10 Minute Thank You!

One of the blessings of being in recovery/discovery is that there is always something to do, and always adjustments to be made in order to keep life balanced. As new things come into my life, I find I must either find more time and energy, or let go or lessen some of my involvement in other things. And the really neat blessing is since I still can feel overwhelmed if I trip over my shoelace, the new things coming in help me keep my recovery first.

On May 21, 2016, I celebrated 1 year of sobriety. I am very grateful to have finally found the right level of despair that led me to abandon any idea that I knew what I was doing and could manage my own sobriety/mental health. I am grateful to live in a community that has a multitude of resources for people in my position, and grateful to have some really wonderful individuals in my life. I'm also grateful that today my life has more meaning, and that I feel less and less like this is all a big waste of time.

I'm grateful for my recovery groups, I'm grateful for the opportunity to participate, no matter how low I've been. I'm grateful that I'm a better man than I was a year ago, and I'm grateful there's a lot of improvement yet to come.

Most of all I'm grateful for people like you - people who can see past circumstances and appearances and see the good (God) in others, and make the effort to uncover that good.

Thank you for my sobriety. Thank you for my sanity. Thank you for my life.

Namaste,

Ken

Community

I moved to the community in which I now live almost 3 years ago. The reason in my mind was two-fold - I wanted to get out of the community I lived in at that time, which happens to be the same community in which I physically grew up, and I wanted to be closer to where most of the people I know live.

I got a whole lot more than I expected. I found a home.

All of my life I've wanted to be somewhere else. That is such a sad statement, but it's true. I used to hate the community in which I grew up physically (I say 'physically' because I'm not done growing up emotionally or spiritually). When I turned 18, I moved away from that community into a community that I thought I'd like a lot better. I did. But I didn't find a home. I didn't belong there, either.

Then I spent a lot of time moving around and roaming. I didn't know I was looking for a home. Maybe I wasn't. Maybe I was just moving around and roaming. Maybe I was still trying to move away from that which I hated - myself.

Then, in a really misguided attempt to reconcile with my past, I moved back to the community in which I grew up physically. You've probably heard of taking a second bite of the same shit sandwich. Yep, that's it alright.

Then I moved here. I didn't feel at home immediately, but the past several months I've noticed that I really, really like living here. And the reason I mention it is because it is a strange, new, wonderful feeling. I was walking down the street I live on this morning, looking at the houses and the lawns and breathing the air, and loving where I was. I like the fact that every day when I go somewhere in my new hometown I see somebody I know.

A few weeks ago at work I had occasion to speak to someone from Mt. Airy, North Carolina. I said to her, "Now, it's my understanding that Mt. Airy is Mayberry, is that correct?" and she said it was. Then I said, "That must be a very nice place to live," and she said it was.

I like it here because I can be me here. I like it here because, for some reason, I feel like I'm supposed to be here. I like the river, I like the parks, I like the people I've met and I'm going to meet. I don't like the traffic, but I haven't driven in a year, so so what?

So, for whatever reason, I am home. I don't know if I'll always live here. I'll go where life takes me. But I get the feeling that moving forward, wherever I go, I'll be at home.

Namaste,

Ken

Sowing Seeds

I felt really good this morning. I felt right with myself, right with the world, ok with the weather, and right with what was mine to do today. It's not often that I feel right in so many areas. Instead of just enjoying it, I feel compelled to analyze it. One of my past wives said that was a character defect of mine - always analyzing. She might have been right, but in this case it helped confirm something I had read earlier this week.

One of my readings earlier this week said something about the happiest people are more concerned with the seeds they sow today rather than the harvest they reap today. That makes a lot of sense to me, and perhaps I feel good today because of some seeds I sowed yesterday, or last week, or 3 years ago.

My ideal approach to any given day is to know deep down that I have absolutely everything I need today - that it is already provided to me by God, Spirit, Source, the Universe, Life, whatever I choose to call It today - the great energy that flows in me an through me and everything else and keeps everything going. So, anyway, I have everything I need, so I don't have to worry about getting, because whatever I've got coming will come to me today. All I have to concern myself with is giving. What shall I give today? To whom will I give it? How will I give it?

By the way, the neat thing about giving is that giving confirms that I have something, because it's impossible to give what I don't have. That's fairly simple, isn't it?

So giving is like sowing. Jesus mentioned once or twice that we reap what we sow. That can be taken in an ominous way - for instance, if I sow violence, I will get violence back. If I spread seeds of hatred, I'll reap fruits of hatred. But I like to take it in a positive way. If I am a friend to someone today, someone will be a friend to me tomorrow (or next Tuesday, or next year). If I love today, I'll receive love back (sometime). If I give encouragement, I'll be encouraged when I need it. Kind words today come back in kind words in the future. Forgiveness - that's big - if I forgive today, I'll be forgiven. (I think Jesus said that, too - "forgive us our debts, as (in the same manner) we forgive our debtors." If I listen to someone today, then I'll be listened to. Everybody wants to be heard, right?

My unhappiest times are times of unfulfilled expectations. I've spent a large chunk of my life and a great deal of energy trying to get what I wanted. And the curious thing is that if I do actually get what I think I want, I'm very often dissatisfied and unhappy with it. Or I want more and more and more. It's tough trying to be happy living on the basis of never having enough and always needing more.

So, when I switch my purpose from getting to giving, or from reaping to sowing, I can find satisfaction. I can find peace, and I can experience acceptance and joy.

I've been continuously sober for nearly a year now ( I think I mentioned that in my last post). I've had a number of really nice experiences today (Saturday, May 14, 2016). 51 weeks ago, I did not plan any of them. Not a one. I was led into what happened today by my choices of previous days. I have what I have today because of the seeds I've sown previous days.

I should mention a couple of things here: 1, I'm not a slow learner, I'm a quick forgetter - in other words, in any given moment, I'm prone to forget what really works, and go back to my way of doing things, which is acquire, acquire, acquire; and, 2, no matter what, I can always go back to being a sower. Even in my lowest moments, I can find something to give. I've done it before. I've been on empty a number of times in my life, and when I flicked the switch of willingness, I've found something I could give. And when I found it and gave it, I found more. And more. And more. And then my pattern is to think that I have something to do with it all, other than being an instrument, and I begin to try to dictate and direct how things go. And then I'm back at #1 - forgetting what I know works best.

Very fortunately, the times I spend in forgetfulness seem to be getting less frequent and less intense. It doesn't take as long for me to see that I've got the lens turned around again.

I've already got everything I need, and all I need is to give it back.

Namaste,

Ken

Discovery

I was at a one-day conference this past weekend, and I heard something from the last speaker that I liked so I'm going to blatantly steal it. She was talking about recovery, and she said she liked to call her recovery discovery. I think that's an apt term. I think it fits: 'Hi, I'm Ken, and I'm discovering.' I like it better than saying, 'My name is Ken, and I'm a recovering alcoholic,' or '...in recovery from mental illness.' And it's a whole lot better than saying, 'I'm an alcoholic,' or 'I'm mentally ill,' because neither of those terms is very accurate today. It's been nearly a year since I've had a drink of alcohol, and it's been a while since I've been chronically symptomatic of depression.

Discovery is about finding out what I'm about and what my world is about. When I think of discovery, I think of people like Lewis and Clark, who had the courage and drive to explore places they had never been before. Or Benjamin Franklin, who liked tinkering with the world around him and flew a kite in a thunderstorm - electricity has always existed, but he 'discovered' it that day. Jesus, who discovered his Oneness with God and the Universe, and sought to show others how to discover their own Oneness. Scientists who discover new ways to treat and cure disease.

So often I get caught up in my daily have-to's - I have to go to work, I have to do my laundry, I have to exercise, go to a meeting, wash my dishes, etc. What would my day feel like if I got to go exploring today and looked forward to discovering things?

Another reason for me that discovery is more fitting than recovery is what do I have to recover in the first place? I wouldn't trade my life today for any of my yesterdays, even those before I started drinking. Recovery implies to me going back to a former state of mental/emotional/physical health. Well, ok, I much preferred my weight about 25 years ago, but, other than that, there's nothing to which I want to go back. Well, perhaps not having any gray hair, but when I look at my gray hairs, I know I earned each and every one of them!

So  discovery is more fun - it's forward looking, it's exciting, it's much more than the same ol' same ol', day in and day out. It's finding out who I am, discovering who you are, and how we fit best in this world of ours. 

Enjoy your discovery today!

Namaste,

Ken

Ground Zero (or, You Can't Get There From Here)

I might have written about this before, but it is so important to my recovery that it bears mentioning again. And again. And again.

For the vast majority of my life, I aspired to be what I thought other people expected me to be. I tried to live up to your expectations, even if you never told me expressly what your expectations were. But inside, and not very deep down, I knew that I could not cut it. I did not have what it takes to live life - yours, mine, or anybody else's. So, I learned a lot of workarounds - I maneuvered and manipulated so that it would appear that I was making it - that I was a competent human being that knew what he was doing and could handle most anything. I thought that's what you wanted me to be - I really did.

All this acting did not make me a successful human being. All it really did was to create a deep chasm within me - a huge separation between me and everyone else...between me and life...between me and the real me.

About 3 years ago I began the process of learning (or possibly remembering) how to live from my true self. It's not an overnight process, and it's not easy - for me it requires a constant examination of my thinking, my motives, and my actions, and a re-training of my brain.

Nearly a year ago, I surrendered any idea that I knew what I was doing, or that I knew what was best for me. I don't recall a bright light going off in my head, or Lake Michigan parting, or any burning bushes. Something within me simply stopped playing the game.

So, I started recovery exactly where I was at - sick from active alcoholism and untreated depression, homeless, jobless, penniless, carless, and with not very much of an idea of what to do about it all. And I was tired - so very, very tired.

There is a paradox here that bears mentioning - being 'around' recovery for many years, I knew what recovery looked like, and I knew what the solution was - but I didn't know it for myself. For example, if someone comes to me desiring recovery, I can point them in the right direction and get them started; however, I cannot orchestrate or direct my own recovery. I suppose it's because I'm the broken one, and I can't fix what's broken (me) with what broke me in the first place (me). I must ask for and accept guidance from those around me.

About a year ago, I began earnestly following the suggestions of those who were suggesting things to me. I stopped using alcohol. I began going to recovery meetings again. I started living at the Salvation Army. I engaged in Intensive Outpatient Treatment for alcoholism. I acquired a doctor, who made some suggestions. I began going to NAMI support groups to begin recovery from depression. After two months of sobriety, when I found myself still wishing I were dead and not having much hope, I agreed to start taking medication for depression. I got a crappy part-time job at the local retailer of donated goods. I accepted the invitation to spend a month (which turned into 6 weeks) at the halfway house from which I had graduated nearly two years before. I finished my IOP treatment and I moved into a rooming house (where I still reside and share the bathroom with others). I followed the suggestion of a friend and applied for a full-time job where he works, and I still work there today. I became self-supporting, meaning I pay my own rent, I buy my own food and other necessities, I pay off some of my debt each paycheck, and I keep current with my expenses (I don't borrow money or neglect bills anymore). I still walk, ride my bike, or ride the bus - right now, I can't afford a car. I've become more deeply involved in NAMI. I'm in therapy and I'm avoiding romantic relationships.

That's some of the stuff I'm doing, and what makes it important for me is that I'm not living outside of my current capabilities. I'm taking a realistic look at what I can do today and learning and growing from there, instead of trying to live from a place of what I (or others) think I should be doing. I'm learning to be me, where I'm at today and what I'm about today, and I'm learning to be OK with it.

The real kicker is this - I spent all those years - 50+ - working at projecting a false image of myself in the hope of gaining approval and happiness, and I found neither. As I mentioned before, now I endeavor to find out who I am and live from that, no matter what I think others think of that (I've found out that most people don't give a shit anyway). The result is that I like myself better and I experience more happiness and peace of mind being me than I've ever experienced before, and sometimes it's even fun exploring who I am. And it's really only just begun. I might not be too much to write home about, but I'm real, and today I can live with that (and myself).

Namasté

Ken

5 Year Plan?

I took a survey at work yesterday. Management is trying to find out what our 'carrots' are - what motivates us. One of the questions was, 'What would you like to be doing in 5 years?'

I've always hated the 5-year question. The last time I encountered it was several years ago when I was filling out a job application for [national pet supply chain]. I was applying for a stocking position. My reply was, 'Really? I'm not sure, but it's probably not schlepping dog food for [national pet supply chain].' And, of course, that's not what I'm doing today.

On the survey for work, I thought about it and answered, 'Breathing.' I'm way past trying to figure out what the best answer is and plugging it in. Being alive and breathing seems to be a pretty good place for me to be in 5 years, considering my last 5 (and 10, 15, 20, 30, and 40).  I suppose that points to my lack of ambition, and sometimes I feel bad that I don't have a 5 year plan. But I realize I only feel bad about that because it makes me look like I don't have any ambition, when in truth, I do.

I'm in recovery. I am recovering from mental illness and from alcoholism. That's why even being alive in 5 years is a pretty big aspiration for me. I'm not really sure that that's where I'll be. But my ambition today is to stay sober today and to stay as symptom free today as I possibly can. My ambition today is to make today the best possible day that I can. I do that today by waking up, getting up, suiting up, and showing up. And I know today that the attitude with which I show up is more important that where I show up or what I do when I do show up. I know that if I get up, suit up, and show up, I'm going to run into people today, and, to me, how I interact with the people I run into is much more important than anything else that can happen today.

I used to live each day thinking - believing - that what I did didn't matter. I used to live thinking - believing - that I had no impact, positive or negative, on the lives of others. I just didn't matter that much. So I took actions that made me feel ok in the short term, without concern for how my actions affected those around me. It just didn't matter.

Today I know I was wrong. I'm not any more important than I ever was, but I do know I'm more important than I think I am. I am connected; I am a part of, not apart from. How I treat myself and how I treat others and what I bring to life today is of utmost importance. Each day I encounter opportunities to share my gifts, and, most importantly, my divinity, with those around me, and I do that by practicing principles such as love, honesty, open-mindedness, willingness, acceptance, humility, compassion, tolerance, faith, hope, gratitude, and courage (there's more, but I can't think of them all now). I also work at discovering what my true gifts are, and I work at sharing them with those around me. I don't do any of this perfectly, and I don't do any of it alone. The reward for all of this practice is that the more I give away, the more I have to give. The more I practice embracing life, the more I enjoy life, and the less afraid I am.

Last year at this time, I was headed for (if I wasn't already there) my last relapse. My aspirations were gone, along with my hope and my desire to live. Last year I was done.

On May 21st of 2015, I began recovery again, and I began using every resource I had, and I began to be open-minded and accepting. I like where I'm at today, spiritually, mentally, emotionally, physically. There's lots of room for improvement in every area, but I like where I'm at. And what I'm often reminded of is that I did not plan to be where I'm at today last year. I just sort of arrived, a day at a time, a step at a time.

I would like to be breathing in 5 years. I would also like to be a lot less afraid to share my gifts with those around me. I'd like to have more courage, and be of more useful service to others than I am today. I'd really like to have my own bathroom. That's my only material goal - to live in a bit of a better place than I do now. Other than that, in 5 years I want to look back and be amazed. I want to look at the person I was 5 years ago and see only a vague resemblance to the person I am. I want to know deeper in my heart that I do belong, that I am an important part of life. I want to be able to look at myself in the mirror and truly love and appreciate the man looking back at me.

I do know that all of that is possible, if I make today the best possible day I know how to.

Namaste,

Ken

Little Miracles

I like little miracles. Little miracles are easier for me to see and digest than are big miracles. For some reason, I'm not thrilled out of my pants to be alive, sober, and sane today. I'm grateful and I'm glad, but I don't have the feeling one might get from surviving or escaping a near-death experience, which I get to do on a daily basis. But I get to see little miracles every day, when I've a mind to.

Little miracles are those things that I experience that practically no one else would give a shit about. They are events and occurrences in my life which would not make the headlines, but they are meaningful to me. They are those things which show evidence of a Higher Power in my life. Things like waking up in the morning without feeling anger, fear, and dread. Things like paying my rent on time, and paying my debts. Things like being able to return love and compassion when I am confronted with a person filled with anger and grief. Things like being able to believe in things I don't yet see. Things like not having a lot materially, but being able to see the value in that which I do have. Things like having a ton of true friends and the feeling of being a part of, rather than apart from. Things like really being ok with sitting at a computer in the public library and shedding tears of joy without shame.

Winter is not my favorite season. I don't particularly care for wearing 50 lbs. of clothing to stay warm and having to slog through snow and ice. But I've been told that there is beauty and reason in everything that exists, no matter what the appearances are. The other day, I was slogging through the evidence of winter to an appointment, and I mentioned to the Universe how I thought it would be nice to see the beauty in this crap. I came to a golf course which, during summer months, I have cut across to shorten my walk. There was a sign that said 'Course Closed'. Of course. I usually take signs as suggestions, rather than as orders, and I began to walk across the golf course. What I began to see as I walked across the course reminded me of a picture postcard - the fairway was virgin snow, framed by trees on either side. I really don't have words to describe how pretty it looked to me as I walked forth to my destination, but I knew my request to the Universe had been granted - I was able to experience beauty in something in which I usually experience discomfort.

Each day in which I open my mind and my heart to the presence of my Higher Power is a day in which I can experience these little miracles, and I am grateful. Thank you God!

Namasté,
Ken