82.1

82.1

How do you fill the emptiness, the feeling that never goes away? 

How do you face the day, the world? 

How do you get out of bed? 

How do you continue on? 

How do you keep it to yourself?

How do you hide it?

How do you act normal?

How do you communicate with others?

How do you face yourself?

How do you explain it to others?

How do you do you?

How do you feel normal?

How do you do it?

on average 82.1 people commit suicide each day…RIP RW

being scared

That day in 1988, the last time I used drugs, I was scared. I didn't understand what I was doing or what I was going to do. I knew and had learned that being in hand cuffs and living in jail cells was something I didn't want to continue doing. I literally had nothing except some drawings, some letters and a few photographs others had sent me. There is very little more demoralizing than being treated like an animal. I hated every second of it. I despised the world and wondered every minute what others where doing. I knew I wanted to try something different and made no promises to anyone. I wanted to disappear from my life. I wanted to start again. I wanted take control of writing the story of my life. I was sick to my stomach listening and reading what others had authored about my character. I had made a plethora of terrible decisions but I wanted to believe I was not a terrible person. I wanted to change my life so people would leave me alone and stop saying negative things about me; I had no clue what that meant or how I was going to do that. 

I have the opportunity to speak to many about recovery, change, and motivation. I get to re-live this moment. To go to a place deep inside myself and remember the fear, the uncomfortableness of my life. I get to feel humbled about my journey. Its easy with the business of my daily life to forget how vulnerable, scared, and fragile I feel at times. I still feel uncomfortable with the world and myself at times. I have come a long way from that person in 1988. And it has not been without mistakes, there has never been any perfection in any of this. I continue to author the story of my life. I am continually surprised when  others say nice things about me. 

I hope this story is a good one for someone to read…

B

Am I Normal?

What is normal and where can I find it? If I find it will I know I have found it? I have never felt “normal” even as a child I never felt like I fit in anywhere. As I think back of the kids I spent time with I never really felt close to many people. I never felt like I truly fit in. As I became a teenager, this only worsened and I began to dislike myself. I spent time with very few people and that time was guarded and uncomfortable. I had a serious of relationships with girls who I truly believe cared about me and my well being. But I was unable to have a healthy relationship. Something I am not proud of. My best with relationship came in the form of self destruction. My inability to feel “normal” and the residual consequences of hating who I was, was the perfect storm of addiction and self harm. I not only wanted to feel normal, I wanted to feel. 

As I have aged my definition and desire for normalcy has changed and continues to change. At times, Im okay, other times, I want to hide from the world. I don't know what normal is. I understand and have taught myself and shared in normalcy with others, but rarely do I feel it. I know after years of practice, modeling how to act, feel, express myself; but I am still lost. 

I still look at myself and contemplate…Who am I? Am I ok? Am I normal?

B

The Disease Concept

This week I have been reflecting on addiction and the disease concept. The passing of Phillip Seymour Hoffman this week has thrust addiction into the main stream media. Many people outside of the scope of addiction appear concerned and “clueless” of how someone with 23 years of sobriety could relapse and ultimately die from the disease. And whether you respect Dr. Drew he got it “right’ all over my TV. Here is an excerpt from an interview

Dr. Drew: You can't kick addiction, it's 'lifelong'

By Amanda Sloane

Some people have been saying how sad it is that Hoffman died after 'kicking' his addiction two decades ago. How do you feel about that?

Dr. Drew: The idea that addiction is something that’s “kicked” or is a “demon” -- these are crazy notions in my world. The fact is, once the switch is thrown on addiction, it’s a chronic, lifelong condition that needs to be managed every day much the way a diabetic has to take insulin every day. And if they don’t take their insulin, their blood sugars go out of control and the same is true of addiction. If they’re not practicing their treatment and recovery and participating in that in a regular basis, they will use -- it’s inevitable.

The people who are actually in the recovering community say their disease is doing push-ups while they’re sober. It’s a brain disorder in them and it’s waiting and lurking and ready to take advantage of any opportunity it has to re-emerge. It’s a motivational disturbance where the usual motivational priorities like our loved ones, our work, our very survival, start to diminish in importance relative to this one overwhelming priority, which is using. And that takes over thinking and it takes over the emotional systems. It’s interesting to see a brain that’s under the influence of a distorted motivation.

What do you think when you hear that someone who was purportedly clean for so long has started using again?

Dr. Drew: Well, we don’t know if he was sober those 20 years. But it’s not unheard of for people to sort of diminish their participation in treatment or begin to think they don’t need to do all the work and the addiction will re-emerge when that happens. Let’s say he was sober all those years, the fact that somebody after two decades of sobriety relapses makes them an extremely difficult population to treat. They -- in a way -- sort of know too much and their addiction takes full advantage of that.

How common is relapse when it comes to addiction?

Dr. Drew: Relapse is a part of recovery. The people that do poorly, though, are the ones that relapse and then relinquish their participation in recovery. If somebody slips, it’s a slip. But a full-blown relapse is when people dismiss recovery, they don’t participate in any more treatment. That’s when they die.

We normally hear of celebrities overdosing on prescription medications. Is heroin having a comeback?

Dr. Drew: It’s always been around. It’s not that it’s having a comeback. It’s that the pills are so massive now that when people can’t get pills or can’t afford pills -- that’s when they switch over to heroin. It’s cheaper, more intense and very available. The extraordinary thing about Philip Seymour Hoffman is that he died of heroin and not pills. Typically, what happens these days is that pills get people. Although we don’t know yet, we may find that he had pills in his system, also. That may be the issue here. Maybe that’s what finally took him.

What’s one important thing people should know about others who struggle with addiction?

Dr. Drew: The one thing that I always want to emphasize is to separate the person and the disease -- the career and the disease. This is a wonderful person by every account, a wonderful father and clearly a magnificent artist who left us a glorious body of work. That is not in any way diminished by him having a chronic medical problem we call addiction -- any more than if he had cancer.

What can we learn from this tragic event?

Dr. Drew: More people will die of opiate addiction in the next 30 days than died in the 9/11 tragedy. This is something to remember. Also celebrities have a tendency to get special care. They want special care from special people. I would just remind them that Conrad Murray [the former doctor who treated and was convicted in the death of pop star Michael Jackson] is a perfect example of a special treating physician and what kind of special outcomes are in store for people who seek special care.

“DISEASE”, “CHRONIC, LIFE LONG CONDITION”, “BRAIN DISORDER”

I am a subscriber to pure abstinence, something I believe is part of the maintenance of my disease. I was at the Dr.’s office yesterday and made it very clear, I am a person in recovery and I will not accept and habit forming medications. I am scared of the “what ifs”. Developing healthy boundaries with myself is of upmost importance to keep my condition in check. 

Thank you Phillip Seymour Hoffman, you died so I can examine your life and for one more day I can live.

Rest in Peace.

B

Where is Peace?

Where is peace? I asked myself this simple question multiple times a day and night. I am victim of inner turmoil on a nonstop basis, anxiety, nervousness, worry. At times my mind races at a pace that my heart picks up to keep pace. I have learned many techniques to ease my anxiousness. I look at myself in the mirror every morning and become scared. I don’t know who I have become, what I am supposed to do, how I am to act. I have a clear understanding of what is expected of a productive member of society and what is considered appropriate versus not. I have honed my moral compass to what I believe is an acceptable social level. I believe in the tenets of good values, I practice these and seek others who share similar believes and practices.

As I age and look at myself, I notice the landscape of my physical identity slowly change. My hair is greyer; my skin has begun to take on new identity. I have to remind myself that life, happiness, is not a destination. I must continue to work on myself, to continue to look at myself and push forward. I still have much room to grow, to become a better person. Those of you who knew me previous to this journey you know how far I have come.

I still have many character defects. I still fight with my inner-self constantly. Peace is a journey. I look at myself daily, take a deep breath, and challenge myself to be better person.

B

Fear

I was recently asked why someone in an active addiction cycle cannot abstain from their drug of choice even after they admittedly say they don’t want to continue use. They honestly want to chart a new course for their lives, a course that is drug free; but they can’t. This is perceived by others as an example of dishonesty, a “he doesn't really want to stop”, “she’s just saying that, but doesn't really mean it”, “drug addicts should just stop using drugs”. This week I facilitated a treatment group where we discussed and defined addiction, a complicated task for anyone to achieve. We used and examined the American Society of AddictionMedicine’s definition. Here is the “short” definition:

Addiction is a primary, chronic disease of brain reward, motivation, memory and related circuitry. Dysfunction in these circuits leads to characteristic biological, psychological, social and spiritual manifestations. This is reflected in an individual pathologically pursuing reward and/or relief by substance use and other behaviors.

Addiction is characterized by inability to consistently abstain, impairment in behavioral control, craving, diminished recognition of significant problems with one’s behaviors and interpersonal relationships, and a dysfunctional emotional response. Like other chronic diseases, addiction often involves cycles of relapse and remission. Without treatment or engagement in recovery activities, addiction is progressive and can result in disability or premature death.

As you can see this is a complicated disease. There are many factors that cause an individual to engage in an addiction cycle and the baffling part of the disease is that the brain constantly “plays a trick” on the individual to continue the cycle. There is no way to “fix” the problem. Everyone has different path into addiction and just as complex as the journey into, the journey out is even more complicated. Many attempt, many commit themselves to the journey and become lost. Sometimes death is the only relieve from the suffering. I wish we could solve the complicated mess of addiction. In recovery I know how blessed I am. I am not perfect nor do I try to be, however 25 years ago something happened in the universe, the heavens, and in my life. I began the journey of recovery. I work with others daily in addiction and recovery. I get to share in the pain, the pride, the sadness, the relief, the honest and dishonest, the loneliness, the happiness, the Fear…and for that I am blessed! 

B

Twenty Five Years of tree climbing. A Prologue.

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion." Henry David Thoreau

Twenty Five years ago I began the process of being a “tree climber”. I had spent years in the dust. I had the breath knocked out of me repeatedly. I gasped for air. The air I breathed in was full of dust, dry and dirty. The view never changed. Others came and lay in the dirt, others bathed in the dust to hide. I gasped for air. I could see the trees. I could see the forest. It seemed unattainable. The tree grows from the dust and reaches for the sky. Twenty five years ago, I slowly rubbed my eyes to remove some of the dust. The sun shined through the trees. The brightness made me want to turn my face away as the sun combined with dust caused my eyes to tear. The tears mixed with dust, the view was magnificent and the most frightening thing I had ever seen. The forest, so large, so overwhelming, the trees stoic, brave, rising from the dust like the phoenix. I cried. I spent years standing at the bottom of the tree. 

I knew tree climbing was dangerous, exhilarating, rewarding, but I did not know what the view was like. I had watched others climb trees which lay horizontal with the dust, trees that had fallen after a great storm, and lay to die, to become dust. That view appeared to be equal to lying on the ground.  

Climbing a tree can be difficult. I had to learn from experienced tree climbers. I watched as others stood on limbs that cracked and popped. I watched as limbs broke and people returned to the dust. I stood and watched. I looked around and saw the bodies pile up around me. I watched as some became exhausted, tired, fatigued, and let go. They chose to fall, they seemed to enjoy the feeling of the fall. Others climbed and climbed. They yelled form the trees how beautiful it was, how the view was amazing, others never wiped the dust from their eyes and their view was dust, they fell, they returned. 

I learned the process of climbing trees. To start at the base, near the trunk. This was the foundation of every tree. To reach for the first branch, to grip it tightly, to shake it, to determine how stable it was. Will it hold my weight? To ask myself, is this a good branch? After taking a deep breath, pulling myself up into the tree the view instantly becomes different, the dust starts become distant. Slowly, methodically, I began climbing the tree. Uncertain, scared of the climb. I tried limbs that looked, felt familiar, realizing too much time spent on these types of branches would not hold my weight. I looked down, seeing others I knew and loved laying on the ground looking up at me. 

I continued to climb unaware of my destination, the view changed with the seasons. 

Every branch I climbed to, another presented itself. 

I continue to climb… 

Alcohol the most seductive lie ever told.

The past two weeks I have been inundated with discussions about the use of alcohol. Discussions about the culture of alcohol, the acceptance of alcohol use, the infinite number of reasons to drink alcohol, and the never ending excuses as to why someone doesn't have a “problem” with alcohol. I've sat with inmates and listened to their desire and plans to have a “cold one” when released from prison. I've sat across the desk from someone with early stage cirrhosis of the liver who continues to drink alcohol. I've heard the seductive telling of story after story, I've heard the errors in thinking and reasoning, I have heard a million explanations of why consuming alcohol is okay.  
Now I understand that there are those out there who can consume alcohol in a responsible way and by no means am I inferring that they have a “problem”.  Maybe it’s the nature of the work I am involved in or my natural observation of others, or my own corrupted opinion, I see and encounter many people who have issues around the use of alcohol. I observe others test themselves and their ability to control their use. I watch as some completely destroy themselves to drink. I had someone suggest to me that I probably was not an alcoholic. An interesting thing to say to someone who meets the DSM IV criteria for alcohol dependence. And maybe I’m not, but what if I am? The last drink of alcohol I had was December 27^th, 1987. That night ended with me in a jail cell with multiple felony arrests. For me it’s not just the out of control behavior that being under the influence allows me to engage in, but the emotional turmoil that was triggered when in my addiction cycle. I know with all my heart that if I were to take a drink of alcohol I would be thrust into complete and utter emotional chaos. I have a hard enough time dealing with myself sober. I don’t want to drink, haven’t wanted to in long time. Have way too much to lose, the work I have invested in my life is worth the world to me; it’s definitely worth more to me than a drink. I feel blessed to know and understand that alcohol is the most seductive lie ever told.

B

The person I was...

So I haven’t written in two weeks as I have had a lot going on in my day to day life. Spring brings a whole bunch of projects that have been put off all winter, yard work, etc.

 I had the privilege to read through my probation record, which one of my good friends was able to get out of storage for me to look through. It was hard to read. It tells the story of a young man trying in every way to destroy himself. A story that if read aloud, the narrator and audience would surely believe that the main character would not make it, doomed to either spend his entire life in institutions or death. To read what professionals thought of my wellbeing, my behavior, my attitude, repeated arrests, failed treatment episodes and interventions, to read what people outside of my world tried to put the pieces together of what I can only describe in reflection as pure inner and outer chaos. My prognosis was not good. I was not going to make it. And yet here I am. And if I think about, which I do daily, I don’t understand why. Why did I get so lucky? Why did my higher power pick me to save? I know that I am truly blessed. The majority of those with my background rarely make it. I knew that then. I knew that the odds, statistics, the professionals, didn’t believe I would make it, that I would come out the other side. At the very core of my soul I wanted a different life, I am still motivated by this. I am still working on making myself a better person, and a better life. There is little perfection in this. If I am honest with myself and others I can and am able to recognize when I stray from the course and correct it. I thank God daily for my existence. I hope when this journey comes to end that others will reflect on my life and be proud of where I have come from and what I have achieved. Although I sometimes have to be reminded, I know that I am.

B

An orange jumpsuit and my first step to recovery

There was a moment during my life when complete truth never felt more real. Sure I had been experiencing truth constantly and these were the things that I wanted to escape, ignore, avoid, and run from forever. The truth that I did not feel loved or cared for, the onset of knowing that I did not know how to deal with day to day existence as a human being, nor did I want to. The truth that I was severely depressed and never sadder, and I found myself grounded in the idea that this is who I was and I could not change it. On December 27, 1987, the owner of the business had caught me inside his building. Technically I had broken in even though I had previously stolen the keys to the business, and let myself in. He was angry and threatened to shot me. He had his arm around my neck and a handgun pointed to the side of my head. This had little effect on me, not only had I been under the aim of a gun previously, but I had been living to die. The thought of this unknown person threatening to shoot me in the head had a calming effect on me. Not because I had been subdued, but the thought of a stranger completing the task of ending my pathetic existence seemed unfair and out of line. I was angry and sad. A stranger had placed himself into a position that I had been for so long. He probably never knew the value of this position.

The first night I spent incarcerated was very surreal. I had ended up where everyone had warned I was going, but I somehow felt strangely comfortable. I felt at ease. Sure my mind wandered with thoughts of being victimized and how I would deal with these encounters. I lie in my cell and felt as though I was home. Not the home I came from, but a new kind of home. I felt safe. I felt cared for. I no longer had to figure out the insanity that surrounded me, it was gone. I was alone and was expected to do, say, and participate very little in my new life. I suppose you could say I was a good inmate. I was intelligent enough to understand the inner workings of the social structure and quickly understood the limits and expectations of those around me. I was willing to be a little reckless both with my tongue and fists. I was preparing for the worse and living very much in the moment. I was schooled on the inner workings of the justice system by your run of the mill “jail house lawyers”.

I ate meals with murderers, and shared hopes and dreams with society’s waste. People very much like me; who could not live or function in the outside world.  I was a drug addict, but I was also a criminal. I had put all my chips into the center of the table, thrown in the towel, and was where I needed and was supposed to be.

Life as an incarcerated 17 year old is a tough place to be. I was constantly challenged, threatened, and physically beat.     

June 20, 1988

Today would be the last day I would intoxicate myself. An inmate had managed to smuggle in a small amount of marijuana. After smoking my share, I sat on a metal table looking at myself in a nearby mirror. I sat for hours contemplating.

Who would I be? How would I act? What would I do? Who would be my friends? How would I make decisions? What would I do for the rest of my life?

I realized at that moment one of the most important lessons of my recovery; if I ever used drugs or alcohol again, I would be in that jump suit, locked up, starring at myself in the mirror. This would be my moment of what many call clarity; which seems ironic considering I was under the influence. 1+2=3. This is how profound yet simple it had become. Working through the math would become the challenge. 

I am still working through the math...

B

Maintaining sobriety through fasting-Where am I going and can I find happiness.

“The most dangerous person in recovery I have ever met”

“My name is Brad and I am an alcoholic and addict”

“Rarely have we seen a person fail who has thoroughly followed our path…” The first time I set foot into a 12 step self help group I was 17 years old. I look back and still don’t fully understand why I was there I simply knew I needed to be there. The meeting room was full of mostly older men, some women, and the few residents of treatment who had also received passes to attend. I had little in common with those who attended and shared. Their stories of losing jobs, wives, husbands, homes, and everything, was nothing like my story. I had nothing to lose. I was here to build something, to get something. They shared their stories and I listened carefully. I shared very little, I had not lost everything. I observed men share the same story over and over, I suppose their retelling of this moment was a reminder of what waited for them outside the walls of the meeting. Stories of waking up in alleys and jail cells. Told and retold. The same story. Over and over. I was encouraged by my counselor to complete a 30/30. 30 meetings in 30 days. I went everyday, sometimes two times per day. I could not get enough. Of what I did not know. I just knew I needed to be there and going felt right. I immersed myself in all their publications, read all their books, and observed the comings and goings of every member of the group. I completed my 30 meetings and challenged myself to complete a 90/90. Challenge may not be the correct word as going became an obsession and missing was unthinkable. I got my first job while still at the residential facility. The management and coworkers were supportive of what I was trying to accomplice. My work schedule was made to fit around my meeting schedule. I got two sponsors and began the process of working on my steps. One sponsor was an old timer who helped with the step process and the other was a college student who would teach me how to be a 17 year old recovering addict.

I remember being very confused. Very unsure, very nervous, very scared. I didn't know who I was, how I was to act, who I would spend time with, what I would do.

Most days I still feel this way.

I had something to look forward to. A glimmer of hope. What was I getting? “Rarely have we seen a person fail who has thoroughly followed our path” Failure, I had tasted that and knew I didn’t want to return, at least not right now. I enjoyed my freedom too much. But what did success look like? I would find comfort in my days of sobriety, a true mark of success. I knew that the statistics were against me, I was expected to fail. I had built a foundation for the rest of my life and no matter how bad a day was, or how stupid of a decision I had made, I had tomorrow, the promise of another day. The coins I collected for sobriety anniversary dates became evidence of this success. Proof of the promise I never showed my coins to anyone, but carried them in my pocket as though they were worth more than gold. Protected. Proof. Success. And my 12-step family celebrated my accomplishments like a true family. People were genuinely proud of me, concerned and compassionate. 

I will always consider myself part of the 12 step family, much like the child they help raise, I will forever be indebted to the people of 12 step groups for helping me become a better person.

B 

My Grandmother, God, Catholicism, and Recovery.

Originally posted 2-9-13

“Good Feeling, won’t you stay with me a little longer”

ViolentFemmes-1983

Proverbs

13 Hold fast to discipline, never let her go, keep your eyes on her, she is your life.
14 Do not follow the path of the wicked, do not walk the way that the evil go.
15 Avoid it, do not take it, turn your back on it, pass it by.
16 For they cannot sleep unless they have first done wrong, they miss their sleep if they have not made someone stumble;
17 for the bread of wickedness is what they eat, and the wine of violence is what they drink.
18 The path of the upright is like the light of dawn, its brightness growing to the fullness of day;
19 the way of the wicked is as dark as night, they cannot tell the obstacles they stumble over.
20 My child, pay attention to what I am telling you, listen carefully to my words;
21 do not let them out of your sight, keep them deep in your heart.
22 For they are life to those who find them and health to all humanity.
23 More than all else, keep watch over your heart, since here are the wellsprings of life.
24 Turn your back on the mouth that misleads, keep your distance from lips that deceive.
25 Let your eyes be fixed ahead, your gaze be straight before you.
26 Let the path you tread be level and all your ways be firm.
27 Turn neither to right nor to left, keep your foot clear of evil.

My Grandmother, God, Catholicism, and Recovery. 

I have no memories of her recovery, but I have many memories of her faith. I would not understand the relationship of the two until recent years. My grandmother would become the foundation of my formative years as a child and young adult. My memories of attending mass with grandma are somewhat sad in retrospect. When my Grandma said we are going to mass, we went. Not attending was not optional and she reinforced this as the committal of an outright sin. I never remember her being happy or joyous about going and participating in church. To her that was not the purpose of church or her relationship with God. She attended mass to somehow prove that she was sorry to herself, her family, and God. This is how I learned to be Catholic.

I recall kneeling in church for what seemed like hours while my Grandma prayed the rosary. I remember kneeling for what seemed like an eternity every time I attended mass with her. The burn of my knees somehow began to relate to how “bad” I had been as a boy. The more it hurt, the more I needed to be doing it. I don’t know if Grandma every said this but I believed it. I knew that the more sins I confessed to, during confession, the longer I would be on my knees during penance. Somehow I believed that to truly repent and receive God’s forgiveness, I had to first prove that I was willing to suffer a little for my sins. This was not unlike my home life; misbehavior was often punished through physical discipline.

Through this suffering, I was proving I was committed to God, the Church, and the betterment of myself spiritually. Fasting during Lent also reinforced this suffering. Grandma and I observed the annual Catholic tradition of fasting for periods during the Lenten season. This according to Grandma was a way to cleanse the body and better the soul. There was no happiness in participating in church or attempting a relationship with God. It was defined by sorrow, unworthiness, and punishment through self-discipline. Today, my spiritual journey is still rooted in this core foundation; I must feel bad and or suffer to somehow feel good.  This would become part of the foundation and tools I would use to get clean of drugs and alcohol and maintain that sobriety. If I truly believed I was and addict, then I had to surrender myself to the idea that I needed drugs and alcohol much like a person needs food and water. 

Is it possible that the journey of recovery was a life long fasting? Would I need to employ the same strict doctrine of self discipline taught to me by my grandmother and the Catholic church to remain drug free? What effects would this fast have on my spiritual development? Would I suffer through recovery?

B

Joseph Rodriguez Photography

found this this week and wanted to share with you!
http://www.josephrodriguezphotography.com/data/slideshow/23/reentry/index.html

Where does anger live?

Where does anger live?
I have spent the last couple of days involved in discussions about anger. Not my personal anger, but anger in general. I used to be an angry, sometimes violent person. When I reflect on this aspect (defect) of my personality I am sometimes struck with awe at the person I have tried to become. I used anger to express myself while in my addiction and the early parts of my recovery. But why? Why do so many people use anger to express themselves? I believe anger is one of the most complex emotions and behaviors we as humans exhibit. I know that many use anger as a mask for a more personal emotional state (i.e. Hurt, sadness, embarrassment) I also know many use anger as a manipulation to get what they want or to use as an excuse for poor choices and behaviors. At this present moment, many people have decided to express some form of anger, and to express it publically. Daily we are bombarded in the media and on social networks with PDA’s (public displays of anger), but what are people really angry about? We have witnessed daily, people expressing emotions, including anger in some of the most extreme ways. We know that many instances of violence go unreported, unannounced, and live and grow in the shadows of darkness. I chose to address my personal relationship with anger on a daily basis. They are plenty of times I feel anger, I feel my blood pressure rise, I clinch my jaw, but I deal with differently. It’s not that I don’t feel anger, I do, however I choose to refocus my emotions on something that helps me deal with the root or trigger of this emotion. I don’t want to be angry, in fact I refuse to be angry or behave in an angry matter. But where does anger live within me?

The American Psychological Association recommends this:

Strategies To Keep Anger At Bay

Relaxation

Simple relaxation tools, such as deep breathing and relaxing imagery, can help calm down angry feelings. There are books and courses that can teach you relaxation techniques, and once you learn the techniques, you can call upon them in any situation. If you are involved in a relationship where both partners are hot-tempered, it might be a good idea for both of you to learn these techniques.

Some simple steps you can try:

Breathe deeply, from your diaphragm; breathing from your chest won't relax you. Picture your breath coming up from your "gut. "Slowly repeat a calm word or phrase such as "relax," "take it easy." Repeat it to yourself while breathing deeply. Use imagery; visualize a relaxing experience, from either your memory or your imagination. Nonstrenuous, slow yoga-like exercises can relax your muscles and make you feel much calmer.

Practice these techniques daily. Learn to use them automatically when you're in a tense situation.

Cognitive Restructuring

Simply put, this means changing the way you think. Angry people tend to curse, swear, or speak in highly colorful terms that reflect their inner thoughts. When you're angry, your thinking can get very exaggerated and overly dramatic. Try replacing these thoughts with more rational ones. For instance, instead of telling yourself, "oh, it's awful, it's terrible, everything's ruined," tell yourself, "it's frustrating, and it's understandable that I'm upset about it, but it's not the end of the world and getting angry is not going to fix it anyhow."

Be careful of words like "never" or "always" when talking about yourself or someone else. "This !&*%@ machine never works," or "you're always forgetting things" are not just inaccurate, they also serve to make you feel that your anger is justified and that there's no way to solve the problem. They also alienate and humiliate people who might otherwise be willing to work with you on a solution.

Remind yourself that getting angry is not going to fix anything, that it won't make you feel better (and may actually make you feel worse).

Logic defeats anger, because anger, even when it's justified, can quickly become irrational. So use cold hard logic on yourself. Remind yourself that the world is "not out to get you," you're just experiencing some of the rough spots of daily life. Do this each time you feel anger getting the best of you, and it'll help you get a more balanced perspective. Angry people tend to demand things: fairness, appreciation, agreement, willingness to do things their way. Everyone wants these things, and we are all hurt and disappointed when we don't get them, but angry people demand them, and when their demands aren't met, their disappointment becomes anger. As part of their cognitive restructuring, angry people need to become aware of their demanding nature and translate their expectations into desires. In other words, saying, "I would like" something is healthier than saying, "I demand" or "I must have" something. When you're unable to get what you want, you will experience the normal reactions—frustration, disappointment, hurt—but not anger. Some angry people use this anger as a way to avoid feeling hurt, but that doesn't mean the hurt goes away.

Problem Solving

Sometimes, our anger and frustration are caused by very real and inescapable problems in our lives. Not all anger is misplaced, and often it's a healthy, natural response to these difficulties. There is also a cultural belief that every problem has a solution, and it adds to our frustration to find out that this isn't always the case. The best attitude to bring to such a situation, then, is not to focus on finding the solution, but rather on how you handle and face the problem.

Make a plan, and check your progress along the way. Resolve to give it your best, but also not to punish yourself if an answer doesn't come right away. If you can approach it with your best intentions and efforts and make a serious attempt to face it head-on, you will be less likely to lose patience and fall into all-or-nothing thinking, even if the problem does not get solved right away.

Better Communication

Angry people tend to jump to—and act on—conclusions, and some of those conclusions can be very inaccurate. The first thing to do if you're in a heated discussion is slow down and think through your responses. Don't say the first thing that comes into your head, but slow down and think carefully about what you want to say. At the same time, listen carefully to what the other person is saying and take your time before answering.

Listen, too, to what is underlying the anger. For instance, you like a certain amount of freedom and personal space, and your "significant other" wants more connection and closeness. If he or she starts complaining about your activities, don't retaliate by painting your partner as a jailer, a warden, or an albatross around your neck.

It's natural to get defensive when you're criticized, but don't fight back. Instead, listen to what's underlying the words: the message that this person might feel neglected and unloved. It may take a lot of patient questioning on your part, and it may require some breathing space, but don't let your anger—or a partner's—let a discussion spin out of control. Keeping your cool can keep the situation from becoming a disastrous one.

Using Humor

"Silly humor" can help defuse rage in a number of ways. For one thing, it can help you get a more balanced perspective. When you get angry and call someone a name or refer to them in some imaginative phrase, stop and picture what that word would literally look like. If you're at work and you think of a coworker as a "dirtbag" or a "single-cell life form," for example, picture a large bag full of dirt (or an amoeba) sitting at your colleague's desk, talking on the phone, going to meetings. Do this whenever a name comes into your head about another person. If you can, draw a picture of what the actual thing might look like. This will take a lot of the edge off your fury; and humor can always be relied on to help unknot a tense situation.

The underlying message of highly angry people, Dr. Deffenbacher says, is "things oughta go my way!" Angry people tend to feel that they are morally right, that any blocking or changing of their plans is an unbearable indignity and that they should NOT have to suffer this way. Maybe other people do, but not them!

When you feel that urge, he suggests, picture yourself as a god or goddess, a supreme ruler, who owns the streets and stores and office space, striding alone and having your way in all situations while others defer to you. The more detail you can get into your imaginary scenes, the more chances you have to realize that maybe you are being unreasonable; you'll also realize how unimportant the things you're angry about really are. There are two cautions in using humor. First, don't try to just "laugh off" your problems; rather, use humor to help yourself face them more constructively. Second, don't give in to harsh, sarcastic humor; that's just another form of unhealthy anger expression.

What these techniques have in common is a refusal to take yourself too seriously. Anger is a serious emotion, but it's often accompanied by ideas that, if examined, can make you laugh.

Changing Your Environment

Sometimes it's our immediate surroundings that give us cause for irritation and fury. Problems and responsibilities can weigh on you and make you feel angry at the "trap" you seem to have fallen into and all the people and things that form that trap.

Give yourself a break. Make sure you have some "personal time" scheduled for times of the day that you know are particularly stressful. One example is the working mother who has a standing rule that when she comes home from work, for the first 15 minutes "nobody talks to Mom unless the house is on fire." After this brief quiet time, she feels better prepared to handle demands from her kids without blowing up at them.

Some Other Tips for Easing Up on Yourself

Timing: If you and your spouse tend to fight when you discuss things at night—perhaps you're tired, or distracted, or maybe it's just habit—try changing the times when you talk about important matters so these talks don't turn into arguments.

Avoidance: If your child's chaotic room makes you furious every time you walk by it, shut the door. Don't make yourself look at what infuriates you. Don't say, "well, my child should clean up the room so I won't have to be angry!" That's not the point. The point is to keep yourself calm.

Finding alternatives: If your daily commute through traffic leaves you in a state of rage and frustration, give yourself a project—learn or map out a different route, one that's less congested or more scenic. Or find another alternative, such as a bus or commuter train.

I use many of these techniques daily. I have worked relentlessly to really change my disposition and character as a person and the way I deal with my anger. When I chose to let go of all the anger and the energy that it takes, I really began to grow spiritually as a person, and this is an essential part of my personal recovery. Anger does not live with me any longer, has it moved in with you?

B 

You can access the above article from the APA here.

Surrender, 25 years later

25 years ago a 17 year old boy, under the influence, committing a crime consumed alcohol for the last time.

There was a moment during my life when complete truth never felt more real. Sure I had been experiencing truth constantly and these were the things that I wanted to escape, ignore, avoid, and run from forever. The onset of knowing that I did not know how to deal with day to day existence as a human being, nor did I want to. The truth that I was severely depressed and never sadder, and I found myself grounded in the idea that this is who I was and I could not change it. On December 27, 1987, the owner of the business had caught me inside his building. Technically I had broken in even though I had previously stolen the keys to the business, and let myself in. He was angry and threatened to shot me. He had his arm around my neck and a handgun pointed to the side of my head. This had little effect on me, not only had I been under the aim of a gun previously, but I had been living to die. The thought of this unknown person threatening to shoot me in the head had a calming effect on me. Not because I had been subdued, but the thought of a stranger completing the task of ending my pathetic existence seemed unfair and out of line. I was angry and sad. A stranger had placed himself into a position that I had been for so long. He probably never knew the value of this position. 

I was blessed with the understanding that I wanted and was going to die. I could have struggled, I could have fought back, I could have asked him to do it. But I surrendered myself to fate, to the world, to the consequences, to the rebuilding, to the suffering, to the unknown, to everything...I surrendered.

On this day 25 years ago the haze of insanity began to lift...

He is I

He is I

For a long time he has been with me.

I don’t remember how we met.

I was told he was here.

I see him occasionally

But I don’t look for him.

When I look into other’s eyes

Sometimes he is there.

We never speak

A simple acknowledgement only

But I don’t look for him.

He will always be with me

They say He is very complicated

I don’t want him

He would have you believe he is I

And I am he

But I don’t look for him

We wake up together some mornings

We walk together some days

We keep each other up through the nights

But I don’t look for him

We used to fight

I wanted him to go away

And there he would stay

He hates me some days

And wishes I would go away

We both give

And we both take

But I don’t look for him

Who would I be without him

And who would he be without me

They say we can have a meaningful relationship

Because he is I

And I am he.

 

 

That “thing” and why I hate it, sometimes

That “thing” and why I hate it, sometimes

So the past week has been somewhat turbulent for me, which really means I have beat myself up over some things I have no control over. I tend to take some things very hard and feel they are somehow a critique of my character. My tendency is to really internalize these types of feelings and let them grow and rot inside my head. I call this processing; which is really using a clinical excuse to continue to beat myself up.  Luckily I am aware of this cycle and can call it like I see (feel) it. So the process for me looks like this, something happens, I get upset, I internalize it, I don’t tell anyone how upset I am, It’s constantly  on my mind (that’s that processing thing), I begin to lose sleep, I become more irritable, I quit eating, I isolate myself more from others, and within days, I feel like a disaster. I have a good set of tools for which I have learned and practiced throughout my recovery. Of all those tools is one for which I despise when in this cycle of self-inflicted misery. The Serenity Prayer. I really despise that short, well versed prayer! We who are in recovery have been beaten over the head time and again by counselors, therapists, mental health workers, 12 step members, sponsors, family members,  and everyone who knows when we are struggling reminds us to remember, recite, chant, yell to the heavens, this simple prayer. I hate it sometimes! (I feel like I should have it tattooed on my forehead, so every time I look in the mirror, I am reminded of its inherent power.)

That’s right… I said that I hate the Serenity Prayer.

How could I hate a prayer? This prayer really unlocks the one of the mysteries of my personal defects. If you look at the process at this beginning of my post, you will see that something has triggered a chain of events that has led me into a process of self-destruction. This event really is beyond my control. I have taken something, which affects me but is not my doing, and I turned it, spun it, and used it to feel bad about myself. That’s weird. Why would I do that? This is one of the “great” mysteries of addiction (and for another post and or profession to examine and unlock the “great” mysteries). For me it has a whole lot to do with mental health issues I deal with on a daily basis (which can be addressed another time). I have to focus on how I could hate a prayer!   So I know it’s there, I think about it whether I want to or not, and suddenly everything begins to become less cloudy. I begin to understand and more importantly feel that all of this really was out of my control and I can begin to rid myself of all the negativity I have created from it. I have developed tools that help me get myself back together; these include walking, making art, spending time with my kids and wife, and writing.

Today I feel better about last week. I still have some reservations about my love/hate relationship with The Serenity Prayer...

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

B