I’m grateful it’s almost Thanksgiving. I’m grateful for the chance to see my family. I’m grateful for getting this far and for whatever comes next. I’m grateful for a cold, sunny morning. I’m grateful to be sober today.
When the “Mystery Button” debuted, I predicted either wild success or the destruction of all interactivity and engagement here. Judging by the statistics so far, there’s basically not much button-pushing happening. Here is my pledge on the “Mystery Button,” it will never take you somewhere you really don’t want to go, at least not for very long. Maybe that should be the unofficial slogan of Alcoholics Anonymous…
One of the “lies” I told myself was that certain kinds of situations would be intolerable and the only way I could navigate them involved the liberal application of alcohol. To stop for one moment, it might be too harsh to call some of these things “lies,” they may not have been true, but I believed them. This is what I was saying the other day; I hear alcoholics bemoan the need to develop faith in the principles of sobriety, that it’s too hard and scary. That makes me chuckle, because I know how outlandish some of the ideas that I believed were. Reciting the justifications for my alcoholism now, in the much improved lighting conditions of sobriety, well, that tends to provoke some pretty sheepish feelings.
Anyway, I’ve come to understand that I’m a very, very sensitive person. I’m prone to misunderstanding people, not always getting what they’re saying, and in the olden days, unintended affronts seemed very intentional and deliberate to me. I developed that sense of “apartness” that alcoholics and addicts talk about and found that drinking took the sting out of those feelings, in fact, they made me forget those feelings altogether. Which was the point and, ultimately the problem
At my first Intensive Outpatient Program (“IOP”), we had a psychologist come in on Thursday evenings and lecture on the topic of “Emotional Management and Regulation.” We affectionately called her the “Feelings Lady.” The Feelings Lady spent a lot of time helping us develop basic emotional regulation techniques that we alcoholics suck at, like breathing and meditating and being present and not engaging in catastrophic thinking. When she guided us in meditations we were always descending into quiet, dark, calm places. Basically, she was trying to take us to a place of peace and calm, where we wouldn’t get so spun up over whatever the issues of the day were and then have to drink to settle those feelings down again.
This was an essential skill in early sobriety, when the progress was still being measured in days. The darkness she taught me to envelop myself in when things got challenging is still very useful, but I know now that it provides only a temporary respite. In a funny way, those techniques helped replace drinking on a functional level for me, but they did it by replicating the effects of drinking. Blotting it all out for a bit.
But there is a bigger project out there: The need to eventually make peace with those feelings. One of the motives for my drinking was definitely escape, I think that’s pretty common. The interesting question is what it is that I was running from? It turns out there was no one chasing me.
One of my core beliefs was that if I indulged a hard or difficult feeling, it would never leave. Like the unwanted houseguest, the mouse who was given a bite of cookie, the feelings of fear or loss or sadness or whatever would take over and never leave, unless I made a decision to just not feel them. I pulled that off for about 15 years and then I discovered alcohol and that made life just so much easier. As long as I was drinking, I wasn’t feeling and that was very cool with me.
All of the insecurities, self-judgments and blame, all of the criticisms that tended to get stuck in my head, well, alcohol was like a Mr. Clean, making my brain smell all lemony and fresh.
I heard people talk about “sitting with your feelings.” I didn’t really understand that or how to do it. It felt like the more apt word was “wallowing,” and I definitely didn’t want to do that. It got back to this fundamental problem, I believed if I let the feelings out of the locked closet in the basement, it would be really tough to get them back in.
Not to flog old horses, but gratitude is one of the things that finally let me approach the difficult task of “feeling my feelings.” That and the Pirate Balcony. See, when I was having a tough time, when things were hard or I was empty or sad, and if it wasn’t raining (too much) or too windy, I’d go out to my camp stool on the Pirate Balcony, sit out there and take in the world drifting by me. I found the hard feelings would definitely stop by, spend some quality time with me, invoke some stomach roiling or just the heavy, heavy weight of sadness, but then they’d drift by, very much like the puffy clouds a few days ago.
I wouldn’t say joy or elation is what comes next. Usually I’m left with some pictures in my head, memories of things I thought or had felt before. I started to see that there was often a “why” attached to those feelings. They weren’t just random things that popped to the surface at inconvenient times, like poorly weighted bodies in the East River. They were essential parts of me and reflected really central experiences, the things that were at the core of my emotional and mental development. My ghosts, demons, whatever you want to call them.
I’m lucky to have found a really amazing therapist. I’ve been through a lot of different people and modalities and techniques, of course, the problem that plagued all of these relationships was me. I was roughly never honest with the therapists I saw. I mean I was honest about some things, but I never told them everything. That sounds stupid and like a great way to waste people’s time and your own money: That’s the correct way to look at it and it’s something that most alcoholics and addicts have done.
Anyway, desperation has a funny way of breaking down barriers and that’s been one of the keys to things working this time around. But the most valuable thing I think I’ve learned is that I need to trust my feelings. They exist to convey some important information, there’s something that’s upsetting enough to generate some extra stomach acid production or maybe my jaw will clench so tightly while I sleep that I’ll crack a tooth. A certain NBA player had to lose some of his paycheck to popularize the phrase, “Ball don’t lie.” Feelings don’t either.
I finally realized that “sitting in my feelings,” was really just “sitting with myself.” My therapist taught me this by asking “Can I sit with you for a minute,” when I’d get emotional (still do, actually). We’d sit there quietly (on Zoom) for a minute while I felt whatever it is that had come up. I learned that I wasn’t “wallowing,” I was discovering. Those feelings are sometimes like fossils, evidence of things that happened and that my brain is fearful could happen again. Examining those feelings is how I started to understand myself, I started to get a picture of exactly why I drank.
Note: There is a great writing prompt. Make a list of all the reasons you drank. All of them, good and bad.
Getting a picture of why I drank wasn’t so I could leave it at someone else’s door, it was so I didn’t have to do it anymore. Here’s an important part of this process, I had to also learn to untangle my thoughts from my feelings. Here’s what happens to me, I feel some feeling, it generates an actual physical sensation which then triggers the hyperactive alcoholic hamsters to attempt to explain the sensation with an interpretative dance. By “dance,” I mean a frantic session on the squeaky hamster wheel of alcoholism in my head.
This was what the Feelings Lady was trying to teach us as well. That the combination of my feelings and my alcoholically-produced thinking were like the marriage between Johnny and Amber.1
I’ve realized the explanations my alcoholic brain comes up with as it tries to decode those feeling, they’re just not accurate. Like a lot of alcoholics, I turn fears and frustrations inward, I mix them with all of the shortcomings and failings on my secret list, realize that everything is my fault and that I have us hurtling towards inevitable disaster. Dealing with the consequences of that horrible realization usually required a long visit with my pal, Elizabeth Spencer.
When I “feel” those pesky feelings, the ones that make me come up short sometimes, the ones that require a sharp intake of breath. The feelings of regret and loss for things that should have happened or, worse, did happen. The feelings of fear. Those are all valid and real feelings these days for me, but the feelings are not anything to fear themselves anymore. I see the feelings as a connection to all of the various iterations of me over these sixty odd years.2
What I recovered when I got sober was myself.
Accepting, understanding and sitting with my feelings was how I found the path back to myself. It was how I started the work of integrating myself, living in the present and knowing that what I can change is here and now. Accepting the truth of my feelings, not the fake news drummed up by my alcoholic brain.
When I feel sad or lost, and sit with it, I often start to think about other times I’ve felt sad or lost. When I listen to the sad/lost playlists, I get more reminders of the “time befores.” I’m not building a big sandwich of regret and loss, I’m realizing that I got over it and through it all of those other times. My life didn’t end when I was 17 or 28 or 40 or 51. I got through it.
There are lots of feelings these days and the weather has limited the use of the Pirate Balcony. It’s a hard time in many ways, and my feelings are certainly in line with that. But those feelings don’t connect me to bad outcomes or a desperate end. When I let them, those feelings take me exactly where I need to go. I see what I need to see and then it’s time to get after it. Like someone said to me once, “It’s always the Fourth Quarter, Baby.” There’s not an ounce of pessimism in that, everyone knows that’s when you win games.
Not taking sides, but that is not the kind of pirate I aspire to be.
hahaha. They have been 60 odd years!
TBD-Great stuff(as always). You are an important part of my recovery tool box. I personally love the “Mystery Button”...keep it(my vote). I purchased the Guide today. I’m sure it’s full of good stuff. You guys meeting tonight? Possibly a “mystery appearance” from DER. 😎😏
I it read once I leave till tomorrow)) it's important for me what u wrote about feelings, thoughts 🤔 etc. I know that second time I'll be wiser 🌿👍