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

1988- Journal entry

I wrote this when I was early in my recovery and still trying to figure out what was going on around me and within me. I was 18 years old...

Life is a mirror, look at what you see.
The crowd behind you begins to flee.
The rage you feel begins to surge
you clinch your fists, you feel the urge
Shatter your life, break the mirror
feel the pain, the pain is fear.
your all alone, no one around
the thoughts in your head are the only sound

it really sucks, its always the same.
the life I lived was a no win game.
Try and be happy I know I should.
Try so hard...I wish I could.
To end it all I think I would.
All I did was fucking cry.
I never had the nerve to die.
Every thing's the same, nothing new.
What am I suppose to do?

It's my desicion
I'll decide.
to take the ride
or run and hide.

B

A light that shines from within

“We are shaped by our thoughts; we become what we think. When the mind is pure, joy follows like a shadow that never leaves.” Buddha

I recently had the privilege to spend some time with someone new to recovery. A humbling experience for me to see her joy, her excitement, her undeniable happiness. She discussed the early parts of her journey, her desires, her plan, her commitment. She talked about her challenges, the hard parts. And joy flowed from her like a light shining from her soul. A light which will continue to grow, be stronger, and brighter. 

And as I reflect on our conversation I begin to understand why I need her. I need to be reminded that I am no different, that my light continues to shine. That I deserve joy and happiness. She is a version of myself. A version that is easily forgotten. It becomes easy to obsess over the defects. It’s hard sometimes to sit back and take in everything, to let that light shine...and I am blessed that she reminded me of this!

Thank You N!
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… 

By Request (2) dko

I was recently asked to write about what books I am reading and why. I attempt to read often and when I was in college (and without 4 children), I was much more disciplined in my reading habit. I enjoy reading and read a range of nonfiction. For the past year I have really focused on books dealing and about substance abuse, spirituality, and recovery. My choice for reading these types of books is varied in selection. I read some for self-improvement, maintenance of myself, strategies and understanding for working with others, and some I read for a ways to improve my own writing. Since I began to write and talk about my own emotions, thoughts and processes, I have found it hard to put into words the range of things I experience. Reading how others write helps…

1. Currently reading this book as it is a first hand account of Depression and the Author William Styron has done an amazing job of putting into words the feelings and thoughts experienced by someone with Depression.

Favorite Excerpt (thus far), "Death, as I have said, was now a daily presence, blowing over me in cold gusts. I had not conceived precisely how my end would come. In short, I was still keeping the idea of suicide at bay. But plainly the possibility was around the corner, I would soon meet it face to face" page 50

Purchase

2. Currently reading this book also. The Author David Kennedy is co founder of "Cease Fire". He has spent decades studying Youth Violence and so far does an amazing job at detailing the complex issues surrounding youth and why they are involved in violence and how to address and possibly change the culture.

Favorite excerpt (thus far), "Nearly all of the worst violence and crime in America's most troubled neighborhoods is driven by a small, super-heated world of gangs and drug crews and drug markets. It is a world with its own rules, its own standards, its own understandings. It is a community, make no mistake; it is a community where men will kill for their brothers, die for their brothers, where being a thug is a good and honorable thing, where thug love means having your brothers' backs, no matter what the cost. It is world in which young men stand against a powerful, malevolent world and say to themselves and to each other, Prison's no big thing; I'm going to be dead by the time I'm twenty-five, so nothing really matters; if a man  is disrespected, he has to return violence or he's not a man; the enemy of my friend is my enemy; I'm a victim, so I'm justified in what I do." page 20

Purchase

B

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

Tear drops of self control

I found myself on the receiving end of a violent tirade this week. The person was so angry he was unwilling and truly unable to hear anything that came from mouth, including an apology for a misunderstanding. He confronted me in an exhibit of pure rage including threats of harm to my wellbeing. I sat in my chair, and without hesitation, didn’t move. My hands placed securely on the arms of the chair, my body relaxed, and my face void of emotion. And I sat, and I received his yelling and threats, and I absorbed his emotion, and I resisted the urge to respond, and I refused to engage, escalate, enrage. And when he finished or maybe realized I was not going to respond, he left. This is the most desirable less likely outcome. This could have had many endings, which no doubt would have included me returning to a version of myself for which I have so worked to control. I understand these situations are as much about myself as they are the perpetrator. The work I have invested into making myself a “kinder gentler” version of myself has been a lifelong process. To understand and adhere to a strict doctrine of conflict resolution that is based on nonviolence. I believe this is part of my destiny, to restore some type of balance in my life and the community.  

After he left I was consumed with emotion. . I took a deep breath and began the process of de-escalating myself.  My hands shook, my face was flush, adrenaline rushed through my body, and tears ran out of the corner of eyes. Tear drops of self control.

 

Have a Blessed week, I have...

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

Showing Gratitude by helping others in need.

Daily I try to reflect on things for which I am grateful. This list could be very long if I committed myself to listing each and every little thing. I am a grateful person. During thanksgiving, others are motivated to reflect on things for which they are grateful and the world seems a little nicer.  As a parent I look for ways to teach my children to know and understand how and why to be grateful.  This tends to be a challenge for any parent. I sometimes have the opportunity to visit homeless shelters and food pantries during my work days. If you every feel like things are not going well for you or you have not stopped to reflect on what you should be grateful for, go volunteer at a shelter, soup kitchen, food pantry. You will be overwhelmed with a sense of gratitude for what you have. On thanksgiving I volunteer serving/working at a local food pantry. My children accompany me and help serve a wonderful hot meal for those less fortunate in our community. I would challenge anyone to take a few minutes out of their day to help another. Show your gratitude!

 

Happy Thanksgiving, B