14th Dumbest Thing I've Heard in an AA Meeting

Some time ago, I wrote a blog entitled "The Top 10 Dumb Things I've Heard in AA"
http://mikelrecovery.blogspot.com/2007/12/top-10-dumb-things-ive-heard-in-aa.html and in that blog I listed 13 of what I consider to be the dumbest things I've heard in AA since becoming a part of AA in 2001. Recently, I decided that I'd heard my 14th when I heard several sponsors talking about relapses by their sponsees. The so-called AA wisdom that they passed on to me basically says that if a sponsee of yours relapses, just ask yourself if you (the sponsor) drank. If not, then somehow you're still a sponsor in good standing.

While I certainly agree with the sentiment that I'm not responsible for a sponsee's getting sober (or drunk), I'm not at all sure I want to buy into the dispassionate distancing of myself from the various feelings I experience when I hear of a sponsee's relapse---or anyone else's relapse for that matter.

I recently did have a sponsee relapse after about 18 days of sobriety and when he called me during that relapse, I remember feeling a heightened sense of being alert, that this was important and that I should choose my words carefully so as to be as helpful as I could to this man. He'd begun drinking that afternoon and had several beers before deciding to call me. He was absolutely devastated that he'd drank and for some miraculous reason, decided to call me and talk about what was going on. I felt a tremendous amount of compassion for him. I felt some of the pain and agony that he was experiencing. I connected with the shame and guilt that he was feeling: I'm sure that I would have experienced something similar.

He's gotten sober since and although it was quite rough on him for the first week or two, he seems to be back on track now. Most of his struggles during those first two weeks were dealing with the self-imposed shame and guilt that he was feeling in terms of having somehow let us (those of us in AA) all down by drinking. He had a hard time raising his hand for awhile...but that hurdle seems to be something of the past now.

I struggled with him all through this ordeal, trying to find the right words that would help him move forward and not get bogged down in self-pity or isolation or "too much" despair (in my experience, there's a certain amount of despair that is required to let go of some old ideas....and there's a fine line indeed between that amount and the amount which leads to suicide).

I know that I'm susceptible to being too attached or co-dependent of my sponsees or other alcoholics. But I'm be damned if I'm going to play it safe in this life by detaching so much from other suffering alcoholics that I cut myself off from feeling the full range of feelings if and when one of them drinks again. I care for them and all other suffering alcoholics. I'm not going to hide behind some sort of flippant resort to take my own sobriety as the litmus test of how well I'm doing today.

True, my own sobriety is most important to me. But I'm not an isolated being any more. I feel connected to people again. Sometimes that hurts. That's perfectly OK. In fact, it's greaaaat!

Take care!

Mike L.

Wondering "What If?"

Sorry that I haven't been blogging much recently, but I've been involved in a lot of work-related issues related to the economy and I've had to focus on those issues. Like many businesses these days, we've been struggling and last week we had to institute a layoff of about 10% of our non-attorney staff. Among those laid off was someone in my department and I was in the uncomfortable position of having to decide which one of my staff would be laid off. I really don't want to go into that here, but I did walk through that process focused on trying to be as compassionate and kind as I could, while at the same time trying to be loyal as an employee to a company that very well might fail if those in responsibility for managing its affairs do not do what's good for the whole firm.

Even before that process was over though, I began to play with the initially fearful idea: what would happen to me and my family if I was the one being laid off? While some might think paying attention to such "what if?" scenarios, I've found it helpful to give such fearful ideas a little room to play and to be played with. Not all that long ago, when I was drinking, I typically ran from such fears by anesthetizing myself with alcohol. Recovery has been teaching me new ways to deal with such normal albeit fearful life events.

This game playing involves brainstorming a list of things that I could do were I to lose my job, either through a layoff (unlikely but possible in my circumstance) or through a failure of our business (more possible in today's world). Over several days, the list grew to about five:

1. Become a truck driver
2. Go back to teaching high school religion
3. Go back to studying for the priesthood and become a priest
4. Become an author
5. Find a job similar to what I have now, except with another law firm

In brainstorming, you don't get bogged down with analyzing or criticizing or eliminating any ideas that float to the surface. They come up, you write them down. Once I had my initial list, I decided to let my wife in on the process: again, something that does not come natural to me. She's very strong and opinionated: just they way she should be! I decided to let her in on this because I knew that there was a certain part of me that was beginning to stress over the fears associated with losing my job and that this fear was going to come into our relationship, for good or bad, whether I liked it or not.

So, last week, I decided one night to tell my wife that I was actually feeling some fear about the security of my own job and how well we might survive were I to lose my job. Actually, I didn't "decide" to do that. One night, she asked me to start talking to her about anything... I don't seem to talk much and our life together had been seeming to fall into a too comfortable for me routine of getting up, going to work, coming home, walking the dog, reading in bed, rubbing her foot, and going to sleep (some details withheld). I told her that I really didn't have anything to say, at least, nothing to say that wasn't stressful. She said to tell her anyway. I did. I said that I was worried about losing my job and how we would be able to handle it. She responded immediately that that thought was very depressing! I told you she was strong and opinionated!

We laughed and then talked this through somewhat. Before falling off to sleep, I began making my "what if?" list of things that I could do if I lost my job. First thing that came to me was becoming a truck driver. I'm driving all the time it seems anyway (my commute to/from work is a little over two hours). I'm always seeing "We Need Drivers!" signs pasted on the back of semi-trucks. Not sure what it pays, but it would be something that would bring in some income. In addition, the more I thought about it, the more attractive this job seemed to me: I would get to travel to different places, go to different AA meetings, meet new people, have time to blog, and this would get me and my wife out of this rut that we're in.

That night I had a dream where I was applying for my old teaching job and I woke up with a start. Hey, I could go back to teaching! The initial problem though with this idea is that most often these days I consider myself to be an ex-Catholic, a non-Christian...on my good days. I'm sometimes an agnostic (where I wonder if God exists), sometimes a theist (although I'm never too clear on the God of my own understanding and more clear on the God of my misunderstanding). Suppose that might be an obstacle, but I decided that I could be honest about this with folks and let them in on the freedom that I've found and how I could really help these students walk through all the normal questions they have about God and what the do or don't believe. That's really all I did when I taught in Catholic high schools back in the early '80s. I helped them with their wonderings. I challenged their comfortable beliefs that they felt they "had" to believe to satisfy the expectations of their parents and others.

The next day, I thought of the weird possibility of my returning to the Jesuits and becoming a priest. Sure, there are a couple of hurdles with this. But I decided to play with this a little. This option could be just a "worst case" option for me if nothing else panned out. I didn't spend much time with this idea at all, but it was a fun one to share with my wife when I eventually shared my list with her... When I told her the idea of becoming a priest, she laughed and said that I couldn't do that because I was married. I laughed back and said that while we would have to get a divorce, apparently my being a priest would not prevent us from continuing to have great and frequent sex! She got a nice laugh out of that one.

Another idea also came to me about becoming an author, writing a book. That dream of becoming an author has been with me for some time and was actually the genesis of this blog. Blogging was a simple attempt to "do something" along the lines of writing an actual book. When I began playing with this idea, I came up with some general ideas about a book that I would like to write: it would be on the use of memorization in the recovery process. I have come across several other AAs who've used memorization to enhance their recovery: Chuck C. (Chamberlain) used to memorize things from the Big Book and elsewhere. Dr. Earle did also. I actually got the idea for using memorization from watching a man in a meeting recite the AA Preamble from memory while everyone else read it together from a little card at the beginning of that meeting. I was struck that this AA Preamble must really mean something to him if he went to the trouble of memorizing it. So I stole one of those cards and began what has become an essential and daily part of my recovery program. Over the last seven years, I've memorized a ton of stuff from various AA and non-AA literature. If I were to recite all of these things one right after another, it would take me close to three hours.

When I shared the idea of writing a book with my wife, she innocently asked, what would you write about? I initially told her that I didn't want to talk to her about that because she might be critical of what I was planning and I was too sensitive to take criticism about this area of my life right now. This hurt her because I was choosing to keep something from her. After some painful moments between us, I did decide to tell her that the book would be about "recovery" and that sort of hit her in a soft painful spot in our relationship. She's someone jealous of my "recovery life" because she doesn't feel part of it. We're still not really done talking this one through, but it was important for me to let her in on this dream of mine even if it's difficult.

Now that I'm done with my "what if?" playing, I've noticed that I'm no longer anxious about the future in terms of my job or what might happen with it. In fact, I'm realizing that I don't need to sit passively by and wait for life to happen to me. I can get off my ass and take steps to make it happen. Talking about my book here was a first step in that process. I will not commit to begin drafting titles for this book (a Title is the most important part of writing for me....) and to making an outline of chapters and to drafting a preface which tells my story and how memorization has become a most important part of my recovery.

Take care!

Mike L.

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.

Gratitude and Resentment: Not Feelings

I sometimes notice that in meetings there are times that certain topics for discussion begin floating from one meeting to another. Sort of cross-pollination. In the last couple of weeks, the topic that's floating around here, both in the Contra Costa county area where I live, but also in Sacramento where I work, is the topic of Gratitude.

When I first got sober in October 2001, I remember that during the month of November the topic was often Gratitude. While I was glad to have had the obsession and the actual act of drinking leave me the month earlier (two days before my first AA meeting...), I wouldn't characterize myself as grateful. In fact, those that described themselves as "grateful alcoholics" sort of bothered me. What was there to be grateful about? Sure, I was sober----but I wasn't able to drink and for some strange reason I missed that. I missed what was clearly a miserable way of life. Strange.

By the time my second sober November came around, the topic of Gratitude started being bantered about and I think I started harboring something of a resentment for this unofficial AA tradition of focusing on the Thanksgiving-like theme of Gratitude during the month of November. That's when I learned an important truth about both Gratitude and Resentment. Neither were feelings.

When I was newly sober, my feelings were all over the map and I was, to say the least, quite uncomfortable with them. All of them. Good (sense of peace, calm, joy, happiness, love, affection, etc.) and Bad (anger, fear, jealousy, hatred, anger, depression, anger, etc.). None of them were the way they "should" be: if they were "good" they weren't good enough or they didn't last long enough. If they were "bad" they were too bad and lasted waaaaay too long.

Within a short time, I met Dr. Earle who'd gotten sober two days before I was born. He'd gotten sober on June 15, 1953 and I was born June 17, 1953. When I met him, I was 48 years old and two months sober; he was 48 years and five months sober. One of the first things I learned from Earle was that there was nothing good or bad about feelings: they just were. Actually, I don't think I learned this from Earle. He certainly tried to teach me this truth of his, but I wasn't buying any of it. Learning took some time.

Earle would some times come into a meeting and gently put his gnarly old hand on my shoulder and ask, "How are you doing, Mike?" I'd respond as I thought one should in public, "Fine." He'd then look at me with a knowing smile and say, "You wouldn't lie to an old man like me, would you?" and then he'd sit down next to me and we'd chat before the meeting. I can't tell you how much I miss those chats. Especially today as tomorrow will be the 5th anniversary of his death.

When I eventually became comfortable enough sharing some of the truth about my feelings with this old man, we would sometimes get into a back and forth routine along the lines of the following: What are you feeling? A little depressed I suppose. What's wrong with that? Well, I don't like feeling depressed. What's wrong with that? It's depressing! What's wrong with that? I start to feel sad. What's wrong with that? It hurts. What's wrong with that? I start to get angry. What's wrong with that? I don't like being angry. What's wrong with that? It's uncomfortable! What's wrong with that?

Now, that would go on and on until I'd get so frustrated that this absolutely stupid old man who, in addition to being 48 years sober was also a licensed psychiatrist and surgeon, seemed to be fixated on asking me the same question again and again and again. What's wrong with that feeling? Ultimately, I'd lose all patience and respect for this man and let loose with what I hoped to be the "Final Answer" with him and I told him that "what was wrong" with all these feelings was that if I kept having them, I was surely going to start feeling like drinking again! God dammit! I thought that would finally shut him up, but, you guessed it: his only response was to ask with that irritating smile, "Well, Mike, what's wrong with that?"

By that time, I'd learned enough to know that it was useless to follow up with the only remaining retort which was, if I kept feeling like this any longer, I might not only "feel" like drinking, I might actually drink! I never asked him that question. For years, I've thought that his response might have been, "what's wrong with that?" but recently, I've decided that he would have said that all of these feelings, including the fear of drinking again, were all just feelings. Not good or bad. Just feelings. For years I'd attempted to manage feelings by means of alcohol and other techniques and aides. None of them really worked because they were all premised on the idea that particular feelings were unacceptable. I don't think that Earle would have flippantly said that the actual "act of drinking" again would be good, he was talking about feelings within me. Come to think of it, he pretty much only talked about feelings and emotions. Even when he was talking about seemingly "spiritual" things, he was really talking about emotions. I think for him, emotions and spirituality were synonymous.

Anyway, it was about this time that I started to try to reconcile Earle's teaching on feelings with some things I was hearing in AA, including the importance of Gratitude in the recovery process and the ultimate dangers of Resentment. When I listened to recovering alcoholics talk about either of these topics, I thought most people were talking about "feelings" (grateful and resentful) and if so, I began to wonder "Why were they talking about Gratitude as something 'good' and Resentment as something 'bad'?" Given that Earle was something of an AA icon (his story was in the Big Book and he had known Bill Wilson), I thought I'd finally found his Achilles Heal: were all these folks wrong to talk goodly about Gratitude and badly about Resentment?

When I challenged Earle about this apparent widespread heresy, he laughed and explained to me that neither Gratitude or Resentment were feelings. They were both attitudes. Or better, decisions. Gratitude was a attitude or habit one could develop over time to appreciate all that one had received in life, so-called good and so-called bad. He said that for some time, recovering alcoholics had discovered the value of developing such a habit or attitude of gratitude. It seemed to help many people stay sober and, more importantly, develop a joyful and contented way of life...without need for chemical enhancement.

Resentment too was not a feeling: it was a decision. Resentment means to "re-feel" and while resentment is often mis-talked about as though it were a feeling in itself, it wasn't. Earle believed that resentment wasn't a feeling, it was a decision (sometimes a well-entrenched habit) to hold on to a particular feeling well beyond it's natural life span. Resentment isn't "anger", it's a decision to hold onto anger (or any other negative feeling) well beyond it's normal shelf life.

After six years of sobriety, I'm no longer resentful about the topic of Gratitude. I actually appreciate it and enjoy the opportunity it gives me to share this story with others. January's become a time for me to reflect of the gifts of my sobriety, and one of the most important gifts given me in my life was the fourteen months I had spending some time with Dr. Earle Marsh. The night he died, I was holding his hand. He wasn't alone. He'd waited for me.

And that's another story.

Mike L.