No, sorry, this isn't a post about aliens. Or, maybe it is! Most of us who have lived experience with addiction and/or a mental health condition(s) have felt alien. It's quite common for the person going through suffering to say, either aloud or to themselves, "Nobody understands!" Fortunately, this isn't the whole truth; however, the feeling can be so strong, even in recovery, that it seems to be a part of the dis-ease process.
I was at an alcoholism recovery meeting recently, and I began to experience this feeling. Part of the feeling comes from my tendency to look at the differences between me and others rather than the similarities. Part of it can come as a symptom of my dis-ease. And part of it can come from the fact that I have what is known as a dual diagnosis, or co-occurring, disorders. There are some in addiction recovery that have only to deal with the dis-ease of addiction. For most of those, the recovery program in a mutual aid support group works, if the person works it. For some who do have co-occurring disorders, an addiction recovery program works as well. Then for some others, me included, we seem to need more than just an addiction recovery program. It is not the fault of the recovery program; it is simply that people experiencing co-occurring conditions sometimes need more, such as therapy and possibly medication.
When I began to feel this way at the meeting - alienated, unique, alone, disconnected - I probably didn't do the best thing, which might have been to stick around afterwards and talk with someone; however, I didn't buy into the way I felt. I began to look for the similarities between me and the speakers; I began to come up with alternatives to my thinking; I began to see the ways in which I am unique, noting that most of them, if not all, are good. They're who I am. And, as I was leaving the meeting, alone, I noted to myself that it's ok for me to be alone from time to time, so long as I'm in a place where I can stand myself.
As I mentioned above, it's important for me to identify how my depression shows up. I've lived with it for so long that it's been a real challenge to differentiate between what is me and what is my dis-ease. I've felt alone and different-from most of my life, and most of my life I thought it was because I was defective and less than everyone else. Today I understand this feeling of being alone in the universe as a symptom of my dis-ease. When the symptom is part of me, like an arm or a leg is a part of me, it's very hard to do anything about it; however, when I view the symptom as a symptom, I am able to do something about it. As a symptom, I can talk about it with others; I can spend time with others, either in person, or on the phone, or even on social media, if I'm hooked up with the right groups (it's helpful to be with like-minded people, such as others in recovery from mental unwellness or addiction); I can pray; I can think about alternatives to my thinking. So there's a lot that I can do about this particular symptom - I don't have to stay in my aloneness for long. Another thing I can do is play with other people's pets (with their permission and because I don't have pets of my own) - pets, especially dogs, love being with me and don't judge me. The drawback is I can't take dogs to work with me or to recovery meetings.
Spiritually, we are never alone. Our Creator is omnipresent, which means that I am always connected to It, as It is connected to me. And the kicker is that if I am made from my Creator, and my Creator is in me and all of Creation, then I am connected to all of Creation, including you! So the feeling of being apart from or alone is really an illusion, or even a delusion. It's a lie. Sometimes in meditation I can feel this connection; sometimes in consciousness I recognize it. I'm working toward knowing my Connection more.
And speaking of connection, I read in one recovery resource that, as an alcoholic, one of my primary problems has been the failure to connect on a real level with another human being. Recent studies have also pointed to the idea that the opposite of addiction is connection - connection with our family and friends, connection with all of humankind. So working toward knowing this connection in my heart, and not just in my head, moves me toward recovery and healing. In recovery meetings we have the opportunity to work on this connection, and as the health of our relationships grow, our spiritual and mental health grows (probably our physical health, too). We weren't put here to live this life alone and on our own.
So I am grateful I'm on this path, even though sometimes it feels like too much to deal with. One footstep at a time I move deeper in recovery and closer to truly knowing my connection with everything.
Namasté,
Ken
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