Thirty _ Sixty_ Ninety_Split

Here is my perspective on meetings. 

We come into the rooms of recovery to listen to others share & talk about where they are in their recovery today. They show us the lasagna, we eat the lasagna, but where do they actually make it?

I have come to find that I don't get sober in meetings. Even though it's common to hear others say "Meeting makers make it." Yeah they told me that one too. Until some old-timer with double digit sobriety states in a disgruntled tone, "You can't stay sober by coming to meetings alone." So I have come to realize that recovery for me happens outside of the rooms, usually with a sponsor guiding me through the big book of Alcoholics Anonymous.

He had me read the black parts of the book.. you know, the words. Then we do step-work, because I didn't do a lot of fearless moral inventories in treatment, jails, hospitals, handcuffs, or in meetings. I didn't gain my perspective or have long periods of meditation to reflect upon there either.

I do come in here & talk about where it was that I used to be, & where it is that I am now, which can show the progress of the program. It's kind of like a Bow-Flex commercial, you see the guy with ripped muscles & the gal with the washboard abs that say they just bought this exercise machine & watched videos of workouts in the comfort of their own home.
If you expect to watch this DVD on the couch & get buff without opening the big box with the actual equipment inside.... well it's just not gonna work that way my friend.

The reality is that I have to do some work. In the early days, people said, "You've gotta get a sponsor! You've gotta work the steps immediately!".... I say don't. Don't do the steps. Don't do shit.
Just stop drinking & using & hang out with us at meetings. Because for me to do that, things really start sucking very quickly. I get angry, irritable, & discontent.

"My name is Carol, I'm an alcoholic. I have 33 days sober, & life is absolutely amazing!!"

 But then there are others that are like, "I've got 33 days of sobriety, I'm on my 9th step, my family & friends trust me again. I'm getting married.... to someone I met in treatment..


That however is not my story, I want to see those kinds of people get beat down a little more by this behemoth. Which I suspect they will, if they are indeed an alcoholic of the hopeless variety.
Because for me, when you just take away drugs & alcohol from me it really starts to suck. Yeah, its cool for a minute when you're at summer camp,  err, I mean treatment.

You're hanging out, going to sober picnics, the movies, or bowling  to get a human connection with people again, while doing amazing things like eating, sleeping, & showering.  That's all fine n' dandy but eventually I get out in the real world where it starts hurting to be me. The pain of being me while sober when you take drugs & alcohol away from me IS EXACTLY when I figure out WHY I LOVE the effects produced by drugs & alcohol.

 I can only last so long. I can only get so many newcomer, 30 day, 60 day, 90 day chips. I can only have my family and friends cheer for so long "Go Jesse, Go!!" before they fade off into the doldrums of everyday existence. The 30-60-90-split. He's probably good now, he's back on his feet. I say fuck that, fuck all that shit. That fluff is only good for so long until those same friends you shared all those intimate thoughts and feelings with start getting fuckin LOADED.... because they suffer the same disease that I do.

 This disease centers around my mind, I don't expect you to understand or get it. I may look fine on the outside, but my outsides rarely match the torrid storm raging on inside my head. We addicts can only go so long before we are fucking done. Because ultimately I get to live with me. Hanging out & drinking coffee with you is cool, but then I have to go home & live with me.... it's like sleeping with the enemy. You can't be with me the whole time, & besides, no one would even want that.










Eventually you come to the place where you want to
eat a gun or get high, & I chose to get high every time. Last time I thought of eating a gun or getting high I called my sponsor & told him that I wanted to get high. Something I had never done before because then I might not get high.

 So, my sponsor states blatantly "No you don't" .. What? such a paradox, yes I fucking do want to get high. Again he retorted, "addicts don't call people when they want to get high, they just go & get high!" We get high best when others are telling us not to. When they tell you they are going to take something really cool away from you, like your freedom, your house, your career, your wife, your kids, or WHATEVER unless you stay sober. I still get loaded, always have. We don't need someone's permission to, we are perfectly fine doing it with our own best thinking. How the Hell do I stop doing it?!

 
My sponsor said we would start meeting once a week & we are going through the 12 steps. We are going to start reading through the big book of Alcoholics Anonymous , it's not going to make any sense to you, so don't try & figure it out. Once we start meeting & going through the book I'm going to give you some instructions. Do not try to figure those out either, just do what you are told.
When the ball is in my court I fuck it up. I needed the clear cut n' dried instructions. None of this weighing it out first to see if it was worth it in the end.
 

So, that's what I did. He gave me the assignments, I did the assignments & somewhere along the way it stopped hurting to be me. When it stops hurting to be me I no longer seek the relief that drugs & alcohol immediately provide. Because I do not need the relief because I do not suffer from the pain anymore.


 
That was the solution. I was told all I had to do to keep it was to come here to meetings & carry the message to the newcomer. I was also told to buy a suit. To go to court or job interviews, which isn't all that cool, but even less cool thing is you're going to wear it to a lot of funerals.

 

I don't know why it happens, but the longer you are sober, the more of your brothers & sisters you see fall down but not get back up. There may be a handful of people that were here when I first came into the rooms of recovery.
I know I am not one of the lucky ones that rides off into the sunset unscathed, because I received a debt that I can never repay. It is worth more to me that anything else. My Sobriety is the only thing no one else can take from me. I do mean the only thing.


 
You know when you start coming here & you've been fucking up most of your life? I would build up my life with all kinds of cool material things & the house, the bike, the woman. Then I would tear it all down giving it all away at rock bottom prices. Up & down, up & down... So I would get sober & what would I do? Start comparing myself to others, my friends, family & I'd say "I've got to make up for all this lost time I've wasted while I was out there getting loaded." So then I would work & work & work some more, building up an empire. But then guess what? I no longer feel bad about not having these material things anymore, now I've got to worry about losing them!! IT NEVER FUCKING CHANGES.

 
I've made money & I've made no money. I feel the SAME WAY. The only thing I know is that if I trust in a power greater than myself, clean house, & take order that today is going to be ok & tomorrow will be fine. I also know that I don't know what is good for me or for anyone else. As long as I don't fuck up too badly or hurt too many people & not worry about anything else that things generally turn out better for me. The 12 steps of Alcoholics Anonymous have enabled that.

 

 






 

For Better or Best.

"For Better or Best"

"And we have ceased fighting anything or anyone--- even alcohol."

I have absolutely zero control over others. For me to believe I have powers to make or break someone else's recovery or sobriety is asinine. To counter that notion, I have to know that no human power could have relieved me of my addiction. Meaning that no one has power over my sobriety, my recovery. Seems like a very straight forward & simple concept but it has taken me some years to embrace that mantra.

I have lost displaced more people out of my life this last year than in my entire existence. This is not a statement that I am proud of though I have invariably become accustomed to the "for better or best" rationale of the present population at large. 

 Does anyone stay around through hard times anymore? Not just in marriage but in working relationship of any type? Parents, siblings, offspring, friends, & associates...

 It used to mean something in a different era when a vow of "For better or worse" was asked, and the reply was "I do." 

Growing up before the internet & cellphone boom, I don't recall ever questioning whom my friends were, whom had my back, & whom didn't.
 
It seems now in this modern era of mood stabilizer commercials, self improvement books, personal awareness therapy, memes to apply to any situation, endless photo editing filters, & passive aggressive social media posts that if any aspect gets "worse" we get the fuck out escaping as fast as possible. 

Long gone are the olden days. These are the new days. The days of endless options & variety right on your touch screen. The days of online courtships, probably multiple ones simultaneously ... it was something special that you were the lucky one when the girl in your class that you had a crush on passed hand written notes back n' forth all day. Now, you might think your lucky if the girl on your newsfeed you have a crush on likes your photo, accepts your direct message request, replies back & forth with what you feel is flirty banter... but how many dozens of you are there in the age of dispensable people & throwaway relationships. 

Comatose

Sometimes I drift off into sick thoughts of:

Sticking my fork in the light socket.

Cranking the steering wheel of my vehicle all the way left

Traveling into the back country during avalanche season & scream into a megaphone.

Having some good ol' unprotected sex.

Shooting up  speed-balls, or just speed ( turns out my dopamine receptors don't like Heroin)

Sometimes I don't wear my seat belt. I know that I should & I do the 98.9999% of the time... but other times I just don't see the point. Or maybe I just have the urge to be reckless every once in awhile? Now that I've been "Living Right" for the most part. I still need to watch out for the other hundred ways my head is trying to kill me.

Then there are times I am wearing my seat belt, traveling down the freeway in my 4 door sedan (always when I'm alone) & find myself day dreaming of being involved in a collision out of my control, of veering underneath the trailer tires of an 18 wheeler. I don't want to die & I don't expect that I would, but I visualize that being in a naturally or medically induced coma would be a nice change of pace from the monotony. Nothing permanent,  just a little break, time to relax while not thinking or worrying or obsessing. Hit the restart button.. 

I didn't believe that depression was ever a thing. Suicide was for selfish people trying to seek out the ultimate attention of those they perceived were ignoring them. I believed people just needed to get out of bed, get out of the house & do something. To just be better.. or maybe just try harder? They could choose to stop being sad.. especially if your'e a goddamn man. Go jump a dirt bike, ford a river, chop down a tree, climb a mountain. There are a million other things to do in this world than to be fuckin sad.

And if those natural highs don't work for you, there are always other stimulants in the dopamine well.

Until I was the one who was fuckin sad. I was the flop who wouldn't get out of bed, not even to ride my dirt bike. Until I let my own business consume me with stress after crushing stress. Until I was alone all of those late nights, Until I was the one that decided that I needed a drink or a drug to help me deal & cope. Until I was clinically depressed, until I saw absolutely no other way out of my addiction cycle merry-go-round. 

Except to jump off into oblivion. I couldn't fathom the thought of riding it out, to have the merry-go-round slow down on it's own timeline. I can't bear the "come off" of it all, with the overwhelming dizziness. That sick feeling of nausea, inevitable vomiting till I'm dry heaving emptiness. I was just empty at that point, running off of fumes of previous nights n' days, blurred together as one last binge.

Free Range

I have always pondered why my addiction or my alcoholism took a sharp turn for the worst when I tried to control it through my own will power.

When others close to me finally said I should think about stopping, or that they would leave me if I didn't, while also threatening to take really cool stuff n' things away with them when they did. I would just drink or use more at their perceived threats... even when that really cool thing was my own flesh & blood. I really don't deal well with conditional or tough love. I believe it has something to do with one or more of my trauma wounds, fear of abandonment, or just plain not being good enough. I break down at that point and see no way out. I'm sensitive, I have paper thin feelings, & if they are damaged or torn, my pain will spill out all over the surrounding environment like the Exxon Valdez.

At the time I could of never realized the scope of these tragic, knee-jerk reactions. Or that I would be the one dealing with the punishment of forging my own weapon. Just like an oil spill the aftermath of how deep the damages run are never really known until years & decades later.

The epiphany I just had was that I always believed I was a free range type of addict. I thought I was like the breeze. Sailing the seven seas, out in the great wide open, mostly minding my own business, not negatively affecting others. After all, I drank n' drugged to calm the storm raging inside of me, not to purposely meaning to hurt anyone else in my proximity.

Some how in my twisted thought process, I rationalized that fitting into a certain mold or box would save me from getting worse or prevent me from hitting absolute rock bottom. I just could not wiggle or writhe my way into one that fit me right... but I jumped right in anyhow.

 Whether it was a change in geographical location in the mountains, desert, or beach. Pursuing a new & exciting dating option. Maybe thinking it was time to finally settle down into something more serious, or perhaps trying no relationship at all would suit me better. Not till I realized no matter where I found myself, there I was. Up against the wall, backed into a corner, always trying to dig my way out... I had barbed wire sickness. I was claustrophobic, I was trapped,  I was NOT fucking free anymore. That's when my addict mind turned on me & everyone else it told me it never would..

Addiction always seems to bite the hand that feeds..

Addiction is the only prison where the locks are on the inside.

This Hungry Ghost ....

self portrait

does not fall by the wayside from the absence of sustenance, from being avoided or ignored. This hungry ghost paces along side of me in synchronicity, outstretched limbs, wearily grasping in it's ethereal existence. Casting a long shadow over the spanning echo of my being. This is my ghost, I have to take responsibility of its residency, just as it has taken possessor-ship of its human. It's a daily conflict of whom owns whom.

Do you recall the good ol' boy drinking joke? Goes something like this: "She said I had a drinkin' problem. I said, yes I do, I've got two hands to hold liquor & only one mouth to drink it from!"

Low brow to be sure, but not far off from the description of the far East's philosophy of the hungry ghosts who crave & hunger for substances they cannot digest. These ghosts suffer from tiny mouths, scrawny necks, though contradicted by having exaggeratedly large, bottomless stomachs to match their insatiable appetites, making it impossible to ever get the feeling of satifaction.

Is it an issue of morality? My egoic pride? Do I not have the adequate conscience, soul, or discipline? Am I uncouth? Unintelligent? Or is there a Mariana trench like chasm so vast inside of me that every positive attribute is also just a drop in the bucket? 

Sound familiar? For myself it is a hollowness deep inside that is an aching hunger, an unquenchable thirst. Not only is it never being satisfied, but also lacking the ability to just be with myself & " just feel okay" or to ease the aching for more... that hopeful grasp that something outside of yourself will make up what is deficient inside of self. 

 Trauma. Addiction. Therapy. Recovery. Relapse. Trauma... 

If some event outside of you happened, putting the trauma inside of you, then why is it that addicts are seen as crazy for thinking something outside of them could also take the trauma that causes addiction away?

Opened Letter

I feel so defeated & ashamed to be writing this, as I feel like I'm drowning & there is no way out. This is the end, you're better off without me....

Countless numbers of unsent letters are ripped up & thrown in the trash everyday around the globe.  Ones that never  get to be opened or read until its much to late. This statistic is not how I'd like my story to end, I suppose I would rather have you read this letter than to read my eulogy.

I haven’t felt at peace. I haven’t felt security, Not since you’ve known me.
Something is wrong & I've almost always felt it.. more concussions than I can count on both hands, trauma / ptsd, a predisposition to drugs & alcohol? I have had fleeting thoughts of taking the easy way out to escape this life. A life that feels blanketed by anxiety, pain, & depression. While I don’t consider my self suicidal in the conventional sense, I am a threat to myself caught in the addictive cycle of  guilt, shame, remorse, relapse & repeat which is in fact, committing slow suicide.

The people that I’ve let close to me are privy to the state of  things around me, but not so much inside of me, never knowing if today will be Dr. Jekyl or Mr. Hyde. Many others know that something just isn’t right with me, as most of the battles I fight are just beneath the surface. My insides do not match my outsides & recovery is an inside job. Just like I can’t work on my business while I’m constantly working in my business, I cannot work on my head space while I’m always in my head.

.....but hey, isn't  posting anything about how you really feel against social media policy?  For an anti-social person like myself, I tend to be alone in a room (pretend)ing) to portray the wins, the laughs, the smiles, the beautiful faces, & the good times. There are those to be sure, as I’ve experienced tremendous heights and opportunities in life, but something is very wrong when I contemplated working at McDonalds when they were demanding $15.00 an hour (not that there is anything wrong with working at McDonalds) because I've let a business suck my soul dry.

It seems I only know how to operate in the extreme ends of the spectrum, dwelling on the lowest of lows. Because of this I isolate, Because of this I don’t go out much or leave my work, because of this it’s hard for me to trust  people or the system (especially the health care system) because of this I find it difficult to feel that I have true close friends & only limited connections. I feel I've never stopped to smell the roses, I've always put my career & building my business reputation highest on the totem pole, neglecting my health & other responsibilities at the cost of having personal time with my loved ones. Someday thinking that I'll get ahead of the 8 ball, then I'll have the time and resources to live happily ever after. If weighed out, I'd say it's a very high price to pay vs. low reward.

I have been aware & have seen this coming for some time, thinking that if I just work harder, train more employees, that I'll eventually, have the time to focus on my health,  my relationships, my recovery.. but in my quest for greatness I've become severely burnt out. I’ve experienced sums of time and chunks of physical sobriety in recovery over the last 5 years, but mentally I feel it’s time that I get honest and consent to a rehab / treatment facility that specializes in dual diagnosis for my behavioral & mental health. I have to do this for myself first & foremost so I can be present for my daughter / best friend, my loving partner, my family & friends. (maybe even fall back in love with my dirt bike again!)

 I feel guilt and shame for letting so many people down. This is a very hard decision to make as it feels like I'm abandoning my life's work, my pride n' joy, my baby.. I sincerely appreciate everyone who has ever walked through my doors & supported my dreams of having a cool dirt bike shop.
I know I've pushed good people away, lost some customers & by posting this I risk losing more. I have a lot of wrongs to make right with people & feel this is the direction I need to go in order to do that.

I am dedicated to be able to continue, as my best days are yet to come. This is not the end as it will be a new beginning once these issues are sorted out.

This Too...

I was born into the world early in the month of May. My first experiences were the sights of lush green foliage, taking in the sweet aroma of Wild Columbine flowers or the musty scent of native mushrooms & hearing the melodies of nesting Scarlet Tanagers of rural West Virginia. 

Little did I know that after a mere 6 months of being alive, I would begin to experience my first cycle of death. Everything I had associated my life around would soon go away.. all that I had known would start to wither, die, migrate, or hibernate... they all knew it, mother nature knew it. Taking place of the sun's warmth would be the wind chilled kiss of winters darkness.

Why can't I just hibernate until Spring?

I personally struggle with the seasons changing. I am still fine from Summer heading into Fall,  but as we fade into the darker, shorter days of the winter months, I feel this internal shift, this primal instinct in me as the leaves change colors.. dying off then falling to the ground where they will decay.. as they have done 36 times in my life span. 

I have noticed this much more in the last five years of searching for, attempting, then achieving sobriety. The more I recover, the clearer it becomes that it isn't as simple as "not liking cold, or the snow, or Holidays."  I can actually tolerate them all & have found the joy in each. To me, recovery is finally getting to work on my weaknesses. The areas that have historically taken me down, that seem to be compounded by the time November rolls around.

Is it because the Spring & Summer months are easy n' breezy for the most part? Not always, as this year and many others have seen their share of difficulties to be sure. Is it something as simple as being able to enjoy my chosen outdoor sport & hobby of Motocross during the warmer, longer days? Not exactly, as I have ridden year round or lived in places that are warm enough to ride all winter as well. I've still isolated during these times.

Hindsight is 20/20 and as I track my last decade I can clearly see my issues with this season. Arrests, Suicidal, homicidal, relapses, drinking binges & drug sprees, all of my worst character defects come out to play when the warmth of the sun dives lower into the Southern hemisphere, so this year I've made myself aware. With awareness comes choice, & though I have struggled, I have been able to choose to walk through it even as I don't fully understand why I feel this way. Why I have this internal clock going off telling me it's time to fuck things up?

Life is good right now. I have the most continuous length of sobriety I've ever achieved. While my outside world is not in some sort of self imposed crisis or in the chaos of scrambling back out of the hole I've dug myself into, my mind & body remember. They recall that this time of year is supposed to be crazy, wild, unmanageable, INSANE!] I am not supposed to be ok with anyone especially with myself.

I

Do I dread the scarcity.. of running out? Like with a drink & a drug, or of light & love?

Fall & Winter = scarcity / Spring & Summer = Abundance

Feeling like a dog that knows it is about to be hit, I cower with my tail between my legs at the sight of Old man winters cold hand raised in the air ... I KNOW it's coming.

Today is a perfectly fine day. The sun eventually rose, burning off the bite of Novembers first morning frost. Temps eventually climbed into what I still consider T-shirt & shorts weather. Why do I feel life's luster fading before my eyes in anticipation of cold, dead, winter? This realization has made me face the fact that I do not handle seasonal changes well at all.

If this were the same day in the Spring, same weather, same sun rise & sunset, I'd be excited. I'd be hopeful of what was to come, longer days in the sunshine. I would know things were on the upswing MORE, MORE, MORE!

But in the Fall.... I see the drain swirling, I see her suitcase is packed, I see the bottle is half empty, I seen the corner baggie is running out. I see LESS, LESS, LESS.

“Breathe. You're going to be okay. Breathe and remember that you’ve been in this place before. You’ve been this uncomfortable and anxious and scared, and you've survived. Breathe and know that you can survive this too. These feelings can’t break you. They're painful and debilitating, but you can sit with them and eventually, they will pass. Maybe not immediately, but sometime soon, they are going to fade and when they do, you'll look back at this moment and laugh for having doubted your resilience. I know it feels unbearable right now, but keep breathing, again and again. This will pass. I promise it will pass.” 

—Daniell Koepke