Prerequisites to Critical Moments

As I've mentioned several times recently, I've been chewing on something I read recently and I just can't let it go:  The one obstacle to grace is control.  Ever since I read that line in David Richo's book, When Love Meets Fear, I've seemed to have this truth front and center in my consciousness most of the days since I first read it.  As I've been doing this "fear work" that I also mentioned in my last blog entry, the connection between the felt need to control things in my life and fearfulness is so close as to make them indistinguishable.

This morning as I was thinking about three of my sponsees who are all seemingly stuck in a very early recovery, I had a series of thoughts that sort of came pouring out: 

• the prerequisite of grace is letting go of control
• the prerequisite of letting go of control is willingness
• the prerequisite of willingness is not wanting to do something
• the prerequisite to doing something that you don't want to do is hopelessness or despair.

It's very hard to watch people holding on to control as though their life depended on their holding on to what they are holding on to.  It's especially hard when you know that the solution is not in holding on, but in letting go.

I just left a men's meeting at Old St. Mary's Church in downtown San Francisco.  The man who led the meeting read something from page 164 in the Big Book, including the most humble of all lines in our Big Book: "Our book is meant to be suggestive only.  We realize we know only a little."  I am truly aware of my own ignorance when it comes to what will work for another person.  I barely know what works for me and oftentimes I only learn that after thousands of failures and deadends and lots of pain.

So what do I know when I suggest to another suffering alcoholic that they consider trying what worked for me?  Nothin.  If anyone had suggested that I "let go" a moment before I did on the morning of October 20, 2001, I would have told them to go to hell and I would have stomped off without a clue as to what else I might try.  I let go only when there was no energy left to hold on and no other options.

I suppose that will happen with these guys also.  Or at least, I hope so.  There's always the other alternatives of jails, institutions and death.  Once again, I have to let the disease do the hard work of sponsoring the guys dumb enough to ask me to sponsor them.

Take care!

Mike L.

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.

Three Stories About Hopelessness

For some time now, I've been a firm believer in the synchronisticy of life events.  Some people refer to them as coincidences.  This last week, I knew that I was going to be chairing a meeting on Friday and during the week, I was on the lookout for a topic or a direction for that chair to take.  By the time I was sitting in the chair at noon on Friday, I knew that the topic had to be hopelessness.

On the previous Wednesday, I been in San Francisco for the day and was able to go to an afternoon meeting at Old St. Mary's Church.  The meeting format was for a woman who had just reached her 6 month sobriety milestone to tell her story for the first time, for her to pick a topic and then for people to share.  The chair would pick one person to begin the sharing and then it would just go around the room until everyone got a chance to share briefly on that topic.

The woman was so relieved by the time she finished her chair that she couldn't think of any topic, so she made the topic, whatever you'd like to talk about.  I didn't really have anything going on, so I just listened to each person share about what was going on with them.  After each person shared, I felt a connection with each one of them and I also came up with something relevant to that person's comment and that relieved me of the temptation to think about what I was going to share and thereby not listen to the next person who shared.  Anyway, that happened each time that someone shared.  I identified with them and I remembered a story from my own life that related to what each person was struggling with in their lives.

By the time it was almost my time to talk, I had no idea which of my stories I wanted to share.  So many stories, so little time.  I'm not a short story sorta guy.  In fact, I'm realizing now, that I wanted to tell three stories about Hopelessness and I'm not even done with the first story and I've gone on too long already for one blog.  Oh, well.

Anyway, the time came for the woman two seats to my right to share and I could tell she was very troubled.  She'd come into the meeting a little late, shortly after the time had come and gone for newcomers to raise their hands so that we could begin to get to know them and be of help.  She shared with us her name and said that this was her first day back in meetings.  She'd relapsed and it was horrible.  She cried.  She couldn't say anything more.  She looked around the room quickly and then shrugged her shoulders and said, "I'm hopeless!".

Well, now I had a story to tell.  I didn't even try to listen to the man's share next to me.  I just began trying to piece together my own hopelessness story in the hope I could tell it well enough to be helpful to the woman to my right.  I knew instinctively that she believed that her hopelessness was bad and a clear sign for all of us to see of her failed attempts at life and sobriety.  I wanted to gently let her know that things were not so bad, in fact, she was experiencing the most important event of her life.  A new beginning possible only from a moment of hopelessness.

I shared my moment of hopelessness which came after ten months of being unable to stop drinking.  The ten months had begun when my 15 year old son reached his own moment of hopelessness and began his own journey of recovery from addiction.  My moment of hopelessness came the morning of October 21, 2001 --- the night before my son had almost caught me drinking.  I'd successfully lied my way out of his discovery, but I'd gone to bed the night before feeling like shit.  Pat was 5 months and 10 days sober: how come I couldn't stop drinking and support him in his recovery?

Anyway, my moment of hopelessness occurred the following morning.  I woke up at 6am with the clearest of ideas greeting me:  "I just can't stop drinking!"  It was a thought that I had had most mornings for the last couple of years of my life.  What was different that morning though was that this first thought of hopelessness was followed by a second thought: "Not being able to stop drinking is called alcoholism and alcoholism is a disease."  For the first time in my life, it was perfectly OK to be an alcoholic.

I then looked at the woman to my right and said that some years ago I heard the greatest line I'd ever heard.  It was at a meeting when the chair shared what she considered her favorite line -- she'd stolen it from her sponsor years ago.  Her sponsor had said that she'd gotten sober "at the corner of Grace and Willingness."  I loved that line from the get go.  I went up to the chair woman after the meeting, thanked her and let her know that I too was going to steal her sponsor's line about the corner of Grace and Willingness.  She laughed.  I asked her to chair a meeting for me in two weeks at the Lafayette Hut and she graciously accepted.

As soon as I left the meeting, I realized that while it was a great line, it didn't describe where I'd gotten sober.  I had surely gotten sober as a result of Grace: my sober moment was not the result of my effort or thought process.  My sober moment was a gift from something or someone outside of myself.  It took me about two weeks of chewing on this question.  Eventually it came to me two weeks later, just as the chair woman walked into the Lafayette Hut.  She sat down next to me at the head of the table and I leaned over to thank her for coming out to chair this meeting.  And then I reminded her about her line about getting sober at the corner of Grace and Willingness.  She smiled and then I told her that while I loved the line, it was not where I got sober.   She smiled and asked, "Well, then, where did you get sober?"  "I got sober at the corner of Grace and Hopelessness!  It's about a half block down from the corner of Grace and Willingness!"

I then looked over at woman to my right in her first day of sobriety --- she was laughing and I think things were now becoming "right" in her world.

Thank God for Hopelessness!  It gives us the ability to accept things as they are without any need to change or pretend to be someone we're not. My problem wasn't that I was an alcoholic.  My problem was that I was an alcoholic who was trying (hopelessly!) to be a non-alcoholic!

Take care!  I will tell you my third story about hopelessness in a day or so.  My wife and I are getting on a cruise ship later today for a two week cruise to Alaska.  I'll try to get that blog published before she throws me overboard.

Mike L.

The Pre-Requisites of Willingness

I've been going through something of writer's block recently.  Felt that I had sort of said everything I had to say.  That everytime I sat down to write, there was an eery feeling that I'd already told that story.  I took a break I suppose so that I could come up with some new stories.

The other night the speaker asked us to talk about willingness because she was at a point in her life where she was unwilling to be willing.  And that frightened her.

Whenever willingness is the topic, I always remember a woman who was new to the area and had just been asked to chair a meeting at the last moment.  I was probably two years sober at the time.  During her chair, she said that her favorite quote in recovery was a line that she had stolen from her sponsor in Santa Cruz.  The sponsor had often said that "she got sober at the corner of Grace and Willingness."  I was immediately struck at how beautiful that line was.  I went up to her after the meeting and asked her to chair a meeting for me in several weeks.  She was glad to.  She was trying to get to as many different meetings as possible now that she was in this new area with no friends or connections.

Between that night and the day she was to chair for me, I kept going back over the line she'd stolen from her sponsor and while I really understood the beauty of that description of where her sponsor had gotten sober, I knew that I hadn't gotten sober on that same corner.  Grace was right on: when I got sober, it was pure gift.  I'd done nothing at all to achieve the sobriety I achieved the morning of October 20th in the year 2001.  The night before, I'd taken my son to one of his 12 Step meetings (he was 15 and had 5 months and 10 days sober...) and then hid myself away in a local bar to have what became, to date, my last two drinks.  Two goblet sized gin martinis.  When I left the bar, I didn't feel drunk but was probably over the legal limit.  I went to pickup my son after his meeting.  He smelled the liquor and asked me if I'd been drinking.  I lied.  He let it go.

I'd wanted to tell him the truth.  But had I done that, I would have had to stop drinking.  Or at least go through the public motions of trying to stop drinking, while knowing in my heart of hearts that it simply wasn't possible.  So I lied.  We went home.  Chatted about what the meeting had been like.  I went in the house, told my wife that I was very tired and was going straight to bed.  I was very tired.  I'd been hiding my drinking for over 10 months and it was horrible.  I was lonely, isolated.  Controlling my drinking was very draining!  Around people all day---but connecting with no one.

The following morning, I woke up at 6am with the clearest of all true thoughts: "I can't stop drinking."  A thought I'd woken up to many, many times before over the previous 30 years.  More and more frequently as the years and the disease progressed.  And then the miracle happened with another thought, "Not being able to stop drinking is called Alcoholism--and alcoholism is a disease that I just happened to have."  Within a nanosecond, a third thought followed: "That's OK -- I can do what Pat (my son) had been doing."  And then I saw myself sitting in a circle of folks and when my turn came to check-in (it was one of the weekly multi-family group sessions at my son's recovery treatment center), I saw myself raise my hand and say, "My name is Mike and I'm an alcoholic."  The obsession I'd been living under for years left me with that disclosure to non-existent people.

Well, that moment was certainly one of Grace.  Grace was surely one of the streets which intersected my moment of recovery.  But was that a moment of Willingness?  Not really.  It was something else and I just couldn't think of what else other than grace brought about my sobriety.  What was the other street.  I thought about that for several weeks and it didn't get resolved until the morning I woke up to go secretary the Sunday Step meeting at the Lafayette Hut, the meeting where the line thieving sponsee was going chair for me.  That morning I realized where I got sober and I was feeling like I was going to explode inside until I could share my truth with the woman chairing for me that morning.

When she walked into the meeting, she walked over to sit in what I sometimes call the most uncomfortable chair in an AA meeting.  When she sat down, I welcomed her to the Hut -- and then leaned over to tell her that for several weeks I had been trying to figure out "where" had I had gotten sober.  She looked puzzled (as people often do when I'm talking to them!) and I reminded her about her favorite line and told her that while I loved the line as much as she did, I knew that that was not where I got sober.  I didn't get sober at Grace and Willingness.  She smiled and asked me, "Well, where did you get sober?"

I got sober at the corner of Grace and Hopelessness, about a half block down from Grace and Willingness.  What happened that morning for me was a moment of grace which occurred only because I had reached a point of utter hopelessness in terms of my ability to stop drinking.  What happened that morning is I gave up on "my" attempt to stop drinking.  And I began a new approach at life.  I began trying to stay sober that day.  That is what I had seen my son do for over ten months --- and he'd done it "poorly" at first, not being able to stay clean for more than 5 to 10 days for several months.  But then, something clicked for him in May 2001 --- not sure what streets intersected at his moment of clarity -- and he's been clean for almost nine years now.  That morning I knew that the solution was in doing what he had been doing: going to meetings, raising my hand, steps, talking/listening with other addicts/alcoholics, getting up when we fell down, telling the truth.

So what then are the pre-requisites of Willingness?  There are at least three:

First, willingness only comes into play when we are confronted by something that we really don't want to do.  Willingness isn't necessary for me to eat a piece of chocolate cake!  Willingness is only required when there is unwillingness.

Second, willingness presents itself only when one is experiencing a certain level of pain or suffering.  Unwillingness is a pleasant place to be: pain is the only thing that pushes us out of that state of unwillingness.

Third, willingness --- at least for me --- came only when I came to believe that the Impossible was in fact Possible.  That morning, I discovered that sobriety, one day at a time, was possible.  No guarantees for life, but at least sobriety was possible for me that day.  Tomorrow?  I'd deal with that when it came.  That morning, I realized that Pat had done what I had considered impossible.  He'd gotten sober and his life was changing.  Since then, I have seen many others who were like me: people who simply couldn't get sober.  People who couldn't stop drinking.  That morning, I accepted that I couldn't stop---but I could stay sober.

A moment of Hopelessness transformed by Grace into Willingness.

Take care!

Mike L.

How Do I Best Help Another Recover?

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.