A very real aid to mental health and substance use recovery is having a sense of purpose. The opposite of having a sense of purpose is having no sense of purpose - no reason to get out of bed in the morning, nothing really going on to motivate me to put forth any effort to embrace life. Major depressive disorder can make it seem as if I have no purpose, or as if my purpose isn't really worthwhile or valid. Active addiction takes away whatever sense of purpose I might have and replaces it with the purpose of obtaining and using alcohol or other drugs. So when I begin recovery, and continue in recovery, having a sense of purpose helps me keep moving forward when there are forces within me that would like to see me move backward.
I think there is a difference between having a purpose and having a sense of purpose. Having a purpose, to me, is more finite. It's having a goal, which is concrete and observable. It's a destination - I'm going to become a millionaire, or I'm going to travel to New Orleans. Having a sense of purpose, on the other hand, gives me a guide about how I'm going to show up today - what my attitude and behavior is going to be. Having a sense of purpose doesn't guarantee that I'm going to reach a specific destination. It's more like, "I'm going to travel in a northerly direction and see where I end up." A sense of purpose is the journey itself.
Having a sense of purpose allows me to adjust to what is and live in the now. My own particular sense of purpose allows me to use the gifts I have to help enrich the lives of others while at the same time progressing in my own healing work. This is a fairly broad sense of purpose, and here is one of the ways in which it helps: I'm currently working in a job that isn't something I want to do for the rest of my life. I inspect parts, and have recently been upgraded to machine operator. Sometimes it's fun and interesting; sometimes, I do the same thing over and over for 8 hours. In the job itself, I get to use my 'gift' of being able to find fault with anything. Under normal (for me) circumstances, I would find this job boring and very hard to do - the pay isn't good, and there's not a lot of incentive to keep showing up other than it's all I have right now. Without a sense of purpose that I can bring to the job, I'd find myself getting depressed and possibly relapsing. However, I'm able to activate my sense of purpose so that my 8 hours a day (not including travel) is not wasted.
My sense of purpose allows me to understand that if I continue to do well at this job, something better will show up for me. Also, I take the time and energy to get to know some of the people with whom I work, and I sometimes ride home with people I work with. I've found that many of the people I work with can relate one way or another to substance use and/or mental health issues. Also, I have plenty of time to practice silent affirmations while I'm at work.
I'm not a person who has a lot of internal motivation. I'm like an actor who can't do a role until s/he knows their motivation. I'm not the most ambitious boy on the block. I have, however, learned that I can instill within myself a sense of purpose that can masquerade as motivation or ambition. It's really knowing that whatever I'm engaging in, no matter what it looks like on the surface, is moving me in a direction that I want to go.
I believe that each moment I move forward with a sense of purpose, I am not only helping others, I am strengthening my own recovery.
Namasté,
Ken
Wednesday, September 18, 2019
Wednesday, September 4, 2019
The Resilience Factor
Resilience: 1. the capacity to recover quickly from difficulties; toughness. 2. the ability of a substance or object to spring back into shape; elasticity. (Oxford English Dictionary)
Last week I was doing some online stuff before work started, and I ran into two disappointments, one of them financial. I thought about my options for a little bit, and then started work. There were no histrionics, no self-pity, no rending of my clothes and/or gnashing of my teeth (well, maybe a little gnashing - I'm a gnasher from way back), just simple acceptance of the way things were in that moment. I said a little prayer of thanks for resilience.
Later on, as I'm working and thinking, I'm thinking about the fact that I didn't do my morning routine of spiritual and inspirational readings and prayer either that day or the day before, and I'm beginning to wonder how long my resilience will last. Will something happen later on that will be the straw that breaks the camel's back, and sends me into negative thinking, self-pity, and depression? You see, in me, resilience is not something that I either have or I don't; it's a mindset that I acquire through certain practices.
I like the 2nd definition above a little more than the first. The 2nd definition reminds me of a live, healthy tree - it's got roots that go deep enough to support it and nourish it, and it has sap running through it's fibers that nourish its limbs and leaves. A healthy tree can often survive a strong storm - the winds may bend the tree and rustle its leaves, but when the storm is done, the tree will be back to its old self. Now, take a tree that has died, but is still standing - the sap has run out of it, and it's limbs are hard and rigid. A dead tree can be easily uprooted or have its limbs snap off in a storm because it's no longer resilient - it lacks the quality of elasticity which would allow it to be swayed and return to its original shape.
Resilience is an important part of recovery from addiction and mental illness. Resilience in this way can be likened to immunity - if my immune system is strong, I can resist acquiring infections, or if I do get infected, I will recover quickly. If I have a weak or compromised immune system, my body is much more likely to catch something, and it could create a serious and even life-threatening infection. Certain things like my age, my diet, whether or not I exercise and get enough sleep, and my reaction to stress are all factors in whether or not my immune system is healthy and strong. I keep my resiliency healthy in much the same way, with a few more things added.
I'd like to mention here that I do take prescribed medication to treat my mental health condition. The medication does not really make me more resilient; it allows me to get to a level of functioning whereby I am able to practice coping skills that will help me maintain my mental/emotional health and sobriety.
So now that my brain is banging on all 8 most of the time, what do I do to enhance my resiliency? (The following list is not ordered in importance, other than the first item).
- Abstain from alcohol and other mood-altering drugs. Kinda makes sense, and for me there's no quicker way to push resilience away than by beginning to use again.
- Take my mental health medication as prescribed, and consult my psychiatrist before making any changes. It feels good to go for a while without a depressive episode, but time without an episode does not mean I'm cured. Likewise, time without an episode does not make me immune. I need to let others help me manage my mental health (which is a big challenge for me, but can be done).
- Daily read spiritual material, pray, and meditate (or practice mindfulness). Ok, maybe these are in order of importance so far. I've been able to do this more consistently lately than ever before, and there are so many benefits to a consistent spiritual practice. Not only do I feel more connected to life, but the connection allows me to feel like life happens through me rather than to me, and this is an important factor in resilience. Another benefit is that staying connected spiritually gives me more power and motivation to do other healthy things for myself.
- Practice good sleep hygiene. Lack of good sleep contributes negatively to my resiliency. It's that simple.
- Eat healthily. Eating healthy foods makes me feel better inside, whereas eating junk and sugar can make me irritable and impatient, two feelings that do not contribute to resiliency.
- Play. Doing stuff just for fun reminds me that life isn't always as serious as my mind can make it out to be.
- Utilize support groups. Having places to share my experience, strength, and hope with others keeps me living in the solution. On my own, I have a tendency to live in the problem, which is not resilient. On my own, my mind narrows, and I don't see solutions.
- Utilize mentorship. Like support groups, mentorship allows me to learn new ways of living from someone I trust.
- Exercise. Exercise is healthy! And it releases certain natural chemicals that make my brain feel good. And I feel more whole when I exercise regularly. Exercise lowers my blood pressure and heartbeat. All of these things promote resilience.
Finding out what makes one resilient is a matter of reflection. Do stuff and see what happens. Meditate for a few days, and if someone cuts you off on the road and you don't get pissed, it might be from the meditation. Or eat straight sugar for 3 days, and if life begins to seem overwhelming, there might be a causal relationship.
The librarian is giving me the evil eye, so I will close here and maybe come back and edit. Thanks for reading!
Namasté,
Ken
Wednesday, August 28, 2019
Integrating Life's Experiences
Forty-six years ago, when I was 11 years old, I lost my left eye. It got injured in an accident and I had it replaced with a prosthesis. I started the 6th grade shortly after it happened, and it was a difficult time. It takes a while to get used to monocular vision after having binocular vision - depth perception is all but gone, and bumping into things becomes much easier. And if I couldn't play baseball and basketball all too well previously, I sure couldn't now! Insult was added to injury when I became the class freak. Little kids are mean, vicious bastards, and will pick on anyone who doesn't fit into a fairly narrow version of what a 'normal' kid should be. I became acutely aware that I now had one eye, both from my own perspective and the perspective of those around me.
Eventually, I learned to integrate my experience - that is, I wasn't always conscious that I had only one working eye, and when brought up, it wasn't something about me from which I wanted to hide. And by 'eventually', I don't mean 3 or 4 months - try 6 years plus. (I was mostly cool with it as an adult, until I had occasion in a therapy group to talk about it, and I realized by the sweat pouring out of my armpits that I might still have some anxiety surrounding the issue. I learned at that time, in 2002, that I had held a resentment against God all that time for not giving me the healing I wanted. But that's another post). In high school I learned to drive, and discovered that I could drive decently with one eye - decent enough to get my driver's license. I'm not sure exactly how I handle the whole depth perception thing, but my brain has found a way to calculate distance while driving that works well, except when it's nighttime and rainy (or when I've been drinking, but even people with two eyes shouldn't drink and drive).
That's what I mean about integrating a life experience - being able to accept that I am a whole human being despite something 'bad' happening to me and being able to live well with a, frailty, for lack of a better word right now. Or maybe that is a good word. Yes, that's a good word.
Enough about the eye - this post isn't about body parts, it's about personal integration.
So at work, my new job, 4 or 5 people have asked how I came to live in the little town in which I now reside. I've told the truth, to each person - I've stated matter-of-factly that I was having problems with alcoholism and depression, and went into the treatment facility in this small town, and I live here now (for a while, anyway, but I don't say that at work). Telling the truth, especially in this instance, is a whole lot easier than making up a story that I'd have to remember and might bring on more questions. The truth has been received matter-of-factly as well; here's a person who had an issue and came here to do something about it, much like a person with a physical illness might visit the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN.
Had I made up a story, the worst thing wouldn't have been having to maintain the story; the worst thing would have been the damage done to my soul and psyche (maybe the same thing) by covering up an essential piece of who I really am. When I lie about myself and cover things up, I'm reinforcing the belief that I'm not good enough just as I am. I generate more shame when I try to pretend I'm somebody that I'm not. Now, I can walk through shame and guilt - I've done it before, a lot, and I'm pretty good at it - for a minute. Loading more stuff onto the shame I already carry pushes me closer to my next relapse.
Another life experience came up at work. One of the guys with whom I work has mentioned a couple of times that he's done time (spent time in prison). Ok, cool, whatever. So we're working the other day, and he asks me, "You ever been to prison?" This caught me by surprise, but I still responded with, "Yes." Then he asks where, and I tell him the Wisconsin prisons I've stayed at (I left out Kansas, because I didn't think he was talking about Kansas). Then he asks when, and it turns out we were at the same correctional facility for a time. Now, I don't know this guy from Adam, but he must have remembered my face, because he remembered that I was a tutor who helped inmates get their GED. And I'm thinking, what the hell? What are the chances of working with a guy with whom I was in prison 17 years ago? It turns out that we've both been able to avoid going back since that time, so it's all good.
A faithful reader of this blog might think that I've bared my soul through this blog enough to be rid of any shame I might have harbored. Nope - it's just the tip of the iceberg, but it really does help. It's not necessary for me to tell everyone I meet my whole life story, but it's evident to me that it is necessary for me to be able to share my experience with others when it does come up.
I want to be authentic and integrated. More than want to, it is necessary for my continued mental health and sobriety. Integrated means pieces put together and whole. It's like a jigsaw puzzle - when the pieces are put where they fit, and they're all there, the puzzle makes a beautiful picture. If pieces are missing, or in the wrong place, it detracts from the picture.
Nothing happens, nothing could happen, in life without the Universe's permission. This is not to say that every experience every human has is good - far from it! There's lots of pain and suffering in life, along with joy and beauty. I certainly don't know the why behind everything. I do know that a lot of the bad that happens in this world is the natural consequence of unskillful thinking. Another portion of the bad that happens, at least in my life, comes from trying to cover up - it comes from straight up dishonesty and the ego's desire to show the world a different face than what's really going on. And covering something up guarantees that it's going to happen again.
Let's take an easy example. Say I went out drinking last night (I didn't, but let's just say I did); in the morning, in addition to remorse and a hangover, I've got people around me asking what the hell I was up to last night. If I tell the truth as best I can, I'm allowing Light to shine on the subject, and I've a better chance of being led to a solution. If I'm dishonest, I'm keeping my actions and my motives in the dark. Now I've just added a shovelful of guilt and shame onto myself. How does an alcoholic live with guilt and shame? This one doesn't - he drinks again to cover it up, which adds yet more guilt and shame.
So a part, maybe most or all, of being authentic and integrated is rigorous honesty. It's not easy, but it's necessary. Honesty allows the light to shine on a problem, which then can yield a solution, and the problem doesn't have to repeat itself. Healing can take place.
That's a major part of what I'm doing at this time in my life - learning and taking the risk to be vulnerable, to be honest, so that I might reconcile my past with who I am today and live this life joyously without shame.
The Universe just spoke through the librarian at the library where I'm writing this to let me know I've got just a few minutes left, so I'll wrap this sucker up. If you're still with me, thank you!
There are 3 or 4 people in the world who know me, and who still think I'm a pretty neat guy. Yeah, I know, there's no accounting for taste! But I am beginning to accept that every experience, good or bad, has led me to this point today, to being the person I am today. My thoughts, feelings, and actions have shaped me into the person I am today, so even if I've had some less than desirable experiences, the ultimate result for a lot of them has been a better Ken. So my goal is to shine the Light on the stuff that still lurks in the darkness, so that I may come to love myself more, to love life more, and to become even more useful to this world.
I'll keep you apprised.
Namasté,
Ken
Eventually, I learned to integrate my experience - that is, I wasn't always conscious that I had only one working eye, and when brought up, it wasn't something about me from which I wanted to hide. And by 'eventually', I don't mean 3 or 4 months - try 6 years plus. (I was mostly cool with it as an adult, until I had occasion in a therapy group to talk about it, and I realized by the sweat pouring out of my armpits that I might still have some anxiety surrounding the issue. I learned at that time, in 2002, that I had held a resentment against God all that time for not giving me the healing I wanted. But that's another post). In high school I learned to drive, and discovered that I could drive decently with one eye - decent enough to get my driver's license. I'm not sure exactly how I handle the whole depth perception thing, but my brain has found a way to calculate distance while driving that works well, except when it's nighttime and rainy (or when I've been drinking, but even people with two eyes shouldn't drink and drive).
That's what I mean about integrating a life experience - being able to accept that I am a whole human being despite something 'bad' happening to me and being able to live well with a, frailty, for lack of a better word right now. Or maybe that is a good word. Yes, that's a good word.
Enough about the eye - this post isn't about body parts, it's about personal integration.
So at work, my new job, 4 or 5 people have asked how I came to live in the little town in which I now reside. I've told the truth, to each person - I've stated matter-of-factly that I was having problems with alcoholism and depression, and went into the treatment facility in this small town, and I live here now (for a while, anyway, but I don't say that at work). Telling the truth, especially in this instance, is a whole lot easier than making up a story that I'd have to remember and might bring on more questions. The truth has been received matter-of-factly as well; here's a person who had an issue and came here to do something about it, much like a person with a physical illness might visit the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN.
Had I made up a story, the worst thing wouldn't have been having to maintain the story; the worst thing would have been the damage done to my soul and psyche (maybe the same thing) by covering up an essential piece of who I really am. When I lie about myself and cover things up, I'm reinforcing the belief that I'm not good enough just as I am. I generate more shame when I try to pretend I'm somebody that I'm not. Now, I can walk through shame and guilt - I've done it before, a lot, and I'm pretty good at it - for a minute. Loading more stuff onto the shame I already carry pushes me closer to my next relapse.
Another life experience came up at work. One of the guys with whom I work has mentioned a couple of times that he's done time (spent time in prison). Ok, cool, whatever. So we're working the other day, and he asks me, "You ever been to prison?" This caught me by surprise, but I still responded with, "Yes." Then he asks where, and I tell him the Wisconsin prisons I've stayed at (I left out Kansas, because I didn't think he was talking about Kansas). Then he asks when, and it turns out we were at the same correctional facility for a time. Now, I don't know this guy from Adam, but he must have remembered my face, because he remembered that I was a tutor who helped inmates get their GED. And I'm thinking, what the hell? What are the chances of working with a guy with whom I was in prison 17 years ago? It turns out that we've both been able to avoid going back since that time, so it's all good.
A faithful reader of this blog might think that I've bared my soul through this blog enough to be rid of any shame I might have harbored. Nope - it's just the tip of the iceberg, but it really does help. It's not necessary for me to tell everyone I meet my whole life story, but it's evident to me that it is necessary for me to be able to share my experience with others when it does come up.
I want to be authentic and integrated. More than want to, it is necessary for my continued mental health and sobriety. Integrated means pieces put together and whole. It's like a jigsaw puzzle - when the pieces are put where they fit, and they're all there, the puzzle makes a beautiful picture. If pieces are missing, or in the wrong place, it detracts from the picture.
Nothing happens, nothing could happen, in life without the Universe's permission. This is not to say that every experience every human has is good - far from it! There's lots of pain and suffering in life, along with joy and beauty. I certainly don't know the why behind everything. I do know that a lot of the bad that happens in this world is the natural consequence of unskillful thinking. Another portion of the bad that happens, at least in my life, comes from trying to cover up - it comes from straight up dishonesty and the ego's desire to show the world a different face than what's really going on. And covering something up guarantees that it's going to happen again.
Let's take an easy example. Say I went out drinking last night (I didn't, but let's just say I did); in the morning, in addition to remorse and a hangover, I've got people around me asking what the hell I was up to last night. If I tell the truth as best I can, I'm allowing Light to shine on the subject, and I've a better chance of being led to a solution. If I'm dishonest, I'm keeping my actions and my motives in the dark. Now I've just added a shovelful of guilt and shame onto myself. How does an alcoholic live with guilt and shame? This one doesn't - he drinks again to cover it up, which adds yet more guilt and shame.
So a part, maybe most or all, of being authentic and integrated is rigorous honesty. It's not easy, but it's necessary. Honesty allows the light to shine on a problem, which then can yield a solution, and the problem doesn't have to repeat itself. Healing can take place.
That's a major part of what I'm doing at this time in my life - learning and taking the risk to be vulnerable, to be honest, so that I might reconcile my past with who I am today and live this life joyously without shame.
The Universe just spoke through the librarian at the library where I'm writing this to let me know I've got just a few minutes left, so I'll wrap this sucker up. If you're still with me, thank you!
There are 3 or 4 people in the world who know me, and who still think I'm a pretty neat guy. Yeah, I know, there's no accounting for taste! But I am beginning to accept that every experience, good or bad, has led me to this point today, to being the person I am today. My thoughts, feelings, and actions have shaped me into the person I am today, so even if I've had some less than desirable experiences, the ultimate result for a lot of them has been a better Ken. So my goal is to shine the Light on the stuff that still lurks in the darkness, so that I may come to love myself more, to love life more, and to become even more useful to this world.
I'll keep you apprised.
Namasté,
Ken
Wednesday, August 21, 2019
Keeping My Chin Up (I'm Still Here)
Since my last post, I've stayed sober (and relatively sane), let my Certified Peer Specialist certification lapse, gotten a job in a plastics factory as an inspector, re-connected with my therapist and begun work on discovering those subconscious tidbits that continually trip me up, successfully completed treatment, and moved into sober living. Other than that, it's been kind of slow.
Today I'm going to write about what's foremost in my mind, which isn't (at this point, anyway) a happy topic. I like to put things nicely, but I don't know how in this instance - so, here it is: there has been a lot of relapse and death around me lately. First, my roommate from the halfway house moved into sober living - we were going to be roommates there as well - and he relapsed in a big way about the time I was moving into sober living. He's not doing well. Some other people with whom I shared the treatment journey have relapsed as well. Two people I know in recovery have passed recently. I also found out one of my cousins' sons passed away two years ago at age 25. I didn't know him, but it's one of those things that makes me wonder and makes me sad. And I found out today from the person with whom I've been riding to work that their oldest child died some years ago from a heroin overdose. And then today at work, the person I was working with today told me that his sister passed away 2 weeks ago, and my coworker is now raising their niece and nephew, and they found out today that a friend of theirs died by suicide two days ago.
It's sad. I feel sad about all the suffering going on. I also feel a bit dismayed - what the heck is going on? There have been a lot of deaths this past year by suicide and relapse. When I was still sick, in my active addiction and depression, I used this as an excuse to not get better. I was giving up. Now I recognize it as a part of the territory I'm in - I know a lot of people in recovery from addiction and a fair number of people living with mental health conditions. What's happening now is, unfortunately, not all that unusual; I'm simply acutely aware of it right now, 'it' being people suffering and sometimes dying.
My response today was to get a little down in the dumps about it all. Writing about it helps; talking to the right person about it would help, too, except that I don't have phone service again until the day after tomorrow and it's a bit difficult to get hold of the person with whom I'd like to talk. But whatever. My overall response is one of gratitude. I look at each individual that has relapsed and each individual that has passed away and say, "That could have been me." My gratitude is that I am still here to enjoy this life and contribute what I can.
And then I focus on the living. I've been told, and I believe, that 'Why?' isn't a spiritual question - that when I ask 'Why?', I'm not looking for a reason, I'm looking for an argument. I can't do anything for those that have passed on. I can do little for those who have relapsed until they become ready again to get back into recovery. I can do a lot for the survivors.
I listen, and, when warranted, I share my experience. No, I can't bring your loved one back to life, nor can I make anyone recover. But I can listen and let you share your sadness, hurt, grief, and dismay with me. I can make myself available so your pain might ease for just a bit. I don't like the subjects of grief and loss and relapse anymore than most people; but I am equipped to walk with someone a little bit so that they aren't completely alone in their suffering. I can even give a little hope around the possibility that things will get better, because I've been where their loved one has been and I'm getting better. Recovery is possible so long as we're still breathing.
One thing I know today and pretty much accept is that I can't feel the joy of life if I avoid the suffering. I don't like that fact, but it seems to be true, so I work on accepting it. This means when suffering comes from my own thoughts and actions, I endeavor to embrace it, so I can learn from it and let it go. If I try to escape or avoid it, it just comes at me from a different route. Today I'd rather face stuff head-on. And I don't attempt to avoid the real suffering of others either. I figure that if it comes to me, it must be mine to deal with in some way, through listening, sharing, and prayer.
Through it all, I'm still here, and I'm in a good place - I'm sane and sober, I've got everything I need materially today, and I have purpose. I can't tell you what next week will look like, but I can say that if I continue to do what's mine in front of me to do, I'll still be doing well. And I'm grateful today for the journey.
By the way, thank you to Anonymous for the comment on my last post - I really appreciate it! And if anyone else feels like commenting, please do so.
Namasté,
Ken
Today I'm going to write about what's foremost in my mind, which isn't (at this point, anyway) a happy topic. I like to put things nicely, but I don't know how in this instance - so, here it is: there has been a lot of relapse and death around me lately. First, my roommate from the halfway house moved into sober living - we were going to be roommates there as well - and he relapsed in a big way about the time I was moving into sober living. He's not doing well. Some other people with whom I shared the treatment journey have relapsed as well. Two people I know in recovery have passed recently. I also found out one of my cousins' sons passed away two years ago at age 25. I didn't know him, but it's one of those things that makes me wonder and makes me sad. And I found out today from the person with whom I've been riding to work that their oldest child died some years ago from a heroin overdose. And then today at work, the person I was working with today told me that his sister passed away 2 weeks ago, and my coworker is now raising their niece and nephew, and they found out today that a friend of theirs died by suicide two days ago.
It's sad. I feel sad about all the suffering going on. I also feel a bit dismayed - what the heck is going on? There have been a lot of deaths this past year by suicide and relapse. When I was still sick, in my active addiction and depression, I used this as an excuse to not get better. I was giving up. Now I recognize it as a part of the territory I'm in - I know a lot of people in recovery from addiction and a fair number of people living with mental health conditions. What's happening now is, unfortunately, not all that unusual; I'm simply acutely aware of it right now, 'it' being people suffering and sometimes dying.
My response today was to get a little down in the dumps about it all. Writing about it helps; talking to the right person about it would help, too, except that I don't have phone service again until the day after tomorrow and it's a bit difficult to get hold of the person with whom I'd like to talk. But whatever. My overall response is one of gratitude. I look at each individual that has relapsed and each individual that has passed away and say, "That could have been me." My gratitude is that I am still here to enjoy this life and contribute what I can.
And then I focus on the living. I've been told, and I believe, that 'Why?' isn't a spiritual question - that when I ask 'Why?', I'm not looking for a reason, I'm looking for an argument. I can't do anything for those that have passed on. I can do little for those who have relapsed until they become ready again to get back into recovery. I can do a lot for the survivors.
I listen, and, when warranted, I share my experience. No, I can't bring your loved one back to life, nor can I make anyone recover. But I can listen and let you share your sadness, hurt, grief, and dismay with me. I can make myself available so your pain might ease for just a bit. I don't like the subjects of grief and loss and relapse anymore than most people; but I am equipped to walk with someone a little bit so that they aren't completely alone in their suffering. I can even give a little hope around the possibility that things will get better, because I've been where their loved one has been and I'm getting better. Recovery is possible so long as we're still breathing.
One thing I know today and pretty much accept is that I can't feel the joy of life if I avoid the suffering. I don't like that fact, but it seems to be true, so I work on accepting it. This means when suffering comes from my own thoughts and actions, I endeavor to embrace it, so I can learn from it and let it go. If I try to escape or avoid it, it just comes at me from a different route. Today I'd rather face stuff head-on. And I don't attempt to avoid the real suffering of others either. I figure that if it comes to me, it must be mine to deal with in some way, through listening, sharing, and prayer.
Through it all, I'm still here, and I'm in a good place - I'm sane and sober, I've got everything I need materially today, and I have purpose. I can't tell you what next week will look like, but I can say that if I continue to do what's mine in front of me to do, I'll still be doing well. And I'm grateful today for the journey.
By the way, thank you to Anonymous for the comment on my last post - I really appreciate it! And if anyone else feels like commenting, please do so.
Namasté,
Ken
Saturday, July 6, 2019
A Firm Footing
Living in a community (halfway house) with 10 or 11 other men in early recovery is an excellent opportunity - it's an opportunity to learn how to get along with other men without the use of mind-altering chemicals, how to develop healthy friendships, and how to express oneself in a healthy way. It's also an opportunity to experiment with different recovery strategies and find out what works and what doesn't work.
Although relapse isn't mandatory, it often takes more than one treatment for a person living with addiction and/or a mental health condition to attain and maintain a recovery that lasts. My observation and my experience is that a real surrender and a real desire to change from the inside out is necessary to begin building a recovery that works and a recovery that lasts.
As you might have guessed from previous posts, I know a bit about what a good recovery looks like. Knowing this has not been sufficient to keep me in recovery. Even working in the field of recovery has not kept me in recovery. So the question for me is, "What's it going to take?"
Good question. I'm not going to speak to anyone else's experience, as I've yet to meet anybody whose specific program of recovery works for me in the long run. I've tried to mimic and be like others, and it just doesn't work. I can say that the basics that work for most people work for me - honesty, openmindedness, willingness, spirituality, connection, and being of service. But it seems I've had to experience what doesn't work before I get to experience what does.
Some years ago I theorized that if a person had a healthy self-esteem and a good outlook on life, then that person probably wouldn't want to poison themselves with alcohol or other substances, or to put his/her life in danger. Now, that's not to say that a person with those attributes would not acquire the disease of addiction or a mental health condition; there are plenty of cases of sound-minded people who have experienced these things. What I am saying is that a person with those attributes who found themselves in the throes of addiction or mental illness could, with proper support and education, find their way to a healthy recovery.
Quite recently I've come to discover that there are things going on in my subconscious mind that inform how I feel sometimes and, ultimately, how I behave. We all have that; it's part of being human. However, I seem to have issues that I am unable to identify at this time, and these issues affect the way I feel about myself. Additionally, these issues cause me to sabotage myself and make me a danger to myself. I am unable as of this writing to deal with them on a conscious level, so I will be seeking more professional help in delving deeper so that I can bring this stuff up and get it taken care of.
Because of large blank spots in my memory, I've always known that I must have some stuff to work on. I've tried to work on it myself through prayer and meditation, and reading different self-help type materials. I know it's there, yet I haven't wanted to ask anyone to help me dig it up. These issues, whatever they are, are keeping me from being the person I know I can be.
Surrender in the sense of mental health conditions and addiction means that I acknowledge and accept that I have done everything that I can do on my own to control or get rid of the problem, and I am ready to accept, without reservation, someone else's ideas and suggestions.
This is where I'm at - I surrender. I'm tired of the struggle, and I admit defeat.
Those in recovery from addiction know that this is the point at which a person can begin recovery. I know I must give everything over, even that of which I am unaware, to a Power greater than myself in order to begin full recovery. Fortunately, I know my Higher Power works through capable and talented caregivers, as well as experienced peers in recovery, and I am now ready to take my life to the next level with the help of those around me.
As mentioned in a previous post, my recovery is a journey of self discovery, and I am committed to sharing what I discover along the way. I will continue to utilize this blog to share what I learn about myself in my recovery.
Namasté,
Ken
Although relapse isn't mandatory, it often takes more than one treatment for a person living with addiction and/or a mental health condition to attain and maintain a recovery that lasts. My observation and my experience is that a real surrender and a real desire to change from the inside out is necessary to begin building a recovery that works and a recovery that lasts.
As you might have guessed from previous posts, I know a bit about what a good recovery looks like. Knowing this has not been sufficient to keep me in recovery. Even working in the field of recovery has not kept me in recovery. So the question for me is, "What's it going to take?"
Good question. I'm not going to speak to anyone else's experience, as I've yet to meet anybody whose specific program of recovery works for me in the long run. I've tried to mimic and be like others, and it just doesn't work. I can say that the basics that work for most people work for me - honesty, openmindedness, willingness, spirituality, connection, and being of service. But it seems I've had to experience what doesn't work before I get to experience what does.
Some years ago I theorized that if a person had a healthy self-esteem and a good outlook on life, then that person probably wouldn't want to poison themselves with alcohol or other substances, or to put his/her life in danger. Now, that's not to say that a person with those attributes would not acquire the disease of addiction or a mental health condition; there are plenty of cases of sound-minded people who have experienced these things. What I am saying is that a person with those attributes who found themselves in the throes of addiction or mental illness could, with proper support and education, find their way to a healthy recovery.
Quite recently I've come to discover that there are things going on in my subconscious mind that inform how I feel sometimes and, ultimately, how I behave. We all have that; it's part of being human. However, I seem to have issues that I am unable to identify at this time, and these issues affect the way I feel about myself. Additionally, these issues cause me to sabotage myself and make me a danger to myself. I am unable as of this writing to deal with them on a conscious level, so I will be seeking more professional help in delving deeper so that I can bring this stuff up and get it taken care of.
Because of large blank spots in my memory, I've always known that I must have some stuff to work on. I've tried to work on it myself through prayer and meditation, and reading different self-help type materials. I know it's there, yet I haven't wanted to ask anyone to help me dig it up. These issues, whatever they are, are keeping me from being the person I know I can be.
Surrender in the sense of mental health conditions and addiction means that I acknowledge and accept that I have done everything that I can do on my own to control or get rid of the problem, and I am ready to accept, without reservation, someone else's ideas and suggestions.
This is where I'm at - I surrender. I'm tired of the struggle, and I admit defeat.
Those in recovery from addiction know that this is the point at which a person can begin recovery. I know I must give everything over, even that of which I am unaware, to a Power greater than myself in order to begin full recovery. Fortunately, I know my Higher Power works through capable and talented caregivers, as well as experienced peers in recovery, and I am now ready to take my life to the next level with the help of those around me.
As mentioned in a previous post, my recovery is a journey of self discovery, and I am committed to sharing what I discover along the way. I will continue to utilize this blog to share what I learn about myself in my recovery.
Namasté,
Ken
Friday, July 5, 2019
Back from the Far Country
As both of you probably know, I've been in the Far Country for the past several months doing research. I am back now and I can faithfully report that addiction and mental illness still suck.
I am currently residing at a residential transitional addiction treatment facility (halfway house) somewhere in Wisconsin, and I seem to be back on the recovery side of the tracks. What that means for me is that I am drug and alcohol free and am not currently experiencing symptoms of depression. That's the clinical side of it.
On the mental/emotional side of it, I am working on acceptance and on finding out what it's going to take to keep me on the recovery side of things for good.
I've been at the halfway house now since May 15th, and sober since May 9th. I will remain at the halfway house until August 13th or 14th, and then probably go on to a sober living facility.
I'm going to keep this post short...I just wanted to let my two readers know that I'm back, and I will continue posting. Thank you for keeping me in your prayers, and thank you for reading!
Namasté,
Ken
I am currently residing at a residential transitional addiction treatment facility (halfway house) somewhere in Wisconsin, and I seem to be back on the recovery side of the tracks. What that means for me is that I am drug and alcohol free and am not currently experiencing symptoms of depression. That's the clinical side of it.
On the mental/emotional side of it, I am working on acceptance and on finding out what it's going to take to keep me on the recovery side of things for good.
I've been at the halfway house now since May 15th, and sober since May 9th. I will remain at the halfway house until August 13th or 14th, and then probably go on to a sober living facility.
I'm going to keep this post short...I just wanted to let my two readers know that I'm back, and I will continue posting. Thank you for keeping me in your prayers, and thank you for reading!
Namasté,
Ken
Sunday, April 7, 2019
Suddenly Stigma
The subject of stigma is dealt with often by people in recovery from mental health conditions and addiction/alcoholism. One of the bars to recovery is stigma; stigma keeps people from asking for help, or even admitting and accepting that they have a condition that needs attention. People can become afraid of the 'mental illness' label or the addict label to the point that they try to shove the condition under the rug. Mental illness and addiction don't go away, however, simply by ignoring the conditions. Eventually symptoms of the conditions arise, quite against the will of the person living with the condition.
When I entered into recovery from all my conditions four years ago, I wasn't concerned with who knew about my conditions - they had consumed me, so there was no pretense that I was not affected by alcoholism and major depressive disorder. Then I began working in the fields of addiction and mental health, so it still didn't matter; in fact, recovery became my identity (which isn't necessarily a bad thing). There was a problem with this, however, that I didn't realize until recently - I didn't have empathy with others who struggled with stigma. I wasn't experiencing stigma enough to really be able to relate and help others who were experiencing stigma.
That all changed once I got a job in the GP (general population). Suddenly I found myself surrounded by people who may or may not be sympathetic to my situation. Suddenly I found myself covering up and actually lying about my life when someone I work with was asking me questions about me. Suddenly I found myself being affected by stigma - it was causing me to behave in a manner contrary to my principles, which are about openness, honesty and authenticity. Suddenly I became empathetic with others who struggle with the same thing, and suddenly I felt a lot of admiration for those who are able to come out of the closet, so to speak, and damn the consequences.
I need to point out here that the stigma I'm experiencing so far is self-induced. I didn't walk into my new job and find people who don't understand mental illness and addiction - my stigma comes from my own fear and my own projections onto others about how they're going to think about me. So in a way, I can't empathize with those who have been discriminated against one way or another for having a mental health condition or an addiction; I can only empathize with those of us who walk around in fear about being discovered.
I've already gotten a dose of closed-mindedness from one person with whom I closely work regarding alcoholism - this person, through their voluntary sharing, has let me know they think alcoholism and addiction are a choice that can easily be managed by willpower whenever the person chooses to do so. This person has also shared with me much of their family history. Actually, they've volunteered a whole bunch of information that I think I could do without hearing.
Contrary to what I do in this blog, I don't walk around freely advertising my experience and thoughts regarding spirituality, mental health, and alcoholism. I would like to be open enough in real life to be a resource for those who may be affected by their own or someone else's mental health condition or addiction. I was fairly open in last GP job, and I was able to offer resources to my co-workers and create some bonding.
I've got a couple of choices. Since most folks at work don't advertise their conditions (almost everybody has something), I can choose to not talk about my mental health and substance use conditions and, when asked, say "I don't feel comfortable talking about this." The other choice would be, when asked, to be truthful about my experience, and let others feel about me the way they feel about me.
I'll choose the latter, for a couple of reasons: one, I can't go on lying about myself and expect to stay in recovery. Authenticity, though sometimes uncomfortable, is essential to my well-being. Two, stigma is battled by changing one mind at a time. My example of recovery coupled with my honesty can show someone that people with mental health conditions and/or substance use disorders do recover. As a bonus, I may be able to help someone else in a similar situation.
Eradicating stigma must start, I believe, with those of us who have been affected by a mental health condition, either from living with it or having an affected loved one. Part of my purpose, I suppose, is to help eradicate stigma (and not add to it) - otherwise, my experience in the trenches is for naught.
I will definitely be writing more about this as I am now committed to 'coming out' if and when the opportunity arises. I'll let you know what happens!
Namasté,
Ken
When I entered into recovery from all my conditions four years ago, I wasn't concerned with who knew about my conditions - they had consumed me, so there was no pretense that I was not affected by alcoholism and major depressive disorder. Then I began working in the fields of addiction and mental health, so it still didn't matter; in fact, recovery became my identity (which isn't necessarily a bad thing). There was a problem with this, however, that I didn't realize until recently - I didn't have empathy with others who struggled with stigma. I wasn't experiencing stigma enough to really be able to relate and help others who were experiencing stigma.
That all changed once I got a job in the GP (general population). Suddenly I found myself surrounded by people who may or may not be sympathetic to my situation. Suddenly I found myself covering up and actually lying about my life when someone I work with was asking me questions about me. Suddenly I found myself being affected by stigma - it was causing me to behave in a manner contrary to my principles, which are about openness, honesty and authenticity. Suddenly I became empathetic with others who struggle with the same thing, and suddenly I felt a lot of admiration for those who are able to come out of the closet, so to speak, and damn the consequences.
I need to point out here that the stigma I'm experiencing so far is self-induced. I didn't walk into my new job and find people who don't understand mental illness and addiction - my stigma comes from my own fear and my own projections onto others about how they're going to think about me. So in a way, I can't empathize with those who have been discriminated against one way or another for having a mental health condition or an addiction; I can only empathize with those of us who walk around in fear about being discovered.
I've already gotten a dose of closed-mindedness from one person with whom I closely work regarding alcoholism - this person, through their voluntary sharing, has let me know they think alcoholism and addiction are a choice that can easily be managed by willpower whenever the person chooses to do so. This person has also shared with me much of their family history. Actually, they've volunteered a whole bunch of information that I think I could do without hearing.
Contrary to what I do in this blog, I don't walk around freely advertising my experience and thoughts regarding spirituality, mental health, and alcoholism. I would like to be open enough in real life to be a resource for those who may be affected by their own or someone else's mental health condition or addiction. I was fairly open in last GP job, and I was able to offer resources to my co-workers and create some bonding.
I've got a couple of choices. Since most folks at work don't advertise their conditions (almost everybody has something), I can choose to not talk about my mental health and substance use conditions and, when asked, say "I don't feel comfortable talking about this." The other choice would be, when asked, to be truthful about my experience, and let others feel about me the way they feel about me.
I'll choose the latter, for a couple of reasons: one, I can't go on lying about myself and expect to stay in recovery. Authenticity, though sometimes uncomfortable, is essential to my well-being. Two, stigma is battled by changing one mind at a time. My example of recovery coupled with my honesty can show someone that people with mental health conditions and/or substance use disorders do recover. As a bonus, I may be able to help someone else in a similar situation.
Eradicating stigma must start, I believe, with those of us who have been affected by a mental health condition, either from living with it or having an affected loved one. Part of my purpose, I suppose, is to help eradicate stigma (and not add to it) - otherwise, my experience in the trenches is for naught.
I will definitely be writing more about this as I am now committed to 'coming out' if and when the opportunity arises. I'll let you know what happens!
Namasté,
Ken
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