feel in the moment, this is like one groove in a record album that the needle is stuck on but that there is so much of the album left to hear. Remember – these feelings are not permanent no matter what your thoughts are telling you.

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Becoming the friend you want to be

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friendshipWhen I used to try to kick heroin by the second night my brain would be up caught in a video loop of every terrible thing I ever did to anyone who ever cared about me.  I’d never been held accountable for the majority of it. Only I knew how far I’d fallen from being the kind of person I wanted to be. I loved my family, my husband, and my friends yet at the end I was alone. It was my form of damage control. I hated what and who I’d become and I couldn’t stop using. I was truly hopeless. Nothing stirred the heart-sickness in me more than replaying the ways I’d behaved with the people who’d cared. The pain this caused was so unbearable that I could never stay clean through it. I always picked up on the third day.

I’ve watched countless addicts go through this exact same process while detoxing.  Witnessing their despair while the unrelenting disease of addiction kept replaying these old tapes, I was able to make a connection between these specific feelings and the addict’s overpowering obsession to use again.  Despite all the other major destruction we create while using, it is the shame, remorse, guilt, and regret from the pain we have caused others, from seeing the evidence that we are no longer the person we know we can be, are meant to be, that causes us the most grief when we are getting clean and in early recovery.

When we get clean we usually aren’t aware of when we bring old behaviors into new friendships until there are consequences. How many times have you canceled plans with a friend at the last minute because something more exciting came along or because you just didn’t feel like doing anything never considering that it showed a lack of respect for someone else’s time? Or worse, lied to get out of a commitment and got caught? When have you given an honest unsolicited opinion and not realized how hurtful it was until your friend stopped calling you back?

Each of us have our own moral compass that guides us to live in accordance with our higher self. We usually know when we’re off course by a feeling in our gut that tells us something is not right. This is a good thing. It teaches us how to be the person we truly want to be. In recovery we learn how to be a better friend – and this matters because when we hurt people in recovery, not only do we feel shame, guilt, remorse and regret, our disease will start to play the old tapes of a lifetime of bad behavior to others and amplifies our shame. These feelings have the power to trigger cravings again.

What qualities do you value most in a friend? Do you value loyalty, trust, support, a sense of humor, someone who accepts you without judgment? Someone who is forgiving? What else is important to you? Does this describe you?

To get an honest appraisal of your friend-skills ask yourself these questions. Also note  when your behaviors line up with what you’ve listed as qualities you value in a friend.

Do you play different roles – strong with some and helpless with others?

Are you a people pleaser continually brushing aside feelings of resentment or anger?

Are you a giver or a taker or do you fall somewhere in the middle?

Are you a fixer or the friend always asking for advice?

Do you strategically seek out friendships that get you closer to the dream job or a person of romantic interest?

Do you have friendships of convenience but you never get invested emotionally?

Do you sustain long-term relationships, and if so what do those relationships look like.

The difficult part is to see where your behavior benefits you in some way.  When you are giving is it because there is something you want in return? Do you manipulate others to get your own way? Do you use guilt or the silent treatment rather than communicate how you feel?  Do you keep score? Do you ask for advice to avoid personal responsibility?

Some of you will be pleasantly surprised to discover that you are what you seek. Anyone new to recovery may find this exercise very uncomfortable – but don’t despair because there is a solution.  List every behavior that you want to eliminate and for the next week make a conscious effort to take the opposite action. Put in some effort and change happens. You’re worth it.

 

 

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With Willingness We Find Our Way

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 willingness image

We all have different paths (and are entitled to them) but we share the same goal – freedom from self-inflicted pain, a loving relationship with self, and to find inner peace.  As long as we have willingness, we will find our way.

I have a friend in recovery who HATES it when I break things down in terms of the “disease” of addiction. Although she has been clean for four years and attends 12 Step meetings, she has never been able to open her mind up to the possibility that addiction is a disease. For me, the disease concept is the one thing that’s made it possible to unravel my twisted thinking and impulsive wiring toward self-destructive behaviors and has allowed me to develop new skills to break the cycles.

In her defense, I have always had the same sort of recoil from talk about higher powers, although conceptually I see how beneficial they are to the process of finding meaning and safety. In either case, a certain amount of fantasy and creative imagining has to be invested – though there is neurological evidence of the brain disease of addiction. My friend has made it clean four years without a disease concept or a God.  She has made it on willingness to follow direction from people who have more experience dealing with life clean and sober. That has been enough for her.

At two years clean she developed an eating disorder. We were just getting to know one another while I was in her city when she confided to me a violent episode that had happened in her youth. From the moment I returned to New York and our friendship turned to instant messages and emails, it became apparent that her anxiety was going through the roof. She was crying all the time and her legs were cramping uncontrollably.  She was sleeping two or three hours a night and forgetting to eat. Whatever suggestions I gave, she’d forget as soon as we said good-bye. At first it was impossible for me to understand why she wasn’t taking any sort of self-care actions when she was so clearly in physical and emotional pain. It only made sense when she told me that I was the first person she’d ever told the story about the abuse.

It made perfect sense to me what was going on when I broke it down in “disease” terms. Something terrible had happened to her. She was a victim yet carried the blame and shame. The disease loves blame, shame, and secrets. For fifteen years this had been her secret. While her love for her young daughters was the impetus for getting clean and attending meetings to stay clean, she’d chosen a sponsor who used her as a babysitter and was uninterested in moving her forward in step work. In fact, as her weight fell away and she decided to go to therapy at my insistence, her sponsor shamed her over it, saying that she looked great and it was all in her head – as if she’d concocted the anxiety to get attention. It was a replay of the relationship she’d had with her adoptive mother.  Every step of the way toward seeking help, her disease struck harder. The trauma she’d experienced at 15 continued to hold her down.  This wasn’t surprising considering most addicts have trauma in their background. Whether we used because of the trauma or if it was a catalyst to fuel the disease is like asking the chicken and the egg question. The facts on paper: 30 year old woman with an addict birth mother, drug and alcohol use, sexual trauma at 15 and an increase of drug abuse – rehab at 28.  Shedding light on her secret was followed by extreme anxiety that preceded anorexia.

In recovery terms, there were actions that could have helped but she was incapable of taking them. To her credit – and I believe this should be typed in bold for anyone reading this paralyzed by feelings and behaviors yet unable to take action – she continued to attend meetings throughout the next eighteen months of physical and emotional hell and new women came into her life with substantial clean time and they led her to a new sponsor. This carried her until she was ready to get help.  She hated going to meetings, hated hearing about the disease and about God but she went anyway. I believe WILLINGNESS is the launch of an arrow, its tip cutting through space changing all of the molecules in its path.  It causes change to happen.

The most interesting thing to me in witnessing anorexia in action is that early in the process, there were very strong parallels to how the disease of addiction works and the tools we use in recovery may have altered its course. At a certain point the anorexia took on its own twist and it needed very different tools to heal it.  Ultimately the process will involve intensive trauma work.

I began writing this blog entry because I wanted to discuss the disease concept and how grasping a thorough working definition will help you to address any issues, past or present, in order to have sustainable long term recovery. It has been a very long and difficult path for my friend but through trial and error she is discovering for herself that the disease concept gives our creative mind a chance to understand how it operates on us individually so that we can change its course before it either leads us in a direction of relapse or toward death by other means.

In upcoming blogs, I’ll be writing more about my theory of the disease of addiction and a way to gain an understanding of how it seems to trick us into behaviors away from health, wellness, and inner peace and how recovery tools really can combat it.

This friend wrote a blog that I posted earlier this year for Eating Disorder Awareness Month. I am very happy to announce that she is currently seeking help at an inpatient treatment facility. I believe she will flourish and become a positive power of example to many others she will encounter on her journey. I have her permission to write this entry.

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