One Year

Today marks one year without using alcohol. I don't do well at celebrating sobriety anniversaries; I've had many one-year sobriety anniversaries, and, at this point in life, abstaining from alcohol is not the most challenging accomplishment for me today. To be honest, I celebrate my time away from alcohol for these reasons: it's the only quantifiable thing about my recovery, others in recovery seem to enjoy it, and it gives hope to newcomers in recovery.

After some contemplation this morning, I was able to wrap my head around the concept of noting a milestone in recovery, just like I noted the milestone of my 60th birthday a few months ago - something that probably would not have happened if I had not been in recovery. I use milestones when I bicycle. Some of the trails I use have mile markers, and when I meet them it's always nice to know that I have the strength and energy, skill, and good fortune to have made it another mile. I might stop and rest for a moment at a mile marker, drink some water, eat a banana, perhaps even take a picture. But I don't stay there too long - I'm back on the path pretty quickly, continuing my journey. And while the accomplishment of the last mile feels good, especially if it's been uphill, it's no guarantor that I'll be able to complete the next mile. It's one pedal at a time, and we'll see what happens.

For me, the real accomplishment of the past year is that I abstained from giving up. I didn't give up on life, on recovery - I didn't give up on myself. Oh, I had plenty of excuses - I'm too old, I'm too mentally ill, I'm too damaged, I'm too tired, I've suffered too many disappointments. But I gave it another shot, and if there's any nobility in that, then I'm noble. 

I am grateful that I don't have a much of a desire to drink or use again. Cravings for the substance are something that many people who are in their first attempt at recovery find troublesome. What I do share with those who are truly attempting recovery and new at it are feelings of guilt, shame, doom, and major lack of confidence in my ability to sustain recovery over the long haul.

So the major accomplishment of the past year is that I have said "yes!" to life and to the daily challenges of overcoming the self-destructive thinking that has plagued me and caused me and others so much suffering. And I finally surrendered to the fact that I cannot do this alone - that I must let others into my life, and not just at a surface level. I must be willing to let people I trust see me at my darkest and dirtiest - when I feel the worst about myself. It's a challenge to establish and foster connections with others in recovery, but it hasn't been as bad and scary as I thought it would be, and I am the better for it.

I think one of the major surprises from the past year, and one by which I am truly humbled, is that I am able to offer real hope and support to others desiring recovery. This discovery has been one of the things that has sustained me through the inevitable low points. My feelings of self-worth and self-esteem (which are essential to my recovery) are only gradually improving; yet there is a preponderance of evidence that says my experience, strength, & hope - in other words, my recovery and my life - are valuable to others. There is evidence that I am looked up to and respected in some parts of the recovery community, as well as in other places. So when it feels to me as if my life has no value, that I have no purpose on Earth aside from creating carbon dioxide, I am able to look at the evidence, and show up for life anyway until the feeling passes. I don't have to be perfect to be valued, maybe even loved, by other human beings. This is truly a new concept to me.

I would be remiss if I failed to mention how important mindfulness meditation is to my recovery. It's essential. The practice has given me a degree of separation between me and my thinking, which I've never really had before. This means that I no longer have to identify with what my head is telling me. I recognize that there is probably a different reality than is what is going on in my mind. In this way, I am able to take action to let go of thinking and feeling and moods which no longer serve my best interest. As I mentioned, this is a practice, so I'm not perfect at it, but I'm a far cry from where I used to be. I no longer feel compelled to create my own suffering.

Lastly, I must mention all of the angels I have in my life, both in person and on social media (which I have learned to use wisely and skillfully). All of you who are trying to live your best life, and share that with me, either actively or passively, are angels. I cannot doubt the goodness of the Universe which I see manifest every day in the people who cross my path, and I am most grateful. Thank you for being you!

So my heart is filled with gratitude today for the life I have today.

Thank you, and namasté,

Ken

 

Dark Gratitude

Netflix, in its infinite, Netflixian wisdom, decided to produce a series about Jeffrey Dahmer, the serial killer from Milwaukee. This has come to my attention only because some of my housemates have decided that this is fine viewing material. Every time it comes on, I wisely leave. This is the 30th anniversary of Dahmer's trial, and, unfortunately, I and thousands of other Milwaukeeans were treated to front row seats to that spectacle through the efforts of WISN radio. I do not remember how long the trial lasted - two weeks, I think - but I do remember listening to it on the radio every day at work. I was not drinking at the time, but I remember smoking 2 packs of cigarettes each day (more affordable back then, and we could smoke at work) and feeling absolutely miserable at the end of each day. Go figure! 

Fortunately, this post is not about that. This post is about the way I've been feeling and the way I've been dealing with my feelings on the eve of my latest 1 year sobriety anniversary. As you might have already surmised from reading between the lines, I'm not in a 'happy' spot. I am, however, in a good spot; well, at least a better spot than I was a year ago, and certainly in a wiser and more skillful spot.

It was somewhat surprising to me that the reappearance of Jeffrey Dahmer affected me as it has - it's brought up very unpleasant memories and feelings, and it's triggering effect and my revulsion to the Netflix series makes me wonder if I somehow traumatized myself 30 years ago by letting myself be privy to all of that crap on a daily basis for a few weeks. You see, I'm not the sharpest tool in my pappy's shed, but I do recognize today that over the years I allowed myself to get into and stay in situations that were not at all beneficial to my well-being.

This is one of the things that I'm grateful for, and I call it Dark Gratitude because it comes from a place of suffering. It's not the kind of gratitude I hear from my geriatric customers, who, when I ask how they are today, say, "I'm just grateful I woke up today!" or some such stuff that I have trouble wrapping my head around. It's not the kind of gratitude that ignores the true suffering that exists; Dark Gratitude is the kind of gratitude we get from experiencing deep suffering and coming through the other side. Those of us who have been there know why we're grateful today, and I'm grateful to be grateful today. It's a gift, but it's not one to be shared with your ordinary average citizen; it's to be shared with others who have 'been there'.

We had a really severe thunderstorm here today, with high winds, and lots of rain and hail. It was a bit scary, and I was grateful to be in a safe environment throughout. Part of my gratitude comes from having survived the extremes of nature when I did not have shelter. From that gratitude comes compassion for those who are currently feeling not so safe in their current environments, and there are many. I am grateful today that I can even think of others who may not be safe; there have been times when my focus was so narrow that all I could see or feel was my own discomfort.

Dark Gratitude, for me, is being able to see my current difficulties (which are all still internal), and not feeling overwhelmed any more. As I continue on my healing journey, I become more aware that my bright and healthy future is made from the stuff that I am letting go of today. It's still hard to let go of that which no longer serves me, such as expectations and clinging attachments, but the task is made easier by knowing that I am growing into a better version of myself by doing so. I'm also grateful that today I have a realistic vision of a better version of myself. That person did not exist until very recently.

Dark Gratitude is the sadness and fear I feel when someone close to me is struggling with their health. A person came into my life some years ago as a client of mine, and that person was struggling with all of the issues that come from being unable to quit drinking. That person has been in recovery since I've met them, and they are as fine an example of recovery as you'd ever want to see. But, like all of us at one time or another, this person is struggling with some health issues, and I feel sad. My Dark Gratitude is that I can actually feel for another person's struggles, and that I have this person in my life that I can feel for and care about. Dark Gratitude is bittersweet. And today I have a lot of gratitude for the really, really remarkable people who grace my consciousness and my life. I am so blessed. The dark, or maybe humble, part of this gratitude is knowing that every one of them is a gift that I do not deserve.

I can go on and on, and I'm grateful for that as well! One of the things about scratching the surface of gratitude is that I keep finding more and more to be grateful about. And as I write this, I think that perhaps what I call Dark Gratitude could also be called Realistic Gratitude, or Deep Gratitude, or even Radical Gratitude. But I'm going to leave the title as it is, because it reminds me that even when I feel dark, as I kind of do now, (but lighter than when I started), that I still have a lot for which to be grateful.

I am truly grateful for your reading this far. Please know that you are an important part of my life, and that my wish for you is that you experience safety and wellness and freedom from suffering.

Namasté,

Ken