Dubious Luxuries Reimagined

Once upon a time, about fifteen years ago, I was a newspaper columnist. It sort of happened by accident, as a result of several letters to the editor that I'd written to The Salisbury Post when I lived in Salisbury, NC. The response to the letters inspired me to submit a column idea about being a Yankee living in the South. The Post decided not to run the columns, but they did give me a guest spot for one of the submissions, and I was hooked.

About a year later, I had lined up enough paying gigs to go freelance. I then submitted a new column idea, a series of humorous essays about the English language. The Post had just gotten a new editor-in-chief, and she liked the idea, so I received a spot in the lifestyles section every other Thursday.

Some time after that, as they went to full color and a reformat to go with it, I received a phone call from the Post. They asked me if I could write about more general topics.  Clever girl that I am, I replied, "Of course!" For the next couple of years, my essays appeared on the front page of the lifestyles section's Sunday edition. I achieved a moderately enthusiastic following, as well as payment in glowing compliments and a surprising amount of fan mail.

I tell you this story now as my way of announcing a format change for Dubious Luxuries. I founded this blog when I was newly sober as a way to explore some of my experiences in recovery. But, like my old newspaper column about the English language, I feel that writing solely about sobriety has, for me, run its course. My commitment to my recovery has not faltered, but I find that as I develop my normal life, I feel the urge to expand this blog to topics of a more general interest. References to recovery will undoubtedly sneak their way in from time to time, since it is still the philosophical base from which I operate, but it will no longer be the main point. I hope you're cool with that. You are? Excellent.

I suppose I could have started a new blog to do all this, and I did consider it. Truth be told, however, I'm unnaturally, perhaps even neurotically, attached to the current title. I think life is full of all sorts of dubious luxuries, things which seem desirable, but often have major, and sometimes humorous, drawbacks. It's a take on the old saying, "Be careful what you wish for." Besides, I'd also have to change my custom license plate. It's frankly not worth a trip to the DMV.

You'll probably also notice that I have retained the A.A. symbol on the sidebar. I'd like like to tell you that it's there as a constant reminder to me of my commitment to my sobriety. I'd like to tell you that, because I do maintain that commitment. However, I can't tell you that, because the reality is that I can't seem to delete it. I'm taking this as a sign that the symbol is supposed to stay put.  I've also kept the old blog entries intact, for those who would like to read them.

And so, onward and forward. I recently quit my paying job to return to my old life as a freelance writer. I feel certain that this state of affairs will turn out to be a dubious luxury all by itself. I invite you to come along with me as I explore the glamor and the pitfalls of my new existence. Cheers!

Alcoholism and Addiction as Disease

In the wake of the recent death of Whitney Houston, I've observed (and participated in) a number of arguments about whether addiction to alcohol and other mind-altering drugs is really a disease. I had thought this debate had long since been put to bed, but apparently the fact that addiction is a disease is not as well known as I imagined.

The fact is (and I can't put enough emphasis on the word "FACT") addiction IS a disease. You can ask any doctor or mental health professional and you can do your own research. It is well-documented. It is both a physical neurological disease, like Tourette's Syndrome (http://www.medical-online.com/addict.htm) and it is a mental disorder classified under impulse control (http://www.sis.indiana.edu/DSM-IV-Criteria.aspx). It is also progressive, which means it slowly gets worse over time, but slowly so it isn't noticed until it's a big problem. It is chronic, which means it is recurring. Just when you think you have it under control, it comes back. And it is frequently fatal if left untreated.

It is not a question of willpower. Let's take a legally-sanctioned example. If you put me, an alcoholic, and normal drinker X together in a controlled experiment where all other factors are equal and have us each drink three shots of liquor, X will be drunk, but will be able to stop drinking. I will be drunk, and I will feel absolutely compelled to continue drinking until I pass out. It's not a choice. My physiology demands it.

The mental disorder part is tricky, and that's the part non-addicts have a hard time understanding. My disease tells me that I can drink like normal people. It tells me that I am not an alcoholic and that, just this one time, it will be okay to drink, that I won't want to drink tomorrow, too. My own brain tries to fool me into thinking I do not have a disease.  I can't control this thinking by myself, which is why I'm so grateful that I was finally able to understand that and avail myself of the help that was offered.

Understand also that I was born this way, just like normal drinkers were born that way. Because it's progressive, it didn't show up right away in me, but much like congenital risks for heart disease show up in families and may not be a problem at first, it was there all along.

I would like to make a request of those of you who will not be convinced, no matter the evidence. Your steadfast claim that I get to choose does not help me. Everybody makes mistakes in their lives, but when addicts make mistakes, the consequences are more dire.  If you'd like to see an end to addiction, please help the cause rather than making it worse. If there's an addict in your life, help them seek help. It could save their life.

Stop SOPA

http://sopastrike.com/#how-to-strike

Craig Ferguson's Sobriety Story

Understanding Guilt

When I quit drinking and joined AA, I had no idea that I was embarking on a journey of self-discovery. Like many new AAs, I just figured I could learn how to drink like normal people.  It was not the first notion of which I was disabused and I'm certain it won't be the last.

Through working the steps, I've learned a lot about who I was and how to change thinking that was harming me. I never thought I was a particularly angry person, but that was because I stuffed my emotions in a mental closet and locked them up tight. I also didn't think I was a people-pleaser, but practicing rigorous self-honesty taught me otherwise. I knew I had been trained growing up to respond to manipulation through guilt, but believed I'd thrown off the shackles of that worthless emotion. Wrong again.

Many people come into the rooms of AA horribly wracked with guilt and shame over their drinking behavior. Unfortunately, alcoholism is still poorly understood by the general public, so, on the surface, many of those behaviors might lead the drinker and those around them to believe they are entirely worthy of those feelings. However, if you ask an alcoholic if it's likely they would have done anything differently knowing only what they knew at the time, they will usually tell you they would have done exactly the same thing, even though they aren't proud of their behavior and would not have done those things if they were sober.  One of the primary differences between an alcoholic and a normal drinker is that alcohol will lead an alcoholic to engage in uncharacteristic behavior, i.e., it changes their personality. This does not in any way excuse or exonerate that behavior, but it does explain it. An alcoholic is powerless over alcohol.

Just knowing that can sometimes alleviate some of the guilt.  Doing so is important because harboring negative feelings can get an alcoholic drunk faster than just about anything. Guilt is one of those "dubious luxuries" of normal drinkers.  We can't afford it.

In order to free ourselves of guilt, we need to come to a fuller understanding of just what guilt is, and where it comes from.  Simply put, guilt is a by-product of control. Most of us learned it in childhood from our parents and other authority figures. In an effort to mold our behavior, we often heard things such as "Nice girls don't do that," or "No son of mine will ever (insert behavior)." Because we instinctively want to be on the good side of the people who feed, clothe and house us, we learn to feel badly when we don't live up to their expectations. Because we are alcoholics, even before we start drinking, we develop disproportionately large guilt mechanisms. We are experts not only at feeling guilt, but at wielding it as well. We become people-pleasers and manipulators. Unconsciously, we believe we are running the world and everything that happens in it is a direct result of our actions or inactions.

Now, not everyone who is self-centered in such a way is an alcoholic, but every alcoholic I've ever met is disproportionately self-centered. The purpose of the 12 steps is to teach us to think differently about ourselves and the world around us, and that is why they are so extremely powerful. They can relieve us of the desire to drink when nothing else on earth could.

In a nutshell, when we feel guilty, it is because of our unconscious desire to please others. We still believe that we can control others' thoughts and feelings by our actions. To some extent, we can, but it's an imperfect science.  Anyone who tries on a consistent basis to do so knows what an impossible task it is to please everyone, but the alcoholic still believes it is possible in the face of their failure.

The alternative to guilt is a release of control and the honest attempt at right action. In AA, we call it "doing the next right thing".  In the third step, we give up our will and our lives to the care of our higher power. In the eleventh step we develop our relationship with that power by asking only for knowledge of its will for us and the power to carry it out.  In the twelfth step we attempt to practice these principles in all of our affairs.

It is in this practice that we are able stay sober and free of guilt. We take life as it comes to us and let our higher power lead the way.  We aren't perfect at it, because we are humans.  But we do progress.  As a consequence, we are able to learn how to lead happy and productive lives that enhance the lives of those around us.  Thus the powerless become powerful.  I call that a win-win.

The Prodigal Returneth

My long holiday hiatus is over. It is a new year, with new challenges, and I have a fresh attitude to go with the change of date. What prompted me to return today, of all days, was a prolonged visit with my higher power.

I've mentioned before that I no longer believe my life is a series of random events without purpose or meaning. I don't always get to know why things happen, but I often get let in on the secret after the event has passed. Tonight was one of those times.

I welcomed January in this year with the realization that I did not drink in 2010.  Not once. As of tomorrow, it will be fifteen months since I picked up my surrender chip. I cannot tell you, because I can't remember, how long it has been since I went an entire calendar year without drinking.  When I was younger I often went a year where I had drunk less than a six pack, but I almost always at least had a drink or three on New Year's Eve or other rare occasions.

So, with this happy and joyous realization, I started 2011 with all the enthusiasm of a woman who was free.  With my higher power firmly in charge, I start each morning asking my higher power to reveal its will for me, and for the power to carry it out. Then I get going and see what comes along.  I don't always remember specifically anticipating the next right thing, but as I drove to my noon meeting yesterday, I did.

At the meeting was a woman who looked somewhat familiar.  She sat across the table from me and said hi. I admired her necklace and wondered to myself if she was a newcomer, or if I'd seen her at another meeting. But I definitely noticed her.

After the meeting was over, she introduced herself and asked me if I'd be willing to speak at the Wednesday night (tonight's) meeting at the local rehab facility.  I don't know how she got my name, or what inspired her to ask me, or even how she knew where to find me, but I did find out later that she was specifically at the meeting to ask me to speak.

Now, ordinarily, I am working on Wednesday nights.  Because my husband and I work opposite shifts, if I'm not working, we generally have plans to do something together.  But this particular Wednesday, for some reason, I had the night off, and my husband had choir practice, so I had no plans.  It seemed my higher power had plans for me, so I agreed to speak.

After my first speaker's meeting, I got my first sponsee, and even though some other rather dramatic things happened that night, I soon realized that's why I was there.  This time, I knew it couldn't be that because I have three sponsees working the steps right now, and that's all the time I can devote to sponsoring.  As it is I sometimes feel like I'm playing whack-a-mole. One sponsee needs me, we get her settled, and then one of the others pops up with an issue.

In any event, I knew I was supposed to be there. I prepped myself by going to an online meeting in the morning, then my regular noon meeting, then I had lunch with my sponsor, then I read the Big Book until it was time to get ready to leave.  I was full of AA goodness.  Right before the meeting, I ducked into the bathroom to turn it all over to my higher power so that the words I said would reach the ears that needed to hear them, and I went in cold.

The first time I did it, I remembered very little of what I said afterwards, and I can only remember a little of what I said tonight, even though it was only two hours ago.  But somebody heard what they needed to hear, and three people picked up surrender chips when I was done.  One of them was an old drinking buddy of mine. I didn't remember his name, but he remembered me from one of the places that I'd mentioned I used to drink in, and I do remember his face.  Whatever else comes out of this service I was privileged to give, he had a friendly, familiar face telling him that I was able, with the help of AA, to quit drinking, and that he could, too.  That's more than enough.  That's what we do. We save each other's lives, one drunk at a time.

There was one thing I didn't remember to say that I'd intended to say.  Since my higher power had other words for me then, I'll do it here.  When I was very early in sobriety, there was one sentence in the Big Book that made a real impression.  It's the beginning of "How it Works" and it's read in most AA meetings.

"Rarely have we seen a person fail who has thoroughly followed our path."  That's quite a claim, and one that I disputed myself the first time I "tried" AA.  I was sure AA wouldn't work for me, so I kept on drinking.  When I came back in, I turned it over and over in my mind. "Rarely have we seen a person fail, who has thoroughly followed our path."

Is it always easy?  No.  Life can be hard, and getting sober can be, too. But it's a lot easier than the road I was on before I began to thoroughly follow in the steps of other recovering alcoholics.  Don't drink, go to meetings, get a sponsor, read the Big Book, work 12 simple steps, and keep working them.  Does it work? Yes, yes it does.  Is it worth it?  More than I can ever say.

Tis the Season

I probably will get coal in my stocking this year, because I've been a very bad blogger. It seems like just yesterday when I was skipping my regular posting so I could finish painting the living room and host Thanksgiving. Now here I am barreling headlong into the Christmas season and I've had to force myself to sit down and write.

If the size of the meetings I attend is any indication, Christmas can be a tough time for alcoholics. Personally, I would never have chosen to get sober right before the holidays.  There was too much excused drinking to be done.  Plenty of time to sober up in January.  Not that I ever did.

When I was growing up, I felt intense pressure for holidays to be "perfect".  They never were.  What happened was this:

On Christmas Eve, the whole family would go to the midnight candlelight service, sing carols, hear the Christmas gospel, and see our friends.  We'd go home filled with the magic of Christmas, and love for our fellow man on this most miraculous of occasions.  We kids would go to bed and try to sleep.  Our parents would stay up to play Santa.

In the morning, we'd open our presents.  They were always good ones, because my parents were big on wish-fulfillment.  Then we'd go to Grandma's house for dinner and more presents.  The adults would sit around and drink while we played with our new treasures.  Then we'd go home and play with our other presents.  The adults would drink some more.  Well-lubricated, one of them would say something passive-aggressive, or criticize the other for behavior or comments at the family dinner and it was off to the races.

I cannot remember a single Christmas in my birth home that did not end in a huge drunken fight.  All the wonderful feelings and the excitement and joy were banished in a hail of ugly words, threats and drunken sneers.  Alcohol had stolen my Christmas as surely as if I'd done it myself.  And, as a child, I certainly thought that there was something I could have done to prevent it.

The long term affect of these Norman Rockwell moments gone Picasso was for me to move heaven and earth to make Christmas perfect for the family I eventually formed.  No one was allowed to be unhappy, or to disagree on that special day.  I spent money I didn't have, gave up sleep I sorely needed, and walked on eggshells until the holiday was past and I could devolve into my normal dysfunctional self.  As a result, I was a ball of tightly wound rubber bands from mid-November until December 26th every year for almost all of them.

Until I got sober, the last fifteen Christmases were dedicated to getting as drunk as I could and still getting the presents under the tree.  The pressure finally got to me and the only way I could deal with Christmas was to be as lit up as it was.  One year, everything I wrapped was just rolled in a length of paper and twisted at the ends because I couldn't fold the corners, even on books.  There are people reading this who probably remember barely legible Christmas cards.  I have beautiful handwriting, but when I'm drunk, a pharmacist couldn't decipher my inebriated scrawls. Fun times.

The good news is that today Christmas is just another day.  When I live my life one day at a time, I'm too busy with today to worry about making things perfect.  I can't project and expect too much, because it invites my disease in. I make a simple plan, and try to remain flexible enough to allow for life to get in the way and change things. When things do change, I go with it, knowing that I'm not the director anymore.  It isn't my job to make Christmas perfect, not for me, or for anyone else in my life.  It's my job to do the next right thing, and I often don't know what that is until it's right in front of me.

I'm not perfect at that, either.  I procrastinate about writing this blog, waiting for my Higher Power to give me inspiration.  But my Higher Power can't type.  It's my fingers that roam across the keyboard.

Keep it simple, in life, and especially on Christmas.  I wish you all the blessings of the season.