Commentary

Anonymity — or not?

Those of us who work in or write about recovery (or both) tread a fairly narrow path when it comes to the issue of anonymity.

On the one hand, most of us want to adhere to the traditions of any fellowships to which we may belong, and anonymity is a basic tenet of most of those.  On the other hand, it is sometimes difficult to remain anonymous “at the level of press, radio and film” while doing a conscientious job of telling people what recovery is all about.  How, for example, is one to discuss questions, provide insight and so forth into the 12-Step programs without admitting — at least tacitly — that they are or have been members?  How is one to discuss the benefits of the steps, or sponsorship, or how those programs help the recovery process if they have to pretend that all they know about them is simply hearsay?

The same is true, in a somewhat broader sense, of recovering addicts in general.  When the fire of recovery is burning in your gut, how do you carry the message without admitting — even eulogizing — membership in the very program that is helping you to recover your life?

Then there is the issue of anonymity itself: am I violating the tradition by simply saying I attend a recovery program, or only if I name the specific program?  (Answer “b” is the correct one.)  Do I violate your anonymity by saying I saw you at a meeting, or must I specify what kind of meeting?  There are myriad variations on those themes.

Eventually all recovering people reach their own accommodation with these issues.  My own is to not mention specific programs.  I simply don’t believe I can do my job or support other alcoholics and addicts properly without skating that close to the edge.  I’ve tried, and I was unsuccessful.

Currently, many people in recovery are questioning the wisdom of anonymity in general.  Their positions vary, but many knowledgeable, thoughtful people believe it is no longer really necessary, since addiction (and I include alcoholism whenever I use the word “addiction”) no longer holds the stigma that it did 75 years ago when the first 12-step fellowship was founded.  Others believe that, realistically, very few of us actually have anonymity anyway.  Still others think that AA, NA and the 150-plus other “anonymous” fellowships are shirking their duty to people who have not yet found recovery by not allowing their affiliation and their success to serve as good examples and inspiration.

I have my own opinions on these matters, but I prefer to keep them to myself on this blog.  It is not my intention to attempt to foist my ideas on others — at least not here.  I do, however, recommend this excellent article in the New York Times, which discusses the issues and presents the opinions of prominent recovering people.

If you would like to chime in with comments, please feel free.  And however you feel about this issue…

Keep on keepin’ on.

 

Human, Being

I get a notice from Google Calendar in my Gmail every morning.  Most of the time, it tells me that I have no events scheduled for the day, apart from the odd subscription or Internet charge coming due.  What a relief that is: “You have no events scheduled today!”

I like certain events; don’t get me wrong.  I love having dinner with the kids and their families, excursions to the marsh to look at birds and critters with my honey, granddaughters’ birthday parties, visits to family in North Florida, the occasional movie, a new gadget to play with, my photography hobby, my sober friends.  Stuff like that.  But it seems to me that one of the rewards for growing older is a reduction in Events Scheduled Today, things like “talk to bankruptcy lawyer,” “look for job,” “visit pawnshop,” “buy beer,” “contemplate suicide,” “go to rehab….”

This life is better.  There are things that need to be done, the routine stuff.  Chores,  shopping, clean the cat box, sign up for Medicare supplements.  We still work.  Even though we’ll be collecting Social Security soon, we’ll continue to work.  Our checkered past pretty much precluded nest eggs and 401-K’s.  And that’s OK, because given the current state of affairs, there’s no telling whether any of those things would have survived in much of a state anyway.  The retirement resources we’ll have are the ones we can scare up on a week to week basis, combined with those that we were unable to screw up back in “the day.”  And that’s OK, too.

I regret the cost to other people, but it took all of that to shape who I am today, so I can’t regret it for myself. I like who I am, and I don’t mind being a slow old grasshopper.  Seems to me that it’s better than being a twisted up, burned-out ant.  But of course if I were in a different situation I might view that differently too.  Who knows?  Do burned-out, twisted ants recognize their condition?  I’ll never know.  And, of course, being a burned-out grasshopper was no fun at all.

But I know this:  I get up most mornings looking forward to the day.  I look forward to the little events that Google doesn’t predict.  I look forward to sitting at the computer and exploring the world, and to banging out these little bits of — what?  Philosophy?  Wisdom?  Utter hogwash?  Drivel?  Who cares?  It’s all part of the small stuff, and today it’s all small stuff, mostly.  I’m cool with my status as a human, being.  Human Doing is no longer part of my job description.

Strength? We don’t need no stinkin’ strength!

Nowadays I hear a lot of folks saying (to recovering people) things like “You’re so strong!” and “Be strong!”  I hear newcomers say “I pray for the strength to beat my addiction,” and other stuff like that.  While I understand the thinking behind such remarks (all too well), there are a few comments I’d like to make.

One of the first things we need to learn in recovery is our powerlessness.  We are powerless when it comes to our addictions as long as we are using our drugs of choice, and for some time afterward. If this were not true, we’d simply quit and no one would ever relapse.  The only strength we need is the strength to admit that unpleasant fact, accept it, and listen to people who know what they’re talking about — since we obviously don’t.

That does require a certain amount of guts.  We addicts and codependents hate to admit that we aren’t in control. In fact, though, weren’t most of our problems based on our illusions of control:  controlling our drinking or other drugging; controlling our addicts; controlling our kids; getting everything just right and then having it welded, as a friend of mine used to say?  (He was talking about tuning his 12-string, but the remark is so addict!)

When we have the strength to admit that we’ve lost control, that we’re whipped, that we can’t go on, then we have finally reached the point where recovery is possible. Without that realization of powerlessness, recovery is unlikely, if not impossible.  That’s why I worry when I hear folks speaking in terms of “strength.”  When we think that way, we are in danger of becoming convinced that we are no longer powerless, that we can control our using and keep it “social” this time, that he really isn’t a  rotten wife-beating s.o.b. when he’s drinking, that if we just took Muffy in off the street and give her a clean place to sleep, she’ll realize that she’s much better off and will quit using those nasty drugs.

In early recovery we don’t have much power, if any. We don’t need strength, we need the humility to learn from others the things that we were unable to learn on our own: how to handle our urges, our relationships, our jobs, our spiritual growth — in short, how to live lives of sobriety.  Then, after we’ve gone a good distance in that direction and our bodies and minds have begun to recover from the beating we gave them for all those months or years — at that point we begin having some power over our addictions.  As long as we don’t use.

Addiction is like a rattlesnake.  I can pick it up and haul it around wherever I please — all day long, if I like.  That’s strength.  But if I get careless, that’s when I find out what powerlessness is all about.

H. O. W.

ChangeAfter we leave detox, and during and after drug and alcohol treatment, we often start hanging around recovery clubs and other meeting rooms.  There we see and hear a lot of slogans, aphorisms and so forth.  Some seem pretty inane.  Others seem too simple to be of much use.  But one thing they are is ubiquitous — they seem to be everywhere that recovering people are likely to gather, other than coffee shops.  Inane and simple or not, all of those sayings have one thing in common: they have been found useful to people in recovery.  Like so many common sayings in general, they are repeated because they carry truths.  “Live And Let Live” is no less important to a recovering person than the famous “Red sky at morning, sailor take warning” was to the captain of a sailing ship.

H.O.W. (Honesty, Openness, Willingness) is one slogan that we’re likely to run across in any 12-step room.  Let’s take a look at that one.

Every addict I’ve met (and I include myself) had in common three traits: secrets relating to their addiction, unwillingness to let others know any more than the addict thinks is necessary, and stubbornness. These things are all understandable, viewed from an addict’s perspective, because in one way or another they help to protect the addiction.

One of the first indications of a developing addiction is secrets.  We keep secrets about where we were, what we were doing, how much of it we did, with whom, and how much it cost.  We weave these webs of deception until they become so complex that often we can’t keep them straight ourselves.  In fact most addicts come to believe at least some of their own lies.

The same is true about openness — we treat it like poison.  We don’t want people to know who we really are because, deep down inside, we’re afraid that if they really knew us they would disapprove — that they wouldn’t like us, would find us unacceptable.  Sometimes we’ve done things that we truly believe no one in their right mind would want anyone else to know about, perhaps even committed serious crimes.  Keeping these secrets makes it really hard to be open, because one thing leads to another, and we may reveal more than we intended.  So we answer questions about our lives with vague generalities, or spin fanciful tales that we believe will enhance our image.  Sometimes we end up believing that we really are the person we’ve made up.

And, of course, we’re stubborn.  In many things, it’s our way or the highway — another way that we protect our addictions.  We don’t like that well-regarded restaurant (because they don’t serve booze); we don’t want to associate with those people, we just don’t feel comfortable around them (we can’t drink at their house, and they get upset when they find people doing lines in the bathroom).  Naturally “no one can tell me how to live my life,” either.  I’d never be able to keep all the balls in the air if I had to worry about someone else’s opinions and advice.  (Besides, they might be right.)

Generally speaking, recovery is about reversing the effects of addiction and correcting the personality problems that supported it.  Is it any wonder that H.O.W. is so common?  It addresses three of the core problems that we must overcome if we are to make progress towards a life that is free of alcohol, other drugs, or addictive behaviors.  If we can’t be honest and open with others, how can we learn to be honest with ourselves?  And if we aren’t willing to learn, we might just as well go out, use, and make our relapse official.

Honesty.  Openness.  Willingness.  Master those, and we’re well on the way to a sober life.  Continue to ignore them, and…well…you know….

The Serenity Prayer And Me

Religion is extremely important to the great majority of people on this planet.  It gives them reasonably coherent systems of ethics and moral guidance, community, support in hard times, and hope for a better life.  In many cases, it gives their lives structure and meaning.

I am not a religious person myself, instead thinking of myself as spiritual. I don’t believe the two concepts are by any means one and the same.  That’s a discussion beyond where I want to go here, but it’s a necessary observation in order for the following to make sense.

Many of us in recovery — especially early recovery — have difficulty with what we see as the “religious” aspects of the 12 Step fellowships.  Again, without getting into a discussion about religion versus spirituality, it has been my experience that those who are able to put such prejudices behind them, take from “the program” what fits for them, and allow others the same privilege, are the ones who are most likely to succeed.  Personal problems with concepts of gods and higher powers notwithstanding, it is quite possible to be a part of the 12 Step experience and not delve into religion at all.

Spirituality, however, is an absolute must, and certain concepts that have come to be expressed in terms of prayers and similar ideas are also critical to success.  Again, we need to read between the lines of those things and take from them the underlying thoughts and wisdom.  Sometimes we even need to show a bit of humility and go along with customs such as prayers at the beginning and end of meetings, understanding that those things are important for many people, and that participating does us no real harm at all.

One prayer that we need to take absolutely to heart is the Serenity Prayer:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change
Courage to change the things I can
And the wisdom to know the difference.

The ideas embodied in this simple verse are essential to recovery.  The Serenity Prayer reminds us to be humble, and helps us organize the things on which we need to be working in order to get and stay sober.  If we spend some time thinking about it, in fact, we may discover that it embodies an entire philosophy of life.  It reminds us

  • That we are not in charge of anyone or anything but ourselves;
  • That we cannot in fact change anything but ourselves and the way we look at and live our lives;
  • And that if we don’t figure this out and apply the knowledge, we’ll be back in the same controlling frenzy that we just came out of — for what is a life of addiction if not one of trying to control our lives and feelings with chemicals?

Control issues, in fact, are major relapse triggers — and wonderful excuses:  ”If she’d just do what I want, everything would be fine!” We forget, sometimes, that “she” is a human being with her own rights and needs, that there are two sides to every situation, and that it is the responsibility of an adult to be able to arrive at solutions that are fair to everyone concerned.  You can probably think of similar examples.  Maybe you’ve even used a few of them.

The “wisdom to know the difference” has been a major key to my recovery.  Other people have their own wants and needs, and they will do what they believe they need to do — just as I do. The only thing I can change is me.  When I figured that out, and begin living my life that way, I was soon able to relax and stop running the world.  It was so exhausting!

So I say my own version of the Serenity Prayer several times a day, and have been doing so for a long time — actually longer than I spent in my active addictions.  I say “May I learn” to accept the things I cannot change….  I don’t put the weight on god’s shoulders.  It isn’t god’s job, it’s mine.  I try to live my life remembering just how much power I don’t have.  I change the things I can, and try to understand the difference.  I don’t let personal ideas about religion get in the way of my recovery.  My opinions don’t mean a thing if I die, so why take them so seriously when I’m trying to stay alive?

Try something: sit quietly for five minutes and really think about the meaning of that simple little set of verses.  Five minutes.  It could change your life as it did mine.

Minding Our Own Business

When I first got sober, I wanted to save the world. It became clear to me that the 12 Steps were going to be a big part of getting my life straightened out. It also became clear — now that I wasn’t out there with them — that there were a lot of other folks who needed a dose of The Program as much as I did.

So I made no bones about being in recovery. Contrary to what a lot of people think, we don’t have to remain anonymous ourselves, except at the level of the media. We just can’t “out” anyone else. I made sure that I wasn’t anonymous, and I made sure that all those poor folks knew that I was there for them if they wanted help. The result was inevitable and, in retrospect, completely predictable. They began avoiding me in droves — exactly what I would have done if someone had come at me with talk of sobriety when I was still using alcohol and other drugs.  Would you like it if someone tried to talk you out of seeing your best friend? Hardly anyone likes a proselytizer, religious or otherwise.

It took me longer than perhaps it should have to learn that what other people do is none of my business, as long as it isn’t hurting me or others. Even then, sometimes there is nothing to do but retreat. You can always engage in another battle, but it becomes far harder once you’ve already had your butt kicked. (Insert “turning the other cheek” joke here.)

Looking back, and looking at many of the newcomers I’ve known since, it seems to me that this sort of thing is a natural part of the “saved” feeling we get in recovery. Just as well-meaning religious folks want to spread the Good Word, so do those of us in the rooms. That’s fine, but we need to be careful how we go about it.

Attempting to talk to active alcoholics and addicts is one of the more useless endeavors. Denial is deep for them, just as it was for us, and our being able to see the issues clearly from the outside does not mean that we will be able to illuminate their understanding. Quite the opposite, in fact. We run an excellent chance of turning them off to any such advice — even of driving them away, as I did some of my old friends. Today I have young family members who, it is clear to me, are sliding down the slippery slope. They’re a long way from the bottom yet, and they wouldn’t listen to advice from me. But if I don’t alienate them, when they get there they might remember that recovery worked for someone they know. Our program works better when we let them come to us.

So I learned to keep my savior complex in check, and to direct that energy toward helping people who were already seeking recovery. I learned — finally — to be a good example instead of a preacher. I followed the advice of those who came before me, and worked with newcomers and other recovering folks. Eventually I moved on to working in the field, then to writing about recovery, but I still try to simply share my “experience, strength and hope” and let the audience sort themselves out. As they say, “attraction, not promotion.”

We don’t need to wear our program on our sleeves; only in our hearts.

Keep on keepin’ on…

Celebs get second chance, why not other addicts?

An article in NJ.com by our own Ira:

Ira Levy

Celebrities often seem to be afforded multiple opportunities at recovery and rehabilitation. But the typical New Jerseyan struggling with substance abuse tends to become trapped in a cycle of addiction, unemployment and incarceration.

Members of the New Jersey State Legislature are attempting to provide incarcerated individuals dealing with addiction the opportunity they are often denied.

More: http://goo.gl/OygGN