I’m grateful to be with people who love me. I’m grateful for pretty solid coffee situation. I’m grateful for the chance to dig deeper. I’m grateful for faith and optimism. I’m grateful for whatever comes next. I’m grateful to be sober today.
song of the week:
I actually was about to go with a different song, then I started thinking about this one and wondered how I could have ever even considered something else. The video, itself, is kind of an insane mess, except I really like the move where they circle a finger around their head and then end up pointing in the same direction. The individual videos, well, I don’t know any of the band members personally, so I have no insight into that. Why this song? It’s ridiculously catchy, has some personal meaning and did I mention it’s ridiculously catchy? Happy Friday.
And that’s a perfect light and bouncy way to approach today’s topic, which I’m going to portentously title something like “What do do when the wheels come off?” Or as the Sanford Townsend band put it, “don’t you drown when your dream boat runs onto the ground.” Is there a rule we can’t have two songs of the week? Maybe.
Anyway, I had some pretty jarring professional news yesterday, something that I knew was brewing, brewed and a gig that I had really been counting on came to a very unceremonious end. I’ve written, a little vaguely, about this, and it’s been a tremendous learning experience. First, the process of navigating challenging situations with difficult people illuminated for me the world of difference that approaching the world sober makes. We alcoholics can get kind of snarky and superior sometimes and you frequently hear us go on and on about civilians and how unenlightened they can be.1 People will say meaningfully,
“Don’t blame them, they don’t have the Program.”
Perhaps not everyone aspires to AA membership, and while one does encounter sentiments along the lines of “everyone should be required to do this,” that’s probably not the correct way to approach things either. Here’s what I have figured out again: People do unpredictable things, the world is an unpredictable place, there is a tremendous amount of uncertainty, my grand plans rarely work out, my ego puts me in difficult situations, disappointing things happen a lot.
Sometimes I feel incredibly lost. Sometimes, the amount of uncertainty in my life feels pretty crushing. Sometimes I really don’t know where to turn or what to do next. The problems ahead seem kind of intractable. Sometimes, it feels a little like this:
So, when I got the news yesterday, I just sat quietly for a bit and thought about what had just happened. I let fear and anger unspool a little. I now can see that some of the thoughts my brain produces are just random things my brain produces—-not everything that spins out of there represents my truest feelings or necessarily says much about me. One of the thoughts that suddenly popped into my head was,
“I guess we could go drinking over this.”
I guess, at some level, I was surprised to see that thought make an appearance in the crowded theater of my mind. At another level, I wasn’t. Alcohol wasn’t just something I enjoyed and drinking at bars by myself wasn’t simply a recreational pursuit, it was a very deeply ingrained part of me. Since I began drinking as a teenager, I didn’t drink just because it was fun, I drank differently than my friends because to them alcohol was a frolic, to me it was an essential tool.
But here’s the thing, even though the events of yesterday were jarring and disappointing and are currently generating lots of fear and anxiety, one of the things I know (and feel),
Drinking will not help.
The olden days me would have definitely been in a bar yesterday, savoring those resentments and anger, and feeling the fear and the awareness of the present (which can include feeling fear), delightfully slipping out of my memory. The urgency of my problems and fears would recede, and yes, another glass would be great.
I don’t mean to suggest that yesterday was a close call—it wasn’t. That thought popped up and then slipped away and I was able to see the ridiculousness of it, from start to finish. The Program does not eliminate adverse life events, the “promises” in the Big Book aren’t enforceable. What I have today, that I didn’t have all of those years when I was drinking, was faith in myself and the universe. I think whatever is going to happen is probably going to happen. I can hasten or delay things, slightly, but I don’t believe that I have the power to avert the things that are supposed to happen.
And I guess that is an important part of my belief system—that there are things in the universe that are “supposed” to happen, that not everything is a random event and I’m not the final arbiter of what things mean. The Program taught me that those things are above my pay grade and that I’m no longer directing the show. That sounds trite, but it is literally life-saving.
Because when things like yesterday happen, and my brain, after decades of being trained to get thirsty when bad things happen or when I have bad feelings, produces that stray thought about drinking, the rest of me knows that’s not a real answer.
The nub of my addiction was the belief I formed when I was 15, that alcohol was a tool that would help me manage my life. That belief was not entirely rational, but for a long time, as is the case with so many alcoholics and addicts, it did work. I put my own persuasive powers to work on myself and became more convinced that alcohol was a very necessary part of my life. The trouble comes when alcohol starts to lose it’s invincibility.
Working the Steps and studying the Big Book showed me a true picture of myself. Faults, strengths, weaknesses, blind spots, I was finally able to see that my life was my life, a product of my choices and actions and what is meant for me. Working the Steps and studying the Big Book helped me see that what matters is approaching every day with faith and honesty and as much courage and optimism as I can muster. Working the Steps and studying the Big Book helped me see that’s enough.
I’m not sure where things go from here. I’m anxious, upset and frightened. But even though those feelings are endemic, simply part of being a human and living life, they are simply feelings and fears, they aren’t the preludes to a bottle of sauvignon blanc, consumed a glass at a time. The critical piece of learning, well, it’s actually unlearning, is that alcohol is not an effective tool for managing my life. If that seems kind of dry and academic, keep in mind Dr. Ruth Fox’s definition of a primary alcoholic, way back in 1955
The primary addict, from his first introduction to beverage alcohol, uses it as an aid to adjust to his environment.
It took quite a bit to untangle the alcohol from my life, it actually meant doing some pretty substantial work to the life part, completely re-shaping the way I approach the world and the way I think of my own place in it.2 I came to realize that my place in the world and my success in navigating it, was simply a function of showing up and being myself. My drinking started and took hold because I convinced myself that I wasn’t enough, that being myself wasn’t ever going to be enough. Getting sober was a function of letting my heart take the leading role in my life, counting on it to guide me and light my path. My brain is always going to throw the alcohol card into the mix, but my heart knows that’s never actually an answer.
I think that’s called courage, the willingness to let your heart guide you through life. When things like yesterday happen, it’s easy to lose faith, bemoan the loss of the marked trail. But I can see it’s just the Universe pointing out the unworkability of that situation, kindly suggesting that I’m a little off-course and reminding me that I need to start looking for the right path. Drinking isn’t going to help me do that—courage and listening to my heart will. So, I guess I’’ll spend some time bushwhacking my way out of the woods, hoping to pick up a trace of that trail.
My brain tells me we’re not likely to find it and that there will definitely be consequences. My heart knows there is a penny out there, just waiting to be found.
Considering the speakers here really makes this both funny and ironic.
That work does not appear to be complete.
Amazing insight into “the real world” of not just an alcoholic but of almost anyone in this unpredictable thing we call life-pretty cool stuff. Who couldn’t use a Dudley Do-Right once in a while😏. Good luck friend. We could all use a little of that...😎
I get it....so relatable! Like you, I'm glad I have the tools or framework to fall back on to work through difficult situations. Sometimes I just go back to the basics....write it out, get it out if my head. That helps me hand it over to Jesus and deal with my anger instead of lashing out (which I still do sometimes!)😂 Otherwise my natural tendency is to just want to escape or "check-out". Keep up the good work!!! 👍 I don't know if we ever really stop working our recovery?🤷♀️🙌🏻😁