Letting Go of More Fear

I’ve written before about letting go of fear. I’m fairly certain I’ll find cause to write about it again. I’ve lived most of this lifetime out of fear. I’m so used to it that I don’t really very often experience the emotion of being afraid. Fear was ingrained in me, and nowadays I only recognize it as irrational thinking that may be getting in the way of me attaining my dreams. It’s still fear, and, in order to proceed in a forward direction, it must be dealt with.

Some have told me that fear is a lack of faith. I know it’s not – fear is faith – faith that something’s going to go wrong. Faith that not only will I be picked last for the team, there’s even a chance I won’t get picked at all. Faith that I will say something stupid or uncool. Faith that I’ll be rejected. Faith that I won’t measure up. Faith that I won’t be able to handle life, and that I’ll end up a miserable failure. Faith that that person over there won’t like me. Faith that whatever decision I make, it’ll be the wrong one. So, you see, I’m not lacking in faith at all – I just have it pointed in the wrong direction. I’ll talk about that in a moment. But first…

Because I never really talked about the way I felt inside to anyone – the way I felt about myself, and life in general – until recently (the last 3-5 years), because I basically relied upon my own thinking and twisted logic to reason things through, I never heard any arguments about the way I thought and felt. I was pretty certain I was correct. I could make a list here of all the things I assumed about others and about life that were incorrect, but it’d be too long. So I went along thinking in a very negative, loserly way, and even when I got around positive people with positive vibes who liked life and seemed to be mastering it, I couldn’t get it – I couldn’t get what they had, because I couldn’t talk about what it was like inside of me. I was too afraid to do so.

When I became desperate enough, I became open to suggestion. After I became open to suggestion, I got connected with a really good therapist. (I’ve had good therapists before, but I didn’t utilize them very well. I usually tried to convince them how well I was doing. That was another big fear – admitting to someone that I’m not doing well, or that I’m hurting inside). Through my last therapist, and Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, I learned how to question what my mind and my brain were telling me, and that has truly been a Godsend. And that’s what I’ve been doing the past three years – questioning what my brain is telling me, and, when in doubt, checking in with others whom I trust.

One might think that when one has the key, or at least one of the keys, that one would now progress rapidly into the superstar pro at living that I was always meant to be. Alas, that hasn’t been the case. It seems that I must work a lot on my false conclusions. The work is a lot easier now, but it’s still work I have to do. And, since my thinking has long been habitual, it doesn’t change until it’s starting to interfere with my progress. I first had to get the big stuff out of the way first – the stuff that was threatening my very existence. Then I became able to work on the things that threaten my happiness, peace of mind, and success. I’m better able to spot my fear today – it’s anything that keeps me from accepting my highest good. Additionally, my job exposes me to the fears, mostly irrational, that others are harboring, and when I see it in others, it’s easier to see fear in me.

One of the fears that I began working on around 5 years ago is the fear of others’ opinions of me. I worked on that in two ways – I used a self-hypnosis recording that implanted the idea that “other people’s opinions of me are none of my business,” and I started doing things that were in my heart to do, but left the door open to being judged. Two of the notable things I’ve done are this blog, where I expose innermost thoughts and feelings to anybody who’d care to read about them, and the year that I spent being self-employed. These were both huge leaps for me. The blog is still going on; not the self-employment. I absolutely loved being self-employed, but I love eating and living indoors more. Someday when I can marry some sound business practices with doing the things I love, I’ll be self-employed again; for now, I love the companies that are employing me and I love what I’m doing, and that’s enough.

The reason I mention this is that I find myself facing this fear again – “What will people think of me?” As I move further along in life, I discover more and more of the real Ken, and I let that guy out. In certain circumstances this is scary for me. I’ve got a couple of things going for me – today, I’m beginning to feel when I’m fearful, which is very helpful. Emotions are very good for telling me what’s going on inside, but I had shut mine down to almost nothing so that I could rely upon my ‘logic’. So I’ve found myself having to deal with the obstacle of caring what other people think of me (even though the truth is that other people probably don’t care about what I do or don’t do nearly as much as I think they care). And how am I dealing with this today? Back to the self-hypnosis, and back to taking chances, and there’s one more thing that’s very important: I’m putting my faith into what can go right.

Through the years I’ve learned a lot of helpful things about the nature of my Higher Power (and for simplicity I’ll refer to It from here on out as God). I understand today that God wants me to succeed, and provides me with an abundance of blessings in order for me to succeed. So, and this is from experience, when something comes in front of me that at first glance doesn’t look too good, and that I feel like shying away from, I now have a Second Voice, that of God, saying, “Why don’t you give it a try? What have you got to lose?” That’s why I’m here today – I went ahead and accepted things into my life even when I didn’t want to or didn’t see how they would work. And, surprise, surprise, surprise, some of the things that I thought wouldn’t work for me did, and still do today. I’m very grateful that I recognize the difference between what I come up with out of my own, fear-based self, and the things God has in store for me.

Today, my faith is turned in the right direction much more of the time. I don’t believe anymore that disgrace and disaster lurk just around the corner. I’m just beginning on the journey of allowing God to guide me, and so far it’s really turning out well.

Namasté,

Ken

The Power of Gratitude

As I've mentioned once or twice before, alcoholism, addiction, depression, and probably all mental illnesses are mind-narrowing conditions. My experience has been that when I'm in the depths of my illness, the world turns gray and looks very bleak. Where my head goes when I'm not in recovery is that there are only two options for me - drink myself to death or kill myself by some other method. The brain is a resilient organ; however, it doesn't spring back to healthy life after years of less-than-optimal functioning. This means that even after I stop drinking, and even after I get on anti-depressant medication, the world still looks bleak to me, and I still have to deal with frequent feelings of hopelessness and despair. This is what makes early recovery so challenging - often, we feel worse before we begin to feel better. If you are reading this and don't have an addiction or other mental health concern, try this - sit down on a comfy sofa with your right foot underneath your left buttock. Watch TV or read a book for a half-hour. When a half-hour is up, stand up. Your right foot has probably fallen asleep, and is tingly and maybe sore upon standing. It's uncomfortable, and you might have trouble walking or even standing. This is what happens to the brain with mental illness and/or addiction - the brain is your right foot, and your left buttock is active addiction or mental illness. Even though the offending agent (your butt) has been lifted from the brain (your foot), your foot is still feeling the effects. And, unfortunately, it can take the brain much longer to recover than it does your foot.

So what's the point? Well, the point is that removing the major symptom(s) of our distress does not cure us. We have to consciously help the brain along. Back to my experience:

I had the advantage when I began recovery 3 years ago of knowing the tools of recovery. Life did look bleak when I began recovery - I didn't see many options for myself. I knew I needed to again practice gratitude, and I started to practice gratitude again by keeping a gratitude journal. Now, it is important to note here that I wasn't feeling very grateful. One does not need to be grateful to begin to practice gratitude. So, in my gratitude journal, I wrote down the things I had that I thought most other people were grateful for, but for which I was not yet grateful.  I wrote:

• I am grateful that I am alive.
• I am grateful that I am breathing.
• I am grateful that I am sober.
• I am grateful that I have a roof over my head.
• I am grateful that I am healthy.

And each day I would endeavor to expand this list. Note that there aren't any qualifiers - for instance, the roof over my head belonged to the Salvation Army. It's still a roof, and better than the tree I had been sleeping under! So, I started with those 5 things and I began to expand, and I gradually found more and more for which to be grateful. I got up into my head and consciously pushed my narrowed walls of perception.

Eventually I began to feel grateful. When good things happen to us, we naturally feel good! Duh! My part in this is that I don't wait for the good, I look for the good. That's practicing gratitude. Additionally, I get to define what is good! Say, for instance, I get run over by a car. I get rushed to the hospital, where an angel in scrubs gives me the most compassionate, loving care I've ever experienced, and we fall in love. I'm going to be grateful that I got run over by that car, because that event was the 'vehicle' for me meeting the love of my life. Now, that's just a fictitious example. But the fact is that one event leads to another event which leads to another event, all culminating in a life. If I can look at the events in my life with gratitude, I'll have a life for which I'm grateful.

It's important to allow the feelings of gratitude to come, because feelings are really what give our gratitude power. And, once I understand this, I can get back in the helm and direct my gratitude to determine how my day is going to be - I can be grateful in advance for the good things that are coming my way today!

The real deal is this: I (we) live in an abundant Universe, an abundant world. Blessings abound - they are all around us! But if I don't have my mind, and eventually my feelings, attuned to this abundance, I'll never see it. I'll never experience it.

Let's take health, for example. Say that I'm 95% healthy, but I have allergies, so when the weather is a certain way I'm sneezing and wheezing like I have a cold. Anything that is less than optimal health-wise grabs my complete attention. Even though having allergies detracts in a minor way from my health (my heart rate, bp, breathing, etc. are all normal), it can be a major event for me. So, when something, like allergies or a minor cold come up, I don't ignore that this is happening, but I do note at the same time that I'm still functioning pretty well. It lessens the amount of suffering for me, and increases my gratitude. What I focus on increases.

So the power of gratitude is just that - I get to create my own experience, my own reality, by learning to look at what is in a way that creates good, rather than creating more of the stuff I don't want. After I got my own place in recovery, I lived there for over a year. It was a rathole - insect and addict infested, it was cramped, it was unpleasant, it was nasty-dirty, and I was extremely grateful for it. I was grateful that I was housed, I was grateful that I was paying for it, I was grateful that I was getting stronger and building character, I was grateful it was close to downtown, etc. Eventually I got a better place, for which I was grateful, and then I got my present 2 bedroom spacious apartment with my own bathroom and with a lovely park and a river for a backyard. I'm fairly certain that if I had focused on the rattiness of the rathole in which I originally lived, I'd still be living in a similar position today. I kept looking for the good, and I found it.

I'm very grateful for a number of things right now in this moment - I'm grateful for the awareness of the power I possess to lead a good life; I'm grateful that I lived long enough to begin to discover the power within me, and I'm grateful for the desire and ability to share my life with others. 

Namasté, 

Ken

The Longest Journey

“The longest journey you will ever take is the 18 inches from your head to your heart.” —Andrew Bennett

Yesterday I wrote a little about the spiritual principles supporting recovery. In that little essay, I also wrote that none of them can be practiced perfectly.

Entry into recovery is a traumatic event. Often, to the people outside of us, the traumatic event is what precipitates the necessity for recovery - the overdose, or the suicide attempt, the drunk driving arrest. However, those events are simply the culmination of the way we've been living for the past however long it's been. Entry into recovery is often an awakening, and the awakening is the traumatic event. Waking up in the morning for me has been traumatic much of my life - in sleep, I am usually somewhere else. I'm often warm and comfy, not experiencing physical pain, and usually experiencing a nice dream that I do not wish to leave. Then BAM! I rudely awaken to the new day, with all of it's physical and emotional discomfort. (The way I'm transitioning from sleep to wakefulness is changing, but that's a different post). Entry into recovery is a lot like that - like someone throwing cold water into my face, zapping me back to the grim reality of my life. 

In recovery, be it from addiction or from mental health conditions, we are asked to do things which at first we don't necessarily believe in. "Take this medicine - it will help you." "Go to this support group - it will help you." My thoughts tell me, "This won't do any good," but I try it anyway, because I'm at the point of desperation. I will grab onto anything offered in hopes that I'll begin to feel better. 

And this is where the journey from the head to the heart begins - it is the point where I leave the known world of my own thinking into the unknown world in the search for a better life experience. If my mind is open, I notice things. Little differences. For instance, around 3 years ago I went to my very first mental health peer support group meeting. My thinking was that it would be a bunch of depressed people sitting around talking about their depressing lives. That's the image I carried of mental health support groups for years and years. So, against my better judgment, I attended that first meeting, and a few things happened there - I noticed that there were people there that were happy and friendly and welcoming (those three things are not signs of depressive behavior). As the meeting got going, I felt a glimmer of connection with others as they shared their stories. I didn't feel so alone in my condition. And when I left, I had a little more hope than when I came in.

Doubt! Maybe doubt can be considered a spiritual principle. In that first peer support group meeting, I shed a little bit of doubt on my own thinking, my own preconceived notions. My own assumptions were incorrect, or, at the very least, not 100% correct. As I continued to go to these support group meetings, I began to get better. I began to hear ideas about recovery that I hadn't heard before. I began to share my experience, strength, and hope, and it was well received. My analytical brain was confounded - it could not figure out what was going on. It couldn't see what was happening. Yet, bit by bit, I continued to get better. There must be something here that I can't see that's very, very healing - and I became ok with that. I became ok with not having to have all the answers. So there were a couple more steps on the journey from the head to the heart.

I think the challenge in this journey from head to heart is that each step I take takes me further away from something I love - my own thinking, and my own interpretation of life. It's really all that I have. I've lost everything in life, except life itself, a few times. I've had my freedom taken from me. But nobody can pry from me my own thoughts, perceptions, and beliefs. If I guard them well enough, nobody can touch them. I have to willingly give up my way of thinking in order to lose it, and that's a scary thought, because, I think (and there's the rub) that my own thinking is what makes me me! "I think, therefore I am." (René Descartes) Who am I without my thinking? What am I? 

I'm going to interject here because I just thought of something again that I remind myself of from time to time. All of the 'problems' I have today are a result of recovery. I would not have them if I were not in recovery. So, they're really not problems at all, they are challenges, or opportunities. But I never forget this: Right now, all of my challenges and opportunities are things to look forward to - an exciting adventure; if I pour alcohol onto them, they are transformed into insurmountable problems, 'permanent' failures. That is the nature of my relationship with alcohol - it turns anything positive into something very, very negative. It pays to always keep this in mind on my journey of discovery, because sometimes the brain (not me, but the brain) thinks, "I'm a lot better now. Maybe I can drink or use again successfully." A good thing for me to remember is that the overwhelming evidence in my life (and the lives of others I know) is that alcohol and living well do not mix. My brain still latches on to the very brief time in my life when alcohol seemed to be my solution; it forgets all the times it almost killed me. This is a good reminder for me that my brain is not always looking out for my best interests. It also points to another very important fact to be aware of on my journey from the head to the heart: I am not my brain.

And therein lies one of the mysteries, if not the mystery, of life for me. If I am not my brain, if I am not my thinking, then who or what am I? And this is not a question that logical brain can wrap itself around.

For now, this question is satisfied best by the statement, "We are spiritual beings having a human experience." And this is what this blog is all about, isn't it? Isn't the whole journey about reconciling that dichotomy? 

So, for today, this is the deal, I think: This whole journey is about remembering who I really am while having this human experience, and I remember who I really am by endeavoring to put into practice the aforementioned spiritual principles into my daily human existence. And the really fun thing is that each day is a new beginning! Meaning if I think I have it down pat today, tomorrow is going to show me something different! On this journey I get glimpses of who I really am. It's like those blurry shots of Bigfoot in the Pacific Northwest. So I'm chasing that vision, while at the same time knowing that in this lifetime I will never catch it. I will not completely know who I really am until I leave this human experience, but every experience I have in this existence can bring me closer to knowing. And trying to leave this existence early is cheating and will not be tolerated! My vision hopefully gets clear enough to want to stay engaged in this journey. It was touch and go for a while, but it feels like today that I'm really beginning to enjoy the experience. For that, I am supremely grateful.

I wish all of you (my two readers) all the best on your journey.

Namasté,

Ken

Individualized Recovery

As a Certified Peer Specialist, I am grateful that we use SAMHSA's definition of recovery as a guide. As a person in recovery, I'm glad it's there - I needed validation that the things I am doing to stay sane and sober are ok. When I was first exposed to recovery at the tender age of 21, I was, pretty much, a nothing. I was whatever I thought you thought I should be. I was very good at it, which was not a good thing for my own recovery - when I did the things I was told to do to get better, I did them well (sometimes over-the-top well) in order to please others in recovery. Because these things I was told to do worked for others, I was unaware that there might be other things I could be doing. Also, because I was unable to be honest about what I really thought and how I really felt, nobody could tell me that what I was doing for my recovery might not be all that I needed. So I would do what I was told to do, and fail. And I repeated this process at least 15 times in a 32 year period.  It's been a long road to get on the road to finding me.

These are the things that I've experienced that I believe are necessary for recovery from both alcoholism/addiction and mental health conditions:

• A desire to recover (yes, not everybody who is sick desires recovery).
• Honesty -  with oneself and others.
• Acceptance that one has a condition which is currently controlling their lives in an undesirable way.
• Surrender to the fact that the person experiencing the condition(s) does not have the wherewithal alone to change, which brings about a sense of
• Humility - the person having the condition begins to understand that, powerful and knowledgeable as they are, they don't have all the answers.
• Open-mindedness to hear and listen to ideas about how to get better that may seem strange or make no sense.
• Hope for recovery, which most often comes from others in recovery.
• Trust or faith  in the process of recovery (which may include faith in a higher power, faith in a mentor, or simply faith in the process).
• Courage to face all the unpleasant-at-first things a person has to face in order to recover.
• Willingness to do things for recovery that the person might not like or might not believe will work.
• Connection or community with like-minded, supportive individuals.
• Purpose - the person in recovery develops a sense of purpose out of necessity - often, addiction and mental health conditions drain any sense of purpose from our lives. Often this purpose involves being of service to others, especially those afflicted with the same condition.
• Perseverance is required because recovery doesn't take place in a day, a week, or a month, and the process isn't a straight line up. There are often pitfalls and relapses, and recovery takes consistent and almost constant effort.
• A sense of safety - in their living environment, in the people in their lives, and, sometimes, safety from one's own actions.

These principles of recovery all 3 things in common:

• They are interconnected;
• Nobody can be perfect at practicing these principles;
• They are spiritual. 

A couple examples of interconnectedness: the desire to recover usually brings about some willingness, which has an element of courage and helps to give hope. Surrender leads to humility which will eventually require acceptance of what is.

And, because we are dynamic beings, and because we are either growing or dead, the depth to which we practice these principles is infinite. For instance, one may be committing a huge act of honesty when s/he finally admits that they are addicted to a substance; however, when one goes further, s/he finds honesty in telling other truths about themselves, which causes them to take a more honest look at their behavior and patterns in their lives, which brings about even more honesty. 

And how are these recovery principles spiritual? One, because the practice of these principles all require us to go against what our egos tell us is best, and two, the practice of these principles will lead the person in recovery to see that the earth does not revolve around him or her, that they are not alone (at least in having this condition), and that there is something taking place (recovery) that is bigger than him or her. Eventually, a person feels an authentic connection to others or even the Universe that wasn't there before. The person in recovery begins to feel a sense of belonging - first to their recovery community, then maybe to the rest of humanity, and possibly to the Universe. Usually it goes in this order.

Here is where individualized recovery comes in, and I will share my experience: I am a unique individual. Although I have more in common with the rest of the human race than I ever thought possible, there are certain things about me that are unique to me. One is my perspective. If a friend and I view a sunset, it is likely that we won't both have the same exact reaction to the same sunset. If I'm driving west and my friend is my passenger, the sunset may irritate me while enthralling her. Or, if we're standing at the shore of an ocean, our own past experience and how we're feeling in the moment will color our perception of this event. 

My experience of life is not exactly like anyone else's experience of life. Again there are many similarities, but there are things that also make our experience unique. Even siblings growing up in the same family can have a different experience of their parents. My own experience is that my experience with my parents is vastly different than my brother's and sister's experience with the same two people. Why? Lots of factors - my own illness, my parents' ages when my siblings were born as opposed to when I was born, and whatever issues my parents went through themselves, just to name a few.

My own illnesses brought me into experiences which aren't shared by everyone on the planet, and these experiences have colored my view of myself, of humanity, of life, and of God in a manner unique to me. Additionally, having co-occurring conditions seems to make recovery more challenging, so, seeing others recovering while I wasn't brought me a lot of shame, which I had to eventually deal with in order to recover. When I was in jail, I would often get the label 'smart' or 'intelligent', which was a non sequitir to me - if I'm so smart, what am I doing in jail? And that comment alone added to my shame.

I have my own likes and dislikes, which change over time, and my own beliefs that came from the culture and family in which I was raised. I become aware in recovery how this affects my recovery. 

SAMHSA's view is that recovery is individualized as well as person-driven. Given all that I've mentioned that makes me unique, this makes sense to me. This means that as a person in recovery, I need to be (or learn to be) sensitive to these things within myself so I can let my care providers and others to whom I'm connected in recovery know what has shaped my life. As a peer specialist, I need to understand that whomever I'm working with is unique, too, and to get to know that person as much as I can so that I can serve them as well as I possibly can. It really is a lot of work, but it's good work - for me, much of the richness of life comes from getting to know me and others who inhabit this planet with me.

My whole point in writing this: To remind myself, and possibly to inform others, that the recovery path is not a one-size fits all type of deal. If we truly want others to recover from mental illness and addiction, we have to make connections to we can learn as much as possible about what will aid recovery. Unfortunately, we seem geared in western society toward quick fixes and a take-a-pill approach that may seem to work in the short run, but can be damaging in the long run. However, I believe that the more we persist in looking for long-term solutions, the more knowledgeable and effective we'll become at healing our dis-ease. There is a solution, and it is in each one of us.

Namasté, 

Ken

So What's the Point?

Some years ago, an idea or a thought came to me that seemed to be the Truth, at least to my head, and it was this: What if when we pass on from this life, we're asked only one question, and it is this: "Did you appreciate the life you were given?"

I think this question came to me at that time because, no, I really didn't appreciate the life I was given. For the most part, I thought it sucked, and I didn't see the point of it all. I was unable to see all the good around me and in me. I was unable to appreciate anything, even the seemingly good things in my life.

To appreciate really means to add value to or to give value to something. I think that I'm just beginning to appreciate my life now. I'm beginning to recognize the value of my life. Where I first started noticing it was when I felt that others valued my life more than I did. When I began to accept that, I noticed that I began to value the lives of others more than I had previously. And now I find myself valuing my life for itself.

Much, if not all, of what I value about my life revolves around my connection with others. I do stuff today that uplifts others. I shine light. I'm of real service. I let the healing stuff of the Universe work in me and through me, and I'm not ashamed to express that. I know what happens when I open up and let It flow. 

And I get this feeling inside like I've never experienced before - a feeling of wholeness and belonging and love and warmth. It's what I've wanted my entire life, and always looked for outside of myself, and never found. When I began looking inside, and sharing what I found in there, I began to be fulfilled. And I began to appreciate what I've been given in this life - the good, the bad, the ugly - it's all good. And I began to love myself not for what I've done, but for who I am - a beloved Child of the Universe, filled with all the goodness of the Universe. And I appreciate all the Universe creates in and through me today. 

So what's the point? To understand this journey I'm on just a little better, and to know deep down that, even after all the pain and heartache and disappointments, that it is worth it. There is great Joy to be found when I get past the fear and begin to mine the Soul to find out what's really there. And today I appreciate my life. I still think lots of stuff, but I no longer regret being born. I am grateful. I am grateful, and I feel privileged to be on this journey.

Namasté,

Ken

Recovery from Depression

Regarding my Facebook post about being in recovery for 3 years, a couple people asked me what I did to recover from depression. I know the answers a woven through this blog of mine, but I answered one person pretty concisely, and I was surprised at how involved recovery has been. Here are the steps I took/am taking to stay in recovery from depression:

1. Accept that I have a mental illness that I have no clue how to recover from.
2. Stop drinking.
3. Pray.
4. Begin trusting others to guide me.
5. Begin treatment.
6. Begin taking prescribed medication.
7. Improve my diet and try to alleviate possible nutritional deficiencies with supplements.
8. Begin going to mental health support groups (along with alcoholism recovery support groups).
9. Enter into therapy and learn CBT (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy). Apply these lessons to my life daily (hourly or second-by-second).
10. Develop a support network.
11. Be of service to others.
12. Share my story.
13. Drain the shame.
14. Take risks.
15. Exercise my body.
16. Do the things I love.
17. Learn to love myself, trust God, and trust others.
18. Reach out to those I don't even know.

Now, there's a few problems with this list. First of all, it's my list. I had to go out and discover what I need to to. Another person will have a different list, depending upon what that other person discovers they need to do. The second problem is that if you had given me this list 3 years ago, I would have done one of two things: I would have crumpled it up and thrown it away and given up, or I would've tried to do everything on the list in a week's time, failed, and given up. The third problem with this list is it's dynamic. I don't necessarily do all of those things every day, and I might add or subtract something tomorrow. The fourth problem I see is that it really leaves out a lot of stuff - stuff like getting out of bed when I don't want to get out of bed; talking to someone about feeling suicidal rather than toughing through it; accepting the good in my life, even if I feel I'm not up to it (that might fall under taking risks); plus, a lot more.

Probably a better answer to the question of "How do I or a loved one recover from depression" is: seek out every resource you can, choose what works best for you, and stick with it.

We live in a society of followers - we follow what the government says is good for us, what the pharmaceutical companies tell us is good for us, what doctors who have never recovered from anything tell us is good for us. I've had to put on the explorer hat and coat and find out for myself. There's a lot of good information and other stuff out there, but I had to seek it rather than waiting for it to come to me. I had to become the leader in my own life, and I had to make recovery my quest. It wouldn't have worked for me any other way.

I hope that answers your question!

Namasté,

Ken

The Power of Connection

Today I went to work, and I was blessed to hear an awesome recovery speaker. That's the way things happen for me of late - I suit up and show up and good things happen for me. Anyway, the man sharing his story really touched my heart in so many ways. You know, when we say 'touched my heart,' it's not just a figurative saying, it's literal. I could feel the effects of his sharing in my body, mainly in my chest. I get lots of stuff that goes in and out of my head all day long, but the things that really affect me, that are transformative, I feel. But as I'm listening to this guy, I realize that I'm on the clock - I'm getting paid to sit here and be uplifted. It doesn't get any better than this, and I haven't done anything other than suit up and show up.

Story telling is as old as humanity. People got together at the end of the day and shared their experiences with one another. That's how humans bond and feel connected - we have different experiences, yet we feel the same things - love, joy, fear, doubt, terror, humor, happiness, mystery, etc. 

Early on, I acquired the belief that it was better to live life alone - to not share my experiences or feelings with others. That sounds very lonely, but it's also very safe. Safety trumps connection. For me, however, being a hermit did not get my other needs met, so I learned to create the appearance of connecting with others. Basically, I learned how to act. I've spent much of my life acting as if I liked and trusted people and knew how to get along, when, in reality, I didn't. I trusted no one.

I do regret a little bit that I didn't have bigger cojones - all the times I had opportunities to look someone, someone who was trying to help me, in the eye and be honest and say to them, "You know what? I don't trust you. You know why? Because you're a human being, and human beings suck. If I put any trust whatsoever in you, you will hurt me, and that's not going to happen." I was way, way, way too nice and polite for my own damn good. In my own defense, I thought I was protecting myself, because to me, the threat was real. I was living the way I believed I had to live to survive.

So I managed to go through life acting as if I had friendships and relationships without ever really letting my guard down and letting people in. And every couple of years I would have a meltdown and become despondent and suicidal, surprising the people around me because I was such a good actor.

Five years ago, I understood that I would never be able to stay sober until I became authentic - until I let my guard down, allowed others to know the real me, and be vulnerable. That's a pretty tall undertaking for someone who didn't even know himself, and was pretty sure that himself wasn't someone anyone would want to be around anyway. I never liked me, why would anybody else? So I worked on knocking down the walls. I had one more relapse before I got to the point where I realized the job was too big for me alone.

I want to take a paragraph to interject about God and spirituality. Most of my life I've sought God, or Spirit, or Source, and, as I've mentioned in previous posts, I've got a pretty good radar for the Truth.  Somewhere inside I knew a relationship with God would 'fix' me. I thought if I could seal that relationship with God, I wouldn't have to worry about my relationship with others. My logic was a little fuzzy, now that I look at it, but I wanted the security and safety of having God in my life without the ickiness of having to get involved with the rest of His children. Some people may be able to do this; however, it doesn't seem to be my path.

So this last relapse, a little over 3 years ago, did it for me. Alcohol and depression had stripped me bare. It took me back to being the helpless, vulnerable 5 year old boy who was very afraid of living and had no idea what to do about it. I was exactly where I needed to be, and I surrendered - I stopped trying to cover up. I stopped trying to be the person who knew what he was doing. I just stopped. 

Perhaps the greatest blessing of my life is that I've always had great people in my life. Wherever I've been, from church to prison, from Ivory Towers to Skid Row, I've met the most giving, wise, compassionate, loving people a person could ever desire to meet. I've recognized this fact for a long time, but I failed to accept the gifts the Universe kept shoving in front of me - until 3 years ago. I began to say 'yes' to the kindness and compassion of those around me. I began to say 'yes' to the gifts that were laid at my feet - tentatively at first, sort of like an abused, starving dog will tentatively accept food from a kind stranger. After a bit of accepting the kindness and help from the good people in my life, I began to feel more secure. I began to feel safe. And I began to get better. I began to believe that I am a valuable person who is deserving of life and who has something to offer to others. And I discovered that that person was there all along, buried under a mountain of hurt and shit and shame. And I let others help me dig him out and clean him up. 

I've still got lots of healing to experience - I expect it to take the rest of my life. But along the way, I can help others find their way to healing. And I know that I can do that by fostering a connection with others. That's still very challenging for me. I don't get out of bed in the morning and say, "Oh wonderful! Another day of connection with the sick and injured of the world!" But I do know what is mine to do, and I willingly do it because I know I am supported in this endeavor by the Universe. I feel enough safety and security today to go out and share what I've been given.

Connection to others is what I rely upon to stay sober and sane today. Simply put, I couldn't connect with others because I was afraid and I could not trust. 

Connection is dropping the shields and letting another human being that I know what it's like to feel lost and alone, and to let that other person know that they're not as alone as they think they are, and that they are safe. It's about showing someone that it's ok and it's safe to be vulnerable, and that true Love doesn't hurt, it heals. And when I drop my shields and give my Love away, I get more Love back and I heal a little more. It's really a pretty good deal. 

Namasté

Ken