I didn't balk at my first residential alcoholism treatment at age 21. I feel like that was a mistake. My drinking was certainly a problem for a lot of folks around me, but for me, drinking was still the solution. I tried to stay sober for those whom I thought wanted me sober. On the plus side, I did learn a whole lot about alcoholism, and how to recover, during those early stabs at recovery. On the down side, I didn't find out why I wanted recovery for 3 decades.
So it's no great shock that I never learned to open up and trust others to guide me. It's no great shock that I never learned to trust myself. My motto was, "Lay low, and avoid doing anything to make anyone notice you're alive." I wanted the least amount of trouble out of this lifetime as possible.
I've recently acquired a new spiritual adviser. The funny thing is, a little part of me wonders whom I could ask for approval for my choice. Not too long ago, I would have cried that I still have vestiges of that person who couldn't make a move without someone else's approval. Today, for the most part, I'm a man who owns his own life - meaning I look inside for what I need and want, and take responsibility for my choices. Living like this is still relatively new to me, but it's a lot more satisfying than the way I used to live - afraid of my own shadow, and afraid that someone would disapprove of me and my choices. That's an awful way to live.
What brings all of this up right now is that I work with others who seek support in their recoveries from addiction and/or mental illness. I am trained to do this, and I have a wealth of experience. What I love about my job is that we follow SAMHSA's recovery guidelines, and one of the tenets is that recovery is person-driven - in other words, each individual gets to define what they want recovery to look like for them. In the long run, that's the only way it really works. But for many years, I tried to make a certain recovery program that wasn't a real good fit for me work for me. This program is great for those who are classic alcoholics, because it was created by two men who were classic alcoholics. There is nothing written in this particular program that says, "This is the only way to recover from alcoholism." The writer of the basic text was a recovery explorer himself; he also lived with depression, and, from reading his biography, I got the impression that he was never fully satisfied with his recovery, although he did stay sober through the rest of his life. However, the message I received from others working this program in my area was, "This is the only way to recover." And, because I hadn't yet accepted that I also live with a mental health condition, I tried to make this recovery program work - time and time again. It made me both angry and ashamed - I seemed to do more than a lot of folks to stay sober and to get a decent life, and it just didn't happen for me. I was only able to reinforce my belief that I was a loser at life.
I don't call people out, but nowadays when I hear someone say, "This is the only thing that works," I cringe inside. I've been to funerals of sober alcoholics who died by suicide. Can you imagine being so low, wondering why you're feeling this way sober, and knowing that you've failed at the 'only thing that works'? I can. I lived that.
Today, I let folks know that it's ok to live the way they want to live. Many of the people with whom I work live with shame of not living up to made-up standards - in other words, the rest of their family has degrees, and they don't, or they should have been married at 26 (I was married once at 26, and it was probably about 50 years too soon), or they're not making enough money, or their disability is such that they can't work full-time (which is another construct), or even at all. It's a shame, I think, that we've made boxes for people to fit in, and more of a shame that those of us who don't fit in these boxes are looked down upon. Even in recovery there are boxes. I believe today that we've been created to experience all the infinite possibilities of life, not to fit into a narrow definition of what a 'proper' life 'should' look like. Today I'm discovering who I am and learning to live who I am unashamedly.
So I share with the people I work with good evidence-based recovery tools; but I also encourage them to find out what works for them. Recovery is not meant to be, I believe, a one- size-fits-all orange jumpsuit; I believe it can be a finely tailored expression of all we are inside - beautiful, strong, courageous creations with a lot to offer to life.
I've been holding that in for a long time. It feels good to express it.
Namasté,
Ken
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