The Value of Hanging In There (Pain Part III)

Recently an acquaintance voiced their frustration about not being able to find a suitable job. My response, which I don't think was taken very well, was, 'Hang in there.' I think it wasn't taken well because it was viewed as a platitude rather than a piece of good advice.

I didn't have a lot of time or space to give the full 'Hang in there' story, so I'll do it here. 

Perhaps one of the best pieces of advice I've received about early recovery is this - early recovery can really suck (situation-wise), but if you hang in there, it will get better. If you don't, it won't.

So here's my early recovery story (which is in other places in this blog, too, at least in bits and pieces):

When I began recovery I was homeless, jobless, penniless, and owed lots of people money. This is not, by far, a unique situation; however, it still sucks. So I'm staying at the Salvation Army. The Salvation Army in Waukesha is one of the best shelters I've ever been in, and I've been in quite a few. But it's still a shelter. After a couple of months, I landed a part-time, low paying job at a non-profit second-hand merchandise retailer. I know that a job is a job and having one will often lead a person to better things. During this time, the head counselor at Genesis House, from which I had graduated 2 years previous, invited me to stay there for 1 month. It was a better place than the shelter, and I ended up staying there 6 weeks. I then found a room in a rooming house. I had been inside it once before - I'd helped a friend move into it - and I said I'd never live there. Oh well. The place was dingy and dirty and looked like it should burn down at any minute. It was filled with addicts and alcoholics and people on disability. But it was a place to stay. Before I moved into the rooming house a friend suggested I apply at his place of employment, and I did. I got the job, a full-time job at a little better pay, after I moved into the rooming house. Now, the rooming house was cheap, so I endeavored to pay back the people to whom I owed money. I got most of them, but it took a while. And during this time, I rode the bus or bicycled to work (I actually walked twice), and I got rides to recovery meetings. I lived in that rooming house for about 1-1/2 years. Then I moved to another rooming house, one that was a little bit nicer. During this time, I began working part-time at Genesis House (after I had 1 year of sobriety) and I began volunteering and eventually working part-time at NAMI, my current full-time employer. I began working full-time at NAMI 19 months into my recovery. After another two months, I was able to purchase a used car. One of the things I had to do in order to secure a decent place to live was to satisfy an eviction judgement from 3 years prior, for about $1400. I did that at about 18 months into recovery, I think. 3 months ago, I moved into my own 2 bedroom apartment with a year lease. That was after 26 months of recovery.

This is what I mean by hanging in there. At any time I could have given up. I could have said, "This is bullshit," or "F#%k this shit," or whatever we say when we think we're not getting a fair shake from life, and gone backwards into active drinking again. But I didn't. I did the "two steps forward, one back" dance for over two years. And it wasn't always fun and was rarely comfortable. But it was never as bad as the pain from which I came.

And along the way I gained self-esteem, I built character and integrity, and I paid back lots of people. These things cannot be taken from me. They're part of who I am today. 

So, when someone laments that their job sucks or their living situation sucks, and I say "Hang in there," this is what I mean. 

Namaste,

Ken