Separate Lives: Life and Recovery?

Yesterday I attended a rare-for me-NA meeting. It was what's called a "dreamcatcher" meeting that they have whenever someone in that fellowship dies. The format is fairly typical for an NA meeting with all the normal readings, the differences are: (1) the chairs are setup in a big circle and in the middle of the circle sits an empty chair and (2) all of the sharing is centered on people's memories and thoughts and feelings about the person who died. The empty chair helps people remember why we're meeting: someone we love is no longer going to be sitting in one of our chairs. Yesterday's dreamcatcher meeting was for a man, Jerry B., who died a few weeks ago after a long battle with cancer. Jerry was my son's "grand-sponsor" and based on what I heard yesterday, was a man deeply involved in the NA fellowship and recovery.

The meeting yesterday also had one other difference from regular NA meetings: the meeting was recorded for the benefit of Jerry's wife. Jerry's wife had asked my son's sponsor if she would record what was said at Jerry's dreamcatcher meeting so that she could learn something about Jerry's life in recovery. She told Sabrina that Jerry kept his recovery life separate and apart from their marriage and family life. She knew that he was very involved in NA, both in service and in sponsoring people. But she really didn't know much about Jerry's recovery life. So before the meeting began, Sabrina explained the request and that the recording would be given only to Jerry's wife for her use only. It would not be shared with anyone else. It was one of those few business issues that I ever saw resolved with absolute unanimity: no one objected to this rather unusual request.

I wanted to speak yesterday, not so much to those present in the room---but to Marie, Jerry's wife. Given that I too have chosen to keep my recovery life pretty much separate and apart from my life with my wife and family, this whole thing with Jerry and his wife really struck a chord with me. While there are parts of me that yearn for a "full transparency" between my wife and I in terms of what I do in the context of my recovery, that has not happened yet and I'm not really sure it ever will.

And one of my biggest concerns about this dual life that I've chosen is that my life will eventually come to an end and should my wife survive me (and this is certainly my hope!) she may come to know much about me and my secret life that might cause her to wonder why I kept all this "secret" and "hidden" from her. Did I not trust her? Was I closer to these recovery folks than to her? How much time did I devote to my recovery and wasn't all that time "taken away" from my ability to have time with her? What would happen were they to have a dreamcatcher meeting for me and my wife was able to sit and listen to what people shared about their memories of me and what I may have done to help them at some point or to bring a smile or laugh or tear.

So yesterday I wanted to speak so badly that I almost went up to talk, but by the time I did, the meeting was over. I was glad that Pat was able to go up to the microphone to talk (only at the gentle pushing of his sponsor...) and share with others why Jerry meant so much to him. Jerry made the room "safe" for Pat. He learned quickly that Jerry had no expectation for Pat to do anything --- if Pat had a desire to get or remain clean -- Jerry had his back. For a variety of reasons, Pat has not always felt "safe" in the world or in NA meetings. But Pat always felt safe when Jerry was there. You see, Jerry was a Vietnam Vet and he loved to "blow things up". And not fire crackers. But he loved NA and the NA fellowship and helped many many people during his recovery life.

What I wanted to say to Marie is that I have no doubt that Jerry loved her and her family with all his heart and soul. He didn't love them "less" or NA "more." But for whatever reason, Jerry made a choice to keep his life separated or compartmentalized: his family life and his recovery life. I have done the same.

The reasons are complex and I haven't got them all sorted out yet, but the basic reason I've gone down this path is related to the fact that I am basically insecure with myself and don't have the ability to see things as black or white, right or wrong. Every thing's a shade of gray for me. My wife's the exact opposite in many ways. Everything seems clear to her. She knows what's right and what's wrong. She tends to state things as though they are fact, whereas I tend to give you my opinion and tell you not to worry, my opinion will probably be different next time we talk.

So once I got sober and started feeling my way through the ins and outs of AA life, I was very insecure and frightened. There were more than a few AAs who had very strong opinions about the "right way to do AA" and they all scared the shit out of me. The more I listened to them, the more I began to think that I'd somehow gotten hooked into some sort of cult. Within a month or two, I began to wonder seriously if I was going to be able to stay a part of this organization without having to betray my own sense of self and beliefs. Then I met Dr. Earle and everything changed for me. I was given permission to be me. Told that I didn't have to do or believe anything that I wasn't comfortable with. And that AA would be less than what it could be if I were to back away from being who I was and from saying what I believed.

I think the main reason that I've kept these two lives separate is that I needed a safe place to grow up as a man and as a human being. I'd gotten off track in the process well back into my early years and then I began drinking, I lost all sense of who I was and what was right or wrong. My recovery life is that safe place where I've been trying to grow up as a man. That isn't to say that there is no "cross-over" traffic between the two lives: there most certainly is.

I know that my life in recovery is somewhat "artificial and unreal". It's no more than an hour or two each day, either in meetings or working with a sponsee or reading/writing as I am now. My life with my wife and children, my work, that's my real life. And if I want to know how well my recovery is or isn't working, I don't look into my recovery life to answer that question: I look to my relationship with my wife, my children and those with whom I work. That's where the fruit of my recovery work will exist or be absent.

If you want to know how well my recovery work is doing, don't ask me or my sponsees, or my sponsor and certainly don't ask all those people who hear me talking in meetings! No, those are not the people to ask. The person to ask is my wife. How's Mike's program working? That's who knows. She knows me better than anyone in the entire world. She knows me more than any one of my three sponsors or any of my sponsees. When I'm bullshitting everyone else in the world, including myself, she'll know the truth of the matter. And I doubt she'll be all that shy about telling you.

That said, I'll never forget the time when Nancy came home from a night out with a group of women that she regularly met with for several years on Tuesday nights. She came home and she told me that all these women thought that I was the perfect husband. She was looking at me for some response, so I laughed, "Well, did you explain to them the truth about me?" She nodded and said that she did and they still thought I was perfect. And then she blew me away by saying, "And they are right: you are the perfect husband!" I thanked her but couldn't help but wonder aloud that "If I really was the perfect husband, then why was she always seeming to bug me about all my flaws: not picking up my socks, not putting down the lid after going to the bathroom, not putting my dishes in the dishwasher, etc."

She laughed and said that while I was perfect, there was no reason why she couldn't try to tweak me into a little bit more perfect of a husband. I decided not to argue the faulty math of that philosophy and just accept the wonderful admiration of a woman that I loved with all my heart and soul. I was about 5 years sober that night and there is no question in my mind that had I not done every single thing I had been doing in my recovery life, that my wife would not have been holding me in such high regard. I know too that if I want to continue having such a wonderful "real" life, that I need to continue being vigilant about my recovery and all that that life entails.

Take care!

Mike L.