Save a Life: Listen

 Tomorrow evening, I will be attending a viewing of the documentary "My Ascension." It chronicles the inspiring journey of Emma Benoit, a young woman from Louisiana, who survived a suicide attempt and her subsequent recovery (My Ascension). I am going primarily because I like inspiring mental health stories of hope (after all, I am one!), but also because I desire to become more involved in mental health recovery support. Previously, I had seen Kevin Hines' story (Kevin Hines); he is one of the few people who have survived jumping from the Golden Gate Bridge.

For the purposes of this post, the terms mental illness, mental health, and recovery include both mental health disorders as well as substance use disorders, because the trip toward relapse is the same - a degradation of our mental health to the point that we act out in unwise and often dangerous ways.

Talking about suicide is uncomfortable. Having a real conversation about mental illness is uncomfortable. Talking with someone about what is going on in their mind is uncomfortable. In the 1960's, there was so much stigma surrounding drug addiction, alcoholism, and mental health that it was rarely discussed - it was swept under the carpet. In the 1970's, the topics were treated with Valium and trips to the hospital for 'exhaustion'. Mental illness and mental health were not discussed, for the most part. It was a taboo topic - everybody's mental health was their own business. Mental health topics did not appear in schools.

For years and years and years, I sat with my dark thoughts about suicide and self-loathing without discussing them with anyone because I thought I was alone in thinking and feeling the way I did. Even when I was involved in alcoholism recovery programs, I felt alone; the people I listened to talked about how bad they felt while in the depths of their drinking, and how great they felt now being sober. I did not understand, because alcohol allowed me to escape the way I felt when I wasn't drinking. Today I know I wasn't alone; I only thought and felt I was. I can look back on my membership in a 12-step recovery program and recall several people who took their own lives while sober - some even after decades of sobriety. And we'd go to the funerals and say, "Ain't that a shame." I remember one comment at a funeral from another 12-step program member: "Well, at least he died sober." (wtf?)

I began sharing my story with others on a public basis several years ago because I realized it helped me. I share in this blog, I've shared in front of church groups, law enforcement groups, mental health professionals groups, and with patients on behavioral health units. I come across to people who don't know me as an average, everyday human being, fairly normal. (Nowadays, I come across to people who do know me as that way as well. Well, maybe not 'normal,' but well within acceptable limits.) So a secondary reason for sharing my story with others  developed: I want to 'normalize' mental illness and mental health. I want others who suffer to be encouraged to seek help. I want others who live with mental health disorders to be treated the same by law enforcement and medical professionals as people who live with heart disorders, diabetes, lung disorders, kidney disorders, arthritis, blood infections - in other words, I'd like people to be able to speak without shame about what is going on with them.

Sometimes I play 'what if' and I imagine what life would be like in different scenarios. Here's one: What if in school, even starting in kindergarten or elementary school, students were taught that if they feel like or think about harming themselves or another individual, that there's something going on that they need to talk with someone about? Again, in other words, what if we treated some of the signs of mental illness like we treat the signs of physical illness - "Bobby, you're bleeding all over the place; go to the school nurse." Would things begin to turn out differently if children were encouraged to talk about their 'bad' thoughts and feelings?

Listening to people share difficult thoughts, feelings, and experiences is difficult. We often want to avoid our own pain; why should we want to engage in someone else's? 

It's part of the human experience, that's why. 7 or so months ago, I made the commitment to develop real connections with other people. I didn't do it because I thought it'd be fun or because I'm a good human being; I made this commitment because it was (hopefully) the last thing I hadn't done to try to stay in recovery. I did it because I became convinced that I needed to do so to not only stay alive (survive), but to enjoy living (thrive). 

I'm a listener. I've known that for a long time. I've had people over the years feel safe talking to me about stuff they've never talked about with anyone. I didn't really like my role as a listener because it made me feel uncomfortable. Now that I have an active commitment to connect with others, I know why I didn't want to be a listener - because truly listening to another human being share their fear, their shame, their regret, their grief triggers in me my fear, shame, regret and grief. But the flip side is this: in allowing this compassionate practice (listening and sharing), I allow healing to take place within me and another. Many of us have heard, "We're only as sick as our secrets." Truth! Real hell, real suffering, is living alone with our own painful thoughts and feelings. In listening to others, and in sharing my own suffering, I allow light to shine upon that suffering, and it begins to disappear.

I live in Oxford House, which is a sober living house. I knew when I agreed to do that that I was making a big move in my life, because a good part of me didn't want to do it. I've lived with a bunch of men on a number of different throughout my life, and I prefer living alone. Living alone may be more comfortable, but it is not healthy for me. In Recovery Dharma, we learn to sit with discomfort, whether it be mental, emotional, spiritual, or physical. Sitting with my discomfort, rather than trying to avoid, escape, or change it, allows me to see it for what it is: an object of consciousness that will disappear if I let it. So I took living in Oxford House as an opportunity to learn to live with my discomfort of living with and relating to men. And it is working. 

I am the oldest resident of this house - by 30-40 years. And what I first noticed after moving in was everything that was wrong with everybody else. The second thing that I noticed was that everything that was wrong with everyone else was also wrong with me. Hmph! The third thing I began noticing was that, for the most part, everyone is fairly comfortable living with their imperfect human selves. And I began to get comfortable living with these imperfect human beings, and now I'm beginning to get comfortable living with my imperfect human self. One of the things we endeavor to do here is to support each other by wisely and compassionately talking about behaviors and things we see that might interfere with our primary goal, which is staying clean and sober. Being assertive is challenging! But in the world of addiction, ignoring another persons relapse warning signs can enable their death. So by learning to speak up in a loving way, we're saving lives.

I've also been learning since I made the connection commitment to share with someone I trust my own thoughts and feelings that are causing my suffering. I've found it helpful to develop trusting relationships with more than one person, in case the single sole solitary person in whom I trust is out at sea and can't be contacted when I need them. As I mentioned before, I've spent the majority of this life keeping my thoughts and feelings to myself, and struggling with them on my own. I don't have to do that anymore (I never did); I've had several occasions in the past few months where I gathered up the courage to share with someone I trust what is going on inside, and I can faithfully say that doing this has saved my life.

The upshot of all of this is that I don't have to be afraid of another human being's thoughts and feelings.  I can listen to them about their real experience of life, and when I do, I'm doing them a service as well as enriching my life. I know on the surface I only want 'good' things in my life, but when I avoid the 'bad' things, my life is shallow and empty. There is more to life than perfection and success. 

It is important for the person reading this to know that effective listening is non-judgmental, and it allows another person to share their thoughts and feelings without having the listener try to 'fix' them. An effective listener, if responding, can guide a person to find their own solutions to whatever is going on. Sometimes a solution isn't needed; sometimes a person just needs to be heard. Being heard compassionately is a huge factor in good mental health. It can wipe away that terrible feeling of being alone in the universe. 

I appreciate your reading this post, and I hope I've left you with some hope and things to think about, and maybe even some inspiration.

 Namasté,

Ken

The Price of Outrage

Last week, I had an appointment with my primary care provider. During the appointment, we discussed several things that are going on with me physically, and she wrote up orders for tests. Two of the tests were a blood test and a UA, so I set up an appointment with a lab near my work to submit my samples. I had been needing to go to my provider for a while, as I've been experiencing stomach 'attacks' over the past 4 months. What was on my mind was (is) what might be going on, and there are several possibilities swirling through my head. This in itself was (is) causing me some anxiety/fear, although it wasn't really at the conscious level. It was my intellect doing all of the processing, and fear and anxiety were running subroutines in the background. 

So I make my appointment at the lab. Since the blood test required a 12 hour fast, I would have preferred an early morning appointment, but the best I could get was 11:30am, which gave me ample time to get the testing done, get something to eat, and show up at work. As I arrived for the test, I had those two things going against me - some underlying fear, and it having been about 16 hours since I last ate something.

I signed in to the testing center, and provided a urine sample. The receptionist took my insurance card, and informed me that their lab does not take my insurance. This is where the outrage began, and my thinking was, "This is stupid!" You see, even though a month or so ago I gave away all of my pet peeves, I guess I forgot one - insurance, and our country's (lack of) health care system. Let the inner rant begin! The initial reason the outrage started is because I get my insurance ultimately through the state, and there are two different companies who administer the state insurance. My company was the wrong one for this lab. Stupid! It's still the same money! And I vented my frustration at the receptionist, which was totally unskillful. I also apologized to her right away - I know what it's like when a customer gets mad at me for something completely beyond my control. The receptionist gave me another lab to go to, along with my urine sample. Fortunately, the lab was close by, and if I got in quickly, I could still make it to work. (One of the things I have to do is plan appointments and such well, as I go almost everywhere on my bike - it's not like I can hop in my imaginary car and be somewhere in 5 minutes). 

I get to the new lab - which I've actually been to before, I just can't remember when - and check in. They say they can take me in a few minutes. I looked in my backpack for my urine sample, and discovered my backpack was open and there was no urine sample inside. This gave me an opportunity for some comic relief, which helped quell the rant; however, the rant was still simmering. I'll mention here that the state of Arizona has done an exceptionally good job at taking care of my health needs, and I am cognizant of this. I'll also mention that this whole thing was a very, very minor inconvenience that did not affect me negatively at all - my mind, my perception negatively affected me.

Fortunately, all's well that ends well (almost), and I was able to reload, give my samples, and be off to work. I went to work and parked in my customary spot, walked in, and began my shift. I made a funny FB post about the experience that gave people an opportunity to laugh.

After my shift, I went out to my bicycle, and found that I had left it unlocked (probably because my mind was still ranting). I also discovered my first urine sample in one of my panniers (saddle bag). I must have put it in there after the first lab, and not even remembered I'd done it.

So the price of my outrage was embarrassment, I ruined my serenity, and I could have freely given my bike to any dishonest person who happened to walk by during my 8 hour shift.

Being in recovery, I cannot afford such outrage and inner ranting. It doesn't matter one bit whether I am wrong or I am right about the object of my anger; the point is that my frustration and anger can snowball, and, through some weird quirk in my mind, I will turn it all around and direct it toward myself. I will use it as a tool against myself. In that moment, there was nothing I could do about my insurance or about the state of healthcare in this country. In that moment, it was not my battle to fight. And this knowledge swirled in my head right along with my 'righteous' anger, but the anger was winning - for awhile. Fortunately, creating a humorous FB post about the episode and talking about it with some folks at work helped me let go of the anger and return to a more serene state of mind. 

I want to mention here that being sensitive to outrage, anger, and conflict does not mean I can never be a voice for change without putting my recovery in peril; it's quite the opposite, actually. Because I must not dabble in outrage at anything, right or wrong, I must learn how to express my views in a calm, effective, persuasive manner. If I want to be part of a reform movement, I'm much better off being the person who approaches things with rationality and compassion.

I am grateful for this episode, because it reminds me of how quickly my mind can take a minor incident (and sometimes even an incorrect assumption) and run with it to hell. It reminds me that I have to be vigilant with my thinking, and that no matter what is going on around me, my focus must be on acceptance with life the way it is in this moment. Having a consistent mindfulness meditation practice has helped me immensely in bringing my mind back to center, and I am grateful for the growing ability to get back to sanity whenever I go off the rails.

Namasté,

Ken

A Part of Me (Sarah Blondin)

I was presented with this meditation experience last year some time, and was profoundly moved by it, so much so that I wanted to share it on my blog. I listened again this morning, and again was profoundly moved. This meditation is by Sarah Blondin, and is titled, "Healing Through Letting Go." Sarah's meditations, insights, and courses can be found on the app called Insight Timer, and can be accessed without charge (the meditations, anyway). 

The following is a transcription of Sarah Blondin's "Eyes Wide Open":

A part of me wants to keep my eyes closed, and pull the covers over my head - block out the light trying to be turned on in my room.

A part of me wants to stay right where I am, and wants not anyone, or anything, to jostle me, ask me questions, push me forward.

A part of me wants to hide in my anger and fear, in my stale beliefs, with my pointing fingers, my victimhood, my righteousness, and wants to defend why life is not easy.

A part of me wants to tell the world I have been hurt too many times to move ahead.

A part of me wants to justify how my pain has left me frozen, petrified, and unable to let go.

A part of me is so afraid to look at what is hurting me, that it would rather escape, than face it.

A part of me is so afraid to open my eyes because the very nature of waking up is to be aware, to be accountable, to be responsible for the healing of my life, and knows I will need to take on the task of loving myself until full.

A part of me is so afraid to look and to see because it knows the fingers I have been pointing will be pointing back at me, the angry eyes I have been looking out at the world with are my eyes, my responsibility.

A part of me knows that when caught in anger and pain, I will have to ask myself, "Is this really worth my misery? Is the price I am paying worth my One Precious Life?"

A part of me is afraid to see because it knows that in seeing, I will be asked to let go, and that in letting go I will be asked to be reborn, and that in being reborn, I will have to uncover Who I Truly Am.

A part of me knows that once I begin to see, I will never be able to unsee again; that in waking, I will begin the sometimes scary process of perpetually moving forward, the process of stretching and growing, and then stretching and growing again.

But another Part of Me knows in every ounce and inch of its being that I am serving no one, not one single life by staying asleep.

A Part of Me is beckoning me to move up and out from all of the places of ungrowth, the dark rooms of stagnant air.

A part of me is being propelled up and out into this Great Wilderness and asking to discover the power hidden in the creases of My skin, resting on the tips of My eyelashes, traveling in the veins that surge through Me.

A part of Me is not afraid to look Who longs to see, Who longs to live in My Freedom, Who is calling me into the wide expanse of My Being.

A Part of Me knows of My Source, knows of My Magnitude, knows of My Duty, My Call, to stop choosing to stay asleep; to follow my pain until I realize there is nothing more for me to do with it but lay it down.

A part of Me knows this, and calls to me in all of my discontent, and gently shows me signs of Life on the other side; shows me the Gift of rising up and out from the bed I have made on the ground.

Close your eyes now (meditation)

Arrive in your body; notice your arms, your legs, your ankles, your feet. Breathe deeply, and feel it between your shoulder blades. Arrive here with Yourself. 

Can you hear the small voice inside of you, that has been telling you there is more to this Life than what you have been choosing?

Can you hear the small voice inside of you, that has been gently guiding you to your Heart all along?

Can you hear the small voice inside that is telling you, "When you are ready, you are welcome to join Me in the Truth of Your Great Beauty?"

It is here, if you listen closely. 

Behind the dense hurt and bondage lives another Part of You, standing tall, feet strongly planted in the earth, palms turned to face the sky, earth rejoicing around Its Feet, Heart loud, clear, resolute; Eyes wide open.

There, inside of you, a wondrous Part of You is calling you to step into the land of Your great, unbounding Potential, Freedom, and Abundance. 

Any change or Forgiveness you have experienced in your life was not because someone else made you let go; it was because You chose to. The Power is Yours. The Choice is Yours.

Do not worry yourself too much with how to Live from this Self; do not worry yourself too much with how to release your pain; do not worry yourself with the practical side of this, for there is an Intelligence Living within You that has guided you to this very moment, hearing these very words.

It is helping us open our eyes, and is guiding us here always - to this Heart, to our Wholeness. Guidance comes in many forms and faces. 

So do not worry yourself too much with how You will ultimately arrive at Your Freedom, for it is the work of magic and miracle. 

All you must worry yourself with is listening intently for the part of You that is not interested in staying in suffering any longer. 

All you must worry yourself with, Dear One, is listening intently for the part of You that already knows what you must do to arrive at the door of Your Awakening. 

You are longing to be more Alive, You are longing to be fully present to Your One Precious Life. You are not afraid. You are ready, Dear One, to be accountable, to be wholly responsible for Your Life. 

Life Itself is Pure of Being, empty of suffering. 

Life Itself is Free from anger and fear. 

Life is here for Us to live in wonder of, and to open Our Eyes to Our Ability to let go of all that hurts in order to find our Liberation; to drop the notion that we are owed anything from this Life, and realize that instead, We owe It to Ourselves.

A Part of You Knows this as Truth; a Part of You can hear a deep and resounding Yes! to the pulling of the covers off from over your head, because it knows Your Life - Your One Precious Life - is so worth it!

Thank you for allowing me to share this with you. It is my deepest wish that We All wake up to Who We Really Are, by whichever paths get us there.

Namasté, 

Ken

 

The Secrecy Is Killing Me!

I have had difficulty completing any post lately. I have started several, but I haven't been able to finish them. I think what I'm stuck on is an idea that came to me some months ago, and that is the idea of full disclosure. If you are reading about my experience traveling this life journey, then perhaps you might oughta know where I'm coming from. You know I get all of my good ideas from Source, but maybe you want to know what channels Source uses. Maybe not. But here we go:

If you've been following awhile, you might recall that when I got sober in 2013, I realized that I would need to become authentic in order to stay in recovery. I realized that I would have to let people get to know the real me. I also realized that it would be a great undertaking, as I didn't even know the real me. When you get right down to it, I still don't. This blog was started as part of that 'authentication' process - I knew (and still know) that part of becoming authentic is becoming open. I wanted, and still want, to become an open book. I want to walk through life unafraid, with my head held high. Posting in this blog has done a great deal of good to that end.

But what I've noticed in myself is that I've become concerned with what you might think about what I write, and this concern has caused me to filter my writing in order to not piss you off or make you not like me. And that is exactly the way I used to live, and it is unacceptable, and it is harmful to me. I used to base my actions, my words, and my opinions upon what I thought the person who was receiving my actions and words would approve of. In other words, I guessed at what you wanted to see/hear from me. That's not real. That's not authentic. That practice obliterates self-esteem and degrades any sense of self-worth that I might have. There is a phrase I heard some years ago - I don't know who wrote it or said it first, but it rings true to me: "I'd rather you hate me for who I am than love me for who I am not."

So when I write, I would like to not be concerned with what others may think or how they react, so long as what I have to write is not harmful to anyone (including me!), true, and possibly of use to someone. I do not want to hide who I am today - that practice is a major contributor to depression, something from which I am trying to recover. In this post, I am going to share a little bit of background so I know you know where I'm coming from, and it is my intention that I hold to higher principles than whether or not I think you still like me. If you do, you do, if you don't, you don't!

The first thing is that I no longer consider myself a member of a 12-step (_______ Anonymous) organization. I attended a 12-step meeting yesterday, and it was the first 12-step meeting that I've attended in over a year. 12-step organizations usually guide themselves by using the 12 Traditions. Tradition 11 suggests that I do not disclose my membership in ________ Anonymous at the public level, and this blog is at the public level, and so far I haven't, at least not in any one organization. But you do the math. And please note my disclaimer on the homepage of my blog - that what is written in this blog does not necessarily represent the views of any organization to which I currently belong to or used to belong to. I still practice the 12 steps, and I still fellowship with recovering people. It's just that I found something that is a better fit for me in...

Recovery Dharma. And Recovery Dharma doesn't seem to care if I divulge my membership. Recovery Dharma is based on the 4 Noble Truths and the Eightfold Path of Buddhism. I am not a Buddhist, but I don't have to be to be in Recovery Dharma. What does Recovery Dharma give me that _________ Anonymous did not? At meetings, we are free to talk about those things that cause us to suffer. Alcohol is one of those things, but I have not suffered from the effects of alcohol in a little over 3 months. But I have a lot of other stuff going on - over-eating at times, often a desire to escape (aversion), and other 'process addictions' that cause me suffering. It became difficult in _______ Anonymous to be open about these things as well as my mental health in a way that was helpful to me. I hold no grudge against anyone who is living a healthy life through a 12-step program or fellowship - my attitude is find what works and stick with it until it doesn't work. I know that some of my readers are long-time members of anonymous organizations, and I want to be truthful with you. And the reason that I went to that 12-step meeting yesterday was because the sober living house in which I'm currently living has a rule about 5 recovery meetings a week for the first 30 days of living here, and I am unable to go to 5 Recovery Dharma meetings per week. The meeting was good - it was on humility and the 7th step, and I met a new friend. 

Whew. I feel better already.

Next: I have studied and I follow the teaching of the person called Jesus the Christ, but I am not a Christian. I'm not an anything. But I'm not a Christian because the term has become meaningless, especially in the past few years. Additionally, there are so many sects of Christianity, that if you're a good Christian in one sect, another sect is going to send you straight to hell. If I do go to church, it is in the New Thought (or Original Christianity) vein. I still use the Holy Bible for inspiration, especially the Hebrew Bible (Old Testament), such as the Psalms and Proverbs and some of the writings about the prophets. Does not being a Christian make me an atheist? No. Maybe. I don't believe one man is God, but I do believe God is in all humans (and everything else). God is Source, Love, that unseen, unknown force that keeps the Universe going, despite humans' best efforts to destroy it, or at least this little patch of it. I aspire to believe that you and I are connected, which is why nowadays I endeavor to do no harm.

I am apolitical. Many years ago, I stopped watching the news - it was the same old script with different names each night. Letting go of that activity improved my mental health immensely. A few years ago, I stopped paying any attention to politics, and, you know what? My life got better again! Now I don't have to let the opinions of others bother me, because I'm not on either side. Unlike Wisconsin, in the State of Arizona I am not allowed to vote unless I petition to get my rights restored (that whole 'convicted felon' thing). It doesn't seem worth the bother. My opinion is that the left wing and the right wing belong to the same bird, and it's not an eagle, it's a vulture. I don't need unnecessary drama in my life, and politics is unnecessary to my purpose, which is to serve others and ease suffering.

That's the 4 big things that I wanted you to know about me in this moment. I still have this thing where I feel wrong or ashamed for doing/believing in what I do and what I believe in, even though it doesn't harm anyone and isn't illegal. Crazy, huh? And what that 'thing' is is that I think I need anyone's approval to do anything, and it would be a terrible thing to not get your approval. I'm working on that. Not getting your approval, but for standing up for what I believe and who I am in front of anybody and everybody. I think that is very liberating.

So there you have it. I feel like a great weight has been lifted from me - I no longer bear the responsibility of your reactions to me and what I write. I hope, if you are getting something from the things I share, that you continue to read what I write about my journey. If you don't, that's fine, too. You do you, and I'll do me.

Namasté,

Ken

Grieving

***Trigger Warning: This post is about my responses to people dying. If death is a trigger for you, please skip this post; however, if it's just an uncomfortable topic for you, read on: 

Today I learned that the caretaker of the place where a lot of recovery meetings are held completed suicide. This past Monday, I learned that a friend and co-worker, who was in recovery, overdosed on opiates and passed away. About a month ago, another co-worker passed away due to Covid. Each of these deaths affects me differently. It is important for me, and I think for us, to accept that death is a part of life, and, like every part of life, it is good to have a healthy, non-harmful response.

I don't judge people for dying, nor for their cause of death. You see, there could be some judgment around the deaths of the 3 individuals mentioned above. My co-worker who died from Covid was maybe my age or better. I remember the conversation we had in which he shared that he thought the whole pandemic thing was a hoax. At that time he was not vaccinated, and I don't know if he ever did get vaccinated. That isn't my business - I'm not pro-sticking myself with vaccines either, but I have gotten flu and virus shots when given enough incentive. My co-worker who died from an opiate overdose - this was very sad to me, as he was a young guy and I considered him my friend. One could, and a lot of people do, judge his death as him getting what he deserved for using illicit drugs in the first place. Maybe. But I knew this person was trying to stay clean and sober. I also know that he was somebody's son, somebody's sibling, and somebody's boyfriend, and somebody's friend, somebody's employee. I knew that he was a good worker and a nice guy. I did not know him when he was in the depths of his addiction. The third person, who I believe completed suicide either Thursday or yesterday, was the caretaker of a building that housed recovery meetings. I knew him, but not very well. I knew he lived with a mental health disorder, but I did not know his diagnosis. Some people judge those who live with mental health disorders as weak-minded. I was judgmental toward people with mental health disorders for a long time until I fully accepted that I am living with a mental health disorder myself, which goes to show that just because one judges someone else on their mental health does not mean the one judging is mentally healthy. Just sayin...

I went to my first funeral, that of my paternal grandfather, when I was 2 years old. I knew at a very early age that people and animals die. I think it's healthy to acknowledge this aspect of life, so that one isn't too incredibly overwhelmed when somebody they know passes. However, I began thinking about my own death around 8 years old, and that's not normal nor healthy. I remember one of my siblings telling me in the backseat of our family car, when I was lying in such a way that my nose was buried in the crack between the seats, that I could get carbon monoxide poisoning from that. I thought that sounded like a good idea. (This was back when cars were huge, and we probably had room for three more kids in the back seat). I think of death every day, probably, but not as much as I do when I'm symptomatic. I ride my bike every day, and I understand that just doing this increases the chances that I'll die today; however, I take precautions - I ride safely, wear a safety vest, and am well-lighted (not well lit, which wouldn't be good). 

So yes, death does enter my mind often, probably more than it does the average person, whoever that is. Each of the 3 aforementioned deaths reminded me how fortunate I am - that I haven't gotten Covid (yet), and that I am sober and fairly sane today. I do not believe that God or the Universe has our appointment with the grim reaper already set, although that might be a possibility. I choose not to think that way because if I did, I would begin living in a very self-destructive and dangerous way. I've noticed that as I get older, I respect my health and my life much more (when I'm sane and sober). Also, I live in a field where people are more likely to die unexpectedly (mental health and addiction). I've experienced much more death than the average person (whoever that is) has experienced. I cannot count on my fingers and toes the number of people who have died from disorders that I share. On most days, that makes me grateful to be alive; on some days, I want to give up. 

The problem with death is that everybody reacts so differently to it. When we die, we affect the lives of our survivors. The recovery center caretaker's death is affecting hundreds of people, as is the death of my co-worker living with addiction. Some will use these deaths as an excuse to give up. Others will use these deaths as a reminder about how fortunate we are to still be living. Some will feel guilty - did I do enough for this person? Did I do anything wrong? When I came back from my relapse, I learned that a friend of mine had relapsed while I was 'out there.' Fortunately, they survived. I immediately thought, "I would kill myself if they had died," because I wasn't available to them to help prevent their relapse. This is, of course, a cognitive distortion; I am not responsible for anyone's behavior but my own; I did not pull the trigger. But the guilt feeling was there. I think that's learned, but I sure couldn't prove it.

We don't know what happens when we die. We have our beliefs, which primarily serve to help us feel better about death, but our beliefs surrounding death are not provable. So I don't control what happens after I leave this earthly plane. However, I do have control over what I do while I'm here, and I'm learning to gain more control over my thoughts and actions. On a daily basis, I endeavor to do no harm, to others or myself. This means that when I pass from something that is not alcoholism or depression, those close to me will not feel as bad as if I had. In other words, addiction and mental illness affect not only the person living with them, but the people surrounding that person as well. There is something about self-destruction that really hurts those around us doing the destroying. In the midst of my disease, I did not know this. Today I do - that's one of the reasons I do what I need to do in order to stay sober and sane, even when I don't particularly feel like doing it. In fact, I've been increasing my connection with others in order to back up my mental health (which I will write about in an upcoming post).

I thought perhaps I lacked compassion or empathy, because I don't get as disturbed as some do when somebody dies. This isn't true; it's just that I was unsure of how to deal with the survivor's feelings. I've gotten some opportunities for experience in this area, and now I can be of support to a survivor. When grief hits us, we feel a multitude of feelings, and this is difficult to deal with, especially the guilt and anger. So when I listen to someone experience grief, I really listen, and I listen without judgment. Everybody experiences grief differently, according to their culture, their age, their experience with death, and their beliefs. There is no wrong way to experience grief. Grief is a natural process, and everybody will experience it. Everybody has experienced or will experience loss in this lifetime. We're not immune to it, even if we're best friends with God. Loss can really rock our foundation. So again, when I encounter someone who is grieving, I allow them to express what they are feeling and thinking - no holds barred! And my support consists of letting the survivor know they don't have to feel guilty, they're not bad or abnormal, and that a time will come where it doesn't hurt so much. I work with the survivor, not the party who has passed. As far as I know, the deceased might now be experiencing the time of their life (or death), but that doesn't matter. What does matter is that the bereaved doesn't suffer alone, and I will do what I can to accommodate that. 

In my upcoming piece on connecting with others, I'll write a little about the messiness that can occur when I deepen my connection with another soul. I recently set the intention to improve my conscious and emotional connection with others, and the shit really started hitting the fan. I realized that by insulating myself from true connection, I was trying to insulate myself from the pain and suffering that can happen from living in this physical plane; however, by doing so, I was also insulating myself from experiencing the joy that can happen from living in this physical plane. It will be a good piece of writing. At any rate, thank you for reading this, and allowing me to express some of my thoughts and feelings surrounding death and grief. I do hope for you that if you are experiencing grief you are able to share your experience with someone else. Each of us deserve some comfort and peace of mind, and sharing our lives with the right person or people can help facilitate this.

Namasté,

Ken

Nothing's Wrong

 It has been awhile since I've posted. It's not that I don't have anything to 'write home' about - I have an abundance to write about - it's that I've been putting other things ahead of sitting down and writing. 

Since my last post, I've been staying sober and (mostly) sane, working, and going to recovery meetings and outpatient treatment. My focus right now is developing self-compassion, as well as developing connections with others in recovery, something that I've shied away from. I think the two go hand-in-hand - the better I treat myself, the less fear and mistrust I harbor, and the more I want to try healthy things. It's healthy for a human to have a few people with whom they're close. And, as I'm finding out, it's essential in recovery from addiction and mental illness. I have found that I must have someone with whom I can share the craziness in my head. Low level craziness I can tolerate and work with, but when the shit hits the fan, I get too overwhelmed to clean up the mess myself.

So the whole self-compassion thing is that I could learn to treat myself with kindness, empathy, and respect - just like I treat others. But I don't. I've been told for a really long time that I need to not be so hard on myself, and, believe it or not, I'm not as hard on myself as I used to be. But I still treat myself harshly. I haven't yet fully absorbed the concept that I can make mistakes and still be worthy and lovable. There are a lot of times when doing my best is still not good enough, and the very odd thing is that I have nobody outside of myself telling me that - it's all inner criticism. So that's some of the insanity I need to share with others whom I respect and trust. 

I had an interesting experience this past weekend - our treatment program in which I'm currently enrolled began using a peer support specialist. That's what I am. Or was. Still am, I guess. Earlier this year I had wondered if I would ever let a peer support work with me, and I figured I wouldn't. Unfortunately, much of the time I think I'm smarter than everybody else in recovery and have more on the ball. So there's irony in the fact that I can get down on myself yet still think I'm better than others. I don't behave this way, fortunately, but I still think it, and it bothers me. Anyway, I was able to sit down with this peer support, and we talked openly for an hour. I was very open to his support. So I am able to accept support and friendship from someone. I think the arrogance and judgment of others I sometimes possess is a defense mechanism to keep people away. Cognitively, I do know that I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, and that I do make mistakes. But there are parts of me that don't want to accept my humanity. It's odd that when I think of stuff, it sounds right, but when I share what I'm really thinking with another, or write it down, I can see the errors in my logic.

I have a recovery mentor whom I've had since this summer. We've never met in person, but we've talked over the phone quite a bit as well as texted. He was suggested to me by another person who lives where my mentor lives, and the first time I talked with him I felt a real connection. I feel that connection each time I talk with him. It's been a really long time since I've experienced a connection like this, so I know it's special. As we talk, I get to know more about him, and he gets to know more about me. 

I've practiced my recovery for the past several years under the theory that if I can just keep feeling good enough about myself, I won't feel the desire to change the way I feel with chemicals. So far, this theory has not held up, as is evidenced by the number of relapses I've experienced in recent years. What I'm trying to express is that I was hoping to avoid tanking mentally/emotionally like I do before I relapse, because when I get that low, it's been impossible for me to ask for help. I thought that I could avoid tanking, but know I don't think I can, no matter what I do. So that is why I'm developing connections and better self-compassion - so that when I tank mentally/emotionally, I can and hopefully will ask for help before I take self-destructive actions.

The title of this piece is Nothing's Wrong for a couple of reasons: first, since I hadn't posted in a while, I wanted to let my readers know I'm ok; and second, I wanted to talk about some of the emotional stress I'm experiencing lately from the perspective of "it's ok, so long as I don't give up." The piece took a bit of a different direction, but I'll keep the title. I appreciate your reading this far, and my intention is to keep sharing my experiences on the path.

Namasté,

Ken

Anatomy of a Relapse

Trigger warning - suicide and death

Thank you all for your good thoughts and prayers during this time - I appreciate it, and it really does help. As far as this relapse goes, it wasn't nearly as major as some I've experienced, and I'm very grateful. I did, of course, create a big mess, but I'm not homeless (yet) and I'm still alive. I was suicidal (that's what starts every one) and began drinking. I was in the ICU twice - the second time for an overdose of my anti-depressant medication. Our local hospital doesn't like me much, I think - after the 2nd ICU, they sent me via ambulance to Oro Valley Hospital Behavioral Health Unit, which is near Tuscon. It's a 5 hour ride in an ambulance, strapped to a stretcher, no stops. It's a very undignified way to travel, but, believe it or not, it's not the worst ride I ever had! I think my local hospital was hoping I'd stay down there. Nope! I'm back home, ready to continue recovery and do what I can to make amends and continue serving others.

I am not defined by my relapses, but by my decision to stay in recovery despite them. 

This relapse began right around the time I started my job as a peer support specialist in mid-July. What really happened was this - I began to focus most of my attention on my new job rather than my Higher Power and my practice. My mindfulness practice, which I had been doing consistently for several months, went to hell. I felt like I couldn't practice. I stopped focusing on recovery, and focused on trying to make things right (whatever right is) with my job.

So if you've been following my posts, you are aware of the troubles I've had with the State of Arizona Department of Public Safety and obtaining my 'fingerprint card' approval, which was necessary for me to keep my job. I couldn't do it. I gave up. I up and left my job. Abandoned it (and my clients). (I can still attempt to appeal my rejection, but right now I'm not up to it. Perhaps another time.)

But that's not all! In a misguided attempt to look good, I was falsifying my timecard. At work, we're supposed to spend 60% of our time (24 of 40 hours) in direct support of clients. I wasn't doing that - I always had overtime, used for entering progress notes. So what I was doing was adjusting my timecard to get the 'production' up to 60% while shaving the hours I worked each day. In other words, I was giving up pay to make it appear that I was doing 60% production in 40 hours a week. This behavior is a throwback - I've done it before in other situations in order to make it look like I was doing better than I really was. I would like to note here that I did not commit medicaid fraud - all my clients were billed for exactly the amount of time I spent with them. I just shaved my off hours.

This might not seem like that big of a deal - it didn't seem like it at the time. But it's dishonest. Honesty is part of the foundation of recovery, and dishonesty just tears it down. Also, my behavior was unfair to my fellow employees, as it subverted the process. The process is there for a reason - follow the process so that if there are problems, we can examine it and see what needs adjusting. My behavior was very unethical, and I knew it. Falsifying records, any records, is unethical. It gives a false image of what's really going on. 

Again, if you've been reading my posts, you know that I was very pleased with how I conducted myself at work at the grocery store. I was honest and ethical. I never falsified anything, and I didn't steal, and I didn't 'adjust' hours. I worked with integrity, and I was proud of my behavior. Still am, for that instance. I did not realize that going back to old behavior was like stabbing my own self in the back. I didn't get caught by anybody - I didn't need to. I was punishing my own self. And the really insane thing is that I did not need to make myself look better - I was still in a probationary period, and not expected to hit the 60% production rate yet. 

In another situation, I was working with a client who was driving me crazy. I spent a lot of time with this client, and it was very difficult for me because I knew I was often not working in the scope of practice of a peer support specialist. I talked a bit about it with my supervisor, but I never really opened up about how my work with this client was bothering me. The problem, in my opinion, was that this client had what is called learned helplessness, and the staff who worked with this client (not just me) were enabling it. I never talked about that - I didn't want to offend anybody. I didn't want to seem 'uppity' (I hope that's not a bad word. If it is, let me know, and I'll find another). I went along with it. Another ethical violation.

So the upshot of all of this is that I don't yet have the guts to practice my profession well. That's really sad, and I hated myself for it. I became very suicidal.

My experience at Oro Valley Behavioral Health Unit was incredibly helpful and enlightening. Besides the fact of the undignified ambulance ride and being 5 hours away from home (you have to go through Phoenix to get there and Phoenix is Arizona's Chicago. Yuck), I got hope again. After a few days of contemplating how I was going to kill myself, I decided that all the help I was getting at Oro Valley was a sign that I needed to get back into recovery. So I re-committed myself to the practice. I began pondering my relapse, and, as my sanity returned, I saw how my behavior, my reaction to the things going on, was way out of proportion to the situation. I was focusing entirely on the mess at work, and forgetting that I need to look at the big picture. And the big picture is simply this - it's not the work itself that's important - I need to discover the areas in which this job can help me become more skillful in finding ways to develop my own coping skills and good habits and ways to help others. I stopped doing that and went back to old behavior, and I stabbed my soul. The problem, if you could call it that, with spiritual development is that the karma from going back to old behavior is way worse than when I was using only maladaptive coping mechanisms to get by in life. "For if, after they have escaped the pollutions of the world through the knowledge of [Source and a better way] they are again entangled in them and overcome, the latter end is worse for them than the beginning. For it would have been better for them not to have known the way of righteousness, than having known it, to turn from the holy commandment delivered to them." (2 Peter 2:20, 21 NKJV) The language seems a little harsh to me, but, in my experience, it's the Truth! My challenge is that I know at least two ways of doing anything, and I'm not very skillful yet at making the best choice. So I'm still here because I still have a lot of room to grow. 

There were a lot of blessings and God moments at Oro Valley. I spoke with one of the chaplains one day, and as I listened, I realized he was from my area in Wisconsin. I asked him, and he said he grew up on the South Side of Milwaukee. Most everybody in Arizona are from somewhere else, and there are many from the north, so I often meet people from Wisconsin. Those are always God moments for me, for some reason.

I also met a couple of wonderful people who were patients too, and made some new friends. We really connected, and it's not often that I connect so well with someone and make a new friend. I am so, so grateful for this. It's like Source planted these people in my life to make me a richer person, or Source planted me in these folks' lives. I feel very blessed. 

I am going to go back to my job at the grocery store for a while. I am grateful that it is available to me. Another miracle that will enrich me if I treat the experience skillfully, and I know I can.

Out of my window at Oro Valley I was able to view the Catalina Mountains. I love mountains. They represent strength, security, and stability for me. They go through their changes (fires and such), but they're still always there. This morning I got to view the sunrise over the mountains. It was really cool. It started looking just like a flashlight or head light, and it grew to it's full size and kept moving. It's an incredible experience for me to be able to see the sun move (actually the Earth rotating). For some reason, it puts things in perspective for me.

I was also able to re-start my mindfulness practice, which is a huge part of my recovery foundation. At Oro Valley, I became open and receptive again, and I was able to shift my focus back to my purpose - to become of maximum service to my Creator and the people with whom I come in contact. 

I got home tonight and went to my recovery meeting. My Sangha welcomed me back, of course, with open arms. I have a group of people who love me and support me on my spiritual path. One beautiful person at the meeting had also relapsed - overdosed on opiates. I felt very guilty for not being available, as I was busy in my own relapse and unable to be of service to anybody. I felt like if I came back and found they had died, I would have killed myself, for not being available. I know that's not right thinking, but I also know that not being available to support others directly opposes my purpose and my practice, and can hurt me and others. I have to be there, in whatever way I can. 

So I'm back home, and I may have to find a new place to live. I'm ok with that right now. I have a lot of amends to make - mostly to my roommate and my co-workers at my peer specialist job. And myself. My psychiatrist at Oro Valley is from Sri Lanka, so we connected well, too - he knows what I'm talking about. He told me that I have to learn the practice of self-compassion, that it needs to become a part of my recovery foundation. So I am learning that. 12 step programs often use the prayer of St. Francis of Assissi in the 11th step. It's a prayer for gaining compassion for others, and I re-wrote it to make it a prayer for gaining self compassion. I may have to write a whole post on the 11th step, St Francis, and his prayer. It really is quite powerful.

Hey, did I mention that I did not commit any crimes during this relapse? That's a big thing for which to be grateful. I am concerned, though - I came close to dying during this relapse, and I really want to avoid having to come so close to death in order to learn something. There are safer paths to enlightenment. My path really boggles my mind sometimes - I run with people who could be dead tomorrow. That seems harsh, but it's the truth. Knowing that does keep me on my toes. I really, really, really, want to ease the suffering of others. Mine too. When I hurt myself, others hurt too. Seems like kind of a dangerous life to me.

So there ya have it. I don't spend a lot of time in guilt, because guilt is useless unless it prevents one from doing something hurtful. I just jump in and continue with my recovery, knowing that there's a lesson in everything, even cleaning up my messes. It all has purpose. I do really want to learn how to avoid the whole death thing - I know there must be a way to learn and grow without backsliding. I have faith that I'll be able to do that, because I have a strong desire today to stay alive. 

I love you all and wish for you the best of everything.

Namasté,

Ken