The One Obstacle to Grace

This morning, the chairperson at the meeting was telling her beautiful recovery story when she got to the moment where for some strange reason she too was able to stop drinking.  It happened one morning in January 1999.  It was seemingly no different from any of the mornings over the last few years since she really started trying to get and stay sober.  During those two years, she'd started going to AA and she kept going back even after she would drink again.  Then came this one morning where she woke up and something different happened.  Something changed.

As she talked more about this particular morning, she wondered aloud,"I don't know what was different on that morning."  Nothing, as far as she could tell, had changed.  It was a morning like many many others that followed another attempt to drink like a normal person.  That history notwithstanding, that morning she was struck by a new resolve born of desperation:  she was going to do "whatever it took" to stay sober that day.  Now, 11 years later, she still really doesn't have any idea what really changed that morning to allow her sobriety to take hold and to last--at the very least--until this day.

As soon as she talked about that special morning -- I became entranced with my own memories of my special morning almost 9 years ago.  You see, I had that same identical experience of having many months of waking up confronted by the same idea: "I can't stop drinking!!"   And like her, on my special morning something changed and I knew it as soon as it happened.  For some reason, that morning I had a second thought follow the first: "Not being able to stop drinking is called alcoholism.  And alcoholism is a disease."  Wow.  Or rather, Duh!  A 1st Step moment.

What's a little strange is that I had already known the fact about alcoholism being a disease for many years--at least at a head level, but it had never sunk to heart level until that special morning.  I suppose that in the past, I'd always thought I could either overcome that inability with even greater willpower or I could just give up trying and just do my best to not get caught.  It was a disease that would or could go away.  Not one that would always be a part of me.

Today, when the chairperson wondered aloud that she didn't have a clue as to what happened that morning, I realized that something I had read last night that seemed to hold the answer to this question, at least for me.  Last night before going to bed, I was reading another book by David Richo, this one called When Love Meets Fear. In it, he said something along the lines of this:

The one obstacle to grace is control.

That's what happened to me that special morning of October 20, 2001!  On that day I gave up trying to control my drinking.  I realize now that trying to stop drinking is yet another attempt to to control not alcohol, but to control alcoholism.  Prior to that morning, I was trying to stop drinking only as a means to avoid being an alcoholic.  And in my insane mind, stopping drinking was the only way to avoid being or becoming an alcoholic.  And I just did not want to be an alcoholic like my dad (or even my son!). 

The thought or desire to be someone other than who you are is insane.  And that's why I'd never been able to stop drinking: because as soon as I'd convince myself that I had stopped, then I'd say to myself, "Well, you've stopped!  Therefore, you're not really an alcoholic!"  And inevitably, like most alcoholics who finally convince themselves that they are really not an alcoholic: I'd celebrate by drinking!

What happened to me that special morning was that I unknowingly (but willingly) gave up my control over my alcoholism and my never-ending problem with stopping drinking.  And as result, I think, grace was able to step into the process.  Grace: an unmerited gift.  As a result of grace, I was able to stop stopping.  As a result of grace, I was able to start trying to stay sober, as an alcoholic, one day at a time.

What I'm focusing on today is the fact that control has many forms and manifestations in my life today.  Control will lead me to believe that a particular feeling, say anxiety, depression, sadness, or loneliness, should be allowed to be or to surface.  And as a result of that decision of control, I then choose to seek some alternative or escape to the undesirable or unwanted feeling.  I run.  I go to a meeting.  I get up and do anything other than just sit.  I try to use some AA tool, like writing a gratitude list, as a surefire means of avoiding the feelings that want to see the light of day.  True, these are all better choices to drinking!  But they are similar ways of controlling life as life is.  Not something I want to do.  [I know, grace is not retroactive -- it's always right here, right now--so I don't need to waste time beating myself up for all my past attempts to avoid reality or to run from feelings.]

Over the next week, I'm going to try and become more aware of these moments which tend to lead me to unskilled attempts to control what's coming up naturally from within.  I'm going to try and let those feelings be just as they are for at least one minute more than I would habitually do previously.  I'm going to try and be open to moments of grace.

And I'm apparently going to do that while I'm in Las Vegas, Nevada where I'm heading now for a five day business conference!  There's something hilarious in this plan to be sure.

Take care!

Mike L.

Raising Our Hand

Every once and awhile I hear someone say that one of their motives for staying sober is that they don't want to have to raise their hand again.  Raising our hands and declaring that we are in our first 30 days of recovery seems, for many of us, to involve some amount of guilt and/or shame.  And even more so when we're doing that "again" (or again and again...).

This week, I was blessed to see a friend of mine raise his hand again and declare himself to be back in his first thirty days of recovery.  In fact, it was day three for him.  He'd not raised his hand at the beginning of the meeting when the secretary had asked if there was anyone in their first thirty days.   He'd actually been to several meetings since his relapse over the weekend, but he'd just been unable to raise his hand and let people know.  I think it was his second relapse since first beginning his recovery several years ago.  Before he used and drank this last weekend, he'd had just gotten to two years of sobriety a few weeks before.  He was having a hard time disclosing the fact that he'd relapsed, but for some reason, he kept coming to meetings.

On Wednesday, he was unable to raise his hand when the secretary had asked.  But then what happened was that while "How It Works" was being read, he was struck by the repeated use of "honest" in the first paragraph of that reading.  Somehow, he realized that keeping his relapse a secret from us was going to get him drunk and he needed to fess up.  So he raised his hand shortly thereafter and said, "I'm Mike and I'm an alcoholic.  And I've been lying to you.  I even lied to my sponsor as I walked into this meeting today.  I drank this weekend and this is Day Three for me."

He briefly explained what had happened.  It'd happened so fast.  He'd taken a week's vacation with his daughter and had a wonderful time.  And then when he came back, he dropped his daughter off with her mother and he went to house sit a friend's house for a couple of days.  Something about being alone in that house triggered some pains from the past and before he knew it he was going through the friend's medicene cabinet looking for drugs.  He found them and took them.  And the next thing he knew, he was getting drunk.  That was a Saturday. 

On Sunday, he awakened to waves of guilt and shame.  And then he went to a meeting.  While he didn't raise his hand, he kept going to meetings for the next three days and he didn't drink.  Ultimately, the secret became too much of a burden and he spilled it all out for us on Wednesday.  I thanked him for what he disclosed because, among other things, he showed me that it's possible to come back and raise your hand again --- and that everyone welcomes you.  No one judges you (at least out loud) or condemns you.  How could we???  We'd be condemning ourselves!

I understand why people talk about not wanting to raise their hand again, but for me, I think it's a misplaced fear.  For me, the day I first raised my hand and disclosed, "I'm Mike and I'm an alcoholic!" was the best day in my life to date.  I haven't had a better day since.  I've had lots of great days since that first disclosure of who I was as an alcoholic, but none better than that day.  As I've mentioned before, the first time I really raised my hand to disclose this truth was the morning of October 20, 2001: I was in bed next to my still sleeping wife.  I'd awakened to the same thought I'd had every day the last ten months: "I can't stop drinking!"  And then a new thought followed, "Not being able to stop drinking is called alcoholism.  And alcoholism is just a disease!"  And then I saw myself sitting in a circle of people at my son's rehab and instead of lying like I had for the last ten months, I shared with them the truth: My name is Mike and I'm an alcoholic!" 

When I did that, even though the people and situation were all in my head, I experienced a freedom I'd been seeking for years.  A freedom from the compulsion or obsession to drink.  A freedom from the need to put effort into "not drinking".  A freedom to be me.

I don't fear raising my hand again.  If I drink again, I know what I'll need to do to get back into the mode of recovery.  I'll need to return to the rooms and let my friends know what happened and that I'm back to begin again.

It's funny, a few nights ago (after this guy raised his hand on Wednesday) I had my first drinking dream in several years.  I was sitting at a table and there was a pitcher of lemon aide and Vodka sitting in front of me.  I poured a glass from the pitcher knowing that it was full of lemon aide and Vodka, but it didn't dawn on me that Vodka was alcohol.  Strange, huh.  Anyway, I poured myself a glass and then began drinking it.  It's the first time that I've had a drinking dream where I actually remember the act of drinking!  Anyway, I was drinking this and then I started feeling a slight buzz.  And then the idea came to me, I'm getting a buzz because this has alcohol in it!  Fuck!

I woke with a start and my heart beating rapidly.  Feeling as though this had actually happened, I was disappointed that I had drank, but the very first thought was that I needed to get up and go to the Concord Fellowship 6:30am meeting and raise my hand!  Now!  Within a few seconds, it became clear that it was just a dream and that I didn't need to raise my hand as being in my first 30 days.  But I knew that that would be what I'd need to do if I did drink.

I've been thinking a lot about how much weight or importance we put on long term sobriety --- I wonder if we go a little too far in that regard because it seems to set an unrealistic goal for most of us alcoholics.  Takes us a little off the more secure path of One Day At a Time mantra of AA.  I don't possess 8.5 years of sobriety.  It's not something I own.  I can't sell it.  I really can't lose it.  I cherish it.  I feel tremendously grateful for it.  But my focus needs to remain with today.  I can be sober only one day: today.  I can't be sober tomorrow (that can only be a hope or a dream).  I can't be sober yesterday (that is only a memory).  I can stay sober today.

Take care!

Mike L.

A Change in Perception

On Friday morning I attended a memorial for an oldtimer from around here who'd died with 39 years of sobriety.  A great man.  His name was Wayne Smith from Walnut Creek.  He'd sometimes begin his shares with, "Hi, I'm Wayne S. from Walnut C."  He was a master storyteller and will be greatly missed.  At the reception, someone had placed a bunch of CDs of a speaker meeting talk that Wayne had given years ago and on the way home from the memorial I listened to Wayne's pitch.  It was wonderful, but it was even more wonderful to hear his voice again, full of life.  He mentioned in it that he'd loved AA from the very beginning and it was the longest love affair of his whole life.

In his story though, he said something about The Steps that I'd never heard before and that was that the Steps were all about perception, or more accurately, changing our perception on a variety of important things in our lives.  Each step was, according to Wayne, all about changing our perspective from what was unhealthy and/or untrue to a new perspective that was more healthy and true.  He then gave examples from his own life to explain what he meant.  He said that the 1st Step was, for him, all about changing his perception about who he was in terms of his relationship with alcohol: for years, he had thought that alcohol was something that he could control and manage....  And that the 1st Step was about changing that misperception to something more accurate and true: that alcohol was not something he could control and that with alcohol in him, his life had become totally unmanageable.

I knew exactly what he meant, I only wish that he had gone through with more examples from his life to show how each of the remaining 11 steps helped him change his perspective to become more healthy and true.  And since yesterday, I have been mulling over how each of the 12 steps have helped me change my perspective on my life and on myself.

For me, the 1st step didn't involve changing my perception of alcohol.  Rather, it changed my perception of me as an alcoholic.  In the past, I'd thought that it was possible to avoid becoming an alcoholic (like my dad, I must add) by controlling my drinking, by proving to myself (when necessary) that I could stop drinking or by drinking like a non-alcoholic.  What happened in my 1st step was waking up to the reality that I was an alcoholic and that being an alcoholic wasn't my problem!  My problem was my 30 year attempt NOT to be an alcoholic. Thirty years of trying to drink "like" a non-alcoholic!  That delusion changed the morning I woke up on October 20, 2001 and realized that I couldn't stop drinking and that "not being able to stop drinking" was called "alcoholism" and that I was, like it or not!, an alcoholic.  That morning, being an alcoholic was perfectly OK.  It was just a disease and I just happened to have it.  Everything in my past life immediately became understandable.  It all made sense!  That's why I did what I did!  Ahhhh.  That was two days before my first meeting of AA.

The 2nd step then changed how I was going to move forward with the remainder of my life.  It wasn't so much about believing in a particular concept of God.  It was more about my own letting go of the idea that I was God or God-like.  And my drinking was an essential part of me being God-like: that is, I could change people (me and others), places and things all by means of a drink.  And another.  And another.  People, places and things all had one thing in common: they were not the way I thought they should be!  And if God wasn't going to fix that problem, I would help Him out.  And when I couldn't do that on my own, I resorted to the use of alcohol.  Once I got sober, my perspective changed in relatively short fashion:  I began to realize that I wasn't God and that I didn't need to do that God Act any more.  Everyone, everything and every situation was perfect just the way it was at that moment in time and I didn't need to get back into the battle of making the universe conform to the way I thought it should be.  For me, the return to sanity didn't involve some sort of return to mental health.  My alcoholic insanity wasn't mental illness.  It was the deeply ingrained belief that there was something wrong with me and that I needed to be or to become someone different than who I was.  Trying to be someone I wasn't is my definition of insanity.  Sanity then was the gradual awareness that I was perfect just the way I am and that this perfection includes the fact that my body processes alcohol and other mind-altering drugs differently than non-alcoholics and non-addicts.

The 3rd step continued that change in perspective from the inside out.  My 3rd step did not involve kneeling down to some Higher Power or even a decision to do so.  My 3rd step involved letting go of my death grip on life and letting things be just the way they were.  I no longer needed to play God.

The 4th thru the 9th steps all changed my perception of myself in that I had deeply held beliefs that there was something very wrong with me.  I came into the rooms carrying quite a heavy sack of shit: an invisible but still heavy sack of guilt (for things I had done) and shame (for who I thought I was).  In the 4th step, I began this change from the inside: with who I was and with what I had done, both the so-called good and the so-called bad.  I wrote down all the things from my past that "made me wince".  With the help of my sponsors, I wrote without judgment or condemnation.  

In my 5th step, I shared my secrets and ultimately, I shared the "exact nature of my wrongs."  For me, that process changed me in the most profound of ways.  I was no longer a bad person trying to become good; I was a sick person trying to become well.  And I still am.  I began to look at myself with eyes of compassion and understanding and I was able to do that by first seeing that compassion and understanding reflected in the eyes of my sponsors as they looked at me.

The 6th and 7th steps were a continuation of 4 and 5: they were all about changing how I saw myself.  The change has not been so much one of identifying or changing what's supposedly wrong with me (i.e., shortcomings or defects of character) but rather, coming to see things that I thought were wrong with me and now seeing them more as being just perfect!  The greatest example of that truth is my alcoholism.  I'd thought for 30 years that being an alcoholic was the worst possible thing I could become: it turns out that it was the best thing that could ever happen to me!  Having alcoholism is not a shortcoming or a defect.  My shortcoming, if you want me to have one, was trying to be someone I wasn't.  The 6th and 7th steps have been extremely helpful in identifying other aspects of who I am that I once thought to be "wrong" and changing that perception to become more healthy and accurate.  More compassionate.  More loving.

The 8th and 9th steps started me on a journey more to the outside of me: to my actions and behaviors and how they impacted or harmed others.  Both in the past and now.  These steps allowed me to take my newfound perspectives and apply them to my relationships with others.  While all my past actions were needed for me to become who I am now, the fact is that much of my past acts harmed others in some significant ways and the damage to those relationships continued into the present.  These steps gave me a mechanism to go back to these people and begin a process of healing and forgiveness.  Only in a few instances did this amends process involve saying the words, "I'm sorry."  Most of the time, it involved my sharing my story and what was going on with me back when...  I hadn't meant to hurt them as I clearly did and I was now wanting to clean up those messes and harms as best I could.  My sack of shit got lighter and lighter as a result.

The last three steps have given me a regular daily routine whereby I can continue the basic "inside out" work I did in the previous nines steps.  The 10th step gives me a daily process where I can refocus my view of myself and my actions.  Where have I done harm and what can I do to repair the damage I may have done?  How can I do that with compassion and loving-kindness, both for others and for myself? 

The 11th step gives me a daily practice where I can be quiet and know that I am not God.  I am Mike and I'm an alcoholic.  And that's perfectly OK!  It gives me breathing room.

The 12th step has totally turned my life upside down and it happens again and again as I try to share what I have been given with others who struggle with this disease.  Each one of my sponsees, as well as many others in my life, have changed me by the fact that they trust me with their secrets and struggles.  I really don't think I give them much other than an ear and a few stories of what happened to me in similar circumstances.  I inevitably walk away from our time together with a totally different perspective on my day and myself.  I am blessed.

Wayne was right: The Steps and this whole recovery process are all about changing our preception and our perspectives.  I'll miss you my friend!!

Take care!

Mike L.