Self-loathing

When an average person thinks of addiction triggers, they probably picture things that are much more glamorous or stylized than reality. No, I find no special urge at the sight of a short straw, an icy beverage or watching a good ol’ stoner movie. I’m not especially awakened by environmental stimuli. My triggers run from a much more internalized place.  

At some indeterminate place in my childhood, I began to struggle with just not liking myself. I was chubby, nerdy and white in schools with fellow students who were decidedly none of the three.  I could always use humor as a means of defusing a situation, but at an early age I became adept at portraying myself in a different light than the one in which I actually dwelled.

I was increasingly uncomfortable in my own skin until I found something that made it easier to fake it: alcohol. Shortly after that came alcohol’s cousin weed, and eventually its’ more distant and deadly cousin cocaine came to hang out too. You see, all these things plus a host of others helped me escape from my own intense loathing of the person as whom I had come to view myself.

It was a cycle that fed into itself: guilt over my lifestyle and the decisions I had made focused the aim of my weakness-in-action on booze and drugs, which in turn led to more guilt and more shameful actions. I was too mentally and spiritually weak to face and deal with the unpleasant thoughts in my head and the difficult emotions in my heart. I copped out and took the easier path; I drank, smoked, snorted and popped pills instead.

These days the struggle is only a bit less intense. The fight against self-loathing is one that I must undertake almost daily. I pray to my Higher Power to increase my ability to love everyone and especially to love myself the way I should, but that doesn’t mean the struggle isn’t there.

Every day affords an opportunity to think myself not good enough. It is yet anther area where positive focus over negative comes into play. I need constant reminders of the good things that I do and the man I have become while being sure to give less weight to my imperfections. The practice of acceptance helps in this case; I accept that I am not perfect and I strive to make progress rather than to be perfect. The mania still catches up with me, but I don’t have to let it control and cripple me anymore.

Negative self-perception does not have to dominate my mental landscape today. I have control over my own thoughts, emotions and actions, and I choose to focus on the good in me and in my life. It’s a choice that you can make as well. Choose to be a happy, joyous and free individual. I think you’ll like the weather over here.

Who Am I to Judge?

The last person who has any right to judge others for anything is a life-long screw up such as myself, but within certain contexts I’m just as guilty of harsh and unfair judgment as anyone has ever been. I immediately turn mentally into that stock "16-year-old snobby girl" movie character when around certain types of people; I suddenly think I have the right to judge people yet expect them to reserve judgment in my case.

I all-too-often resort to taking the inventory of others. If I am too busy taking your inventory I am not paying enough attention to my own, and as such am neglecting my own sobriety. Let’s go over a few of my typical knee-jerk reactions, shall we? If you are sensitive, you may want to stop reading here. I can evidently be a real turd.

- More than marginally overweight? I probably think you’re lazy and mentally weak.

- Smoker? I’ve most likely thought you must be ridiculously thickheaded and  

   mentally weak.

- Habitual soda drinker? All of the above and predictably I typically find you     

   repulsively mentally weak.

- Compulsive attention-seeker? I’m sure I’ve thought your father didn’t pay you      

   enough attention and you are (you guessed it) mentally weak.

Notice a trend? Good. Now I’ll do you one better:

-               Rich? I’ll bet I’ve thought that you’re a pretentious softie who hasn’t gone through any struggle  
                   and just a grown-up version of a spoiled brat.

You see while racism has never been an issue with me, classism has but in reverse of what you would normally expect. Also, in a curious twist I am much quicker to be gracious and understanding of an addict than I am a normal person. Now, that has certain limits: if you are an admitted addict who is half-heartedly going about your recovery I have absolutely no time or patience for you. In that sense I am most definitely NOT mature in my recovery.

There are a few patterns and one big, inescapable overarching concept: I have less than zero right to judge anyone based on anything under the sun, yet I struggle with an addiction to judgment in spite of that realization. That is essentially what it boils down to being: I am compelled by some unseen force to judge others even though I know it to be completely wrong and morally reprehensible. I am in no position to judge any person and neither is anyone else.

I am a recovering alcoholic and drug addict who is one sip of whiskey away from turning back into a man who I’ve sworn to never become again. I’ve done many things that would repulse respectable members of society. The act of judgment is one that repulses me, yet I am guilty of it more often than I care to admit.  

Ever heard about what you shouldn’t do if you live in a glass house? I’m working on putting down those stones, one day and one person at a time.

Normal, everyday self-destruction

One curious commonality amongst addicts (active and recovering) is the tendency to reliably seek out ways to mess up even the best of things simply because it’s going right. It’s as if our mind cannot accept that we can live in happiness and success and it rejects the idea like a body may reject a transplanted organ. It isn’t natural to us to be happy, contented or peaceful and something buried deep within our consciousness wills us to make a huge mess of everything as early and often as possible. 

We reject that unnatural positivity and it often seems as though we have fallen in love with being miserable. The addict prefers to “wallow in the bitter morass of self-pity” (AA Basic Text or “Big Book”) and make his or her home in the comfort of self-centered sorrow. We wear our suffering like a warm blanket and take the time to remind everyone about each bit of that suffering every chance we get.

You see, we addicts are great at suffering and surviving. We’ve put ourselves through years of horrible decisions and the consequences thereof. Even once we’ve gotten clean we still feel the aftershocks of our former lives and it seems that they will never end. Once they have subsided, though, perhaps life gets TOO comfortable and by extension too boring.

We’ve made impulse control our calling card and that switch isn’t very easy to turn off. We crave that excitement as a way of escaping normalcy at times and can find no better way to get excited than to feel the familiar rush of self-destruction. It takes us back to some of the most thrilling moments of our active addiction and we are riverboat gamblers once more, even if the moment is fleeting.

We are quick to react in a horrifyingly impulsive way and even quicker to lament the effects once we regain our senses. We have then sated a two-fold hunger: that of a quick and cheap thrill and the familiar buzz of self-pity. Now we’re really at home!

Then we look around and there’s actually real no home left. It is a classic case of sacrificing the permanent on the altar of the immediate (thanks, Rob Silvers). We have indeed stepped back to a place that feels like home only to be sickened by it.

Actively working a program of recovery is one of the only ways to minimize these occurrences, but we all must scream for our higher power when we feel the itch to run a few stoplights for giggles. It comes up for me every few weeks, and that is the surest sign I need to take myself to a meeting and be surrounded by other lunatics in order to regain my sanity.

What a long, strange trip it will always be. 

The problem is the problem

One thing I heard repeatedly from an early point in my stay in rehab was “Wherever you go, there you are.” It is yet another of the “Well, no crap” statements courtesy of twelve step programs, at least on the surface. I didn’t think much of it until I could grasp that my disease was a sickness of the mind and spirit and that the problem began and ended with me and hadn’t a thing to do with everyone else.

The saying is simple but effectively illustrates something many struggle to grasp: If you don’t change yourself and your way of thinking you will still be the same drunk or junkie halfway across the world that you are right here, right now. If you move to Japan to run away from your problem, it’ll be waiting to greet you as you exit the airplane and you’ll essentially become a drunken tourist on a destructive living spree. Everyone around you will become collateral damage until the tornado stops spinning.

You are an All-Star screw up playing an away game. The problem and the solution are both manifest in your mind and are not dependent upon your environment. You know how to make the worst of a great situation and consistently self-sabotage. It is very nearly engrained in your DNA.

We frequently default to treating symptoms or placing blame where it doesn’t belong. It is human nature to immediately point the finger everywhere else when things go wrong and all-too-often the real blame lies solely with us. Your geography won’t help heal your mind, heart or soul.  Deflecting blame or responsibility is something we’re all guilty of but we usually only point it out when someone else is doing it. Bear in mind that most times the things you hate about others are the very things you hate about yourself.

You have to recognize and admit your role in creating your own circumstances no matter where you are. Take ownership of your life and be responsible for what you do or fail to do. You cannot let circumstances dictate your outcomes, and quite often you have to practice the fine art of acceptance and be willing to play the hand you are dealt. Welcome to real life in the real world, a novel concept to a mentally teenaged substance abuser trapped in a fully grown-up body.

The problem is the problem, and that problem is you. The sooner you can recognize it and begin to work on it, the sooner you can be set free from its’ lock-tight grasp. By focusing on only an action at a time you can ship away at the walls. Break life down into manageable chunks, do the next right thing and surrender your reliance on your own diseased mind and you will be amazed at the results.

Choices

When we can begin to see that the happenings of this world are the result of the choices people make, we can also begin to understand that most of the things that happen in our life are the result of our own choices as well.  You cannot simply duck the responsibility that comes with making a choice by blaming your Higher Power or the fates, or even that all-encompassing concept of “life.” You can’t blame your misfortune on anyone or anything else when you can take a few steps back and realize that your circumstances are a direct result of your choices (and possibly your own poor judgment).

It is no one else’s fault that you chose to stay in an unhealthy or destructive relationship. You are responsible for staying too long at a soul-sucking job that takes more from you than the money you make can ever give back. You must own the fact that even in a drunken stupor you make decisions, good or bad.

Your choices almost always have an effect on others as well.  You must bear this in mind when you really care about the people with whom you have chosen to surround yourself. A few immediate examples come to my mind:

When I was 200I choose to ride down to Memphis with some fraternity brothers and was involved in a car wreck that forever changed the course and trajectory of my life.  Without fail in my active addiction I chose to drink when and where I wanted, and to use and abuse drugs as frequently as possible. Those selfish actions quite often had dire and heartbreaking effects on basically everyone around me.

My father chose to begin smoking again after quitting for ten or so years, and died of lung disease about two years later.  I have needed and wanted my father more hours in every day than I can ever express and he isn’t there. He was not on this Earth to see me clean up, never met my wife and will not be there for the birth of my children.

My sister made the conscious choice to not wear her seatbelt while driving into town from her house about 2 months ago, and as a result did not survive the car accident in which she was involved less than a mile from her house. I miss her in every moment of every day. She always had my back and was always there to provide tough and caring love when I needed it (whether or not I wanted it, but always to my benefit). I cannot begin to describe what effects her loss will have on her children, my mother or my brother-in-law.

No matter what, you have a choice to act every moment. You choose how to spend your day even when it seems that you have no choice at all. Some choices you make can have far-reaching enough effects that they dictate the framework for other choices for years or even your remaining lifetime. Your choices affect so many more people than you often want to admit to yourself. You must take responsibility for the choices you make. A life spent blaming everything bad that happens on everyone or thing around you is a wasted lifetime.

Stand up today and own your choices, good or bad. If you want to make a difference in your own life, start with that step and you will be amazed at what can follow. Life is all a series of choices. Care enough about yourself to choose wisely.