Keeping My Chin Up (I'm Still Here)

Since my last post, I've stayed sober (and relatively sane), let my Certified Peer Specialist certification lapse, gotten a job in a plastics factory as an inspector, re-connected with my therapist and begun work on discovering those subconscious tidbits that continually trip me up, successfully completed treatment, and moved into sober living.  Other than that, it's been kind of slow.

Today I'm going to write about what's foremost in my mind, which isn't (at this point, anyway) a happy topic. I like to put things nicely, but I don't know how in this instance - so, here it is: there has been a lot of relapse and death around me lately.  First, my roommate from the halfway house moved into sober living - we were going to be roommates there as well - and he relapsed in a big way about the time I was moving into sober living. He's not doing well. Some other people with whom I shared the treatment journey have relapsed as well. Two people I know in recovery have passed recently. I also found out one of my cousins' sons passed away two years ago at age 25. I didn't know him, but it's one of those things that makes me wonder and makes me sad. And I found out today from the person with whom I've been riding to work that their oldest child died some years ago from a heroin overdose. And then today at work, the person I was working with today told me that his sister passed away 2 weeks ago, and my coworker is now raising their niece and nephew, and they found out today that a friend of theirs died by suicide two days ago.

It's sad. I feel sad about all the suffering going on. I also feel a bit dismayed - what the heck is going on? There have been a lot of deaths this past year by suicide and relapse. When I was still sick, in my active addiction and depression, I used this as an excuse to not get better. I was giving up. Now I recognize it as a part of the territory I'm in - I know a lot of people in recovery from addiction and a fair number of people living with mental health conditions. What's happening now is, unfortunately, not all that unusual; I'm simply acutely aware of it right now, 'it' being people suffering and sometimes dying.

My response today was to get a little down in the dumps about it all. Writing about it helps; talking to the right person about it would help, too, except that I don't have phone service again until the day after tomorrow and it's a bit difficult to get hold of the person with whom I'd like to talk. But whatever. My overall response is one of gratitude. I look at each individual that has relapsed and each individual that has passed away and say, "That could have been me." My gratitude is that I am still here to enjoy this life and contribute what I can. 

And then I focus on the living. I've been told, and I believe, that 'Why?' isn't a spiritual question - that when I ask 'Why?', I'm not looking for a reason, I'm looking for an argument. I can't do anything for those that have passed on. I can do little for those who have relapsed until they become ready again to get back into recovery. I can do a lot for the survivors.

I listen, and, when warranted, I share my experience. No, I can't bring your loved one back to life, nor can I make anyone recover. But I can listen and let you share your sadness, hurt, grief, and dismay with me. I can make myself available so your pain might ease for just a bit. I don't like the subjects of grief and loss and relapse anymore than most people; but I am equipped to walk with someone a little bit so that they aren't completely alone in their suffering. I can even give a little hope around the possibility that things will get better, because I've been where their loved one has been and I'm getting better. Recovery is possible so long as we're still breathing.

One thing I know today and pretty much accept is that I can't feel the joy of life if I avoid the suffering. I don't like that fact, but it seems to be true, so I work on accepting it. This means when suffering comes from my own thoughts and actions, I endeavor to embrace it, so I can learn from it and let it go. If I try to escape or avoid it, it just comes at me from a different route. Today I'd rather face stuff head-on. And I don't attempt to avoid the real suffering of others either. I figure that if it comes to me, it must be mine to deal with in some way, through listening, sharing, and prayer. 

Through it all, I'm still here, and I'm in a good place - I'm sane and sober, I've got everything I need materially today, and I have purpose. I can't tell you what next week will look like, but I can say that if I continue to do what's mine in front of me to do, I'll still be doing well.  And I'm grateful today for the journey.

By the way, thank you to Anonymous for the comment on my last post - I really appreciate it! And if anyone else feels like commenting, please do so.

Namasté,

Ken

Progress, not Perfection

I have recently been experiencing the turbulence of change. For me, change usually shows up, or begins with, an inner discontent. I've written before that I'm not a person who is easily satisfied, and this is a trait I've only recently identified as something I like about myself. What it means for me is that I continue to seek a more satisfactory experience of life. What it also means is that I'll never find it. I'll never get to the point where everything is perfect, at least for more than a moment. 

Last year around this time I posted a Happy New Year post because my birthday is in July, and it makes sense to me to mark the years as they began for me. I read that post today, and noted that there were 4 things I'd like to work on in the coming year:

• Treating my body more respectfully and lovingly by consistently eating healthier and continuing to gain physical strength;
• Continuing to treat my mind better by becoming more choosy with the thoughts I allow to reside there;
• Continuing to grow in the self-discipline area, with emphasis on vocational training and fiscal responsibility;
• Continuing to release fear and become more open to giving and receiving love from my fellow human beings.

So I read those things, and realized that those are still the things I'd like to work on (with possibly the exception of formal vocational training - not interested right now). These are all areas in which I've made progress, but there's more progress to be made.

Up until now, I've had a tendency to compare the way I do things today with the way I used to do things. This has been a good way for me to begin to trust that I really am on a good path, and I really am in recovery. 

Life really does seem to operate on a spiral - I come around to the meet the same basic lessons, yet they're given in different situations often with different people, and, most importantly, they're deeper. Each time I come around to something, I receive a deeper experience of self and the Universe and of my relationship with life. You really can't buy the kind of education I'm getting (which may be why I'm not much interested in any kind of vocational training a local institution can provide right now). 

But anyway, getting back to comparing today to one year or five years ago, or whatever - I think I'm getting past that. I think that for perhaps the first time in this lifetime, I am beginning to feel secure that I exist - that I am a part of life, a part of the Universe, and that I have value and purpose. My life has value and purpose. Trust me, for the longest time that was something I could not claim. I think today I can, without qualifiers - in other words, I know I have value whether or not I currently have a job, a home, a friend, some money in my wallet, whatever. That's actually a pretty neat feeling. It means this: because I have value, whatever I'm doing or experiencing has value as well. 

I've expressed it before in writing, and I think I'm beginning to express it now in living - I'm experiencing what it's like to live life from the inside out - to be living my purpose, and through living it discovering more and more of who I am. Life for life's sake. 

So, back to the title of this post - my motivation for living has changed from trying to find the perfect formula for everything to endeavoring to be, day by day, moment by moment, a more honest and real version of Ken. And the really neat thing for me is that today, that's enough. And I'm more happy to be me than I've ever been before, and that's a miracle.

Namasté,

Ken

How Long or How Many?

Something that bothers me from time to time is the habit of measuring sobriety or abstinence by time. Very often one hears, "I've got 90 days!" or "I've got a year!" I know people in recovery that haven't had a drink or a mood altering drug in over 40 years. Length of abstinence is important - it shows others that recovery is possible, and it shows a certain amount of character. 

I mentioned that I know people who have managed to remain abstinent for decades. A few of those people I would not want to be with in the same room - they're toxic. Length of sobriety is not the same as quality of sobriety (or quality of life); however, up until now, because I've never been able to string more than a couple of years of abstinence together, I haven't had much to say about it. I do now, because I understand recovery is about learning to live from the inside out.

Length of sobriety is important to people just starting out, and important to all the other people in the alcoholic's/addict's life. Length of sobriety is important to one's parole officer, boss, domestic partner, family, and any non-alcoholic/addict with whom I share my sobriety. But because the time away from mood-altering drugs is only a very small factor in how I'm really doing, it's not important to me.

Here is a short list of some things I ask myself about my recovery, and the questions, rather than starting with "How long," begin with "How many."

• How many opportunities have I taken to share my story with someone else contemplating sobriety?
• How many times have I admitted I was wrong?
• How many times have I told the truth when what I really wanted to do was cover up my actions or my embarrassment?
• How many times have I attended support groups to share recovery with others?
• How many times have I said, "I don't know," when I didn't know?
• How many times have I picked up someone else's litter without complaint?
• How many times have I done the right thing, even though it was harder and more scary than doing what first came to mind?
• How many times have I wanted to give up, but instead called someone, or prayed, or simply persevered?
• How many times have I set aside my wants to be of service?
• How many times have I paid an obligation before buying something I wanted?
• How many times have I taken constructive criticism without becoming angry or resentful?
• How many jobs have I had since I got sober? How many girlfriends/boyfriends? Cars? Apartments or rooms?
• How many times have I dared to travel the road less traveled?
• How many times have I spoken up about something important, even though it might make me unpopular?
• How many times did I do what my mentors suggested, even though I didn't believe it would work?
• How many times did I seek out people rather than isolate?
• How many times have I given someone the benefit of the doubt when I thought they had wronged me?
• How many times have I prayed for people I really can't stand?
• How many times have I attempted to make an honest connection with another human being?

And the list can actually go on and on and on. 

How long has it been since I had a drink of alcohol? 33 months and a couple of days, which is the longest stream of continuous sobriety I've experienced. That's great, wonderful, but the really miraculous part of that time is how many of those 'how many' questions I can answer positively. 

I've already gotten through all of the hard days in my life, and I've survived! So the hardest day of my sobriety, and the only one that matters to me, is today. If I apply what I've learned along this journey, it'll be a great day. If I don't, and just stay home and do nothing, who knows?

Namasté, 

Ken

Are We There Yet?

I recently surpassed 30 months of recovery. It wasn't a milestone that I was looking for; I happened to be in a recovery meeting and simply counted how many months I've been in recovery, and I was surprised - 30 months seems like a long time to me! And, in truth, it is the longest that I've ever been in this kind of recovery. 30 months is a long time, if taken a month at a time. Taken day by day, or even moment by moment, it goes by relatively quickly.

I've heard that recovery/sobriety is a journey, not a destination. It's a neat concept to think about, and perhaps a comforting thought if I'm not where I want to be after 30 days, or 6 months, or 2 years. But what does it really mean? What does it feel like to be on this journey with no visible or even conceptual end? If there isn't a pinnacle, or a finish line, then what is there?

I was chatting with my supervisor the other day (the same one who called me an overachiever for oversleeping), and I happened to mention that what my aim is in recovery is to die from something besides alcoholism or suicide. That's not really the aim of recovery, but a 'successful' recovery from alcoholism/depression ends with a heart attack, or a car accident, or maybe a jealous ex-boyfriend - who knows? So we pretty much know what the destination of this plane of existence is - the transition from this physical plane to the next, whatever that looks like.

But I've lived a destination-oriented life before, and it's not enjoyable. It's filled with disappointment. For me, the disappointment usually came in the form of missing my destination, but sometimes it came in the form of making my destination, and finding out it wasn't the heaven I'd imagined it to be. 

I couldn't wait to get to high school - I'd be a big kid then, and life would be fun. I got to high school. I wasn't a big kid, parts of high school were fun, but for the most part, it sucked. So I couldn't wait to graduate from high school - I had it set up that I was going out of state for college, and I was really looking forward to that! I'd be free, and be rid of my crappy high school and the crappy town in which I grew up, and I could go have fun as a young adult and be on the road to success - life would be great! Well, I had a lot more fun after high school than I did in high school, but after a while, it began to suck as well. I spent the next 20 years looking for just the right physical situation/location where I could be successful and happy. I didn't find it, but, as I began to get tired of searching, I ended up back in Wisconsin, and very, very slowly began to learn that what I was seeking was inside of me, not outside of me. 

I began to learn that God was inside of me, rather than outside, and life was what I chose it to be, not what happened to me. I had a lot of difficulty with the concept that everything I needed was already here, inside, ready and waiting - not because I couldn't grasp it intellectually, but because I felt so rotten on the inside, I didn't believe it applied to me. There was no way I could be goodness and light, because I was such a useless piece of crap.

But the good news is that, by some miracle, I stuck around on this vile, barren, piece of shit rock floating in an empty, barren universe (now if that's not a depressing thought, I don't know what is!) long enough to begin to see some light. The patient and gentle people in my life led me to believe that I might have it all wrong - that my concept of me and my life was light years away from the Truth of my being.

Somewhere along the line, I learned how to 'be in the moment' - to be right here, right now, rather than in the past (depressing) or in the future (fearful and anxious). And do you know what I found in this moment? Nothing. Absolutely nothing! But I found out that nothing was what I've been looking for, and nothing is better than what I had. There was no past and no future, there was only the here and now, and because there is nothing in this moment, there is room for me to make this moment whatever I want it to be.

And that's what the journey is becoming for me - finding out what I can put into each moment to make life a blessed, peaceful, joyous experience. The destination is the next moment. There are 24 hours in this day, 1,440 minutes, 86,400 seconds. And in those 86,400 seconds, there are an infinite number of moments. So I have, each day, at least 86,400 opportunities to find out what I can give or what I can do or how I can show up to create more heaven on Earth. And that is the Truth. My only limit is the present state of my imagination. That's pretty awesome, and it makes the journey something to look forward to rather than something to be endured.

So, fellow traveler, I wish you well on your journey today, and look forward to the moment when our paths collide again.

Namaste,

Ken 

Listening to Pain - Part II

I recently survived a very painful experience. The short version is that due to having too many things on my plate I wasn't taking very good care of anything in my life, including myself. I got to the point where I felt very overwhelmed, I felt like a complete failure, and I wanted to drink or kill myself. 

I'm familiar with that pain - I've been there before. A lot. Something was different this time - despite the way I felt, I felt something more deep down. I felt a connection to the life I have today - my recovery, the people I have in my life, the things I'm doing. I knew deep down that what I was feeling wasn't really the truth about me.

So, I quit school. I did talk with a confidant before I did that. The reason I quit school is because it's not really necessary right now, and it was the activity in which I was not honoring my integrity. I was doing school like I used to do school - skimming the surface, not really learning, but just doing enough to get by. That's the way I used to live my life, and I know today it's the main cause of depression for me. The way my program at school was set up, I couldn't just take a break; I had to get out. I baffled my two instructors, because they were very pleased with the work I had done so far - I'd received perfect scores on everything. Yet I wasn't ok with the work I was doing, and more importantly, I wasn't okay with me.  It's imperative to my recovery that I live in a manner that I'm ok with.

And after I quit school, most of the pain went away. Now I'm not really sure if I did the 'right' thing, and I'm not even sure there is a right thing; however, I know that I did something to stay in recovery, and, right now, that's the important part. The one thing I did right in this instance was treat my recovery like it is the most important thing in my life, which it is.

The pain was there all along (this is the start of the longer story). It starts with the thoughts, which lead to anxiety. Prolonged anxiety leads to depression. One of my challenges is self-discipline - I'm still a novice at that. So I didn't have a lot of self-discipline surrounding my school work. Eventually what self-discipline I did have unraveled, and I was doing next to nothing to take good care of myself. And I knew it. There has to be in my life a foundation of recovery, and I had let that foundation erode.

The pain I was experiencing was warning me that I was getting farther and farther out onto thin ice. It spoke to me in a way that I listened. I'm still a little in pain, because I have to repair my foundation; but I'm not in the kind of pain that makes me want to escape or die.

Sometimes we see recovery as two steps forward, one step back, and sometimes it is that way. That's why recovery can be frustrating, and why some people don't make it. It's not all rainbows and lollipops - it's a lot of hard work and character-building experiences. The way to make it easier is to listen to each of these experiences and learn as much as I can from them. 

And that's how pain can be my friend and my teacher today, rather that something to be avoided and shooed away when it shows up on my doorstep.

Namaste,

Ken

The Lessons I Learn

Part of the process of becoming awake and aware involves recognizing the peculiar occurrence of showing up somewhere for one thing and realizing we're there for another reason.

That happened to me today, and I think I got two lessons for the price of one. First Lesson:  In a group setting, doing a group activity, i knew i was right, and I became a bit pushy, if not overbearing, in trying to explain why i had the solution. I hurt someone's feelings, retracted my pushiness and apologized. The first lesson? I'm in competition with nobody. No one. Nada. Growing spiritually is about cooperation. Learning teamwork. Finding out what I have to contribute to the whole. Being a Spiritual Being having a human experience, I no longer have to compete. There's nothing to win. More importantly, I don't have to prove my mousey worth. There's nothing to prove - am I right, am I better than - doesn't matter. In the realm of Spirit, there is no 'better than' - there just Is. Period.

On to the Second Lesson: I've been doing a lot of educational stuff lately. Today I just finished my Certified Peer Specialist training, and I started some post-secondary education last week. This time around in my educational endeavors, I'm trying to actually learn something rather than just test well. I already know how to test well. Learning is something at which I'm relatively new. I'm pursuing (perhaps not an accurate word to use) my associate degree in Human Services. I'm going to be in this gig for a while, it looks like, so I want some paper to show that I actually do know what I'm doing, and I will fully participate in the experience. That's why I think I'm there. 

However, that's not exactly it. I was at school in a group discussion when I experienced the first lesson mentioned above. And after I got to thinking about that, and the grades I've received so far (we've had about 10 assignments already), I realized I'm not there just to get some letters after my name. 

First, about the grades - everything's been perfect so far. If you know anything about alcoholics and addicts, you'll know that most of us are creative, intelligent, and over-achievers (although by the time we're in our full-blown addiction, we're not achieving too much anymore). We're over-achievers because most of us don't really have the capacity to appreciate our gifts, and we think we have to do way better than average just to hit 'okay'. So, because part of me is still an overachiever (that's hard to say, because it still doesn't feel like it), and because I have tons of experience in the human services field already (my experience has been receiving rather than giving), my work has been exemplary and way above average, at least according to my instructors.

The person whose feelings I hurt tonight is young enough to be my grandchild. In an effort to show how ____ing smart I am, I (unintentionally) behaved in the manner of an arrogant prick. I knew it right away, and I'm grateful for that it didn't take me long to realize it. So, after I apologized (and I'll have to make amends in the future by not showing up like an arrogant prick), I got to thinking to myself, "What am I here for if not to show everyone how filled with wisdom and experience I am?" (And please remember one person's wisdom and experience can be another person's bullshit). 

I am there, like I am anywhere, to be the Love of Spirit in action, , in the flesh, and to be of maximum service to others. The class already has an instructor, and it's a small class, so it doesn't need another instructor. Among the other students I am to be a peer. This does not mean that I have to 'dumb down'. What it does mean is I have to stifle my urge to show everyone how great I am (God already knows, and that's all that matters), and to do this: Use my experience and knowledge while learning how myself to transfer it to others in a way that is palatable to them. In other, much simpler words, share my experience with others so that they, too, might learn from it. Nobody, I think, likes a lesson crammed down their throat. I know I never appreciated it. Teach like a Ninja - don't let them know what's going on until it's done. Use my cleverness to make friends rather than enemies.

I really am grateful to be here learning what I'm learning and doing what I'm doing. I really am grateful today for all the wonderful gifts I've been given, and for the opportunity to enjoy them and share them with others. Sometimes the experience is painful - it really does hurt me to hurt someone - but I don't seem to suffer like I used to.

So there you have it.

Namaste,

Ken