The Way It Is? Mindfulness and Imagination as a Pathway to Change

We, as humans, get really used to the way things are. We get up in the morning and go to the bathroom and do our business without having to think too much about it - like what happens to the water that goes down our sinks, toilets, and showers, or even the origin of the water. We get dressed, probably without knowing who made our clothes (no, Levi Strauss and Tommy Hilfeger did not actually make the garments you're wearing). We hop in our cars, and we don't need to even know how a car works to utilize it. When we turn on the radio, do we think about how that works? How music travels invisibly through the air from some location to us so that we can listen to it? And many of us go to a job that starts at 7, 8, or 9 in the morning, lasts 8 hours, and we'll go to 5 days a week, without ever wondering if there would be a way to live on a 20 hour/week job, or no job at all? And the list goes on, and on, and on...

We don't have to consciously think about all the things we do in a day - unless we want to change something in our lives, or change our entire life.

One of the curious aspects of addiction (and mental illness, as well, I think) is the narrowing of our imaginations when we're suffering from it. For instance, I have a few challenges, or opportunities for growth, going on right now, and I look forward to working through them, knowing that they'll make me stronger and lead me to an even richer life than I'm already experiencing. However, if I start drinking alcohol today, all of those challenges will become huge insurmountable problems that nothing but another drink will fix. Such is the nature of alcoholism, and I think it's like that with depression as well. On days when I'm not feeling any symptoms of depression, life looks great, and I see many possibilities. On days when I'm symptomatic, it's really difficult to see a decent future, and everything around me looks and feels like crap. (It's those days that I get through by faith - knowing, but not seeing, that things will get better).

So, a big part of recovery is reversing the narrow-mindedness that comes from the diseases. Now, a challenge comes in - the longer we stay in our active addiction or depression, the more ingrained is the negative, narrow-minded thinking, and the more difficult it is to change. This can be very frustrating! People can tell us that it (whatever 'it' is) gets better, and they're happy and smiling, and we're slogging through the shit wondering, "When?" Bit by bit, day by day, 'it' does get better. Very slowly. This is a critical time in early recovery when much support and a lot of patience is needed, because the feeling of wanting to give up and go back to our 'comfortable' misery appears often. Medication is often required to assist us in staying in a state where we can assist ourselves.

After a time, our thinking returns to a state where we are able to resume our normal daily lives, take care of ourselves, support ourselves, and begin to enjoy life and living again.

But what if you're like me? What if, when things return to 'normal', it's still not good enough? What if, even when things are going great, there is still a indefinable longing inside for something different? Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending upon your point of view, there is not a pill that will fix that. There isn't a pill that will make me perfectly accept the way things are. I hope not, anyway.

Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, 
Courage to change the things I can
And the wisdom to know the difference. (Excerpt from the Serenity Prayer by Reinhold Niebuhr)

I'm coming to appreciate that part of me that longs for something better - that part of me that longs for more peace, more power over my thoughts and actions, more effectiveness in helping others. Previous to understanding how to channel it, this longing in me produced depression and the desire to go back to alcohol and drugs. I wanted to extinguish the longing. Today I better understand that the longing is a good thing, because, properly channeled, it allows me to explore and discover more and more of this existence.

One of the things needed for this journey is the belief that there's more to life that what I'm seeing in this present moment, and for that, I need to be willing to expand my consciousness, my thoughts, beyond what I presently know. Jesus talked of this when He mentioned that you don't put new wine into old wineskins, or you'll burst the wineskin. I can't move to the next paradigm using the same type of consciousness I was using in the old paradigm.

I mentioned at the beginning of the post just a tiny fraction of things we might take for granted in our daily lives. Taking these things for granted, or not thinking about them, makes it easier to live our daily lives; however, it sucks for trying to get somewhere we've never been before.

All of my life I've thought about the way things used to be - long ago, before I was born. I like sitting at the shore of Lake Michigan, and try to look at it through the eyes of a Native American 200 or 300 years ago. Lake Michigan means different things to us today than it did to the person observing it back then. Back then, the person looking at it might have looked at it as a source of life - both water and food. I've wondered why people ever settled in Kansas (the Great Plains). Did they just get tired of traveling in covered wagons and give up? Because 150-200 years ago, Kansas was one great big flat treeless field. "Oh, yes, this looks like a great place to settle - absolutely nothing as far as the eye can see!" And when English settlers first settled on the North American continent - what were they thinking? 450 years ago, there weren't housing developments and roadways and cities in North America - just a lot of land, and people that we used to refer to as 'savages'. What about a long, long time ago, before there were even governments, or kingdoms? What was life like then?

For the longest time, my thinking made the world as it is today seem false and unnatural, and much of it is! But it made me disdain today's world. If we didn't have mass generated and usable electricity, most people today would plain just die. Ok - what does that have to do with mindfulness or depression, or alcoholism, or spirituality?

It is this: Anything is possible. In the midst of alcoholism and depression, the only thing that seemed possible was death - either quickly, or painful and slow. In the midst of recovery and spirituality, anything is possible. I have been rescued and elevated from a 'hopeless' condition of mind and body to live this life in recovery and achieve or attain anything I can set my heart on. The only limitation I have is my own thinking - my current mindset.

I am not 'stuck'. But in order to be able to change my thinking, to change my life, I need to examine the areas in which I'm accepting 'the way it is' or the way things are. Those are the things that I have to unaccept, and and change it around to 'the way things could be'.

This is wonderful news to me. I don't have to stay stuck in who I am, or who I've been; I simply have to shake up the neural pathways in my mind and develop my power of imagination. 

I can see very well the way things are. I can stop fighting them and move on to the next step: Begin to see the way things can be.

Namasté,

Ken

I Am 'Legitimate'

In 1996 I ran across a piece by the author Marianne Williamson that said something along the lines of "I deserve to be here simply because I am." I was in prison in Ellsworth, Kansas, at the time, and this idea was news to me. I didn't believe it then, but that was a seed planted in my head that would begin to germinate nearly 20 years later. My belief at the time was I had to prove myself every minute of every day  to be deserving of anything, including life. Obviously, I failed daily.

Having been homeless, and having been in prison, I know from experience what it's like to be 'invisible'. I may write about the homeless experience more in-depth at some point, because it's very difficult to describe what it's like and what it feels like in one paragraph. Suffice it to say it's like being a non-person - I'm there, I know I exist, but I really can't participate in anything. I can hang out in parks - hanging out in parks is great when one has a full-time job and goes to the park after work or on the weekends to chill and relax. When one is homeless, hanging out in the parks is not fun - it's a necessity, because hanging out anywhere else (besides the library) will earn you a loitering ticket, unless you're in a big city, in which case it's ok to hang out in the crappy parts of the city that nobody cares about anymore. 

The last time I was released from prison was April of 2002 - yay! At that time, all I had on me were the clothes on my back, a prison ID, and an expired ID from Kansas (where I resided before being escorted to Wisconsin to serve time for an auto theft I committed in 1994 and had never fulfilled my obligation to the state of Wisconsin). Phew! Life is so much simpler now that I'm a lot better at taking care of my responsibilities. Anyway, I get out of prison, and, fortunately, I had a couple things going for me - I had a temporary place to live, courtesy of WI DOC, and I was starting university in September. But the point here is that between April and September I needed to get legitimate - I needed a state ID , a temporary job, and my own place to live. I was able to acquire all of that, but I distinctly remember acquiring my Wisconsin Identification - or, I should say, I distinctly remember the feeling I felt when I could pull a valid ID out of my pocket and say, "This is me! I belong!"

I have always placed conditions on my legitimacy - my deservedness of being here if you will. It's gotten a lot better, but I know that a lot of my present ok-ness still comes from being employed, being housed, and having an identity. If, in one day, I lost my jobs, my home, all my FB and fleshy friends, my girlfriend, my car, my bicycle - if I lost everything in one day, would I still feel legitimate? Deserving of life? My guess is, unfortunately, probably not. My being is still conditional.

My girlfriend and have plans to go to Japan later this year. I've never been off of the North American continent. In order to go to Japan, I need a passport. More importantly, possibly, is I need a passport to regain legal entry into the United States when I'm done in Japan. A passport says I am who I say I am and I am a citizen of the United States. I applied for my passport yesterday, and I found it both anxiety producing and exhilarating. In order to submit my application for a passport, I had to gather information and documents that 'prove' who I am and that I am a citizen of the United States. I found the process to be rather silly, because my fingerprints and my DNA are on record. If my dead, naked body were found today, say, in Albuquerque, it wouldn't take that long for authorities to figure out who I used to be. So, gathering up all this documentation (which can be manufactured, by the way) seemed a bit silly to me since there's a much easier way to say, "This guy is Ken." But oh well.

The important part here is that one of the feelings I got from applying for my passport was a greater feeling of legitimacy. Now, I'm not only legitimate in the state of Wisconsin (provable by my valid Wisconsin Driver's License), but I'm going to be legitimate in the entire world! I really am somebody now!

Now, this is a perfectly reasonable human response, and I'm certainly not going to get down on myself for it; however, I aspire to something better.

I realized 5 years ago that there's not enough on Earth to satisfy this human - there's not enough booze, certainly, but there's also not enough approval, acclaim, or achievement to satisfy this guy. When I get my passport, I probably won't be finally ok. Having a passport doesn't guarantee that I won't ever feel like a useless, non-deserving-of-life piece of shit again. 

Additionally, I work with people who are often at a low point in their lives - I work with people suffering from addictions, mental health conditions, and homelessness. I endeavor to view everybody with whom I work deserving of the very best I have, simply because  they are. If I start making exceptions, it'll create a domino effect. This is perhaps one of the few absolutes that I have - you are, therefore your life if worthy, your existence is important. It doesn't matter where you've been, what you've done, what you haven't done, who your parents were or weren't, what country, religion, or body you were born into. Your existence, your life, is important - period.

To honor that in others I need to honor that in myself, and vice versa.

It goes back to the really trite saying of the 70's that I really hate - "God made me, and God don't make no junk!" Same concept, it's just that that line really bugs me. But I am. You are. We're here. We deserve each other's respect, love, compassion, and empathy - title or no title, record or no record. The Universe doesn't issue passports - countries do. The Universe doesn't confer degrees upon people - universities do. And I'm not discounting achievement - I'm only putting it in it's proper place.

I no longer want to bring into my experience the shame of being, because that shame isn't given to me by God or the Universe - it's given to me by a limited mind, and I can transcend that limited mind. The possibilities for existence are endless and infinite, if I continue to learn what is man-made and what comes purely from Source. 

Namasté

Ken

Trauma Informed (compassionate) Listening

I am a listener. I suppose it is part of my purpose, or maybe my whole purpose. It's not something I've worn proudly; I just know that all my life people have felt compelled to relate things to me. I've often wondered why - it's not like I want to hear the juicy tidbits of your latest drama. I really don't.

But what I've learned over the past couple of years is to listen in a way that is helpful to the person relating. I used to think mostly with the male mind - that is, the problem fixer. Somewhere along the line, I learned that when women are talking about their experience, they don't want a solution, they want to be heard. So I began shutting off the problem fixer, but was still left wondering, "Why am I listening to this?" (besides that this woman is actually talking to me and I'd like to keep it going).

I wasn't understanding that the woman wanted to express how certain events or situations made her feel. I didn't have feelings, so I wasn't relating on any level deeper than the surface. (I had feelings; I had just tamped them down, like a well-worn path in the woods). Eventually, I came to understand that by me not expressing my own feelings, I was making myself sick. I remember being in a recovery meeting many years ago shortly after my mother passed away, and talking about it. Somebody pulled me aside later and said, "You talked about your mother dying the same way you'd talk about your car breaking down." I really did not understand. I didn't understand how talking about what was going on in my life was helpful, unless talking about it gave me a solution. I didn't realize that I didn't need to share the event of my mother passing; I needed to share the sadness and guilt and shame I was feeling surrounding it. When I would lose a job or a relationship, I didn't need to talk about the event, I needed to share my feelings of low self-worth. And shame.

About 5 years ago, I came to understand that if I didn't open up and let the real Ken out, I was not going to recover. I was going to die. Well, one doesn't one morning decide to drop all the facades and people pleasing and approval seeking and Boom! and Voila! Here's the new Ken! It takes practice, it takes courage, it takes the willingness to fall down and get up, and it takes time. But through time, I began to feel again (that part of me is still waking up). I began to see my life as more than just a series of events - I began to see that how I defined myself and felt about myself surrounding those events was shaping my future. Enter CBT, Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, and I began to question the way I was reacting to life and to myself, and I began to find more productive and constructive ways of thinking.

But what was most important was I began expressing how I felt - about events, about myself, about life - with people whom I trusted. I talked about how I felt. It became ok to feel again. I wasn't wrong or bad anymore for being sad or angry. It was just the way I felt. I began to feel ok with how I felt, because the people who were listening to me were listening without judging, sometimes with the added bonus of listening with understanding.

As I might have mentioned in the previous post (I rarely go back to re-read) the things we have in common with every other human being is that we've all loved, we've all lost, and we've all hurt. No matter how hard we might try, those experiences are inescapable. 

I used to be kind of a hard guy, I think. If you told me something that I didn't understand, or hadn't experienced, I didn't feel too much for you. I wouldn't necessarily show outside that I wasn't getting it, but inside, I knew. Everything was cerebral or intellectual. If it didn't match with my experience, point-to-point, I really couldn't relate. However, when I started becoming open to acknowledging and experiencing my own feelings, I began to understand a lot more when people related there experiences to me. I began to listen differently.

I began to listen for the feelings. For example: I work with a lot of people in early recovery. Now, the casual observer might see someone who drinks too much or uses heroin stop drinking and using, and say, good - they're getting their life back together. That's what it looks like, anyway. What's actually going on is a traumatic event - the person who is addicted to alcohol or drugs is experiencing a major upheaval in their lives. They're giving up something that has become their best friend. It hurts! physically and emotionally. It's scary! It's confusing! There is a lot of guilt and shame involved, and fear for the future. I listen to people as they tell me the losses they've suffered from going into recovery. Recovery is supposed to be a good thing! But folks lose friends, maybe family, sometimes their livelihoods, sometimes their freedom. It is a big experience. So I listen, and because I've been there, I relate very well. By the way, I've also learned that men have a desire to have their feelings heard as well.

And most of all today, I understand the importance of connection. Entering into recovery means losing part or sometimes all of our identity. Our self-identity. Who am I now? What do I do now? Where do I go from here? Having someone who relates to the experience makes the experience a little more ok.

I can hear something today, and, while I might not relate to the specific experience, I can hear the feelings underneath the experience. I understand that loss is loss is loss, whether it's one's driver's license or one's home or one's job or a loved one, and I can listen to the pain and all the other stuff that goes along with that loss, and I don't have to judge whether that pain is justified or not. If someone's feeling it, they're feeling it! I no longer judge whether or not someone's suffering is worthy or not; I recognize the suffering and support the person going through it. By the way, I've also learned that men have a desire to have their feelings heard as well.

It is sometimes painful for me, but then I recognize it's more painful for the person experiencing the feelings. I offer support, encouragement, and hope, and none of it is false. I'm a miracle, and I know lots of other miracles, and today I believe anything is possible. I offer to others the hope of recovery, and the understanding that we're in this together. To me, that's gold. I know what it's like to feel alone and hopeless, to feel used up and worthless. I also know what it's like to turn what once looked like a mountain of crap into something not only worthwhile but beautiful. I have the ability to listen to someone to help them feel not so alone and hopeless, and to maybe help them discover or re-discover who they really are. For someone like me, this is the greatest blessing of my life - to be a positive agent in someone's life. I've learned to listen not only with my ears, but with my heart.

Namasté,

Ken

Trauma Informed Living

I feel compelled to begin this post by mentioning that I am not perfect. For the past few years, I have been endeavoring to live my life using new (to me) ideas that seem better than the old ideas by which I used to live. I have yet to practice to perfection anything about which I write. I have an inner sense of the Truth, that which is Perfect Principle, and once in a while that seems to come out in practice. Most of the time, I am simply feeling my way, day by day, to a better experience of life, and sharing much of that journey in this blog. So there ya have it.

When I re-entered human services as a vocation, I began learning about Trauma Informed Care. It is the latest vogue in helping those in need of help, and it prescribes an attitude and a way of working with others to be more effective and, essentially, more humane. The previous model was more of a medical model, in which we asked, "What's wrong with this person," and "What can we do to fix it?" (or what can we do to make this disagreeable symptom we see go away). In Trauma Informed Care, we recognize that every human being has experienced trauma of one sort or another in their lives, and that maladaptive behavior patterns and coping mechanisms often are derived from these traumas. So, instead of looking at the behavior, we begin to look for what might have caused this behavior to become a coping mechanism for this individual.

Trauma Informed Care is much more of a solution-oriented way of assisting clients, one that involves looking at the whole person, not just the 'presenting problem' or issue. There are 5 guiding principles for practicing Trauma Informed Care - Safety, Trustworthiness & Transparency, Choice, Collaboration and Mutuality, Empowerment. After learning about Trauma Informed Care, I decided it would be good for me to use this model not only with the people I serve, but for everybody with whom I have contact. I also noticed that the principles closely align with spiritual principles that I also practice. In the following paragraphs, I am going to outline how I practice these principles in life.

The first thing for me to understand is that everybody's got something going on. No matter what appearances tell me, every human being has issues they are dealing with, and these issues are no better nor worse than mine. They're just different, and usually hidden. Without this understanding, it's way too easy for me to become judgmental about the well-groomed man in line at the store who is chewing out a clerk for shorting him a dime. There's a lot more going on there than "He's just a privileged, snooty asshole." People who feel pretty good about themselves, no matter their station in life, don't find it necessary to try to make others feel less-than. So, when I see one human being hurting another, or themselves, I do well to understand that the one doing the hurting has been hurt themselves. It's hard to do some days, but this mode of thinking is more conducive to better living than holding the belief that the world is filled with assholes.

The first principle is safety. How safe does the person with whom I'm interacting feel around me? As you might imagine, there are many factors affecting this. There are only two that I have control over - my actions, and my awareness that there are factors affecting the other person's perceptions of which I am probably unaware. Something I understand today of which I used to be totally unaware is that my mere presence as a 55 year-old caucasian male might be threatening to someone else, depending upon their upbringing and previous life experiences. Does this mean I have to interview everybody I meet to determine whether or not they feel I'm a threat? Not at all. What it does mean is that I don't have to add to anybody's issues. If someone is hostile or acts strangely around me, I don't have to take it personally, and I don't have to do anything about it. In fact, if I don't do anything about it, I might be helping their issue by being a contradiction to their outlook that "all old white men are assholes." So the whole thing about safety is letting someone be who they are without feeling threatened or attacked and without feeling the need to defend myself. And, if I am feeling hostile or irritated going into a situation, I do not need to show it, or maybe I don't need to be going into that situation until I'm more grounded.

The next principle is trustworthiness and transparency. In dealing with others, I endeavor to be honest and not hide things. I need to tell the truth, even if it's something that bothers me. I need to refrain from gossip, and to keep what others tell me confidential. I need to do this because everybody in life has been involved with someone who has betrayed their trust, and every person they meet who does it again re-injures that person. I need to be the person someone meets or is friends with who can be trusted. And I need to endeavor to do that all the time with all people. This builds my own self-esteem, and reduces the likelihood that I will hurt someone with my word, my action, or my inaction. Trust and transparency build good relationships, good connections, and good connections are healing connections.

Choice is the next principle. In my professional life, it means that I do not force my will onto another person. Each person with whom I work has the choice to follow suggestions or to not follow them. Of course, choice should be informed, but, ultimately, each individual has the right to make their own choices. The same goes for life. There is nobody in my life upon whom I force my will. Taking people's right of choice away is called oppression and enslavement, and neither one of those is a human right. Additionally, it just doesn't work. I'm grateful that I've never gotten off over having power over another person (real or imagined), but I see around me the effects on those people who feel oppressed by other people or institutions. Nobody has to like me; nobody has to respect me. I earn respect by the way I speak, behave, and carry myself. If I feel disrespected, it's my feeling that I have to deal with. I may wish to speak to the person who I feel has disrespected me, but, in the end, it's my problem, not theirs. I also understand that people make choices in their lives that I might not understand or agree with; however, nobody, absolutely nobody, has to live in a certain way to please me. I can always choose to try to understand why someone makes a certain choice, or, I can let it go. To be very honest, I still have an initial pre-judgment when I meet someone; however, practicing this principle allows me to get past that judgment and discover the person underneath. 

Collaboration and mutuality again is about honoring the rights of the individual, but it's also about more - it's about validating another's feelings, wishes, opinions, and choices. It's about listening. It's about understanding. It's about humility, in that I don't want to take the position that I know better for someone than they do for themselves. It's about understanding that life is a two-way street, and I don't want to be a Hummer going the wrong way. It's about me feeling secure enough in my own being to allow others to express themselves freely. It's about knowing my own Truth, so that others may discover theirs. 

The fifth principle is empowerment. At work, I meet a lot of people who have what we call 'learned helplessness.' Some people get to a point where they really can't do anything on their own. This is not a result of Trauma Informed Care - it's a result of someone having their humanity and individuality stripped away from them because of their illness. I was headed down that road, and I endeavor to help myself and others, whether at work or not, recognize that everyone is powerful. Every human being is born with power, and, through life's lessons, either learns to accept or deny their own power. I can point to most of the lessons I learned that taught me I was a useless waste of oxygen that would be better off dead. It took me a long, long time to understand and accept that my perception is NOT the Truth about me. I don't want anyone to ever feel about themselves the way I felt about myself. I'm learning, and it is a constant lesson, how to help others elevate themselves. Much dis-empowerment is done with good but misguided intention. I mentioned in a post a few months ago that I learned that doing something for someone that they are capable of doing themselves sends the subconscious message of "I'm doing this for you because you can't." Empowering others, rather than being disempowering, takes wisdom, patience and faith.

So, maybe you can see why I like these principles. They really invite connection with and understanding between people. They challenge me to look for the good and the strengths in others. They challenge me to put down some of my long held beliefs, and they sometimes make me feel uncomfortable. I have to possess and practice a certain amount of vulnerability and humility in order to let others be who they truly are. However, my life is vastly more interesting and enriched when I practice the belief that the Universe is expressing itself through each and every one of us and when I allow life to unfold as the Universe sees fit rather than how I see fit. Treating others in a way which is not harmful or belittling to them is one part of this; the bigger part is giving them a space to flourish as they were intended to flourish.

Namasté

Ken

It's All Mine

I am very grateful for both of my jobs. I can only imagine where I'd be without them. Both of my jobs require me to model recovery. For me, this means that if I come into work late and angry with myself, and upset that nothing around me seems to be going right, I must behave differently than I feel. And when I begin to behave differently than I feel - in other words, when I begin to put into action the things I've learned in recovery - I see that my feelings, though they may be valid, aren't good indicators of the way I ought to behave.

A line from one of the recovery texts says something like this: "When I am upset or disturbed, there is something wrong with my thinking." The author called this a spiritual axiom, and it has been most useful to me. What this line says to me is that my natural state is peace, because I know Who's in charge, and it isn't me, and also that all is well, despite how it may seem to me. This axiom is the basis of practicing my life from the inside out, which I endeavor to do. It means that, second to my actions, my attitude is the most important thing over which I have control. 

I don't know if it's a good thing or not - I kind of think it is - that I don't outwardly show when I'm upset or disturbed. It's good in that if I always spoke or showed what was going on in my head or my feelings, I probably wouldn't have any friends or any jobs. On the other hand, suppressed emotion causes sickness and more emotional distress, which can lead to collapse. When I am unable to turn my own thinking or feelings around, I talk with one of my mentors about what is going on,

So I'm at work this morning and I'm picking on everything that everybody else did or is doing wrong. And what am I going to do. But, the niggling thought comes back, "The problem isn't out there, Ken, it's within you." Shit. So, at this point, I'm half-paralyzed, because there's stuff to do, but I don't want to act out of my disturbances, and I'm still feeling disturbed. I take things slowly, and think to myself, "What would a sane, rational person do?" And I proceed, slowly, to do that. It's like walking with a broken toe - I can still walk, but I need to step gingerly.

For instance, one of the things disturbing me was that I found out someone lied to me. Thinking error #1 - they didn't lie to me specifically - they put down false information on a sheet of paper. But I was upset, thinking, "Who does this person think he is? Does he think we're stupid?" Thinking error #2 - this person's lie had nothing to do with me or anyone else but himself. The whole thing is that I'm taking something personally that isn't directed at me at all, and, after thinking about it a bit, the consequences of this person's lying are going to be all his. What is my part in it? Upon discovering the falsification, I reported it to my superior, and am following his instructions. Boom, end of story. 

The ability to understand that my life is not what goes on around me, but what goes in within me is one of the greatest blessings I've received in recovery. Things don't have to be 'right' for me to be ok.  But, sometimes, things get reversed in my head for a while. The really neat thing is that once the above stated misperception became clearer to me, the rest of the things that were 'wrong' no longer upset me (or had power over me) either. It's stuff to deal with, one way or another, but it doesn't have to rule my emotional day.

In early recovery we're taught to act differently that we think or feel. "I need a drink." Call someone instead, or go to a meeting, or do something besides that first thought. "I'm so angry and I'm going to let everybody know." Ok, calm down and find some peace first, and if it's still important to let everybody know, do it in a way that isn't violent, abusive, or destructive to me or anyone else. In our sickness, and in our early recovery, our feelings have power over us. In recovery, we learn to take different actions, and to eventually reclaim our power over our thoughts and feelings. 

And that's why I'm really grateful for my jobs - they remind me that whatever is going on inside of me, it's all mine. Nothing and no one can cause me to feel any way - my feelings are my domain. Spiritually, mentally, emotionally, even physically, it is much better, though often more challenging, to live this way. 

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

Time to Let Go

I've let go of two things in the past two days - Facebook and sugar - and, oh my gosh, is it painful! Inside it is; from the outside, I don't think anybody would notice. I'm letting go of things that I know I use as palliatives - substances and behaviors to soothe uncomfortable feelings. 

I'm letting go of these things for my physical, my mental, and my spiritual health. Physically, I'm 30 to 40 pounds overweight, depending upon which guidelines one uses. To illustrate what sugar does with me physically, I'll note that I've lost 5 pounds in 2 days of no sugar and very little carbohydrates. There is a sort of withdrawal, but it's not nearly as bad as withdrawal from many other addictive drugs. I'm making it through the cravings by realizing how good I'll feel at a lighter weight and how much more in control I'll feel without the highs and lows of sugar use. There are other physical issues as well, the main one being that I'm avoiding diabetes. I've got some super-tough heavy-duty organs, but everything wears out eventually, and I'd like to use whatever control I have over maintaining my health. My use of Facebook affects my physical health because the time I'm spending on Facebook is time that I'm not exercising, and sometimes not sleeping.

I'm not sure how much a role in my mental and emotional health sugar plays, but I've been doing some reading, and some sources say it plays a huge role. I don't know how much of a role it plays in my mental health because I have never gotten off of sugar. I was raised on Coca-Cola and Chips Ahoy cookies and sweet desserts. Alcohol is sugar in another form. Maybe it's like crack sugar. I do know that when I indulge in a lot of sugary snacks at night, I wake up in the morning with sort of a hangover. I use sugar to relax after work (ice cream) or during work (candy). I would rather like to use some of the healthy coping skills I know to see how well they work. 

Facebook is kind of strange for me. I've gotten a world of good out of it, and I've also allowed it to affect the way I feel in a negative way. I see it as a handy tool for well-disciplined folks. I don't think I fit into that category. For me, right now, it allows me to isolate a little too much. I believe actual human contact is beneficial for my all-around health. Also, Facebook is one of those things I go to when I feel uncomfortable, and, again, I'm going to move toward using healthier (to me) coping skills when I feel uncomfortable.

Spiritually, there is nothing wrong with Facebook, and there is nothing wrong with sugar. When I discover my place in the Universe, and begin to discover my oneness with the Universe, I recognize that there is nothing created that does not belong. Sugar has a place, and so does Facebook. Alcohol, opium, and the coca plant have a place and a purpose as well. What I must examine is my relationship to what is in my life. Alcohol played an important role in my life - it kept me alive when otherwise I would have killed myself, and the resulting addiction led me into a new way of life. Alcohol is no longer necessary or desirable in my life, and I've let it go. Depression is a result of intense dissatisfaction with life along with a belief that I'm powerless to change. Without that dissatisfaction, I would not have bothered to change; without that feeling of powerlessness, I might not have begun my search for my personal power, which resides within me (yet is still sometimes elusive). Depression may still have some purpose in my life, because it still comes to visit - it just doesn't stay as long or leave such a mess. My recovery from alcoholism and depression has led me to a lot of very awesome people, a career, and an avocation. 

So Facebook and sugar aren't detrimental to my spirituality. Neither is alcohol, so long as I don't consume any. But what happens is sometimes I allow things to become a higher power to me. When I rely upon stuff that's 'out there', rather than on my Higher Power, I'm not getting the full benefit of my connection with the Universe. I was using sugar and Facebook to avoid parts of life (I still use other things to avoid life too - it's just sugar and Facebook that I'm letting go of right now). When I hit a wall at work, or didn't want to do something at home, I was on Facebook. When I didn't want to feel discomfort, I indulged in sugar. So, one could say that I spoiled my relationship with Facebook and sugar by using them for purpose for which they aren't intended (for me). So I let them go. (I may use Facebook again if I can find a way to use it as a communication tool, and not an excuse for not doing the dishes). 

What am I going to allow to come into the space left by letting go of Facebook and sugar? Tune in tomorrow.

Namasté, 

Ken