Trudging the Road of Happy Destiny

Note the word: Trudge

Hello friends. Today’s essay is part of a new series on recovery that includes

Latham Turner

Bowen Dwelle

,

Joshua Doležal

,

Michael Mohr

and

Lyle McKeany

. Each of us will wrestle this week with what recovery means to us and how our life experiences shape that definition.

The word Recovery has been closely associated in the culture with addiction from alcohol and drugs. There are many outstanding writers passionately and honestly writing on Recovery within the Substack universe. One such writer,

Dana Leigh Lyons

has assembled an amazing array of recovery writing in her Sober Soulful collection. Check it out if you’re so inclined. Short-term recovery—long-term—and all spaces in between are reflected with experience and honesty in the essays among the growing collection.

As you will read in this essay—and hopefully read in the other five essays as part of this week’s collaboration—everyone’s definition is a wee bit different—as is everyone’s journey. And that’s magic. As my Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu friends (I see you Latham!) might say, Let’s Roll!

---

Every single human being is either in Relapse or in Recovery—from something.

Family of Origin. Attachment. Abandonment. Trauma. Neglect. Violence or abuse. Relationships. Anger. Hatred. Habits. Behaviors. Addiction. If you’re in relapse you’re stuck in it or moving closer to the thing that you’re dealing with. If you’re in recovery you’re working on it and moving farther away from it.

I don’t really know what recovery actually is. I only know that without it I’d be in prison, sleeping on the streets, or in the ground. There is little chance that I will ever reach for a bottle or a line as a coping mechanism again. That is miraculous. Describing the original 100 people who authored the first edition of the Big Book of AA in 1939, “nearly all have recovered. They have solved the drink problem.” BTW that line is from the very beginning of the book. There’s a whole bunch of other amazing stuff that follows—after the drink problem is solved. Very little of it has to do with alcohol.

Here’s the thing that normies don’t understand about alcoholism: It’s not about the booze.

What I am in recovery from for the rest of my life is my old way of thinking. The way of thinking that served me for a long time. It wasn’t my thinking that led directly to the nefarious behaviors—I can blame that on the booze. Thinking and feeling was what led me to need the booze in the first place. Then the booze and its aftermath would create behaviors—which led to the need for more booze to relieve the guilt and shame of the behavior—which led to more stinkin’ thinkin’ and around and around I’d go. The vicious circle of addictive behavior.

“I cannot manage this (life) without that. (coping mechanism).”

The irony was that my life was unmanageable in so many ways, but I truly couldn’t imagine coping without alcohol. I actually believed that it made me able to manage better.

But to reiterate—it’s not about the booze. At some point I began living a double life. There was the face that I presented to the outside world—in control, strong, fearless, and accomplished. Some of that story was true. I did actually feel that way when I was playing that role. The other face was the one I saw when I was alone—the one in the mirror. Man-oh-man did I avoid that mirror. Have you ever tried to shave or brush your teeth or check for boogers without looking yourself in the eye? It’s doable. Was that feeling there before I discovered booze and drugs? Or was the feeling created by my dependence upon them? I was 6 months clean and sober before I could actually look myself in the eyes and like what I saw there. That’s recovery.

I still have coping mechanisms—they’re just healthier. Exercise, routine, prayer, meditation, staying connected, routine, writing. My recovery as a man, as a husband-to-be, as a son, as a brother, as a friend, and as a productive human being is ongoing and progressive. The other men is my writing group have said, “isn’t that just life?” Well yes. It is. But many of us go in the wrong direction for a while before altering our course. So, call Recovery a course correction if that makes you feel less resistance.

People can recover from alcohol and drugs. I see it every day. The odds aren’t good, but if we adopt a simple program of honesty and vigilance it can happen. The world is a better place when we do. The most creative, sensitive, interesting, and loving people are those I’ve met in recovery.

Rarely have we seen a person fail who has thoroughly followed our path. Those who do not recover are people who cannot or will not completely give themselves to this simple program, usually men and women who are constitutionally incapable of being honest with themselves.

Every single human being has stuff they need to recover from. Many don’t do it. Because it’s hard as fuck to look inward. The fear and uncertainty of change keeps many people from imagining a different way of living without pain. Pain is relative to the individual. People stay in bad relationships, bad habits, bad jobs and career paths—in a constant state of anxiety and fear and isolation. I did for a long time.

Some people—like me—have incredibly high tolerances for both physical and emotional pain. I’d pull up the tried and true defenses, stiffen up the armor of denial, and carry on. For us, it takes a whole heaping pile of painful shit to alert us to trouble. Others are less (or more?) fortunate. They recognize and feel pain quite easily. There is a silver lining for those people when it comes to recovering from that discomfort. They recognize it quickly and either medicate it (relapse), or address it with awareness, communication, and work (recovery). For well-armored souls like me—the identification was slow, the progression of the pain and consequences was insidious, and the work now is unrelenting.

I was fortunate—and I know that sounds weird to those of you that haven’t experienced recovery from drugs or alcohol—that I went through what I did. I am profoundly grateful that I stumbled down the dark path that I did, that it didn’t kill me, and that I now know what I do. I have not always felt that gratitude about my broken road. I do now—and that is a testament to the fact that recovery doesn’t happen when you get first clean and sober. Getting sober is simply paying the cover charge. Am I continually recovering from family of origin stuff? Attachment issues? Abandonment issues? Trauma? Yup. Getting clean and sober made me interested in, and curious of, dealing with the underlying issues that led me to seek solace in mind-altering substances.

“Houston we have a problem.”

Alcoholism and Addiction are progressive in nature. The data are clear. The evidence is overwhelming. It follows a predictable course—it gets worse over time. I’ve heard some people describe the last days of their using as if they were a marathoner at the end of 26 miles, or an Iron Man triathlete crawling across the finish line just as their spirit and blood sugar are completely depleted. For me it was more like a long movie car chase—yes I was exhausted, but I was nevertheless speeding through the urban landscape oblivious to my pursuers or the damage I’d done—and was finally caught in a cul-de-sac—handcuffed and taken away. My resistance was gone but my anger was intact all the way to the lockup and beyond.

Here’s the clinical take on it.

The Progressive Stages of Alcoholic Behavior (Courtesy of John Lee at ChooseHelp.com):

The Early Stages

—You start sneaking drinks or minimizing how much you actually consume

—You start to feel preoccupied with drinking

—You start gulping drinks - especially that first one

—You stop talking about your drinking with most people (drinking buddies excepted)

—You start having blackouts

—Your tolerance goes up

—You start drinking before and after social drinking occasions

—You start drinking as a way to relieve uncomfortable emotions/stress, etc.

—You start feeling uncomfortable in social situations that don’t allow alcohol

—You start to feel a loss of control over how much you drink

—You start to lie to others about how much you drink

• Your habit of drinking as a way to relieve negative emotions get more common

The Middle Stages

—You start hiding your alcohol

—you worry about always having a good supply

—You start to NEED a first drink of the day

—You try to force yourself into periods of abstinence (you go on the wagon)

—Other people start commenting on how much you’re drinking

—You start becoming occasionally aggressive or grandiose

—You start to feel real guilt about your drinking

—Eating becomes less important than drinking

—Personal relationships become less important than drinking

—You start to develop unreasonable feelings of resentment

—You start thinking of getting away, or moving locations, as way to stop drinking

—Your sex drive diminishes

—Your drinking leads to your quitting or losing your job

—You start feeling overly jealous

—You get into a habit of solo drinking

—You get morning shakes or tremors

—You start drinking early in the morning

—Your guilt has blossomed into constant remorse

—You have multi-day drinking binges

—Your thinking becomes scattered and impaired

—You start drinking with people you wouldn’t have associated with earlier in your life

The Late Stages

—Your alcohol tolerance goes down

—You start experiencing vague fear that is not attached to any outside definable threat

—You are no longer able to work or hold down a job

—Your physical condition/health deteriorates

—You lose your sense of morality - start doing things you wouldn’t have considered previously

—You are hospitalized for your drinking

—Your remorse becomes a constant feeling

—You can no longer count on any family or friends to help you

---

With just a couple of exceptions, I have experienced every single behavior and symptom on that list above. I lied, cheated, stole, hurt people, and did real damage. But all of those things turned inward on myself is where the real damage was done. Amends can be made. People will forgive you. Sentences can be served. Stuff can be fixed with time. Forgiving ourselves is always way harder. On each sobriety chip there is a saying across the top: “to thine own self be true.”

As Donald Fagen sings in “Any Major Dude,” “I can tell you all I know, the where to go, the what to do. You can try to run but you can't hide from what's inside of you.”

Modern political culture has appropriated the word “Progressive” to represent a type of left-leaning belief system. For our purposes of discussing the progressive nature of addiction and recovery, let’s stick with the simple definition that it moves forward—sometimes as a direct result of our own actions—and sometimes completely disconnected from our actions. We’ve established the progressive nature of addiction and substance use. Recovery works the same way “sometimes quickly sometimes slowly.” The 9th Step Promise of AA.

Think of it like hiking a beautiful mountain trail in a National or State Park. You pay your daily fee to get in—that’s the detox and getting sober part. Once you’re geared up you begin your climb. It feels good—you’re breathing well and striding carefully—working towards that first wind. Once you get your second wind—the chemical dependency is slipping away and you’re brighter—more alert with a heightened sense of things to come. You start to lengthen your stride but are still carefully picking through the roots and puddles along the way. It’s slow going but you keep putting one boot in front of the other. (see trudging above). You might stub your toe on a rock—cursing aloud. The trail gets steeper—your progress slows. Here comes a switchback and a clearing. The view is magnificent. You pause and take it in. This is where a lot of people in early sobriety stop. They’re taking in the amazing view and making pronouncements about how magical, yet painful, this climb is. Many plateau there. Life is better. It’s all good. Digging up a bunch of old shit just isn’t for me. They don’t yet know how magnificent the view is a couple thousand vertical feet up the trail.

Once you’ve surrendered and decided you want to be sober, it doesn’t take much time to start feeling better, and to begin to think that you know what sobriety is. I went through it. Everyone who makes it that far does. The pink cloud. Look at me! I’m sober! It takes a lot more willingness, courage, and time for your thinking to truly change. Not everyone keeps going until the real magic happens. That my friends—is recovery. It’s about the brain. It’s not about the booze. Is there an echo in here?

Many addiction experts will tell that if a person found the bottle or the drug of choice at the age of 13 or 14—which many do—that their emotional maturity stalls out at that age until they get clean and sober and begin working a program of recovery. I’m not sure I buy that completely. What I do know is that I was clearly stunted in those ways. I also know that the benefits of recovery are compounding. It’s not a straight line.

I wrote about this a bit in my June essay about Mindfulness.

Recovery is self-examination. Self-awareness. Initially getting sober involves cleaning up your own side of the street, and then once you’ve cleaned up your messes—keeping it clean. Go to meetings. Make your damn bed. Take a shower. Go for a walk or a run. Take up a new hobby. Show up on time. Be a dependable colleague at work. Do what you say you’re going to do. Call a friend. Apologize when you say something stupid. Try to think of yourself less often. Help others. Get a sponsor. Have them take you through the steps. And don’t pick up a drink! These are all the requirements of early sobriety. The basics.

When you’ve built a foundation out of the simple stuff, the real work opens up to you. For me it was in years 7-10 that my thinking began to change dramatically. It became liminal. I was learning to make a connection from the old way of thinking to the new way. Because there was now a bridge, I could much better understand why and how I thought and behaved the way I once did. In early sobriety there is no bridge—there is just too much shame. You’re simply throwing the baby (twins?) out with the bathwater. You quite literally have to abandon your old ways and find new ways. With some recovery maturity you can traverse mentally back and forth over the bridge between the two—honoring and accepting more of your old behavior rather than regretting and condemning it constantly. This doesn’t mean I have to like it. It just means that I can understand it. You can begin to see cause and effect. That’s where the thinking can change. That’s where the real healing can begin.

All I can really share is my experience of how it was, the strength of how it is now, and my hope for the future. You have to find out for yourself. At the end of the day, I don’t really know what recovery is. All I know is what I’ve discovered. The mystery and the magic are in the finding out. I believe in God, and I believe in miracles. How it works is something I don’t understand.

Ann reads—among a million other spiritual things each day—a daily email called The Daily OM. She knew that I was struggling with writing about what recovery is. Which is interesting cuz I write about recovery all the time—but describing what it is has been somehow different. She shared today’s email called “Peeling away the Layers.”

Like a tree, our growth depends upon our ability to soften, loosen, and shed defenses we no longer need.

Trees grow up through their branches and down through their roots into the earth. They also grow wider with each passing year. As they do, they shed the bark that served to protect them but now is no longer big enough to contain them. In the same way, we create boundaries and develop defenses to protect ourselves and then, at a certain point, we outgrow them. If we don’t allow ourselves to shed our protective layer, we can’t expand to our full potential.

Trees need their protective bark to enable the delicate process of growth and renewal to unfold without threat. Likewise, we need our boundaries and defenses so that the more vulnerable parts of ourselves can safely heal and unfold. But our growth also depends upon our ability to soften, loosen, and shed boundaries and defenses we no longer need. It is often the case in life that structures we put in place to help us grow eventually become constricting.

Unlike a tree, we must consciously decide when it’s time to shed our bark and expand our boundaries, so we can move into our next ring of growth. Many spiritual teachers have suggested that our egos don’t disappear so much as they become large enough to hold more than just our small sense of self — the boundary of self widens to contain people and beings other than just “me.” Each time we shed a layer of defensiveness or ease up on a boundary that we no longer need, we metaphorically become bigger people. With this in mind, it is important that we take time to question our boundaries and defenses. While it is essential to set and honor the protective barriers we have put in place, it is equally important that we soften and release them when the time comes. In doing so, we create the space for our next phase of growth.

I like that. The key phrases for me are “consciously decide” and “take time to question.” That’s recovery.

I’ll close with this. Clearly, we are an overstressed, over-triggered, overreactive, disconnected, and over-medicated society. The evidence is all around us. How many spiritually fit people do you know? We can’t think our way out of this. Thinking is done in the head. The pain people are suffering resides in the body and the soul. Unless we figure out how to connect mind, body, and spirit we will continue to be a culture of hurt and painful heads walking around in circles.

I’m a 65-year-old lifelong bachelor and I’m getting married tomorrow to my heart and soul’s equal. We will lock arms and trudge together down the road of happy destiny—deep in the mystery. That’s recovery.