Hello, stranger. I haven't seen you since August, the seventeenth to be exact. I suppose I owe you an explanation, and that's okay because I need to take a look back anyway at just what the hey has been going on in the past four months.
Well, I started school and now the first semester is already over. I'm expecting A's in all four classes: counseling skills; addictionology; interpersonal communications; and English. The semester started well and my self-esteem was high. The weather was fantastic all semester and Loring Park proved to be a great place to establish some personal time. By mid-term I started to get a little down on myself for no apparent reason. I didn't like the work I was doing, especially for English, although I kept getting very high marks - one composition was even chosen to be included in future English 1110 curricula. By the end of the semester I was losing sleep and not overall pleased with myself. Despite the fact that I was maintaining my A status, I just wasn't happy with my work. It eventually ended up as if no matter how I tried to sabotage myself in the traditional way I just couldn't succeed. And that's good. So here I am academically solid as far as the school is concerned but I know I have plenty of room to improve. So I plan to make those improvements, and continue with fine standing.
I joined the Addiction Counseling Club, which is the student group for the AC program. I got heavily involved right away creating posters and flyers, and coordinating events for National Recovery Month (September), which for us was Recovery Week. The events were successful in their own very small way and not a bad turn out for such short notice and minimal planning. We had Darren Littlejohn, author of "The Twelve Step Buddhist" visit us from Portland and he conducted a powerful meditation workshop. That really opened my eyes to a great approach to recovery, and one I hope to pursue over the Winter break. I also attended the Minnesota Association of Resources for Recovery and Chemical Health conference in October. HUGE SUCCESS. Met lots of great people and really saw what was happening in the field today. Last month I was voted in as the new President of the ACC. It is still sinking in what this club can be. We are now affiliated with MARRCH - the first time a school has done so - and I have been asked to participate on their Ethics Committee starting 8 January. We will have a huge presence for their Spring conference in April. I have a great feeling about not only my internships but my professional career. I have a feeling it will be up to me where I work.
I found out yesterday that I won the Addiction Counseling Scholarship for the Spring semester. That is certainly a confidence booster. Also, I have been given the green light on the remainder of my treatment plan. It's officially over. That, too, is a huge relief.
Overall, a few things have been a bit scary but I'm learning to stand strong, and seeing the results from that effort. People say I've got too much going on with school, sobriety, and two jobs, but mainly I feel like I need to do more. The reational side of me says there is no possible way to do more, and that's the side that is getting more ear-time form me.
I really can't believe how much things have changed in eight months, and as it is now the twelfth (12:49 a.m.), this is my mark. Before the big change none of this would have happened, or if it had I would have found some way to completely blow it. I think that's what is going on in my mind - I'm so used to letting things slip away that I'm "trying" to do it now, except God won't let me muck this one up. We've got a pretty good thing going. I say that a lot to myself, but there's nothing wrong with being redundant if you're speaking the truth. I've been shown a good path that can help an incredible amount of people, and that's all I've ever wanted to do. Now, really, why would I want to fail?
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
4 Months and Counting
It occurred to me last week, and this wasn't all to difficult to realize, that my six-month mark is the day after my birthday. That means every six months I will have a birthday - my actual day and that which AA celebrates as a year of sobriety.
Last Wednesday was my 4-month mark, which unfortunately, like the month before, went by without any fanfare. I'm not talking ticker-tape as a necessity, but for the past couple months there have been preoccupying thoughts at this certain time, and I didn't even think about it until the next night at my weekly meeting (I really like this meeting because even though there are about 275 attendees, I feel much more centered, at peace, and alone than at any of the smaller meetings I attend.)
Perhaps ironically, perhaps not, after writing a friend to say that overall things seemed just fine (on the night I completely forgot was significant) is when life decided to remind me how rough things really are. Thursday was pushing an emotional boulder up an active Vesuvius and all day was spent knowing that there was nothing I could do to escape the pain. Without alcohol there is no easy escape, as artificial and temporary that means would offer. There is no escape anymore, and rightly not. Life is not to escape, but to experience, not matter how unbearable it may seem at that moment. By Friday morning, it became akin to walking on a broken ankle, alone and far from help. You can't do damn thing but move forward. Jolts were surging through my body, winces and grimaces, pangs of loneliness and deep, deep breaths. I am fortunate enough in life to know myself well enough, especially now, to recognize this is only temporary, and at times beautiful. The beauty I found was in the fact that no matter how heavy my heart became, it never felt sunk, beaten, or empty. I could feel that in all of these moments of weakness there was something holding me still, keeping my heart in my chest and air in my lungs. I could feel this comfort wrapped around me and inside me, to keep a modicum of strength till it blew over. I would like to think this was my own personal power, and perhaps in the grander scheme it really was, but deep down I know it is the higher power I surrendered to four months ago. At work later that day I received two pieces of news that turned everything around. I passed the test.
I've always felt that God does not exist externally but is there within us every second, and that praying to the heavens is neglecting this idea because we do not give ourselves enough credit. It is experiences such as last week that bolster this opinion, that when we're in the really rough spots, when we feel the most alone and hungry, when the pain can be almost crippling, we find the power to not only move forward but look forward and know that in simply holding on, and accepting the sadness as real, it will work its course. It also reminded me that no matter how bad things seem, I can always remember that I walked out of the most frightening situation of my life on April 12th, 2009...and that's why don't like to forget those dates!
Last Wednesday was my 4-month mark, which unfortunately, like the month before, went by without any fanfare. I'm not talking ticker-tape as a necessity, but for the past couple months there have been preoccupying thoughts at this certain time, and I didn't even think about it until the next night at my weekly meeting (I really like this meeting because even though there are about 275 attendees, I feel much more centered, at peace, and alone than at any of the smaller meetings I attend.)
Perhaps ironically, perhaps not, after writing a friend to say that overall things seemed just fine (on the night I completely forgot was significant) is when life decided to remind me how rough things really are. Thursday was pushing an emotional boulder up an active Vesuvius and all day was spent knowing that there was nothing I could do to escape the pain. Without alcohol there is no easy escape, as artificial and temporary that means would offer. There is no escape anymore, and rightly not. Life is not to escape, but to experience, not matter how unbearable it may seem at that moment. By Friday morning, it became akin to walking on a broken ankle, alone and far from help. You can't do damn thing but move forward. Jolts were surging through my body, winces and grimaces, pangs of loneliness and deep, deep breaths. I am fortunate enough in life to know myself well enough, especially now, to recognize this is only temporary, and at times beautiful. The beauty I found was in the fact that no matter how heavy my heart became, it never felt sunk, beaten, or empty. I could feel that in all of these moments of weakness there was something holding me still, keeping my heart in my chest and air in my lungs. I could feel this comfort wrapped around me and inside me, to keep a modicum of strength till it blew over. I would like to think this was my own personal power, and perhaps in the grander scheme it really was, but deep down I know it is the higher power I surrendered to four months ago. At work later that day I received two pieces of news that turned everything around. I passed the test.
I've always felt that God does not exist externally but is there within us every second, and that praying to the heavens is neglecting this idea because we do not give ourselves enough credit. It is experiences such as last week that bolster this opinion, that when we're in the really rough spots, when we feel the most alone and hungry, when the pain can be almost crippling, we find the power to not only move forward but look forward and know that in simply holding on, and accepting the sadness as real, it will work its course. It also reminded me that no matter how bad things seem, I can always remember that I walked out of the most frightening situation of my life on April 12th, 2009...and that's why don't like to forget those dates!
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Perpetually Perplexed (this is going to ramble)
It's now in the fourth week of not knowing what the hell to say. It's very frustrating to have so much going on in my mind and absolutely nothing feels like cooperating. I can't believe this blog has remained inactive for so long. Everyday has been the same..."Let's write something tonight, anything will do, right?" You'd think.
Lately it has felt like simply existing. When considering the options that's not such a bad thing, but life has always been about dynamism, in many different directions. Perhaps this is what the Buddhists know, water over the stones. Mindfulness. Befriending both pain and pleasure. Perhaps this is a hint of the serenity I've been meditating on everyday for months. I was talking with a troubled friend recently and I told her that I don't tend to run with emotions anymore. The high peaks and dark valleys don't really exist anymore. The need to curb my anxiety with drinking certainly doesn't exist anymore. I tried to explain that the depression that she and I both experience can only affect us the way it does if we give it something on which to hold, energy on which to feed, a soul on which to step. Hearing someone speak of accepting pain with open arms sounds at first mad and quite ridiculous. Hey, it sounds the same after about the hundredth time, but eventually, and when you least expect, it begins to make a lot of sense. Just like when I was happy, but not ecstatic, about getting into school, I was upset, yet not devastated, when finding out yesterday that my financial aid is suspended because of the amount of time it took me to get back to school. I simply found what I needed to do and when. Not much and on Monday. Staying focused and calm, feeling the blood in your veins, the air in your lungs, hearing and seeing just what is there and nothing more.
I've also been thinking a lot of "hope". I use it in everyday conversation, but lately it feels very likely wrong. For an optimistic word, it sure does carry an amazing amount of uncertainty. It seems so open-ended, so left up to chance and nothing more. If we grasp onto hope we must unfortunately take hopelessness as well. Personally, I've had enough of hopelessness, so there must be something other than hope. Faith outweighs hope, right? I'll try that for a while. Faith is belief in action. Faith requires action. I have beliefs, and I can actually visualize results of my faith. With hope, I cannot. Hope doesn't exactly necessitate action or thought or willingness. With paper and pencil you can say either "I hope I will draw a circle" or "I have faith that with deliberation and accuracy I will draw a circle." More work, better results.
This leads to the concept of "more" (I warned you this would ramble). People have always asked me why I keep such an minimalist approach to life. Very few clothes, very little furniture, very few words (in public, at least!) Thinking back on this, the explanation has been that there is less burden this way, less connection to the material, less holding me to any place or time. I've never kept anything I've written or drawn. I've no photos or letters. This was quite intentional, and I now consider it to be mental preparation for where I am now. Starting from scratch with the world, spending copious amounts of time on my own, staring down fears with no means of escape. It seems lonely and difficult, but I've never been more thankful for what I have, as little as that is, and the people in my life, as few as they may be. I don't ask life for more because it will come without asking when life is ready. It's not a reward for good behavior, it's just the way it is.
Live by faith and be thankful for that and those in my life. Pretty basic.
I'm done rambling. It's late and I don't even really remember what just happened.
Thanks for reading. Good night.
Lately it has felt like simply existing. When considering the options that's not such a bad thing, but life has always been about dynamism, in many different directions. Perhaps this is what the Buddhists know, water over the stones. Mindfulness. Befriending both pain and pleasure. Perhaps this is a hint of the serenity I've been meditating on everyday for months. I was talking with a troubled friend recently and I told her that I don't tend to run with emotions anymore. The high peaks and dark valleys don't really exist anymore. The need to curb my anxiety with drinking certainly doesn't exist anymore. I tried to explain that the depression that she and I both experience can only affect us the way it does if we give it something on which to hold, energy on which to feed, a soul on which to step. Hearing someone speak of accepting pain with open arms sounds at first mad and quite ridiculous. Hey, it sounds the same after about the hundredth time, but eventually, and when you least expect, it begins to make a lot of sense. Just like when I was happy, but not ecstatic, about getting into school, I was upset, yet not devastated, when finding out yesterday that my financial aid is suspended because of the amount of time it took me to get back to school. I simply found what I needed to do and when. Not much and on Monday. Staying focused and calm, feeling the blood in your veins, the air in your lungs, hearing and seeing just what is there and nothing more.
I've also been thinking a lot of "hope". I use it in everyday conversation, but lately it feels very likely wrong. For an optimistic word, it sure does carry an amazing amount of uncertainty. It seems so open-ended, so left up to chance and nothing more. If we grasp onto hope we must unfortunately take hopelessness as well. Personally, I've had enough of hopelessness, so there must be something other than hope. Faith outweighs hope, right? I'll try that for a while. Faith is belief in action. Faith requires action. I have beliefs, and I can actually visualize results of my faith. With hope, I cannot. Hope doesn't exactly necessitate action or thought or willingness. With paper and pencil you can say either "I hope I will draw a circle" or "I have faith that with deliberation and accuracy I will draw a circle." More work, better results.
This leads to the concept of "more" (I warned you this would ramble). People have always asked me why I keep such an minimalist approach to life. Very few clothes, very little furniture, very few words (in public, at least!) Thinking back on this, the explanation has been that there is less burden this way, less connection to the material, less holding me to any place or time. I've never kept anything I've written or drawn. I've no photos or letters. This was quite intentional, and I now consider it to be mental preparation for where I am now. Starting from scratch with the world, spending copious amounts of time on my own, staring down fears with no means of escape. It seems lonely and difficult, but I've never been more thankful for what I have, as little as that is, and the people in my life, as few as they may be. I don't ask life for more because it will come without asking when life is ready. It's not a reward for good behavior, it's just the way it is.
Live by faith and be thankful for that and those in my life. Pretty basic.
I'm done rambling. It's late and I don't even really remember what just happened.
Thanks for reading. Good night.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Independence Day
I would like to wish everyone a great Independence Day celebration, whatever that might be. I like this holiday because it can be applied to not just the freedoms our country stands for, but also a life free of personal tyrannies. Sometimes this liberation is a chosen path when life is simply going wrong. Other times it can be thrust upon us when life appears to be going as planned. Whether or not we expect or appreciate it, whether or not it is a gentle push or a jarring blow, it comes because it should.
Everyone loses something very dear to them at some point in their in lives. I have spent the past year rebuilding after losing something I spent years working on. As time has taken me further away from that moment, I realize more and more how unhealthy it was for me to live in. No matter how beautiful I thought it was or could be, or how dedicated and supportive I thought I was or could be, or what dreams and desires I thought there were or could be, it disintegrated for a reason. I needed to be alone in the world in order to face my next challenge. I needed to break myself down to the point where none of it mattered. I needed the loss, the emptiness, the loneliness and the pain to be so raw and so real that the only possible next step was forward. Forward to healing. Forward to knowing. Forward to accepting. Forward to conquering. Forward to serenity. Forward and onward. Forward and onward.
Although we may lose something that was built upon the ideas of love, beauty, commitment, honesty, cooperation and respect, we should never lose the capacity to feel them again. To survive loss you must apply them to yourself. Learn to love yourself. Find beauty in yourself. Commit yourself. Be true to yourself. Don't fight yourself. Respect yourself.
In time you'll find that day you once considered the most devastating in your life is your own personal Independence Day.
© 2009 Uncover/Recover
Everyone loses something very dear to them at some point in their in lives. I have spent the past year rebuilding after losing something I spent years working on. As time has taken me further away from that moment, I realize more and more how unhealthy it was for me to live in. No matter how beautiful I thought it was or could be, or how dedicated and supportive I thought I was or could be, or what dreams and desires I thought there were or could be, it disintegrated for a reason. I needed to be alone in the world in order to face my next challenge. I needed to break myself down to the point where none of it mattered. I needed the loss, the emptiness, the loneliness and the pain to be so raw and so real that the only possible next step was forward. Forward to healing. Forward to knowing. Forward to accepting. Forward to conquering. Forward to serenity. Forward and onward. Forward and onward.
Although we may lose something that was built upon the ideas of love, beauty, commitment, honesty, cooperation and respect, we should never lose the capacity to feel them again. To survive loss you must apply them to yourself. Learn to love yourself. Find beauty in yourself. Commit yourself. Be true to yourself. Don't fight yourself. Respect yourself.
In time you'll find that day you once considered the most devastating in your life is your own personal Independence Day.
© 2009 Uncover/Recover
Friday, July 3, 2009
The Sense That...
You're not simply moving forward through life, but exponentially through each obstacle.
Each challenge launches you farther and faster, straighter and truer, more streamlined and wider-reaching than before.
You're closer to the frequency of the energy around you.
Your posture is a little more natural and your gait is a little more confident.
These days are more intoxicating than any tipple could possibly provide.
This time could not have come at a better period in your life.
Every moment you feel more human than the last.
If you've made it through this past year, you can make it through the rest.
Everything that's been subtracted is less than what you've added.
The next breath will be deeper and fresher than expected.
There doesn't need to be a limit to anything.
At times a free-flow feels better than meter and rhyme.
The sun and the moon and the stars are always there.
This life is yours and yours alone.
You wouldn't exchange it for anything, anyway, anyhow.
Soon everyone will see exactly why.
Each challenge launches you farther and faster, straighter and truer, more streamlined and wider-reaching than before.
You're closer to the frequency of the energy around you.
Your posture is a little more natural and your gait is a little more confident.
These days are more intoxicating than any tipple could possibly provide.
This time could not have come at a better period in your life.
Every moment you feel more human than the last.
If you've made it through this past year, you can make it through the rest.
Everything that's been subtracted is less than what you've added.
The next breath will be deeper and fresher than expected.
There doesn't need to be a limit to anything.
At times a free-flow feels better than meter and rhyme.
The sun and the moon and the stars are always there.
This life is yours and yours alone.
You wouldn't exchange it for anything, anyway, anyhow.
Soon everyone will see exactly why.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Seeds of a Dream Take Root
Good news came this week in the form of a large white envelope bearing my name spelled correctly. It seems I'm starting school on August 24th. What a huge relief.
I applied for the Addiction Counseling program at MCTC (apparently the oldest in MN) for the same reason I started this blog...to transmutate the power of addiction into one of a permanent recovery that involves all that I love, both knowingly and mysteriously. Facing down chemical dependency will be the biggest thing many, many people will have to accomplish in life, simply to have a life. The task is enormously frightening and requires a staggering amount of honesty, energy, humility and patience. These are traits the addict has buried under copious amounts of lies, sloth, ego and intolerance.
I spent many years studying psychology and spirituality, yet could not act upon these studies for the aforementioned reasons. Once the time finally came in April to accept the time as NOW, I had an arsenal of resources at my disposal and was able to slay the beast in an extremely reasonable amount of time. I know that this is not the case for the majority of those suffering. This is why I want to help. In just over two months the world has turned for me in so many ways that before I could only dream about. It is with this in mind that everyday I wish could remind the other troubled souls that life, love, dreams, hope and fulfillment is still theirs. That none of those things have ever gone away because God will never take them from us. It is simply up to us to rediscover them, somewhere beneath the layers of an erroneous life. We all had aspirations as children, whatever they may have been. There were dreams of space travel, the presidency, great paintings and sculptures, baseballs and bats, music and words, true love and eternity, husbands, wives, children and world peace. Life gives what you put in, and I choose to put in my heart.
This just came to me and it may well be my new motto: Still we can dream with innocence, but now we can act with maturity.
Have a great Sunday.
© 2009 Uncover/Recover
I applied for the Addiction Counseling program at MCTC (apparently the oldest in MN) for the same reason I started this blog...to transmutate the power of addiction into one of a permanent recovery that involves all that I love, both knowingly and mysteriously. Facing down chemical dependency will be the biggest thing many, many people will have to accomplish in life, simply to have a life. The task is enormously frightening and requires a staggering amount of honesty, energy, humility and patience. These are traits the addict has buried under copious amounts of lies, sloth, ego and intolerance.
I spent many years studying psychology and spirituality, yet could not act upon these studies for the aforementioned reasons. Once the time finally came in April to accept the time as NOW, I had an arsenal of resources at my disposal and was able to slay the beast in an extremely reasonable amount of time. I know that this is not the case for the majority of those suffering. This is why I want to help. In just over two months the world has turned for me in so many ways that before I could only dream about. It is with this in mind that everyday I wish could remind the other troubled souls that life, love, dreams, hope and fulfillment is still theirs. That none of those things have ever gone away because God will never take them from us. It is simply up to us to rediscover them, somewhere beneath the layers of an erroneous life. We all had aspirations as children, whatever they may have been. There were dreams of space travel, the presidency, great paintings and sculptures, baseballs and bats, music and words, true love and eternity, husbands, wives, children and world peace. Life gives what you put in, and I choose to put in my heart.
This just came to me and it may well be my new motto: Still we can dream with innocence, but now we can act with maturity.
Have a great Sunday.
© 2009 Uncover/Recover
Monday, June 22, 2009
When Dreams Act As Revelations (Part 2)
The realization came about two weeks ago that all of this effort to come clean of alcohol addiction was only going to work if I was to give up the other, and at times more powerful and harmful, habit...tobacco. Now I had dropped this in the past and felt as though I could do it again, even while shedding the burden of alcohol. Well, really, I needed to be honest with myself and admit that the pride of being alcohol-free only meant so much if I still smoked. I would still be chemically dependent, right? So on Wednesday, June 3, I became officially smoke-free.
Oh, I was proud, anxious and excited. The first day went by well enough and I glided through treatment the next. It wasn't until AA Thursday night when I let my group know of my decision that the guys, almost in unison, exclaimed "they say you shouldn't do both at the same time", "you'll be back to doing one or the other" and not exactly supportive things as such. I was surprised, especially since these are the same guys that say almost every other night how exactly evil smoking is. As disheartening as this was, I knew deep down it was the only way to go, and if I wasn't going to do it now, I would always find an excuse to procrastinate in the future. I had the power to overcome the urge, and I took everything I had learned in the previous weeks with me to the fight.
That night I was enjoying more than 24 hours clean, and went to bed for the first time in a long, long while without even the thought or urge. This is where my overactive mind comes into play, much like it did in the first days of becoming alcohol-free. I did not consider the previous dream before I went to bed, yet when the actual moment came I knew what I was facing. This particular dream was not nearly as involved as the first time around but it provided the same amount of relief.
This was a simple, single outdoor scene with dull colors on the verge of black-and-white. Two men approached me, one with no real distinguishable features and the other looking like Rocky Balboa had really let himself go. Potbelly, disheveled clothing, wild hair black as coal (significant color), unshaved and surly. This character walks up to me, sticks his finger in my face and shouts that he will proceed to kick my ass in the next couple days, apparently when I least expect it. There was the very brief instance of "what the hell" that quickly turned to into an incredible amount of disgust, anger and resistance boiling up inside me. "Let's just do this right now!" I shouted. I was going to deal with this fool on my terms and not wait around for him to trip me up. I began to rip off layers and layers of jackets, sweatshirts, and t-shirts (so many!) all the while letting it be known that it was I that would be walking away from this confrontation in one piece. The expression on his face was one of the bully that never gets stood up to, but when it finally happens he needs to change his pants. It was absolute confusion, and he kept looking to his partner for an explanation. It was all over before it even came to blows.
I woke up with a very pleasant smile knowing full well what just happened. I felt completely free. By simply standing up for myself I had defeated this unkempt and uncivil character supposedly hell-bent on defeating me. To me, he was the embodiment of the cigarette habit. He was dirty, unhealthy, and his hair so black and twisted I knew it right away. It is said that the first three days without tobacco are the hardest, and considering I had 24 hours under my belt this would explain why he threatened to whoop me in the next forty-eight.
So here it is, eighteen days later...
© 2009 Uncover/Recover
Oh, I was proud, anxious and excited. The first day went by well enough and I glided through treatment the next. It wasn't until AA Thursday night when I let my group know of my decision that the guys, almost in unison, exclaimed "they say you shouldn't do both at the same time", "you'll be back to doing one or the other" and not exactly supportive things as such. I was surprised, especially since these are the same guys that say almost every other night how exactly evil smoking is. As disheartening as this was, I knew deep down it was the only way to go, and if I wasn't going to do it now, I would always find an excuse to procrastinate in the future. I had the power to overcome the urge, and I took everything I had learned in the previous weeks with me to the fight.
That night I was enjoying more than 24 hours clean, and went to bed for the first time in a long, long while without even the thought or urge. This is where my overactive mind comes into play, much like it did in the first days of becoming alcohol-free. I did not consider the previous dream before I went to bed, yet when the actual moment came I knew what I was facing. This particular dream was not nearly as involved as the first time around but it provided the same amount of relief.
This was a simple, single outdoor scene with dull colors on the verge of black-and-white. Two men approached me, one with no real distinguishable features and the other looking like Rocky Balboa had really let himself go. Potbelly, disheveled clothing, wild hair black as coal (significant color), unshaved and surly. This character walks up to me, sticks his finger in my face and shouts that he will proceed to kick my ass in the next couple days, apparently when I least expect it. There was the very brief instance of "what the hell" that quickly turned to into an incredible amount of disgust, anger and resistance boiling up inside me. "Let's just do this right now!" I shouted. I was going to deal with this fool on my terms and not wait around for him to trip me up. I began to rip off layers and layers of jackets, sweatshirts, and t-shirts (so many!) all the while letting it be known that it was I that would be walking away from this confrontation in one piece. The expression on his face was one of the bully that never gets stood up to, but when it finally happens he needs to change his pants. It was absolute confusion, and he kept looking to his partner for an explanation. It was all over before it even came to blows.
I woke up with a very pleasant smile knowing full well what just happened. I felt completely free. By simply standing up for myself I had defeated this unkempt and uncivil character supposedly hell-bent on defeating me. To me, he was the embodiment of the cigarette habit. He was dirty, unhealthy, and his hair so black and twisted I knew it right away. It is said that the first three days without tobacco are the hardest, and considering I had 24 hours under my belt this would explain why he threatened to whoop me in the next forty-eight.
So here it is, eighteen days later...
© 2009 Uncover/Recover
Friday, June 12, 2009
Stone by Stone
This weekend marks the two-month milestone in my journey of sobriety (not coincidentally at all, next Friday is my last day of treatment!) Two months sure isn't a great amount of time compared to the thirty-six years spent on this Earth, but as with knowledge, time is what you make of it. It seems there have been more personal accomplishments in these 60 days than in the past 6,000, and to a certain extent that might not be too far off. Taking a good long look at things, all those years have provided the material with which to build a solid foundation, but only with the tools God has given. One significant lesson that these past eight weeks has taught (especially the court process!) is the importance of patience. Patience is fundamental when designing and constructing a foundation, unless longevity is not of concern. The redwood cannot grow to its majestic height without the incredible root system that both anchors and nurtures. The greatest part of this task is that the plans and methods for a solid infrastructure are already here inside of us, but we must understand our role in the universe in order for those plans to be revealed. Someone said recently that it is the ultimate sign of egomania to say one knows how the universe works. In defense of his statement I say yes, it is, but in my own defense I say we don't have to concern ourselves with anything outside of what WE do in the universe. If we hold up our end of the bargain and conduct ourselves in a proper manner, everything else will fall into place. Quite a nice feeling when you have such an intimate relationship with the most amazing power imaginable, right?
Lately even the bad days possess a moment of beauty and relief, no matter how brief. It could be as simple as the first rush of fresh air, the seeds of the cottonwood trees that float upon the current of that fresh air, or laughing at yourself instead of becoming irritated. Every day holds something to learn from, to be thankful for, to handle with dignity, to add to the foundation, to laugh at, to share, and to remember forever. With this in mind one learns the single-day milestone is every bit as important as the larger ones.
© 2009 Uncover/Recover
Friday, June 5, 2009
The Land of 10,000 Dreams
The following is a piece I wrote this morning as part of the application to my ideal job as a substance abuse writer for a regional website. Honestly, it made me cry.
From January to June of 2008 alone, nearly 10,000 citizens of the Minneapolis/St. Paul area were admitted into chemical dependency treatment programs. In that same period there were over 5,000 drug-related visits to local emergency rooms (sadly, over 2,000 of said visits were for underage drinking.) These staggering numbers are indicative of a society in desperate need of reform in the manner in which its populace enters and matures.
Too easily those in CD treatment are viewed as the lower-class dregs of our society. Quite the opposite is true. These are 10,000 troubled spirits, 10,000 misguided souls, 10,000 dreams waiting to be realized. Every addict carries the hope for something better. Whether that vision is a place to call home, a family, a stable job, health insurance, or simply to live a clean and sober life, the potential is in everyone to realize that goal.
It has become clear to me that addiction stems largely from a lack of true spirituality. The use of chemicals offers a false sense of fulfillment, relief, happiness, inspiration, compassion, empathy, and worth, to name a few. Such satisfaction can only truly be achieved by a personal understanding of the spirit that surrounds us and resides within us. Tackling the problem of alcohol and street drugs strictly through law does nothing to address the underlying issue of addiction and its impact on our society. First and foremost a sense of purpose in life needs to be imbued before addictive transgressions are allowed to manifest themselves. This is a tender endeavor as everyone possesses their own psychological make-up. Spirituality cannot be forced but only nurtured.
The Bible says we are here to hold dominion over the Earth, but I feel our Earth-bound mentality has kept us from understanding the greatest of God’s laws…love.
© 2009 Uncover/Recover
From January to June of 2008 alone, nearly 10,000 citizens of the Minneapolis/St. Paul area were admitted into chemical dependency treatment programs. In that same period there were over 5,000 drug-related visits to local emergency rooms (sadly, over 2,000 of said visits were for underage drinking.) These staggering numbers are indicative of a society in desperate need of reform in the manner in which its populace enters and matures.
Too easily those in CD treatment are viewed as the lower-class dregs of our society. Quite the opposite is true. These are 10,000 troubled spirits, 10,000 misguided souls, 10,000 dreams waiting to be realized. Every addict carries the hope for something better. Whether that vision is a place to call home, a family, a stable job, health insurance, or simply to live a clean and sober life, the potential is in everyone to realize that goal.
It has become clear to me that addiction stems largely from a lack of true spirituality. The use of chemicals offers a false sense of fulfillment, relief, happiness, inspiration, compassion, empathy, and worth, to name a few. Such satisfaction can only truly be achieved by a personal understanding of the spirit that surrounds us and resides within us. Tackling the problem of alcohol and street drugs strictly through law does nothing to address the underlying issue of addiction and its impact on our society. First and foremost a sense of purpose in life needs to be imbued before addictive transgressions are allowed to manifest themselves. This is a tender endeavor as everyone possesses their own psychological make-up. Spirituality cannot be forced but only nurtured.
The Bible says we are here to hold dominion over the Earth, but I feel our Earth-bound mentality has kept us from understanding the greatest of God’s laws…love.
© 2009 Uncover/Recover
Thursday, June 4, 2009
IPO
Today is the day, as they say. In the mad midst of employment searching, I've been inspired to add a new, business-style angle to my recovery endeavor. I'm establishing my life on the Spiritual Stock Exchange, and this is my IPO. A blog such as this, while quite therapeutic for the author, can only realize its true purpose if shared with others. It is, to me, and invaluable commodity and a necessary service. As long as I stay with my current strategy, the value of this stock can only increase.
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There are new logos adorning this page (Digg, Technorati, BlogCatalog.) Please use them!
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Saturday, May 30, 2009
A Further Thought on Success
William S. Burroughs is far from being a role model for those in recovery, at least as far as lifestyle is concerned, but his writing is none the less powerful. I first read the following well over a decade ago and it has stayed with me, but until recently I did not fully realize its importance:
"Everyday we face death, and for that time we are immortal."
"Everyday we face death, and for that time we are immortal."
Of Mountains and Molehills
A couple of weeks ago I watched "American Hardcore", a great documentary about the origins, growth, and subsequent demise of the true hardcore punk rock movement in America. Punk rock has always had a bad reputation because of the dolts out there that were in it for the sake of being crass, but the most influential bands had legitimate anger and frustration and found a way to express these feelings in a way that, while obviously not appealing to all ears, was original, daring, honest and heart-felt. It is also refreshing to remember that many of these bands were of the straight-edge philosophy. No drugs or alcohol. A complete contradiction to the hippies and coke-heads of the sixties and seventies.
In the course of the film, during an interview with Bad Brains' H.R., a book was mentioned that changed the way he and his band-mates viewed and approached life (Bad Brains, an African-American band from D.C. have a supreme reputation for their musicianship and energy, and are still influential 30-years on.) First published in 1937, Napoleon Hill's "Think and Grow Rich" is a study in the theory that our mind-set is the most powerful element of our success, and failure as well, not only in financial matters but life in general. Hill was commissioned by Andrew Carnegie to interview and study 500 of the most influential captains of industry. Hill found an identical strategy at the core of each story...how to overcome failure. No matter the background of each subject, Hill himself an orphan, there lived the idea that failure is not the end of the line.
Nothing is impossible. Hill even recommends the reader purchase a dictionary and carefully clip from it the definition of "impossible".
In the early pages of this outstanding book (which I purchased, used no less, the day after watching said film) Hill spends a great amount of energy building the readers' self-esteem. One certain phrase has had an incredible impact on my attitude towards recovery and everything else I face in life: "Every failure carries the seed of an equivalent success." He repeatedly assures the reader that failure attempts to slip us up just before success is achieved and it is up to the individual to accept failure as the final result. Thomas Edison is a great example of one who faced failure a multitude of times, as every great inventor does, before he achieved a crowning success. If Edison let failure diminish his desire to build the electric light after the first few failures who knows who would have picked up where he left off? Would we be able to create and read these blogs today? His persistence in the face of adversity directly impacted the world in innumerable ways. There is also the life of Henry Ford, who did not have a high school degree, and his obvious influence on the auto industry. One other story, while sadly comical, makes one think "yeah, let's just stick with this a while longer". During the Colorado gold rush, a gentleman by the name of Darby had staked a claim after discovering what he eventually came to think was a small deposit. After securing the machinery necessary to mine the gold, he set to work with great passion. After a few cars worth of ore, the vein dried up. He gave up his goal, sold the machinery to a local junk man and barely broke even. Now, the lowly junk man with Darby's machinery considered the situation with a different point of view, hired a mining engineer and set out to test his theory. Just three feet from where Darby had stopped his drilling, the man found an incredible deposit worth millions.
I look back at certain points in my life where I could have gone the extra three feet. I think we all have situations in our past where we let a simple set-back become a stunning failure, and drew the line right there.
This is where the power of this book has helped me deal with a major set-back this week. Readers of this blog will hopefully remember my admission to the event in January that prompted me to begin writing in the first place. On Tuesday afternoon I had my final court date for the DWI charge stemming from that incident. After two previous appearances, and working with the Public Defender to procure a sentence that we all felt was appropriate, I thought I was prepared for the judge. The Honorable So-and-so was actually quite amicable with the few cases before my own, but that attitude seemed to change when I stepped before him. I was dealt a heavier sentence than everyone involved had expected. Even though he did tear out a few pages out of the book before throwing it directly at me, it certainly felt hard-bound and weighed with lead. My demeanor took on one of the victim, although that was totally false.
The sentence took me to dark places, and for the first time since beginning recovery I must admit I wanted a drink. That urge didn't make the situation any easier, yet I knew even the smallest drop would destroy everything I have been working for. I kept repeating the phrase form my new favorite book: "Every failure carries the seed of an equivalent success." Upon returning home I spoke with my sister then went for a great bike ride with a newly-sober friend. After getting out the angst through miles of pedaling, the day's events made more sense. Despite all my efforts to come clean and lead an honest life, the sentence had nothing to do with my actions in this current period. I was being punished for something I did while I functioned under the burden of booze. These sober days have been so wonderful I tend to forget that life was different not too long ago.
This is my light bulb that won't stop blowing up, my V-8 engine that can't be built in a single cast, my deposit of ore that runs dry.
If it were not for sobriety, I would not be dealing with three years of probation and it's accompanying factors with what I feel is a certain amount of grace. If it were not for sobriety, I would not be sitting here in my newly arranged apartment enjoying the beautiful sunny day right outside my window, typing this out for you now. If it were not for sobriety, I would not have found in this failure a seed for an equivalent success.
We never know if we're three feet or three miles from our goal, but as long as we keep going we're certainly further from where we started.
© 2009 Uncover/Recover
In the course of the film, during an interview with Bad Brains' H.R., a book was mentioned that changed the way he and his band-mates viewed and approached life (Bad Brains, an African-American band from D.C. have a supreme reputation for their musicianship and energy, and are still influential 30-years on.) First published in 1937, Napoleon Hill's "Think and Grow Rich" is a study in the theory that our mind-set is the most powerful element of our success, and failure as well, not only in financial matters but life in general. Hill was commissioned by Andrew Carnegie to interview and study 500 of the most influential captains of industry. Hill found an identical strategy at the core of each story...how to overcome failure. No matter the background of each subject, Hill himself an orphan, there lived the idea that failure is not the end of the line.
Nothing is impossible. Hill even recommends the reader purchase a dictionary and carefully clip from it the definition of "impossible".
In the early pages of this outstanding book (which I purchased, used no less, the day after watching said film) Hill spends a great amount of energy building the readers' self-esteem. One certain phrase has had an incredible impact on my attitude towards recovery and everything else I face in life: "Every failure carries the seed of an equivalent success." He repeatedly assures the reader that failure attempts to slip us up just before success is achieved and it is up to the individual to accept failure as the final result. Thomas Edison is a great example of one who faced failure a multitude of times, as every great inventor does, before he achieved a crowning success. If Edison let failure diminish his desire to build the electric light after the first few failures who knows who would have picked up where he left off? Would we be able to create and read these blogs today? His persistence in the face of adversity directly impacted the world in innumerable ways. There is also the life of Henry Ford, who did not have a high school degree, and his obvious influence on the auto industry. One other story, while sadly comical, makes one think "yeah, let's just stick with this a while longer". During the Colorado gold rush, a gentleman by the name of Darby had staked a claim after discovering what he eventually came to think was a small deposit. After securing the machinery necessary to mine the gold, he set to work with great passion. After a few cars worth of ore, the vein dried up. He gave up his goal, sold the machinery to a local junk man and barely broke even. Now, the lowly junk man with Darby's machinery considered the situation with a different point of view, hired a mining engineer and set out to test his theory. Just three feet from where Darby had stopped his drilling, the man found an incredible deposit worth millions.
I look back at certain points in my life where I could have gone the extra three feet. I think we all have situations in our past where we let a simple set-back become a stunning failure, and drew the line right there.
This is where the power of this book has helped me deal with a major set-back this week. Readers of this blog will hopefully remember my admission to the event in January that prompted me to begin writing in the first place. On Tuesday afternoon I had my final court date for the DWI charge stemming from that incident. After two previous appearances, and working with the Public Defender to procure a sentence that we all felt was appropriate, I thought I was prepared for the judge. The Honorable So-and-so was actually quite amicable with the few cases before my own, but that attitude seemed to change when I stepped before him. I was dealt a heavier sentence than everyone involved had expected. Even though he did tear out a few pages out of the book before throwing it directly at me, it certainly felt hard-bound and weighed with lead. My demeanor took on one of the victim, although that was totally false.
The sentence took me to dark places, and for the first time since beginning recovery I must admit I wanted a drink. That urge didn't make the situation any easier, yet I knew even the smallest drop would destroy everything I have been working for. I kept repeating the phrase form my new favorite book: "Every failure carries the seed of an equivalent success." Upon returning home I spoke with my sister then went for a great bike ride with a newly-sober friend. After getting out the angst through miles of pedaling, the day's events made more sense. Despite all my efforts to come clean and lead an honest life, the sentence had nothing to do with my actions in this current period. I was being punished for something I did while I functioned under the burden of booze. These sober days have been so wonderful I tend to forget that life was different not too long ago.
This is my light bulb that won't stop blowing up, my V-8 engine that can't be built in a single cast, my deposit of ore that runs dry.
If it were not for sobriety, I would not be dealing with three years of probation and it's accompanying factors with what I feel is a certain amount of grace. If it were not for sobriety, I would not be sitting here in my newly arranged apartment enjoying the beautiful sunny day right outside my window, typing this out for you now. If it were not for sobriety, I would not have found in this failure a seed for an equivalent success.
We never know if we're three feet or three miles from our goal, but as long as we keep going we're certainly further from where we started.
© 2009 Uncover/Recover
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Mustard with Soup?
For the second consecutive day the temperature broke well into the 90's, and we know how people get when the heat becomes a little unbearable (especially when said people are driving an inferior, improperly-cared-for car with very likely no A/C). This might help to explain a potentially insulting, but in the end very humorous, interaction with a group of young girls (I won't call them ladies or women) in a Dodge Neon on my bike ride home down 31st Street from treatment this afternoon. I'm a cautious and courteous biker (you have to be when those who "share" the road are 10 times your mass) so I know I couldn't have done anything to upset them, but here comes this Neon, decaying paint job and all, along side me and my Schwinn Varsity to yell something that sounded to be "bat soup, nigga!" In addition to the incomprehensible slang (I actually did get that last word) there was the action of spitting in my direction, but no actual saliva came out, so they failed on both fronts. If you're trying to insult someone, it really only works if the insultee can understand you, and if your mouth can produce enough saliva to back that up.
Not feeling any sting in the slightest, my mind raced to decode the words and why on Earth I was the target of such a slur. I had never been called a "nigga" before and I have been losing sleep lately wondering why, so I can put that under my belt and get on with my life. Perhaps it was my outfit. I can possibly see how wearing a red-and-white short sleeve shirt with blue jeans, green socks and green Cole Haan shoes might confuse some people, but it really wasn't that offensive. And what is this "bat soup?"
Well, 31st Street at 3:15 on a weekday can get pretty backed up, what with all the controlled intersections. I noticed I was gaining good ground on the insult-mobile without even trying, so I decided to give this another go. A couple blocks past my usual turn at Bryant Avenue I caught up and slowed down next to their car at a stop sign. Again..."bat soup, nigga!" and spit with no spit. I kindly asked what the problem was, but apparently reason scares the "bat soup" out of some people, and they sped off.
I took a left down Girard and it came to me what this all meant. These girls were very upset that their bat soup left a lot to be desired (hence the spitting without spit) and they were trying to ask for some Grey Poupon! I could have told them that soups made with nocturnal animals have nothing on those that are based on animals that feed during the day, and that despite it's worldwide reputation for impeccable quality, Grey Poupon isn't good in soup of any kind.
© 2009 Uncover/Recover
Not feeling any sting in the slightest, my mind raced to decode the words and why on Earth I was the target of such a slur. I had never been called a "nigga" before and I have been losing sleep lately wondering why, so I can put that under my belt and get on with my life. Perhaps it was my outfit. I can possibly see how wearing a red-and-white short sleeve shirt with blue jeans, green socks and green Cole Haan shoes might confuse some people, but it really wasn't that offensive. And what is this "bat soup?"
Well, 31st Street at 3:15 on a weekday can get pretty backed up, what with all the controlled intersections. I noticed I was gaining good ground on the insult-mobile without even trying, so I decided to give this another go. A couple blocks past my usual turn at Bryant Avenue I caught up and slowed down next to their car at a stop sign. Again..."bat soup, nigga!" and spit with no spit. I kindly asked what the problem was, but apparently reason scares the "bat soup" out of some people, and they sped off.
I took a left down Girard and it came to me what this all meant. These girls were very upset that their bat soup left a lot to be desired (hence the spitting without spit) and they were trying to ask for some Grey Poupon! I could have told them that soups made with nocturnal animals have nothing on those that are based on animals that feed during the day, and that despite it's worldwide reputation for impeccable quality, Grey Poupon isn't good in soup of any kind.
© 2009 Uncover/Recover
Thursday, May 14, 2009
A Little G.I. Gurdjieff...
“There do exist enquiring minds, which long for the truth of the heart, seek it, strive to solve the problems set by life, try to penetrate to the essence of things and phenomena and to penetrate into themselves. If a man reasons and thinks soundly, no matter which path he follows in solving these problems, he must inevitably arrive back at himself, and begin with the solution of the problem of what he is himself and what his place is in the world around him.”
Thursday, April 30, 2009
When Dreams Act as Revelations (Part 1)
While the meaning of dreams has been a mystery from ancient Egypt and Greece to modern psychology, few can argue the significance of dreams that leave us a changed person in our waking life. We have all had nightmares that confound us so that it affects our conscious behavior with a sense of dread and bewilderment. But what of dreams that create a sense of incredible accomplishment and satisfaction, where you are able to solve the complex problems that evade you when you seem to be the most competent to do so. These events reveal true aspirations and intent and that the answers and power to act upon them lies not as deep inside us as previously thought. The thrust of these dreams appears more substantial when one is capable of lucid dreaming, or controlling the action and outcome of such visions.
Tuesday morning bestowed upon me what I cannot call anything less than a revelation pertaining to the process of recovery. Fortunately, lucid dreaming has become quite common for me, and that is why this particular occurrence bears so much relevance to my situation.
It begins with a simple house, my own, of no real comfort or personal attachment. The house was suddenly filled with an incredible horde of unrecognizable party-goers, uninvited and certainly unwanted. As there was a total lack of alcohol in the house, I was, against my will, forced to make a run for the shop...it seemed I was the only one with money. Already irked that I had to spend my money on something I was not not even going consume, the experience in the shop did not help matters. I had paid for the beer (Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, for some reason) and a mystery bottle. During checkout the mystery bottle had been broken by the shop owner, and instead of offering credit he left me with no option but to purchase another bottle. I had already been taken advantage of by the unknown horde inhabiting my home, now the same was happening again. I was nearing the end of my rope. Back at the house it took very little time for all hell to break loose. I watched in sober amazement as nothing less than debauchery took place. The house had turned dark and sinister, and the little color that remained became drab and muddled. There was an overwhelming sense of discomfort and confusion as this all took place with no consideration to my presence. It arose inside me that this has all happened before and I was always left with an incredible sense of disappointment, anguish and emptiness. This time it was going to be different...enter lucid dreaming. At the top of my lungs I made everything quite clear:"STOP! Every time you come over the same thing happens! You always do this to me! I don't want you here anymore! Get the hell out!" Everything abruptly stopped and with complete astonishment on their faces everyone walked out. Now, that was pretty cool, but the best part remained. As the last one walked out the door the house was instantly filled with incredibly bright sunshine and the freshest air one could imagine. Curtains waved as a gentle breeze wafted in through windows that had never existed before. The house was immaculate and was of different construction and decor as the house at the beginning of the dream. I then awoke with a start, feeling relieved, inspired, and incredibly content.
I've had a couple days to analyze the phenomenon, and this is what it says to me. The house was undoubtedly my soul. The throng of ne'er-do-wells, as well as the shop owner, were the demons that had driven me to drink in the past, and even though I did not partake in this particular dream, it is obvious that those demons remained to torment, tempt, and take advantage of me. The act of expelling these demons was compelling as it exhibits a sincere endeavor towards conquering alcoholism. The transformation of the house from bland to hellish to absolute beauty speaks for itself. It was reward for the banishment of temptation and iniquity. This is the reward in reality as well.
© 2009 Uncover/Recover
Tuesday morning bestowed upon me what I cannot call anything less than a revelation pertaining to the process of recovery. Fortunately, lucid dreaming has become quite common for me, and that is why this particular occurrence bears so much relevance to my situation.
It begins with a simple house, my own, of no real comfort or personal attachment. The house was suddenly filled with an incredible horde of unrecognizable party-goers, uninvited and certainly unwanted. As there was a total lack of alcohol in the house, I was, against my will, forced to make a run for the shop...it seemed I was the only one with money. Already irked that I had to spend my money on something I was not not even going consume, the experience in the shop did not help matters. I had paid for the beer (Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, for some reason) and a mystery bottle. During checkout the mystery bottle had been broken by the shop owner, and instead of offering credit he left me with no option but to purchase another bottle. I had already been taken advantage of by the unknown horde inhabiting my home, now the same was happening again. I was nearing the end of my rope. Back at the house it took very little time for all hell to break loose. I watched in sober amazement as nothing less than debauchery took place. The house had turned dark and sinister, and the little color that remained became drab and muddled. There was an overwhelming sense of discomfort and confusion as this all took place with no consideration to my presence. It arose inside me that this has all happened before and I was always left with an incredible sense of disappointment, anguish and emptiness. This time it was going to be different...enter lucid dreaming. At the top of my lungs I made everything quite clear:"STOP! Every time you come over the same thing happens! You always do this to me! I don't want you here anymore! Get the hell out!" Everything abruptly stopped and with complete astonishment on their faces everyone walked out. Now, that was pretty cool, but the best part remained. As the last one walked out the door the house was instantly filled with incredibly bright sunshine and the freshest air one could imagine. Curtains waved as a gentle breeze wafted in through windows that had never existed before. The house was immaculate and was of different construction and decor as the house at the beginning of the dream. I then awoke with a start, feeling relieved, inspired, and incredibly content.
I've had a couple days to analyze the phenomenon, and this is what it says to me. The house was undoubtedly my soul. The throng of ne'er-do-wells, as well as the shop owner, were the demons that had driven me to drink in the past, and even though I did not partake in this particular dream, it is obvious that those demons remained to torment, tempt, and take advantage of me. The act of expelling these demons was compelling as it exhibits a sincere endeavor towards conquering alcoholism. The transformation of the house from bland to hellish to absolute beauty speaks for itself. It was reward for the banishment of temptation and iniquity. This is the reward in reality as well.
© 2009 Uncover/Recover
Friday, April 24, 2009
One Question at a Time, Please, and Choose Your Words Wisely! Part 1
Long before entering treatment, serious questions arose about life without alcohol. These issues were never addressed in any type of reasonable inner-discourse because, for one thing, they usually came up while drinking. Booze aside, it became apparent the wrong questions were being asked. Addiction is a manifestation of the unchecked ego, and this ego will never permit “threats” to its existence to form, whether it is soul-searching or listening to a loved one’s concern. The questions were presented in way that made me out to be the victim…full of improper language and direction, if not completely misguided intention.
A few years ago I began to read G.I. Gurdjieff and Robert Anton Wilson, two great authors who espoused the use of positive words and thoughts to affect your own life and of those around you. One recent morning it struck me that this needed to be applied to the issue at hand if there was to be any breaking down of this unruly ego.
It’s working.
A very significant example that pertains to the recovering alcoholic is the nagging question: "Why can't I drink?" This pathetic inquiry contains not only the negative "can't" and the selfish "I", it lowers the defenses and applies undue importance and power to the act of drinking. It exudes a fatalistic energy and sets the mind in a destructive and self-pitying path. The more such an approach is taken the more one is bound to feel overwhelmed and vulnerable, less likely to view the world in a complimentary light and able advance towards recovery. The alternative, "why is it important to drink?", turns a greedy, defeatist question into one that will provide a substantially beneficial and introspective answer that everyone in this position possesses and needs to realize. With this we take an advantageous stance. We immediately diminish the power of alcohol and coax ourselves to search for the reason it has had control over the enjoyment and overall function of life.
The results came quite quickly.
Personally, the answer has multiple levels, of which here are a couple examples. First of all, I wouldn't be in the position to ask myself such a question if the act of drinking wasn't detrimental to begin with. I know the results over the years lay bare the fact that not much good has come from such behavior. In fact, the vast majority of bad experiences in my past have some direct correlation to alcohol consumption (blaming every bad experience on booze prevents us from appreciating the dynamic essence of life.) By disposing of that which causes heartache permits more potential for pleasure.
Secondly, does the survival of the human race rely upon a Margarita being made in one's mouth? Alcohol is not the mother's milk, and in fact has the potential to be quite the opposite. It had been a part of my profession for the past ten years to study the process of alcoholic fermentation, and while the act of yeast processing sugars into alcohol is certainly natural, there is no tipple out there that does not involve a complex process orchestrated by human kind. If our preservation necessitated the consumption of alcohol, the ethanol-laced liquid would be akin to water. The psychological and physiological damage endured by the addict is vast and deeply troubling.
More answers exist, but those given offer ample evidence that alcohol has no place in the life of one with an addictive personality (even after that character flaw may be properly dealt with.)
Choosing the proper words clearly makes a world of difference when forming such important and necessary questions. What we say and how we say them reflects and affects or inner well-being. Positive phraseology and mind-set is of absolute importance in conquering addiction.
© 2009 Uncover/Recover
A few years ago I began to read G.I. Gurdjieff and Robert Anton Wilson, two great authors who espoused the use of positive words and thoughts to affect your own life and of those around you. One recent morning it struck me that this needed to be applied to the issue at hand if there was to be any breaking down of this unruly ego.
It’s working.
A very significant example that pertains to the recovering alcoholic is the nagging question: "Why can't I drink?" This pathetic inquiry contains not only the negative "can't" and the selfish "I", it lowers the defenses and applies undue importance and power to the act of drinking. It exudes a fatalistic energy and sets the mind in a destructive and self-pitying path. The more such an approach is taken the more one is bound to feel overwhelmed and vulnerable, less likely to view the world in a complimentary light and able advance towards recovery. The alternative, "why is it important to drink?", turns a greedy, defeatist question into one that will provide a substantially beneficial and introspective answer that everyone in this position possesses and needs to realize. With this we take an advantageous stance. We immediately diminish the power of alcohol and coax ourselves to search for the reason it has had control over the enjoyment and overall function of life.
The results came quite quickly.
Personally, the answer has multiple levels, of which here are a couple examples. First of all, I wouldn't be in the position to ask myself such a question if the act of drinking wasn't detrimental to begin with. I know the results over the years lay bare the fact that not much good has come from such behavior. In fact, the vast majority of bad experiences in my past have some direct correlation to alcohol consumption (blaming every bad experience on booze prevents us from appreciating the dynamic essence of life.) By disposing of that which causes heartache permits more potential for pleasure.
Secondly, does the survival of the human race rely upon a Margarita being made in one's mouth? Alcohol is not the mother's milk, and in fact has the potential to be quite the opposite. It had been a part of my profession for the past ten years to study the process of alcoholic fermentation, and while the act of yeast processing sugars into alcohol is certainly natural, there is no tipple out there that does not involve a complex process orchestrated by human kind. If our preservation necessitated the consumption of alcohol, the ethanol-laced liquid would be akin to water. The psychological and physiological damage endured by the addict is vast and deeply troubling.
More answers exist, but those given offer ample evidence that alcohol has no place in the life of one with an addictive personality (even after that character flaw may be properly dealt with.)
Choosing the proper words clearly makes a world of difference when forming such important and necessary questions. What we say and how we say them reflects and affects or inner well-being. Positive phraseology and mind-set is of absolute importance in conquering addiction.
© 2009 Uncover/Recover
Thursday, April 23, 2009
The Rough and Reluctant Road to Recovery
So here it goes. I'm closer now to forty than to thirty, with so much time lost to the behemoth I now must conquer. There is a self-imposed pressure to find a point of origin. To build a time-line. To lay before myself a chronology of destructive behavior, nightmares, missed opportunities, lost friendships and lovers, broken promises, dissolved dreams, lapses of memory, physical injury, feelings of unfulfillment, desolation, hopelessness, and most of all the stifling of the beautiful soul which I know resides within me.
Regardless of when, where, why and how this may have begun, I know for certain that all the while I repeatedly turned to the one thing I felt would make it go away, even though that one thing perpetuated, and likely caused, the aforementioned horrors. In the past fifteen years there has always been a nagging, yet largely ignored, sense that if I did not settle the issue myself it would take a devastating cataclysm to set me right...if I was fortunate enough to come out the other side.
Well, that cataclysm came in late January of this year, and even though I sit here now with all my faculties intact, it is with great humility I realize how easily it could have turned the other way for me that night...or the thousands of other days and nights before. I was spared and mostly unscathed from a potentially fatal accident, not to mention a way of life. While this event has brought everything to a screeching halt, it has become incredibly apparent that I, for all intents and purposes undeservedly, have been given an incredible position to finally realize the delicate nature of the world and those that share with me this experience called simply "life".
Yesterday I began an out-patient treatment program for alcohol addiction, and it is now just hours before my first visit to AA (at a church I attended for the first time last Sunday.) There is now, I should say "at last", a burgeoning and open relationship with my family, who I love very much. It was this morning that my sister gave me the idea of putting up this blog, and for that I am incredibly thankful. I am blessed to have the support network I do, even though I was too blind in the past to know it was there all along.
Recovery will be a long and emotional road (as I have already shed tears to write these words, and my face is still warm with the feeling) but at least now I know the rough spots can be smoothed and the reluctance can turn to anticipation.
© 2009 Uncover/Recover
Regardless of when, where, why and how this may have begun, I know for certain that all the while I repeatedly turned to the one thing I felt would make it go away, even though that one thing perpetuated, and likely caused, the aforementioned horrors. In the past fifteen years there has always been a nagging, yet largely ignored, sense that if I did not settle the issue myself it would take a devastating cataclysm to set me right...if I was fortunate enough to come out the other side.
Well, that cataclysm came in late January of this year, and even though I sit here now with all my faculties intact, it is with great humility I realize how easily it could have turned the other way for me that night...or the thousands of other days and nights before. I was spared and mostly unscathed from a potentially fatal accident, not to mention a way of life. While this event has brought everything to a screeching halt, it has become incredibly apparent that I, for all intents and purposes undeservedly, have been given an incredible position to finally realize the delicate nature of the world and those that share with me this experience called simply "life".
Yesterday I began an out-patient treatment program for alcohol addiction, and it is now just hours before my first visit to AA (at a church I attended for the first time last Sunday.) There is now, I should say "at last", a burgeoning and open relationship with my family, who I love very much. It was this morning that my sister gave me the idea of putting up this blog, and for that I am incredibly thankful. I am blessed to have the support network I do, even though I was too blind in the past to know it was there all along.
Recovery will be a long and emotional road (as I have already shed tears to write these words, and my face is still warm with the feeling) but at least now I know the rough spots can be smoothed and the reluctance can turn to anticipation.
© 2009 Uncover/Recover
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