As an addict, I struggle with basic
understanding of myself. I continue to return
to basic ‘truths’ about myself, that are in fact, false. One of those truths is that my value comes
from something or someone outside of me.
Another is that I will never have a reliable connection to that external
source of my value. In English? It means that I am always inclined to seek
out someone’s approval – my dad, my sponsor, my therapist, my abuser. And because even the president of my fan club
has to take a break once in a while, if I put my worth in someone else’s hands,
they may not treat it as I want.
And the
magical answer is . . . sorry, no magic.
Just the old standbys of willingness, acceptance, faith, fellowship,
program. Can I be willing to live another
imperfect day? Can I accept that I am
worth sobriety today? Can I have faith
that God will not forsake me today? Can
I reach out of my isolation that tells me awful things about myself? Can I let program in today? Not easy, but simple.
I can be my worst
critic or my ultimate supporter.
++++++++++++++++
Every man dies, not
every man really lives. --Braveheart
It’s going
to end. Some days we want it to. Some days we think it never will. Some days we think we are immune. But we will expire. We will become food for worms. And no matter what you may believe happens
after that, we are all pretty certain that it will be different from what we’ve
known all our lives.
Even when
we have the clarity to know we will die, we don’t always have the clarity of how
to live our lives. Yes, we’ve come to
know that sobriety is a better path. But
what does that mean? If addiction meant
parties and being high and being reckless and having what we called fun, what
does sobriety have to offer? Said
another way, as an addict I always like to ask:
any chance of me getting high but still staying sober?
The Program
and fellowship have us covered. We are
not saints. We have found a sober path,
and we can line that path with friends, reconnections, tastes, sounds, sights,
beauty, spirit –all the stuff that we have been dead to; all the stuff we’ve
been avoiding; all the stuff that makes a life.
Today I choose to
live, not die.
Two elderly women,
one of them says, boy, the food at this place is really terrible. The other one says, "Yeah, I know, and
such ... small portions. --Annie Hall
In my
addiction, I want more, no matter what.
After a while, I want more even if I’m in pain, or can’t stay
conscious. I want more even though the high
I’m seeking becomes debilitating. I want
more of the worst experiences of my life.
I voluntarily seek out more poison, even as I watch the poison slowly
kill me.
The program
is a mirror. Step One helps me see that
I am addicted to conduct that leaves my life unmanageable. And let’s face it, unmanageable is usually
putting it lightly. Flat broke, kicked
out of my home and fired is not just ‘unmanageable’ – it’s a red hot mess. Step One is about putting down the fork and ceasing,
one day at a time, the constant ingestion of food that is really terrible. And the rest of the steps show me that there
are not only other items on the menu, there are other restaurants, and even the
option to make to eat in my home with my family and friends.
If I’m not sure if
something is bad for me, I can ask someone else in program.
Allan: What are you doing Saturday?
Woman: Committing suicide.Allan: What about Friday night?
--Play it Again Sam
As an
addict, I am used to treating myself poorly.
And I’m used to tolerating poor treatment from others. Let’s face it, it’s hard to hold out for
decent treatment when I don’t think I’m worth it. We sometimes say, we’re willing to accept crumbs
and call it a good meal.
With some
sobriety and distance from my unmanageability, I can see clearly enough to
learn what is healthy for me. Turns out,
hanging around with people who disrespect me is not good for me. I don’t have to tolerate physical or sexual
abuse. I don’t have to stay in a relationship
with someone who is not trustworthy, or who belittles or uses me. There’s nothing wrong with me raising my
standards for my life, my friends, and myself.
That doesn’t mean that I’m entitled to exclusively date models and eat
in 4 star restaurants. But I don’t have
to accept dregs any more.
I can gauge my
recovery by the fellowship I keep.
++++++++++++++++
I made you up didn't
I Eddie? You weren't real. --The Hustler
In
addiction, I rely on fantasy. I depend
on make believe. I have to. I need to make the true untrue and vice
versa. I need to believe that more of my
drug won’t hurt me, that I can control my problem, that my unmanageability is
manageable. The lies I tell myself are
what keeps me in addiction. Denial. That is why the way of the 12 Steps is a way
of truth and reality at all costs.
And with distance
from my acting out in addiction, I can see that I use denial in all areas of my
life. I invent qualities in people that
they don’t have. I believe facts that
are blatantly untrue. I expect outcomes
that I cannot control. Every day is a
chance for me to leave denial behind and come into the light of truth. It’s not always an easy place to be – which is
why I avoid it for so strongly. But with
the light of reality, I can see more clearly, and I find there are peers there
who can help me along the way.
My addiction is a lie,
but my recovery is real.
No comments:
Post a Comment