Riding Uphill

If nothing else, what I have gained in nearly 3 years of recovery is a better perspective.

Some years ago, I trained for and rode in the MS 150, which is a 2 day 150 mile bike ride to benefit the Multiple Sclerosis Society. One of the things that I learned is that training for something physical is 90% mental. Part of training, as well as the ride itself, is hills. Now, on a perfectly flat surface, it's fairly easy, if one's muscles are used to it, to ride at a good clip for a long way. However, I don't live in Kansas, I live in Wisconsin; which means part of the ride is going to include some hills. Riding uphill is tough. It hurts. I did learn that riding as hard as I can to the top, where my chest hurts, I can hardly breathe, and I think I might have to call 911, is not the best way to train on hills. The best way, for me, is to not look too far ahead, gear down, and send conscious signals to my legs to pump, pump, pump. I don't enjoy hills. I do know that practicing on hills makes them easier to climb, but I still don't look forward to the challenge. They're tough, and I don't really feel like doing tough things. 

So why do it? Because it's part of riding, and overall I enjoy riding. That's just the way it is. Also, riding the hills gives me a sense of accomplishment, and it makes me stronger and healthier. Also, usually, once I get to the top of a hill, there is a downhill portion in which I can go fast and pedal lightly, or not pedal at all. The ride downhill is the reward for the ride uphill. Sometimes, after the top of a hill, there's a plateau and then another hill. Do I stop, get off my bike, sit down on the side of the road and cry? Sometimes I feel like it, but no, I don't. Somewhere down the line there's going to be the downhill coast, where I can go 25 mph (or faster) using only gravity. It's there. But I never would have found that if I had quit (like I felt like doing) on the uphill portion.

Often people on a spiritual path in recovery, like myself, find points in life where life seems so easy! It's wonderful! Everything's going my way! And then we come to a hill. Or maybe even something that seems like a brick wall. And we falter. Often, to someone who is new in recovery, this time of struggle can be a big enough letdown to cause that person to give up. But if one has the support of people who have been there, one may get enough courage to see the struggle through. Sometimes, if a person has God as their Higher Power, they might feel that God has abandoned them. Things were going so good! And then God just pulled the rug out! Wtf! If one doesn't at least believe there is a purpose to or a reason for the struggle, one can be inclined to give up. Or think they've lost their connection, or they're no longer spiritual, or they're not even in recovery because they're not feeling it. But the struggle is exactly like the hill on a bicycle ride, and if one shortens their vision to what is in front of them, and keeps moving one step at a time, that person finds their way to the other side, to the 'blessing'. And then they're feeling it again! Personally, I don't believe God hands out struggles. I think I have things to learn, that are mine to learn, on this journey. And I have come to the conclusion that I can learn them now, or learn them in the next lifetime. The next lifetime is unknown to me, so it's preferable (really the lesser of two evils right now) for me to learn in the here and now, where at least I have some idea of what's going on.

I went to a work function tonight. It was a really nice evening that turned out well. People enjoyed themselves, I was surrounded by a lot of really great people, many of whom are friends of mine, the food was good, awards were handed out, and it was as enjoyable as last year's function. And you know what? I wasn't feeling it. But, because of the experience I've gained in recovery, I didn't behave like I wasn't feeling it. Recovery teaches me to suit up and show up, almost without exception. I could show up and do my part well and not have to miss it or piss on anyone's parade because I wasn't feeling it. In the past, I would have taken the way I felt as a sign that I'm not really in recovery, I'm just a big fake, and I'm really a useless piece of shit that might as well not even be here. I don't have to take it that way anymore. Today I can recognize a symptom of my dis-ease - one of the symptoms of depression is not being able to get pleasure from pleasurable things. Anything that I would have done tonight to change the way I felt would have made things much much worse. Instead, what I've learned to do is to carry on - to continue that uphill ride, whether my body or my brain is telling me, "Give up! Stop! Lay your bike down, sit down, and cry!" Because my soul knows that after this hill, if there's not a downhill run, there's at least a plateau before the next hill.

We honored a lot of people tonight, and one of the awards we give is named for a person who died from his illness. His memory lives on. And, to be very honest, I considered whether it would be better for me to be a memory. My decision right now is that it would not; there are people in my life whose lives I touch in a positive way. There are living people who are genuinely appreciative of my presence. So even when I'm not feeling it, I know that my life - that I - make a positive difference on Earth today. 

And the way I felt, or have been feeling recently, is not indicative of the quality of my recovery. When first riding the bicycle, even the slightest uphill grade feels tough. After a few hills, we tackle bigger ones. I was out in Colorado once during some bike race, and these guys (and gals, too) were riding up and down this mountain. I can't even imagine! But I saw it, so it must be possible. 

Sometimes I wonder if my dis-ease it not so much battling or struggling through the lows as it is learning to get rid of the unrealistic idea that life should (there's that s-word, indicative of an unrealistic expectation) be easy. If someone else's life looks easy to me, it only means that I haven't bothered to investigate. In The Road Less Traveled,  M Scott Peck wrote, “Life is difficult. This is a great truth, one of the greatest truths. It is a great truth because once we truly see this truth, we transcend it. Once we truly know that life is difficult - once we truly understand and accept it - then life is no longer difficult. Because once it is accepted, the fact that life is difficult no longer matters.” 

So, no, the way I feel is not necessarily reflective of the quality of my recovery, the quality of my life. It can be an indicator that I need to change something, or it could just be an indicator that I'm going through a growth period right now, and the (temporarily) easy ride is just over the hill.

The truth of the matter is that it doesn't matter what I feel like; what matters is how I show up. And I showed up today, and I'm very grateful I did. My feelings, in this case, do not reflect reality. Reality is in what I do. And, to me, that's recovery.

Namasté, 

Ken

This Is Not A Post About Voting

It is a post about what mental illness feels like sometimes. And, in this case, just mental weirdness, because the thoughts and anxiety did not adversely effect my life, they just made me uncomfortable. But, discomfort is often the precursor of growth, I've found, so maybe I grew a little tonight.

I voted tonight. We had a primary election for state supreme court and municipal judgeship. Not a big deal, perhaps, but it was an ordeal for me! 

I don't know that I've ever voted twice in the same location. I've moved around quite a bit, I suppose. So, I'm in my new location, and I have to find the polling place. I did my research last night, and found it - about 300 feet from where I live. But, I'm anxious. I know I'll have to re-register, or change my address, and something about that - something about being examined - puts me on edge. 

So, I go to vote, and find out it's not my polling place. It 'should' be my polling place, I'm thinking, because it's only 300 feet from where I live! Already I'm anxious, and now I'm getting frustrated. 2 of the ladies there kept asking me my name and address, even after I'd already told them that they wouldn't find it in their books because I was nowhere near my last polling place and apparently nowhere near my current one. A third lady is very helpful, looking up my current address in the master book to help me find the correct polling place. Inside I'm twisting, but on the outside I'm very calm and appreciative. I thank the kind lady and let her know I appreciate her help. (The more frustrated I am, the better I thank people - doing the opposite of what I feel has become a pretty good habit).

I go the whole 300 feet home, and look on my computer to verify the information the nice lady at the polling place gave me. The first website I go to isn't working right, and the other site is lunky and doesn't seem to be user friendly (not this user, anyway, in that moment). I feel like giving up. Again, take a deep breath, and do the opposite. I want to text my landlady because she's a poll worker, and, seeing as she lives below me, she probably knows where I should go. But I don't. I drive to the location (maybe a whole mile away, as the crow flies) to vote.

I did have to re-register, and fill out the government form, and make sure my i's were dotted and t's crossed. Very fortunately, I was at ease again, because my landlady helped me fill out the form. Then things got a bit tense again, as I presented my ID to another lady, and signed the register and got my ballot. I finally voted, and had to ask which way the ballot goes into the machine. Fortunately, it goes in any which way. They know with whom they're dealing. So, that dreadful task is done, but I'm drained because of all of the energy spent on being anxious. But I got through it, and knew that I felt better than if I'd given up and not voted.

I am believing more and more today that every feeling of discomfort - emotional, mental, or physical, has something to tell me. Now, this isn't about getting through a mental health crisis. Nobody needed to be called; I wasn't a risk to myself or others (unless you think I voted for the wrong people). But I got the message that there is something within me that could use some examination (notice I didn't say there's something 'wrong' with me). Here are what I came up with as the possible causes for this little bit of anxiety:

• Fear of rejection, or worse, fear of getting laughed at or yelled at.
• The feeling that I still have that I'm always somehow 'wrong', and this was a brilliant opportunity to let someone point it out to me.
• Closely related, the feeling that I'm somehow 'illegitimate' because of the life I've lived. People like me who have been to prison and/or been homeless feel that way. (By the way, felons in Wisconsin can vote if they are discharged from parole, and I've been off of parole for about 15 years). Vagrancy isn't all that far behind me where I can feel comfortable with who I am doing what I'm doing 100% of the time.
• Hyper-concern for self, which is one of the symptoms of alcoholism, and I think goes hand-in-hand with most mental illness.

So what's a fellow to do? Please note here that I am speaking for myself; I no longer suffer a lot of symptoms, so when I do, it's noteworthy. Some people deal with this stuff day in and day out. But anxiety is anxiety, and if left untreated, leads to worse things, like depression and even return to substance use. 

I know what isn't best for me when I feel this way - it's not in my best interest to medicate the anxiety; it's not in my best interest to run from it; it's not in my best interest to wish I didn't have it and kick myself around for being 'less-than.'

What is best for me to do:

• As I mentioned above, treat it as an opportunity - an opportunity to learn from my mind and my body, and an opportunity to grow, and to gain experience (again, it's not about the voting!).
• Mediate (not medicate) the symptoms so I don't become overwhelmed. I do this by becoming aware, by breathing, and by asking myself "What would happen if...?" I imagine worst case scenarios. I imagine what might happen if I ran away, or if I used. I imagine what might happen if the nice ladies at the polling places laughed at me or yelled at me or treated me rudely. (Which reminds me of my experience in the call center, and I'll let you know that if you are a rude caller or otherwise strange, yes, we do talk about you with each other after the call is over).
• As I am facing or embracing whatever the situation is, try to imagine where the anxiety (the 4-syllable word for 'fear') is coming from.
• During this whole process, and this is very important, I refrain from beating myself up. It's not that I don't want to; that's been my habit for years and years and years. It's just that it does no good whatsoever. Nada. Nothing. Zilch. Again, look at it as a learning experience, an opportunity to connect with my Higher Power, and an opportunity to get stronger and wiser. My thoughts aren't wrong; they're just thoughts. My feelings aren't wrong to have; they're just feelings. It's what I do with them, and today my actions were in-line. If I didn't write and publish this tonight, nobody in the world would know I went through this. It's not a big deal. 
• I congratulate myself for making it through (and in other situations, I've forgiven myself for avoiding), and I thank my Higher Power for the strength and courage to go through it. Then I thank It for the wisdom which will surely come from this experience.

Very few people who live with a mental health condition are mentally ill 100% of the time. We have moments of lucidity. We have moments where we can see clearly what to do. I believe when I have these moments, it is best for me to seize them and use them for all it's worth. Yes, it's very important to vote. For me, however, it's vitally more important that I get over those things within me that would keep me from being of maximum service to the Universe and to my fellow human beings. I get these opportunities all of the time. I've had these opportunities all of my life, but I used to put all of my energies into covering them up or evading them. Today, my good emotional, mental, physical, and spiritual health depends upon me facing and embracing what is mine to face and embrace, and I am extremely grateful for the courage, strength, and willingness to do just that.

Namasté,

Ken