Service In and Out of The Rooms

One of the hallmark traits of the addict alcoholic is self-centeredness, although perhaps it's also a hallmark of being a human being in 2017. We have a startling capacity to place ourselves at the center of everything, including but not limited to the universe.

You've had a bad day? Sorry about that. Let me tell you about MINE.

Traffic jam because someone got in a wreck? That bastard must've known I was running late and decided to screw with my life.

Favorite team lost? I shouldn't have worn that hat yesterday!!

Child labor crisis overseas? Those tyrants must know I love kids!

Bad weather? God must be getting back at me for not taking advantage of the sunshine yesterday.

It's all about me - every wrinkle in the fabric of any story is a reaction to something I did or failed to do. It's all a wave created by a ripple that only started with the splash I made in the pond.

This type of thinking is central to many (if not most) of our unhealthy behaviors and justifications in both our active addiction and our recovery. One of the most readily available treatments for this diseased thinking is service- to "get outside of ourselves" by serving others in some way. Service involves sacrifice of some kind, which isn't genuinely doable if we are fixated on ourselves, out problems and our self-pity.

Service is seldom, if ever, convenient. It wouldn't be wrong to say that by its very nature it is inconvenient. Healthy recovery demands of us that we be willing to inconvenience ourselves for the sake of being of service to others. It may not be expressly stated anywhere, but it is certainly implied and there are mounds of empirical evidence that it is a most effective way to align your perspective.

A life spent focused on yourself and your own desires is pretty common - that's the way of the world today.

A life dedicated to the service of others is both rare and remarkable. No one is arguing that in any case a person would need to go that far to be effective. Being mindful of opportunities to be of service and then acting appropriately when they arise is a reasonable prescription for the sickness of selfishness and self-centeredness, however. It's nearly (but not entirely) impossible to feel sorry for yourself while you're truly being of service to others.

Alcoholic addicts need to take the real medicine of service for our disease. It goes hand-in-hand with talking with other alcoholics and/or addicts, doing a regular inventory of ourselves and humbly accepting that we don't have all the answers and shouldn't attempt to control things we cannot possibly control.

Take your medicine, whether it's currently the cure or the preventative measure.  It may just save your life today.

Shame

Shame is powerful. It's often overwhelmingly so. As with many other things in this life, you have to get to it and go through it to get past it- there's no ducking it or taking any real detour around it.

Shame was a consistent companion in my active addiction and it's never all that far away today if I choose to be honest with myself. It is waiting patiently to be reintroduced to me and it will always hope to once again be in my inner circle, along with anger and self-pity. Shame says I'm not good enough and never can be; it swears to me that I'll never really stop being the person I was and that everyone who says they love me now only does so with reservation because of an inescapable history.

When I was stuck in guilt and shame about how I was living and how I treated others, I was spiritually crippled and lacked the ability to see a clear way out. I would feel the weight of this shame in the center of my being; it was as if a mass of dense liquid metal was in the center of my stomach and it was as though that mass was pulling the rest of me into it like a black hole. It was a helpless and hopelessly lonely feeling.

I ran away from it, raged against it and punished myself for it. I loathed the "man" I was and in spite of passing happiness, that shame would be back 'round again just as soon as I wasn't drinking or high. It often loved to pop by for a visit when I was at my drunkest and it was in those times that I would try to crush it by crushing myself. It wore the masks of anger and despair more adeptly than I'd have believed, but it was truly shame that was coursing underneath it all.

As I began to walk towards real sobriety, my shame was front-and-center and I knew the only way I could be out from under the weight of it was to deal with it head-on. I had to look shame right in the eye and not back down. The way through it was to own it and to share about my past openly and honestly, with no expectation. I don't get to control the way that people react to my story, but I do control my willingness to be honest in sharing it. I pull no punches and I gloss over nothing.

At times, I know I probably overshare. The fact is that it catches people off guard and sometimes makes them uncomfortable- the fact that a person may be so open and candid about their failures isn't something they anticipate. We are in a world of sugar-coating speech and carefully manicured online identities- just the sort of struggle screening that can incubate shame of unparalleled breadth and power.

The fact is, I don't share for anyone else which seems admittedly counter-intuitive. I share my story so freely because every time I do, I am putting a spotlight on shame in which it cannot abide. I am no longer a slave to my shame and I refuse to kowtow to it and again become the person it would have me be. I cannot and will not go back to being that human- the version of myself that shrinks from everything instead of expanding in proportion to the challenge. I choose to live out from under the oppression of that old companion.

I've found that shame is a lie I tell myself, and I choose to be rigorously honest with me today. I hope anyone reading may be able to say the same thing, because honesty begins and ends right between your own two ears.

Carrying the Message

I've thought about my worldly legacy from a much younger age than would be considered normal. Even as a small boy, I was convinced that I would do something that really mattered- that was much larger than a lifetime could contain. In those early years, I used to think it would be sports, (believe it or not) and later that changed to singing, (seriously) or the law or government or almost anything- anything that would make me bigger than my hometown, my age, my past or my damage.

One of the things I have found to be critical to my recovery is being willing to carry the message to others- to share what I've learned and how I've grown with folks who may just need to hear it. I've been through a fair amount of junk, and I know that if I don't use that as a vehicle for helping others than it was all for nothing. The pain I felt and the pain I caused would just leave scars with a story, but lacking value.

I take every chance I get these days to help - to share my story of to live my life in a way that leverages those lessons into  opportunities. One of the many unfortunate side-effects of an addictive personality is that almost nothing good is ever enough. Used for good, this insatiability is powerful and driving and uncompromising; however, when it manifests in an unhealthy way, it swallows me in the shadowy aspects of all those adjectives. Enough is never good enough and too much is a myth as I struggle forward unrelentingly into the chasm of impossibility of "satisfaction." I am haunted by a dream of a life that just isn't large enough to matter.

The idea on which I have focus is the fact that one task well done is worth ten half-measures (I know if you look at that mathematically it's not accurate, but the math is never quite the same when applied to matters of the spirit). If I truly give myself completely to dancing in the moment when the moment arrives, I am carrying much of my message out into the world. The message isn't just delivered when I'm speaking to a friend, to a group or to a crowd- it's delivered when I am rigorously honest. It's delivered every time someone knows they can count on me. It's delivered every single time I do the right thing; every time I hold a door open for another or smile at a stranger I am giving freely of what I have been given. I carry the message by living rightly and by living rightly I am creating my legacy.

For me, sobriety is the best of life, coupled with the strength to get through the worst and the perspective to know the difference. Today. Every day.

The Might of (Doing the Next) Right (Thing)

When I was in my active addiction, I wasn't terribly worried about doing the right thing.

Without fail I knew what the right thing to do was in a given situation, but in nearly every instance I didn't care whether or not it was what I did. I definitely didn't always do the wrong thing, but I didn't place much importance on doing the right thing - it simply didn't matter enough, and my alleged "values" would warp in an instant if ignoring some of them meant I could get what I wanted. I had a finely tuned sense of right and wrong, but doing the wrong thing only bothered me if I had nothing to gain from it. Doing the wrong thing became fully acceptable if it got me what I wanted.

This manipulation of reality happened as I justified any and every action so I would be okay with doing what it took to become satisfied. I wasn't acting in a way that used my "values" as a guide - I was quite often acting in opposition to them. That created all the more turmoil within me, because the guy who down deep inside I longed to be was so different from the jerk that I was. I had my moments of goodness, to be sure, but they were as few as they were fleeting (and I made sure you knew about all of them) and it was juuuuuuust enough to keep me from being thought a total degenerate.

Upon entering into a life of sobriety, I looked for ways to heal my heart and soul and quiet the guilt and shame that had consumed me for years. The first part of this was a moral and spiritual housecleaning, but the process couldn't stop there because that only addressed the past. My progress would be halted quickly if I didn't move forward in a way that didn't set me up for failure and an emotional "guilt and shame relapse." I had to figure out how to do this, because setting an impossibly high standard of personal behavior would be just as self-defeating as not trying at all.

It was important that I set myself up for battles that were big enough to matter, yet small enough to have a very good chance to win. I started by breaking down this big-picture effort into smaller and more manageable chunks based on some advice from my counselor in rehab: I decided to just work on doing the next right thing whenever the opportunity arose. It seemed simple enough that I felt good about my chances of being successful; our lives are at their most basic made up of a series of choices we make every day, with some being of little consequence and some being of grave importance. The thought of being "perfect" forever was even more overwhelming than the idea of never drinking or getting high again, and if the one day at a time mantra eased my mind about the booze and drugs, I figured the one choice at a time philosophy could do the same regarding my daily life.

So far, it has made all the difference. Life seems manageable when I do the right things. If I do the wrong thing, I have to admit it, own it and set about making it right as soon as possible. This keeps my conscience clear and the twin terrors of guilt and shame at bay, thus increasing my chances of staying clean and sober exponentially. 

There is immense power in doing the right thing, and when you make life as simple as it can be (when faced with a choice, choose to do the right thing as determined by your values) it really is as simple as it should be.

And amazing. 

It's every bit as amazing as it should be as well. 

Seven Years

Seven years ago today, I was broken. I was neither willing nor able to think about conquering anything. I was unwilling to face myself, the man I had become and the life I had thrown together for myself.

I was ashamed.

I was beaten and weak.

Seven years ago today I stopped drinking just so I could eat something. Seven years ago, I didn't know I was planting my flag - I was just trying to stop shaking.

I was in utter disbelief about my predicament. I couldn't lie my way out of it and there was no talking myself into feeling positive about my direction because I didn't have one. I knew something had to change but had not yet landed on what that should be. I wasn't ready to admit any wrongdoing and I wasn't willing to accept that I was the root of my problems.

I wasn't taking a stand. I was cowering beneath the weight of my situation,

I wasn't righting the ship. My ship had no rudder, no sails and no anchor.

I wasn't walking the path. I was just trying to make it - anywhere that wasn't there, where I really was.

I wasn't empowered. I was powerless. Over alcohol. Over drugs. Over my self-pity and my self-loathing.

Before I could gain a sense of self-worth I had to let go of who I had been; that version of myself was no longer who I wanted to be. I had been driven by fear, guilt, shame and dissatisfaction. Dis-ease. Along the way, something began to change. Something clicked and I knew I had found something worth keeping and a version of myself worth being. It was a gradual shift and sometimes that pace was excruciating, but at least I was moving forward.

The man I am today is the sum total of my experiences and I wouldn't change any of them. I am worthy of happiness, love and peace. I've found that in my weakness, I've gained strength and in my pain I have found healing. In the discord I've found harmony and the dissonance has shown me resonance. This journey hasn't been easy and I have no expectation that it will become so. It has, however, been worth every second.

My story - the good, the bad and the ugly - isn't so much a weapon that I brandish as a drink of water that I can offer a weary traveler. My pain showed me my purpose. My struggle is my gift to the world and the path forward is my gift to myself, my loved ones and my future.

Seven years later, I still only have today. Seven years later, every moment of every today is worth living to the fullest.

Perception? Reality.

As humans, there are very few things which are actually in our control. This doesn't mean that we are cursed to drift through life as mere victims of circumstance. On the contrary, we do control the one thing on Earth that can change our circumstances: our outlook. Our attitude and the resultant perception with which we view things is firmly within our control and doesn't exist outside of our mind.

We think how we choose to think, (with the exception of people operating with serious mental or emotional illness) which causes us to live life as we view it through the lens of our perception. This can be an amazing catalyst for good things and it can also be a stifling trap composed of limiting beliefs. With some obvious exceptions, we are often just as free as we choose to be.

For the addict this can also mean that as our perceptions shifts, we shift into different mental obsessions. For me, this often translates into obsessively expecting the very worst to happen in a given situation - my default is to expect that and if I am not careful I will rapidly make myself and everyone around me miserable as a result. I almost without fail choose to immediately view myself in the worst possible light and as the lowest common denominator that ties together my reality. I then have to make the conscious choice to shift out of this perception of myself into the truth, which is that I am complete- worthy of good things and capable of being a light in this world. There is beauty within me that I can accept when I choose to witness it.

My perception is the color of the lens through which I choose to view the world. If I choose, I will see darkness, hatred, indifference and a place not worthy of redeeming. I can choose to see a million fake Facebook & Twitter crusaders who take no real action elsewhere and a billion more live bodies whose actions only perpetuate the horrors of hatred, ignorance and violence. The sad truth is that I often do only see the world this way and with this view comes soul-crushing hopelessness. There isn't much I can understand and almost nothing I can bring myself to love.

I can also choose to see the world for what it can be if people can become enlightened to the beauty and the power within themselves. I can choose to see the wonderfully generous spirits taking unnoticed actions every day to bring love to their fellows. I can see the world and all the souls within it as possessing brilliant and beautiful light and radiating it to all those who are willing to embrace it. I can see a world worth believing in and a world that is worthy of being loved. I can choose to see the best (or the worst) parts of myself in the world around me. I find that my reality is most often a reflection of my self-perception; if I can change the way in which I see myself, I can change the way I perceive the world around me.

Your perception is yours. How will you choose to shape it, and consequently shape your world, today? 

Why Not Now?

Change comes in life irrespective of your levels of preparation or desire for it - a matter of "when," not "if." It is often scary, typically difficult and frequently represents a serious mental mountain to be climbed. It is natural to make more of it than it actually is and it can be an even bigger misstep to underestimate the totality of it.

The inevitability of change also represents your typical lack of control over it, as most folks find comfort in routine and the familiar spaces of consciousness. That it will happen cannot be denied, but the way in which we respond to it is a reflection of our resilience and strength of spirit.

At times, it happens when you seek it. I submit to you that it nearly always happens when you need it, although you can't typically see that when it has arrived unexpectedly. That kind of change is a call to action and an undeniable motivator.

Self-authored change is the focus of this post, entitled with a question that's worth asking frequently:

Why Not Now?

That question is perhaps best accompanied by a series of follow-ups including (but not limited to) the following: How might it serve you to wait? How might it serve you to proceed as soon as possible? What will it cost, and what might you gain? Why have you waited? Why would you move forward with the change? And, the bottom line: Is the pain of changing greater than the pain you'll experience by staying the same?

Too often in this life, we wait to act until circumstances force our hand when we could author our own change if we're willing to see in an honest way how life is unfolding all around us.

For the addict, it seems that everyone around us can see our lives crumbling (sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly) yet we refuse to admit that truth until destruction is imminent or has arrived to visit its wrath upon us. We have to suffer the consequences before we can admit to ourselves that something's gotta give.

What if, by honesty, open-mindedness, willingness and courage we could set our own rock bottom? I believe wholeheartedly that we can do just that, as long as we are willing to humble ourselves enough to admit that our way isn't working - as addicts, our own best plans most often aren't in our best interests. Why test the limits of our resolve unnecessarily when in this case it is a life-or-death proposition?

I freely admit that it's pretty easy to look back from this side of the bottle and think of how obvious it was that for me, something had to change. It wasn't so clear at the time and some other things that happened prior to what is thus far the climactic event in my drinking and drugging could've or perhaps should've been the thing that catalyzed my sobriety. All that to say that what could be your bottom if you chose it won't really present itself as such in the moment. The insanity of the disease of addiction will speak as an internal voice saying that it isn't that bad and that you're still in control.

The final truth is that it will get just as bad as you're willing to allow. It will lower you into places you don't want to imagine and your descent won't stop until you take a stand or die. This disease only plays out in a few ways- you either change or you end. You either find and utilize the cure or it consumes you and you perish. Make the choice.