Recently, at several of the meetings I regularly attend, I've noticed a lot of people criticizing how others are conducting themselves in meetings. Some times, these criticisms are being made in the context of a group inventory. Other times, it's at the meeting before or after the meeting. A few times in not so quiet whispers during the meeting.
I've listened as well as I can to all these criticisms and it seems that underneath most of these comments is the deep desire to help others get and/or stay sober. Or a fear that someone will leave the room and get drunk.
It's serious business I agree. But I'm wondering much if sometimes we don't overdo the effort to help another person "get it". It seems to me, that it's helpful to see the disease of alcoholism itself as our greatest friend in the noble effort of helping alcoholics recover from this disease and we should, with all due respect, let the disease itself do the bulk of the heavy lifting in terms of getting someone who suffers from this disease into the recovery process. I suppose this is something I picked up in Alanon.
I remember back to when my son was getting sober and sitting back quite amazed at his courage and persistence in trying to get clean at such a young age (14-15 years old). Of course, it was mostly amazing to me because he was owning up to a problem that I as a 48 year old "man" was absolutely incapable of doing in terms of my own fairly secret battle with alcohol.
I remember that I initially took some comfort in that he actually needed to stop drinking and using: he was, after all, a minor and what he was doing was illegal. Not only that, he was doing it so badly! Not only was he unable to hide his diseased behavior from others, "like I could!" he was unable to lie about stuff that came so easily to me. I mean he could lie, he just couldn't do it as well as me. I was a little embarrassed that he was doing the lying thing so poorly. Was he really not my son?
Anyway, looking back now, I see that his recovery was motivated from within him and had little to do with all the things my wife and I did to try and support him in his efforts. Oh, we did try to help him! And I don't regret any of our efforts to help him---but ultimately, it seemed that what really worked with him was the pain and utter dispair that he felt in his life. The consequences. What worked also was the hope that he started to receive from others afflicted with the same disease of addiction. Pain and hope. That saved him.
And it saved me because about five months after things "clicked" for him, I reached my own moment of utter darkness and dispair.... And it dawned on my that things weren't quite as hopeless as I imagined: there was a solution. I could do what my son did.... Admit what was going on to others who suffered from the same affliction. Reach out for help. Stop trying to stop drinking and start trying to stay sober. Once that light went on for me, the rest of the process has actually been quite easy and simple. Sorta.
Someone once told me that she got sober at the corner of Grace and Willingness. I loved that line. She'd stolen it from her sponsor. But while I loved it, it wasn't where I got sober. I got sober about a half block down from there, at the corner of Grace and Hopelessness. From there, I saw hope and realized that while I couldn't stop drinking, I could stay sober. For one day. Today. I'm sober today I think because I've not forgotten that truth.
I personally don't think there are magical words that can be said in or outside of AA meetings that will get someone sober. That isn't to say that we take what we do and say within or without meetings "lightly" or "cavalierly" --- this is a deadly disease and a serious business.
But it's been helpful to me to take some comfort that there seems to be a basic desire within most folks to be happy and to have a meaningful life. Pain is one of our most effective teachers. Ultimately, what was most effective for me in terms of getting sober was seeing that sobriety (what I then simply thought of only as "not drinking") was possible. The impossible was possible.
That's not what I consider "magic." Nope. It's a miracle. Magic is when something that is actually impossible appears to happen. Miracle is when something that appears impossible actually happens. Huge difference. And by the way, I made those definitions up myself so use 'em if you like, but don't blame Webster if you don't.
Take care!
Mike L.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Thursday, February 14, 2008
An Improved Vocabulary
I was in a meeting the other evening and the chair noted that she was feeling like her life at 12+ years sober was "unmanagable" and then went on to describe some of the circumstances or situations underneath that so-called unmanagability. Her topic was the 1st step and how were people dealing with unmanagability.
As I listened to this woman's share, I began to sense that what she was describing as "unmanageable" wasn't really what I would call "unmanageable". It was something else... It seemed to be more of a feeling of "discomfort" or "uneasiness" with the situations in which she found herself at this time in her life. She wanted things to be different than they were, especially on an emotional level. That they weren't different when she wanted them to be was being categorized as a sign of her life being "unmanagable." I'm not sure if it was her life that was unmanagable as much as it was her feelings of discomfort and dis-ease. I shared this sentiment at group level and her head seemed to nod as though my words were helpful.
Since that meeting, I've begun to reflect on the fact that one of the greatest gifts I've received over the last six years of sobriety has been the gift of a greater vocabulary for my feelings and emotions. When I got sober, I had only a few words to describe whatever emotional state I found myself: 1. Fine, 2. Depressed. 3. Angry (especially if you kept pestering me about why I was depressed!), 4. Getting Angry and 5. I dunno.
I think that of those five words or phrases, I liked "Fine." the best. For me, "Fine" meant that I really had no clue as to what I was feeling and no care about finding out. True, I took "Fine" and "I dunno" to be synonymous, but Fine seemed to work better with my wife, most of the time at least. "I dunno" made me sound like a 48 year old idiot.
Finding out what I was feeling was painful and I didn't like pain. When I felt pain, I drank. Now that I think of it, when I didn't feel pain, I drank: not to feel, but to feel "better".
As I mentioned in earlier posts, I received some great mentoring on dealing with emotions and feelings when I came into AA. I was taught that there were no good or bad feelings. Feelings were without moral judgment or categorization. In addition, I was taught a whole new vocabulary for human emotions and this vocabulary is expanding at an exponential pace. Anger, saddness, sorrow, joy, fear, love, frustration, tenderness, passion, grief, jealousy, excitement, anxiety, comfort, satisfaction, dissatisfaction, etc. Oh, and of course, Fine. I actually do feel "fine" sometimes. It's ok. In fact, "I dunno" is a great tentative response to someone's inquiry as to how I'm feeling or doing: if I don't know the answer, that fact can get me to begin listening more carefully to what's going on within me.
Another thing that I've learned recently about feelings is that they are not static and unchanging. They are in a constant state of flux and change. Some times that change is almost imperceptable, but the fact is if I'm getting frustrated about the fact that I'm still feeling "anxious" about something, then my feeling has already changed! It's no longer "anxiety" it's now "frustrated anxiety"! I'm making progress. I'm walking through it and I'm not being destroyed or annihilated by my feelings.
In fact, my feelings are becoming my greatest teacher and mentor as I go through my life. They tell me much about myself. I used to blame my feelings on external things (e.g., my wife, my son, my boss, my "situation", my father, etc.). "They" were the cause/source of my unwanted (or wanted) feelings. What I've learned, or rather, what I'm learning now is that my feelings are just a reflection of how I'm choosing to perceive life. Sometimes that "choosing" is done out of habit or ignorance, but I can break habits and become more learned about my self and my life. My recovery work is certainly an "inside job" and really doesn't need to involve all those significant others out there in my life. It's amazing how much "better" all of them have become since I've started taking care of myself!
Take care!
Mike L.
As I listened to this woman's share, I began to sense that what she was describing as "unmanageable" wasn't really what I would call "unmanageable". It was something else... It seemed to be more of a feeling of "discomfort" or "uneasiness" with the situations in which she found herself at this time in her life. She wanted things to be different than they were, especially on an emotional level. That they weren't different when she wanted them to be was being categorized as a sign of her life being "unmanagable." I'm not sure if it was her life that was unmanagable as much as it was her feelings of discomfort and dis-ease. I shared this sentiment at group level and her head seemed to nod as though my words were helpful.
Since that meeting, I've begun to reflect on the fact that one of the greatest gifts I've received over the last six years of sobriety has been the gift of a greater vocabulary for my feelings and emotions. When I got sober, I had only a few words to describe whatever emotional state I found myself: 1. Fine, 2. Depressed. 3. Angry (especially if you kept pestering me about why I was depressed!), 4. Getting Angry and 5. I dunno.
I think that of those five words or phrases, I liked "Fine." the best. For me, "Fine" meant that I really had no clue as to what I was feeling and no care about finding out. True, I took "Fine" and "I dunno" to be synonymous, but Fine seemed to work better with my wife, most of the time at least. "I dunno" made me sound like a 48 year old idiot.
Finding out what I was feeling was painful and I didn't like pain. When I felt pain, I drank. Now that I think of it, when I didn't feel pain, I drank: not to feel, but to feel "better".
As I mentioned in earlier posts, I received some great mentoring on dealing with emotions and feelings when I came into AA. I was taught that there were no good or bad feelings. Feelings were without moral judgment or categorization. In addition, I was taught a whole new vocabulary for human emotions and this vocabulary is expanding at an exponential pace. Anger, saddness, sorrow, joy, fear, love, frustration, tenderness, passion, grief, jealousy, excitement, anxiety, comfort, satisfaction, dissatisfaction, etc. Oh, and of course, Fine. I actually do feel "fine" sometimes. It's ok. In fact, "I dunno" is a great tentative response to someone's inquiry as to how I'm feeling or doing: if I don't know the answer, that fact can get me to begin listening more carefully to what's going on within me.
Another thing that I've learned recently about feelings is that they are not static and unchanging. They are in a constant state of flux and change. Some times that change is almost imperceptable, but the fact is if I'm getting frustrated about the fact that I'm still feeling "anxious" about something, then my feeling has already changed! It's no longer "anxiety" it's now "frustrated anxiety"! I'm making progress. I'm walking through it and I'm not being destroyed or annihilated by my feelings.
In fact, my feelings are becoming my greatest teacher and mentor as I go through my life. They tell me much about myself. I used to blame my feelings on external things (e.g., my wife, my son, my boss, my "situation", my father, etc.). "They" were the cause/source of my unwanted (or wanted) feelings. What I've learned, or rather, what I'm learning now is that my feelings are just a reflection of how I'm choosing to perceive life. Sometimes that "choosing" is done out of habit or ignorance, but I can break habits and become more learned about my self and my life. My recovery work is certainly an "inside job" and really doesn't need to involve all those significant others out there in my life. It's amazing how much "better" all of them have become since I've started taking care of myself!
Take care!
Mike L.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Will AA ever come to mean "Addicts Anonymous"?
Dr. Earle once wrote that he believed that some day, not sure how far off in the future he was thinking, but that one day AA would come to mean "Addicts Anonymous" instead of Alcoholics Anonymous. Knowing both the author of that statement and the context of this statement, I know that this prediction was one of hope rather than regret or disappointment. He thought that not only was it an inevitable evolution, it was a desirable one.
Personally (and everything thing here is personally!), I agree with this sentiment or view.
While I am one of the few AAs I know with 6 years sobriety who "only" abused alcohol and not other drugs, I have no question that my disease is one that applies to any mind altering substance.
I suspect that while some members of AA have the desire to keep AA "pure" and separate from NA, I strongly suspect that all of them would not like to have a member of AA secretarying or chairing a meeting of AA while admitting that they actively use and abuse pot, heroin or some other drug. By the way, when I say "other drug" I do that consciously to indicate that alcohol "is" a drug. In that regard, I like NA literature's declaration that alcohol is a drug and that they don't particularly care what drug an addict uses or is addicted to, a drug is a drug.
Around here where I go to meetings, it appears by people's talk and their non-reaction to people expressing the reality of those "other" (not alcohol) drugs in their stories or shares, but I suspect most would try to "toe the line" if forced to give an opinion about how AA should evolve on this issue. There'd be immediate references to "singleness of purpose" (dealing with addiction is good for me) and/or "primary purpose" (which always makes me wonder what AA's secondary purpose is....and why can't it be the broader scope of "addiction" rather than just the single and narrow scope of alcoholic addiction?) and it would eventually degenerate into a never ending argument.
Which is why I think we're just in the initial and necessary stage of this inevitable evolution of this disorganized organization.
Anyway, I was feeling a little bored and thought this post might generate some thinking...
Take care.
Mike
FYI: If you'd like to express your opinion via a "Poll", I've set one up over to the right side of this blog... You've got four options: Yes (and it's good or bad) and No (and it's good or bad). You're also free to express your comments on this topic by clicking on the, that's right, the "Comments" link at the bottom of the post....
Personally (and everything thing here is personally!), I agree with this sentiment or view.
While I am one of the few AAs I know with 6 years sobriety who "only" abused alcohol and not other drugs, I have no question that my disease is one that applies to any mind altering substance.
I suspect that while some members of AA have the desire to keep AA "pure" and separate from NA, I strongly suspect that all of them would not like to have a member of AA secretarying or chairing a meeting of AA while admitting that they actively use and abuse pot, heroin or some other drug. By the way, when I say "other drug" I do that consciously to indicate that alcohol "is" a drug. In that regard, I like NA literature's declaration that alcohol is a drug and that they don't particularly care what drug an addict uses or is addicted to, a drug is a drug.
Around here where I go to meetings, it appears by people's talk and their non-reaction to people expressing the reality of those "other" (not alcohol) drugs in their stories or shares, but I suspect most would try to "toe the line" if forced to give an opinion about how AA should evolve on this issue. There'd be immediate references to "singleness of purpose" (dealing with addiction is good for me) and/or "primary purpose" (which always makes me wonder what AA's secondary purpose is....and why can't it be the broader scope of "addiction" rather than just the single and narrow scope of alcoholic addiction?) and it would eventually degenerate into a never ending argument.
Which is why I think we're just in the initial and necessary stage of this inevitable evolution of this disorganized organization.
Anyway, I was feeling a little bored and thought this post might generate some thinking...
Take care.
Mike
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
The Gift That Never Stops Being Given
When I got sober my 15yr old son, just 5 months sober himself, gave me a 24 hour chip that meant everything to me. It was metal, not cheap plastic like most other early recovery chips. It had the Serenity Prayer on one side and an engraving of a butterfly on the other. I carried it in my pocket whereever I went, next to my current month chip. A few nights ago, something happened in an AA meeting where this gift of the 24 hour chip came back into my life.
Before telling that story, I need to say that my son has always been supportive of me and my recovery. He expressed no anger at the fact that I'd been hiding my drinking during the first 10 months of his recovery, oftentimes my drinking was done between the time I dropped him off at his NA/CA/AA/MA meetings and picking him up afterwards. In fact, his first reaction when I came clean with him about my problem was, "Gee, Dad! This is great! We're both addicts!!" I remember shaking my head with a slight smile and replying that, "Well, Pat, I'm not all that pleased to be an addict with you, but I am extremely happy to be in recovery with you." I never got to be in recovery with my dad (who'd died from alcoholism some years before this...), but I was overjoyed to be able to do this with my son.
So this 24 hour chip meant a lot to me. Some months later, before having a year sober, I'd been watching a young woman come in and out of the rooms, really struggling with staying sober. But I was always struck by her persistence and courage. She'd always come back, raise her hand and disclose that she was once again in her first 30 days. She'd make progress and then disappear. And then come back. One night, she came into one of the meetings which held birthday celebrations on the last Tuesday of the month and raised her hand again as being in the first 30 days...
And because it was birthday night, when they called out asking if anyone wanted to pickup a 24 hour chip, she raised her hand and went up to receive her chip. But the box contained no 24 hour chips and the secretary was embarrassed to say that there was no 24 hour chip in the chip box. I then realized that I needed to give my 24 hour chip to this woman and I stood up to do so... As I handed it to her, I told her my son gave this chip to me and it meant everything in the world to give it to her this night. My only hope was that one day she'd get to experience some taste of the joy I felt right now by getting to a point in time where she could give it to someone else who needed it.
Over the years since, I've seen this woman stay sober for longer periods of time, but then disappear again. I hadn't seen her for quite awhile until last Friday night when just as the meeting was beginning she walked into the room. When they asked for newcomers to raise their hands, I noticed that she did not raise her hand with the others.... I smiled inside thinking that she'd "gotten it."
The topic of the meeting turned out to be "what do you do to help the newcomer"? I told some of my favorite newcomer stories which attempted to explain my basic approach which is one of trying to be kind and gentle with those who crawl into these rooms. And then I told the story of my son giving me his 24 hour chip and then my subsequent giving of the same 24 hour chip to a young woman who was struggling with staying sober....and that tonight that gift came walking into this very room sober. To date, there'd been no greater gift received than to see her walk into a meeting of Alcoholic's Anonymous.
After the meeting, she walked up to me smiling and she said that when she'd heard me start talking, she recognized the voice but couldn't see me. Then when I started talking about the 24 hour chip, she started to realize that I was talking about her. Her face began to blush red and she was afraid that people would realize that she was the woman I was talking about. She was ashamed because when she walked into the meeting, she'd been unable to raise her hand yet one more time because she was once again in her first 30 days of sobriety. She'd felt so ashamed and beaten down by the fact that she just couldn't stop drinking.... She felt like she didn't belong here.
When she shared that with me after the meeting, I hugged her and welcomed her back. I told her that for some months just preceeding my getting sober, I felt that I too was different from those who were, like my son, going into the rooms and getting better: I felt that I couldn't stop drinking and that until I did, I couldn't dare go in. Even when I did get sober and was in the rooms for some months, I continued to see others in the rooms as one of two types: people who couldn't stop drinking and people could...until one day.
One day I was looking around the room and it finally dawned on me that the one thing that I had in common with everyone in that room was NOT that we were all people who could stop drinking, but rather, that the one thing I held in common with everyone was that NONE OF US COULD STOP DRINKING! In fact, none of us CAN stop drinking. "Stopping" seems to imply power over alcohol and that seemed to be contrary to what I learned in the First Step. So, at least as far as I'm concerned, that inability to stop drinking is still true for me and always will be true. I can't stop drinking. Even today. But my saving grace has been that what I can do is stay sober, today. Just for today.
I told her that her walking into the room that night made my whole week, month, year! It simply didn't matter to me how many days or hours sober she had when she walked in. It meant everything to me that she walked in. I didn't care if she raised her hand. I was just glad that she came back. As she was walking away, she said that she was going home to try and find that 24 hour chip so that she could give it back to me---she said that she never realized how much it meant to me, being from my son and all. I yelled back, "Absolutely not! That chip is yours!"
And that chip is hers, until the wonderful day when she'll be able to give it away to someone who fighting the same battle that she fought....and lost. On that day, I hope she will be blessed to be able to give away a gift that never stops being given....
Mike L.
Before telling that story, I need to say that my son has always been supportive of me and my recovery. He expressed no anger at the fact that I'd been hiding my drinking during the first 10 months of his recovery, oftentimes my drinking was done between the time I dropped him off at his NA/CA/AA/MA meetings and picking him up afterwards. In fact, his first reaction when I came clean with him about my problem was, "Gee, Dad! This is great! We're both addicts!!" I remember shaking my head with a slight smile and replying that, "Well, Pat, I'm not all that pleased to be an addict with you, but I am extremely happy to be in recovery with you." I never got to be in recovery with my dad (who'd died from alcoholism some years before this...), but I was overjoyed to be able to do this with my son.
So this 24 hour chip meant a lot to me. Some months later, before having a year sober, I'd been watching a young woman come in and out of the rooms, really struggling with staying sober. But I was always struck by her persistence and courage. She'd always come back, raise her hand and disclose that she was once again in her first 30 days. She'd make progress and then disappear. And then come back. One night, she came into one of the meetings which held birthday celebrations on the last Tuesday of the month and raised her hand again as being in the first 30 days...
And because it was birthday night, when they called out asking if anyone wanted to pickup a 24 hour chip, she raised her hand and went up to receive her chip. But the box contained no 24 hour chips and the secretary was embarrassed to say that there was no 24 hour chip in the chip box. I then realized that I needed to give my 24 hour chip to this woman and I stood up to do so... As I handed it to her, I told her my son gave this chip to me and it meant everything in the world to give it to her this night. My only hope was that one day she'd get to experience some taste of the joy I felt right now by getting to a point in time where she could give it to someone else who needed it.
Over the years since, I've seen this woman stay sober for longer periods of time, but then disappear again. I hadn't seen her for quite awhile until last Friday night when just as the meeting was beginning she walked into the room. When they asked for newcomers to raise their hands, I noticed that she did not raise her hand with the others.... I smiled inside thinking that she'd "gotten it."
The topic of the meeting turned out to be "what do you do to help the newcomer"? I told some of my favorite newcomer stories which attempted to explain my basic approach which is one of trying to be kind and gentle with those who crawl into these rooms. And then I told the story of my son giving me his 24 hour chip and then my subsequent giving of the same 24 hour chip to a young woman who was struggling with staying sober....and that tonight that gift came walking into this very room sober. To date, there'd been no greater gift received than to see her walk into a meeting of Alcoholic's Anonymous.
After the meeting, she walked up to me smiling and she said that when she'd heard me start talking, she recognized the voice but couldn't see me. Then when I started talking about the 24 hour chip, she started to realize that I was talking about her. Her face began to blush red and she was afraid that people would realize that she was the woman I was talking about. She was ashamed because when she walked into the meeting, she'd been unable to raise her hand yet one more time because she was once again in her first 30 days of sobriety. She'd felt so ashamed and beaten down by the fact that she just couldn't stop drinking.... She felt like she didn't belong here.
When she shared that with me after the meeting, I hugged her and welcomed her back. I told her that for some months just preceeding my getting sober, I felt that I too was different from those who were, like my son, going into the rooms and getting better: I felt that I couldn't stop drinking and that until I did, I couldn't dare go in. Even when I did get sober and was in the rooms for some months, I continued to see others in the rooms as one of two types: people who couldn't stop drinking and people could...until one day.
One day I was looking around the room and it finally dawned on me that the one thing that I had in common with everyone in that room was NOT that we were all people who could stop drinking, but rather, that the one thing I held in common with everyone was that NONE OF US COULD STOP DRINKING! In fact, none of us CAN stop drinking. "Stopping" seems to imply power over alcohol and that seemed to be contrary to what I learned in the First Step. So, at least as far as I'm concerned, that inability to stop drinking is still true for me and always will be true. I can't stop drinking. Even today. But my saving grace has been that what I can do is stay sober, today. Just for today.
I told her that her walking into the room that night made my whole week, month, year! It simply didn't matter to me how many days or hours sober she had when she walked in. It meant everything to me that she walked in. I didn't care if she raised her hand. I was just glad that she came back. As she was walking away, she said that she was going home to try and find that 24 hour chip so that she could give it back to me---she said that she never realized how much it meant to me, being from my son and all. I yelled back, "Absolutely not! That chip is yours!"
And that chip is hers, until the wonderful day when she'll be able to give it away to someone who fighting the same battle that she fought....and lost. On that day, I hope she will be blessed to be able to give away a gift that never stops being given....
Mike L.
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