Recovery and Relationships

Without question, the most challenging arena for me in terms of living out my recovery is in the context of relationships, especially the relationship with my wife of 28+ years.  In one of my regular meetings, there's a statement made in the meeting format that after the meeting "loitering is not tolerated" -- I used to find that somewhat offensive and offputting: but eventually I took it to be a clear message that this meeting room is not a home, it's a place of respit.  A resting place where we recharge our batteries -- but it's temporary.  It's not where we live.

Where I live is at home with my wife and that's where the rubber meets the road, as it were,in terms of me and my recovery.  Recently, I've been reading another book by David Richo called "How to be an Adult in Relationships (The Five Keys to Mindful Loving)".  It's a great book.  It must be frustrating for my wife though, seeing me read this book and me, at least it seems to me, having so little to show for it.  We are probably in the best shape we've ever been in though, so I don't want to misrepresent the quality of our relationship.  It's great.  But I'm always wanting it to be better...  Think we both share that hope.

One thing that really hit me though yesterday is that Richo talks about how in some relationships one partner will have a basic fear of abandonment and the other partner will have a fear of engulfment.  For us, my wife is the one who seems primarily experiencing a fear of abandonment over the years and I am the one who seems to have the polar opposite fear of being engulfed.  Richo recommends what he calls the "Triple-A Approach to Fear:  Admit, Accept and Act As If...  We first need to admit that we have these particular fears and then we need to accept these fears.  Lastly, he talks about acting as if....  And this paragraph hit me to my core.

"Act as if you have no fear.  If you fear abandonment, risk allowing the other to stay away one minute more than you can stand.  Cling one minute less than you feel you need to.  If you fear engulfment, allow the other to get one inch closer than you can stand.  Stay away one minute less than you feel you need to.  By acting in these ways, you are playing with your pain, a healing device too often neglected by those of us who take things too seriously."

This paragraph screamed out at me with its beauty and truth.  I've commited it to memory and have been reciting it again and again during my day today.  I really like the idea of "playing with my pain"  -- I've spent much effort in the past trying to avoid and medicate pain.  It was as though there was something wrong with pain.  And emotional pain, in particular, was something to be avoided at all costs.  Richo has got me looking at it differently though: pain is communicating information to me and I need to listen carefully and with reverence.  I needn't run from it.  I can keep my eyes and all my senses wide open.

Take care while you play with your pain!

Mike L.

Opening Up to What Is...

Some time ago, I began reading several books by David Richo (Shadow Dance, The Power of Coincidence and How to Be an Adult in Relationships).  I've been reading each of them somewhat concurrently, bouncing back and forth between them as felt right to me.  With each book, I've been making conscious decisions to open myself up to that dark side of who I am (the shadow self that I don't like acknowledging and certainly don't like accepting or, God forbid, embracing) and to the various "assisting forces" (dreams, coincidences, events, spirits and what I thought to be dead people like Earle) who are helping me be more truly who I already am.

What I'm starting to realize now is that once I made those commitments, things really begin to happen fast and that there's probably no way to put the Genie back in the bottle, even if I wanted to! There seems to be nothing that happens to me, 24x7, that isn't part of the process.  A few nights ago, I was meeting with a sponsee for coffee and while we talked, I started to understand with much greater clarity the answer to a key question in my life that's been plaguing me for several years now. 

What that question has to deal with is not something that I want to go into here, at least not now, but my point is that while I was talking and listening to this really great guy (who has 3x more sobriety than I do and who is a tad older than I am and who is very successful in his business life) talk about his (and coincidentally my!) problems/struggles with his wife of many years -- it became clear to me that everything that's been going on in my life in the last 8 years is part of a process that began many many years ago when I was first growing up.  And that what I knew to be true for me then (that I had a special purpose in life and that that purpose involved helping others), is something that I have been moving toward step by step all these years.  Most especially now.

More importantly, I started to realize that everything that has happened over the last 56 years of my life is just what needed to happen in order for me to be where I am right now.  Everything.  There was nothing in that path of events and people that should have been any different than it actually was.  It was and is perfect.  (Thank you, Earle!)

Several weeks ago, sometime after I began doing this "shadow work" I woke up one Saturday morning and realized that my wife was already up having tea and reading the paper.  I gave myself permission to do what I wanted to do: go back to sleep.  I was very tired.  I slept.  I dreamt.  I awoke.  I repeated that process a couple of times, slept, dreamt and awoke.  The last time I did that, I awoke and as soon as I was conscious, the idea came to me that "Everything's true!".  As that simple thought entered my mind, everything went White.  A bright light is the only thing I can think of to describe this experience.  I had this thought lingering in my consciousness "Everything's true" and in the background I'd see various things (events and people) from my past and present and as I would gaze at them I would remember that "Everything's true!" -- everything and everyone is true, complete, perfect.  And everything was surrounded and immersed in this incredibly bright light.

After a few moments, the idea about Everything's True would drift and the White light would fade.  And I would be aware that it was fading.  I had mixed feelings about this fading away of the light: the light had actually scared or frightened me...something seemed almost "foreign" about it.  Yet it also filled me with energy and peace.  As it faded almost completely away, I would then remember some other event or person from my past and then the idea would come to me again that "Everything's true" and the White light would return, full force.  And then it would fade.  And then it would return.  I don't know how long this cycle went on, maybe 15 minutes, but I eventually tired of it and decided that I should get up, go hug my wife and begin knocking off her list of Honey Dos for the weekend ahead.  And so I did.

This has been an amazing couple of weeks.  All because I gave myself permission to be open to what is.

Take care!

Mike L.

Empathy for Atheists

Even with my newfound theism, I do want to say that since coming into AA I have developed and nourished a strong and passionate empathy for those who do not share a belief in a God, however defined.

My empathy for atheists is usually expressed by me when I talk with an professed atheist, usually after an AA meeting where one or more AA member's have shared much details about their Higher Power, including their Higher Power's name (i.e., Jesus, God, etc.) and what they believe to be the important characteristics of their Higher Power (e.g, He is male, He has a plan, He wills specific things to happen (including that some people get sober and some people do not, or when people die...).    Sometimes these shares are phrased in such a way that the speaker, probably unintentionally, talks for the group rather than just for themselves.  Sometimes, they state their beliefs as though all or most of us in the room share their beliefs.  When that happens, I am always on the lookout for any wincing or pained looks --- or for people walking out the door (or seeming to be looking in that direction).  I try to either say something a group level that gives a counterbalanced view (delicately avoiding the proscription against crosstalk...) that these sorts of issues are very personal and no one speaks for anyone but themselves on this issue. 

And when I actually get to talk one on one with a professed atheist, I eventually like to ask them, "So tell me, describe for me the "God" you don't believe in?  What is it that you don't believe in.  What's behind the label "God" for you?"  Inevitably, the God that they don't believe in is a God that I don't believe in either.  If so, I smile and say then, that well, maybe I'm an atheist also because I don't believe in that God either!  I don't go on to prove or argue for the God that I might happen to believe in that day (it changes frequently!).  That's really none of their business and I don't need to share it with them unless they are curious or interested in talking about it.

Ultimately, in the context of recovery, I basically advocate the philosophy of an apatheist:  I really don't care what another person believes and don't feel any one view or theological position is required for AA membership or sobriety.  The atheist has a wide range of options for developing a sense of a higher power in their lives that does not entail a personal God:  "Truth" can be a very effective Higher Power for a recovering alcoholic!  The agnostic can be comfortable with a lifetime of investigation and waffling if they are so inclined and they can take pride in the fact that the Big Book named a chapter after them (We Agnostics) and that there is no chapter called "We Theists" or one called "We Atheists" or one called "We Apatheists".

To each their own.  "Above all else, to thine own self be true." (Shakespeare)

Take care!

Mike L.