Sober Reflections: One Year Later

Recently, I celebrated one full year of complete sobriety! I had previously quit taking drugs long before I said goodbye to alcohol for good, so my freedom from alcoholism (usually the cause of the subsequent drug use) is what I am writing about today.

I sat down several times to write this, but as has been the case recently; I struggled to write. I had plenty to say and many directions I could have taken this, but none of it felt quite right. It felt almost forced and came out as sporadic word vomit as a result. I almost chose not to write anything at all, but I feel this topic is especially important yet seldom discussed. It is easier to just continue your own journey and be grateful for your victories privately. Since I have made a habit of doing my best to be authentic in my writings, and in my daily life; I have plenty of practice just letting it all out there. People seem to respond best to that approach, so why change what works?

For those yet unaware, I greatly struggled with alcoholism for most of my twenties. It started out innocent enough with the occasional beers with friends, developing a palate for a myriad of scotches and others forms of alcohol, or the occasional night cap after a particularly long day or week. Over time I built a preference for every type of alcohol there was and mostly drank because I enjoyed it. It helped me relax, calmed the noise in my head, or gave me a boost in social situations. I discovered recently, I am a learned extrovert, so I guess alcohol served as a kick starter for bringing me out of my shell. I genuinely believed it helped me be more comfortable in my own skin and brought my 'true self' out.

For a while, I truly could take it or leave it. I was just fine at parties without alcohol as I was at ones with it and I could just as easily enjoy a root beer as I did a real beer, so I am not exactly sure where and when it all went south for me. I read somewhere it is like getting caught in a pitcher plant. You are the fly or bee looking for something sweet. When you first land on the petals, you enjoy the sweet nectar and are not in much danger. Unbeknownst to you though, the nectar starts sliding you further into the gullet of the flower. By the time you realize what is happening, you are in too deep and unable to fly yourself to freedom. I believe this aptly describes what happened over the course of time. To try and pinpoint the turn in the road is both futile and does not truly matter in the end. What matters is I got in deep and never thought I would make it out. By the grace of God, I did make it out and I express my gratitude to Him daily for leading me out of the pit.

I have been asked before how I did it, so I will do my best to explain the process I went through to get to where I am today.

The first thing I should mention is this nasty addiction cost me everything before I ever had any success in recovery. I should not even be here to write this to you today, but I am so I feel the burden to speak the truth. I truly hope not everyone needs to hit bedrock before they decide things need to change. 

The worst part of alcoholism, or any addiction, is you think you have hit rock bottom many times, but there is always deeper. I knew things needed to change for a long time before I ever did anything about it. The problem is, you get so deep not only are you used to the drowning after a while, but you also forget which way is up. You are then left with a mountain of issues you are not sure are traversable. Alcohol fogs up your mind and takes you to some very dark places mentally, so to try and muster any courage or confidence in making a change is nearly impossible. By this point, you have stacked up countless regrets, many of which you try and forget with even more alcohol. Hopefully, there comes a tipping point where you no longer are too prideful or ashamed to reach out for help, but fear of admitting the struggle is what keeps most in the thick of it. It is simply easier to keep ignoring the problem and putting it off for another day.

Since I no longer had anything more to lose, I started from square one. It is incredibly disorienting not knowing who you are anymore, and the feeling is exacerbated when left in the environment which served as the catalyst for all your brokenness. So, the first thing I did was leave said environment that perpetuated my problem. This was a huge step at the time and led to my first tastes of victory, but I quickly found out a change of scenery, with all its excitement and newfound determinations are not enough. Your problems follow you and, when not dealt with properly, will rear their ugly head again.

My first real breakthrough in stringing several sober days together came after I decided to join a program. I started learning all I could about alcohol, heard how others had overcome, and did my best to put all suggestions to practice. I learned a lot and took several important steps during those first few months. At first it was stop and go and what once was daily drinking morphed into binge drinking. Things were starting to change though! I had to remind myself sometimes when progress seemed slow or I had taken a step back, at least progress was being made, however minor. At the very least, I was moving forward, learning in the process, instead of remaining stagnant as before.

Up to this point, I had mostly been walking this path alone. I think I needed to for a while to give myself some time for trial and error, as well as slowly build my confidence with every small victory. Aside from family, I kept my journey mostly to myself. The small victories added up as knowledge grew and eventually got to a place I felt comfortable being sober. Weeks began to pile up and it no longer felt like such a chore holding back. I had found alcohol free alternatives I thoroughly enjoyed, a major boon early on, and started enjoying things I had long forgotten about again. I once again developed an appetite more furious than I remembered it ever being and began enjoying food again, both cooking and eating it. I was transitioning out of squalor and survival mode into genuinely enjoying life and all the little things which had become background noise over the years.

Then, I made friends again. I cannot express enough the pivotal importance this factor played in my recovery. James Clear, author of Atomic Habits, puts it this way; "Convincing someone to change their mind is really the process of convincing someone to change their tribe. If they abandon their beliefs, they run the risk of losing social ties. You can't expect someone to change their mind if you take away their community too. You have to give them somewhere to go. Nobody wants their worldview torn apart if loneliness is the outcome." In my case, I had already left any tribe I had known and had difficulty finding a new one to connect to. I was a scrawny, lone wolf starving for a pack. My choices made me an island and I was desperate for a ship to pass by during my long, dark night. This is another wicked consequence of alcoholism. The further you go, the more isolated and lonelier you become. You feel the heavy burdens you have placed on yourself and those you once held dear. You are afraid to reach out for connection because you do not want to hurt anyone else, so you choose to continue suffering alone.

It was during these vagabond days my beliefs changed. There was no risk of losing social ties, so it provided me the freedom to learn and change on my own. It may very well be a necessary ingredient to recovery having the space to process, but part of me believes I would have tasted victory sooner had I reconnected to a healthy community sooner. The community I ended up finding towards the edge of complete sobriety was my oasis in the desert. Some of these people I knew from long ago, some were brand new to me. From someone who had a hard time trusting anyone, especially myself, I am grateful these people proved trustworthy.

At this point in my journey, I was still playing with the idea of moderating my alcohol intake. I had gone several weeks without a few times, so my self-confidence was improving. I thought if I had these new friends to keep me accountable, then I was less likely to falter. It worked for a little while, only keeping it social as at the beginning of my dealings with alcohol. When we keep the door cracked open though, our rivals sneak in without notice eventually and we are back to where we started.

I'd shared a bit of my struggle with these new friends and my new girlfriend but assured them things were now under control. I honestly believed it at the time. I hosted a game night at my home I thought lost the year before and it was a grand time! Some alcohol was left behind, which I did not think would be a problem, but the thief comes in the night to remind you of your weaknesses. With the failure complete, I came to a crossroads. Do I keep on in secret as I had for many years, or do I risk these new friendships to give honesty and humility a try? I knew the latter was the right choice if I was to ever experience true, lasting victory. I decided to own up to my mistakes and ask for help. With great fear and some literal trembling, I fessed up and it made all the difference. I went out on a limb with these people, and they responded with the grace and love I had needed for a long time.

The thing with fear is it makes you believe in lies that rob you of the chance to experience the truth. Had I once again succumbed to that fear and the lies it was speaking to me, I may very well still be battling alone. I pushed through though and was welcome with open arms. This acceptance of my humanity and the encouragement I received calling me higher was the kill shot to an awfully long battle. From that day forward, I had the courage I needed to continue facing these demons. Since I knew I was no longer fighting alone, I had the strength to press on towards victory.  These friends of mine would check in on me and be there to pick me up if I faltered. They became more sensitive to the battle I had been fighting and made sure I never felt left out. 

There is a sense you are at the kids table when first committing to sobriety while your friends still partake around you, but it is better than not being included at all. My wife and friends would always make sure there were alcohol-free alternatives for me at social gatherings where alcohol was present. They all expressed a tangible love towards me on a consistent basis and I believe my current success is due to their support. Instead of losing their friendship or respect, as I feared, I garnered further respect and became closer to them than I had been with anyone in a long time.

It is not easy acclimating to freedom. At the beginning, you still feel the weight of your now loosed shackles like a phantom limb. As you adjust to this new life, a new fear emerges: am I absolutely free? You begin walking in this new direction and you swear you still hear the rattling of chains. You continue walking though, one step at a time, and the sounds of your former bondage eventually fade away. Sometimes they visit you in your sleep and you wake with a start, drenched in sweat, convinced you slipped again, but as you come to your senses you feel the sweetness of freedom unlike any peace you have felt before. It was only a tremor of memories long gone as your subconscious continues to adjust. One day, you take a good look at yourself and wonder if it was all just some terrible nightmare because who you have become is such a stark contrast to who you once were. It is in those moments you can't help but be filled with gratitude and a little pride. You realize you have been transformed to a new creation and the fleeting memories now only serve as a reminder to what you are truly capable of, for better or worse.

Some of you may be wondering if I ever miss alcohol and I can honestly say I never even think about it anymore. When you give up one thing which once cost you everything and in turn gain more back than you deserve, would you miss it?

I traded years of spotted memories for the ability to be present and take in every moment. My mind once scrambled is clear, as is my conscience once riddled with guilt. I now wake up every day to my wonderful wife, when I once woke with injuries I do not remember getting or wondering how I even got home. My body now feels whole, when once it screamed at me, pleading for relief of the daily abuse I was putting it through by subjecting it to poison constantly. I can give my all at work and am considered an asset to my company, when once I was struggling just to make it through each day, fighting paranoia someone would smell it on me or worse, and counting the minutes until I could feed the monster again once home. For the first time in my life, I don't stress about finances, when once I had to decide between a crap meal or a tall boy with the alcohol winning that battle every time. I am living the life I always dreamed of, but never thought I deserved. I even learned to love myself in the process and am finally living a life of integrity. I have nothing but high hopes for the future, when once I felt utterly hopeless. 

So no, I do not miss it one bit. Instead, I now hope I can somehow help others through their own long, dark nights.

The Difference Loving Yourself Can Make

For too long I believed there was something inherently wrong with me. I never seemed to measure up, never seemed to get anything right. I knew I was always being watched, so God forbid I ever fucked up publicly.

When you are put on a pedestal, you learn to keep your sins hidden. All that does is allow the filth to fester and create quite the double life riddled with anxiety and paranoia. Who can you turn to after all? It felt like nobody. I kept such a face I was mistaken for God once. Little did they know how human I actually was as a post-pubescent teenager.

For whatever reason I have never had difficulty making friends and apparently admirers. Perhaps it was my quick wit and humor that won everyone over, but I honestly think it was because I never judged anyone. Something about being there for people where they are and truly listening/empathizing with them works. Weird right? It shouldn't be. We are all our own messes.

With time I discovered how to let myself be known. At first the anxiety and paranoia were still there, but as I slowly released my own darkness to those I trusted and found out they did not just recoil and promptly reject me; I realized I am not alone after all. Oh, I can breathe without having to look over my shoulder?! Thank God you can relate! In time I became convinced nothing is really worth hiding and I ran with that, for better or worse.

I will say people are more prone to open up when you take the initiative. I think we need more of that dynamic in our relationships. What we are so afraid of is usually nothing in the end. Our habit of psyching ourselves out either keeps us frozen in regret, or coming up with a half truth scenario we think the other/s would like to hear. As terrifying it may seem, honesty is always the best course of action. Not only is it healthy for your own well being, but it helps to separate the chaff from the wheat.

This blog has served as a sort of open journal for me in the past. I wrote what I was not entirely comfortable talking about in person with anyone. At first, I was terrified, but I soon found out a lot of people related to what I was saying, so I kept writing. It not only helped my confidence to grow, but it taught me a lot in the process. I am no longer afraid to say it like it is and I only write now if I feel it serves to speak truth and hopefully help others.

It is an entirely different world when you accept who you are and learn to love yourself. It took me a long time, but it changed everything for me! When you come to know your worth and believe the words spoken by those you love; it changes you. No longer do you feel the need to hide and life seems primed to bless you. You learn to take care of yourself and the rain cloud that has haunted you your entire life turns to clear skies. Clarity is finally born and you begin to wonder how you lived so differently for so long.

Everyone deserves to feel comfortable in their own skin, and if you find yourself struggling to accept yourself please reach out. I for one am here to listen and help you realize your worth. We all have something to offer. Most do not realize it until it is put out there. You could be pleasantly surprised!

Stop hating yourself and punishing yourself for mistakes you have made. The torture only makes it worse on yourself and those around you. Own your mistakes, but learn from them and choose to grow. You are beautiful and your story deserves to be told.

Overcoming Adversity

Accept what it is and adapt, or sink deeper into the void of despair. Those are the options, and I have tasted both.

Admittedly, I have drank deeper from the latter than the former. 

It seems easier, after all, to just wallow in defeat. The effort to stand up and overcome seems to be too much to bear at the time, but it’s necessary if we are to become who we are meant to be despite adversity. 

I tend to have tunnel vision. I put too much focus on what is going on around me in the negative, than considering the bigger picture. That is natural to do. When you are wounded, you focus on the wound in order to heal as quickly as possible. 

What if it cannot be healed quickly, or at all?

Imagine you ‘healed’ from something, just to get a negative diagnosis in the future. It happens all the time. 

Healing is important, but it’s too easy to focus on recovery and we lose all focus of everything and everyone else in the meantime. 

There is a tendency to feel guilt during this time of recuperation. There are feelings of worthlessness and desperation. We try our best to belong, to be present, yet we more often than not are overwhelmed beyond our efforts and it leaves those close to us scratching their heads. No one is to blame. 

At times these events lead us into insanity. We may act out towards those we love in irrational ways. We may even go so far as to fashion a noose around our neck in an effort to escape the situation completely. Yet, that isn’t the answer. Though we are blind to see it at the time, we are needed and wanted. 

On Being Alone

Sometimes it is a choice, sometimes not. Solitude can be both a blessing and a curse. Whether it is intentional (you need some space, or time to yourself) or unintentional, I believe we were never meant to be alone. 

For a while now, I craved solitude, yet now that I have it..I would genuinely welcome an interruption. We need space, sure, but it should only be temporary. We were made for connection after all. 

Sometimes life is too much, and isolation seems so overwhelmingly attractive. Whether it be laying in our bed for a while, or choosing to leave the scene completely. I, for one, am grateful to the friends that didn’t leave me that way in those moments. 

Though at times we don’t recognize, or want to admit it; we need each other. 

I also understand some people may not have anyone to pull you from the doldrums, and that makes me sad. It’s in my nature to be there for people when they need me, and I am grateful it has mostly been a two way street. 

For those who don’t feel like, or literally, have no one to seek solace with, I grieve with you. My hope is this becomes a rare occurrence. 

In these times, I understand the notion of not wanting to be a burden, and there are times where we just don’t have the energy to ask for company. Hell, we may not even recognize we need/want it. That’s okay. 

My encouragement to the lonely is: when you need space, take it. When you are isolating yourself due to anything other than needing space, try to be open with those around you about it. My hope is they understand, will give you some space, but won’t leave you to wallow forever. 

To those on the outside: please respect our boundaries, but don’t be afraid to step in if you feel we need it. Though we may object, a lot of times it’s exactly what we need. 

For Grandma Lair

For Grandma

The fire crackled in the hearth as the snow fell in flurries outdoors and Madie sat in her easy chair rocking while listening to an old sermon tape. The sermon was on the Fatherhood of God, something that was sometimes difficult for her to understand.

As she listened intently with her Bible open on her lap the back door flew open to little Daniel standing in the cold. He wore a blue stocking cap that had a white ball on top and white tassels hanging from the ear flaps. Daniel took off his coat and shoes by the door and came in to warm up near the fire.

“Just a minute young man; you come give your grandma a kiss!”

“Aw grandma, do I have to?” complained Daniel.

“If you don’t, then I will wrestle you to the ground and kiss you anyway.” replied Madie with a smirk.

“Okay…” said Daniel as he resigned himself to receive a kiss he proclaimed he didn’t want, but deep down enjoyed receiving.

“Thank you Daniel, I love you!”

“I love you too grandma.”

Madie sat and watched Daniel by the fire while the other children continued to romp around out in the snow. They too would be in soon to warm up a little while by the fire before going right back out into the cold again.

Young Danny let out a little, barely audible sigh, yet Madie heard it all the same. He looked sad with his shoulders slouched as he seemed to be gazing into the flickering flames of the fire, deep in child-like thoughts.

“Danny, is something wrong my dear?”

“I’m okay grandma.” replied Daniel without turning to look her way.

“Sweetheart, I know something is wrong. Your body language and that little sigh says it all.”

“What is body language grandma?” said Daniel, this time turning to face her.

Madie sat up, leaned towards Daniel and replied, “It’s the way your body presents itself depending on how you feel. It is a way people communicate without using words. That’s why I knew you were not telling the truth, because although you said one thing, your body and that sigh told me another.”

“Oh, okay…”

“Now that I have your attention; are you going to tell me what is bothering you?” asked Madie.

“I don’t know…” said Daniel with a bigger sigh this time.

Madie got out of her chair and paused the sermon. She then went over by the fire, sat down next to Daniel and also gazed deep into the lively flames. After sitting there a bit with him, she again pressed Daniel for what had him down.

This time Daniel gave in, and with his lower lip starting to quiver he told his grandmother, “Michael and me got in a fight, and he said he doesn’t love me or like me anymore, and then he pushed me to the ground.” A single tear escaped over the lower lid of his right eye as Daniel tried to remain strong.

“Now why would he say that?” inquired Madie.

As his eyes continued to fill with tears Daniel replied, “Well, he was building a snowman while Marie, Nicole and me were chasing each other in the snow. I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I ran into his snowman and ruined it. Now he has to start all over. I didn’t mean to!” Daniel began to silently sob after his confession. He did not like to cry, but he felt so terrible, yet he knew grandma loved him and would not make fun.

Madie sat there holding Daniel close while he sobbed silently in her arms so he may be comforted by her embrace. It was not long before he began to calm down when she said, “Honey, Michael was upset and did not truly mean what he said, but all the same it was not right to react to you the way he did and say what he said. I will have a talk with him later.”

With the issue off his chest, and knowing his grandma would take care of him, Daniel felt much better, but hoped that Michael would not get in too much trouble.

“Thank you grandma, I love you.” he said before getting up to go back outside again.

“I love you too young man!” responded Madie with another kiss on his cheek before clicking the sermon back on and returning to her rocking chair.

For Whom the Bell Tolls

Try to imagine you’re buried alive. You panic for a bit, but decide it’s best to keep calm. Alas! There is a string buried with you! You give it some pulls, gently at first, then vigorously as your desperation increases, yet no one is around to hear your death bell toll. 

That’s what severe depression can feel like, and it’s very real while one is experiencing it. 

It’s not common for people to share this kind of thing with those around them, because at the time they are just trying to survive and don’t think to reach out for help. It’s not always because they don’t want to burden people, but often because one becomes so engrossed in suffocating they think in millisecond moments. 

It’s become more and more common these days for people to actually understand when one does broach the subject of depression, because more people seem to understand or have the ability to relate from personal experience. As sad as it may seem that more people understand what it feels like, I think it’s a good thing, because it has become easier to find people with whom you can relate and get advice from. 

Yet, there are still a majority of those that do not understand, and probably never will. They don’t recognize the signs, or they don’t seem to care enough to pay attention (we have also become adept at masking being okay, even happy. We’re skillful liars sometimes, just not wanting to make things worse, if we even say anything at all). 

If anyone has shared with you about struggling with depression, I can almost guarantee they have more than struggled with it, like a rash that won’t go away or whatever. Don’t brush over those conversations. Try to sympathize and learn as best you can when someone does open up to you. 

Pay more attention to people as well. Choose to notice differences in people’s demeanor, and do something about it. Anything! I can’t stress this enough, it could be a matter of life or death (I’ve been there). Try your best not to be those who arrive after the bell stops ringing. 

Vagabond of Brokeness

Humanity is a tapestry. Each of us our own stitch in existence.

Humanity is a broken mirror. Crevices abound and our reflection is nowhere near perfect.

Humanity is an orchestra. Alone we may make beautiful music, but together there is beauty that touches the soul.

To be human is a complicated formula with no perfect solution. We try in vain. We vex ourselves over the course of our lives and never get it perfect.

Humanity is an amalgamation of misfit toys stranded on an island, longing for love lost, and finding it in each other.

I once wrote, ‘I walked a line once blurred between reality and the absurd. The line is razor thin, but I will never be that man again.’ It is a comforting lie we tell ourselves. Always striving for greatness. Always falling short with pet skeletons in our closet.

Vagabond. One who wanders. No home to speak of, yet making the most of where they are at night.

Identities change, whether out of necessity, or the toll of life. What about the in between? The unknown flux one is not aware of in the moment until they are on the other side?

If my house had a name, I would call it Void. Free on its own with nothing to offer, yet it somehow brings others in. A mystery still unsolved.

Humanity is brokenness and I am the man who walks amidst the cracks.