I hope you had a chance to listen to my breakfast with Daniel. I think you’ll agree that he’s got a very open, direct way about him and I think that has a lot to do with a very solid almost-six-months of sobriety.
I’ve known Daniel for a while and after he “relapsed” this last time, I agreed to work with him. I put “relapsed” in quotes because I think there was a real question whether he had ever really stopped long enough for it count as a relapse.
I was a little reluctant to work with Daniel; I wasn’t sure he really wanted to get sober. One of the things I know about relapsers is that they are consumed by fear; consumed by the fear of what they are going to lose next, but knowing the thing they can’t live without is the drinking and the using. Deep down inside, it’s pretty horrible knowing that’s the trump card; knowing that when push finally came to shove, there was no one I really loved enough to part with drinking.
Those conflicting fears can drive some pretty desperate and inevitably fruitless efforts to forestall the next loss; it drove me to go to rehab for example. But the fear of losing the next person, the next thing, the next whatever was not enough to make me stop drinking and I didn’t think it was going to be enough for Daniel either.
So, I set some pretty harsh terms. I don’t think I was always terribly nice and I kind of expected Daniel to give up at some point. But he didn’t. I’d cut him off when he started talking about something that I thought was too far ahead of where we were and would remind him that he needed to act like someone who had 27 days, not someone with a year.1 I told him he needed to do a 90 in 902 and when I suspected he’d skipped one, I cross-examined it out of him. I was angry sometimes, maybe too angry, but he stuck with it.
One of the first assignments, before I even thought we were ready to read the Big Book together, was to do what I called the “No Shit Sobriety Timeline.” I wanted him to sit down and go through calendars, journals, emails, whatever and come back and tell me the longest period of time he’d ever actually had sober. I told him that he should be prepared to defend the “No Shit Sobriety Timeline.”3 Daniel’s estimate of his own sobriety started at around 9 months, but I think we eventually determined he might have had 60 days at one point.
Do you know who was surprised by this? Daniel. Self-deception is the crux of this disease. It’s the serpent voice that tells us we deserve that drink, everyone drinks like this, no one is getting hurt, we could stop if there was really a good reason, we’re not like other people who can’t hold their liquor, we’re not as broken-down as those people in AA, that this is ok and we can keep living like this. But do you know what the worst lie is?
I can get away with this.
That’s the lie that drove Daniel’s addiction. It was the same lie that drove my drinking: I can get away with this. For this alcoholic, the best answer was always:
Appease the people who think I need to stop, convince them that I have stopped, but for heaven’s sake, don’t actually stop.
You could also refer to this as tricking the people who love you, but when you are still actively using, well, I don’t know about that Maslowe’s Hierarchy thing they kept talking about in rehab, but I knew who was number one. If tricking people who loved and trusted me was what was necessary so that I could keep my long-running affair with alcohol going, well, it was probably more their mistake for trusting me.
It’s such a twisted game because it’s more about sowing doubt than anything else. I always knew I was under suspicion; the longer than usual hugs, staring into my eyes, repeated glances to see if my hands were shaking. It was like being an actor because I was basically making up an entire life that I wasn’t living. I was actually at the Logan Tavern drinking Sauvignon Blanc and eating chicken wings.4 I will tell you this—keeping that ball in the air every day can lead to a powerful thirst.
Here’s the other thing: It’s impossible to keep the ball in the air.
It’s going to hit the ground at some point and all hell will break loose. Again. People will be devastated and scared and hurt. Again. People will leave, not willing to keep buying tickets for the same tragic show. You sink a little lower and try not to think about how much you have left to lose. Through all of the lies, I always had this hazy notion that if I didn’t find a way to stop there would be eventually be a day when I would realize I had nothing left, that I had lost everything I loved and everyone who had loved me. I knew that day was out there and I still couldn’t stop drinking.
Daniel got 30 days. Then he got 60 days and 90 days and I realized I had been wrong about Daniel—he did want it. He was ready to stop living the way he had been, he wanted what he saw others had and was ready to go to any lengths to get it. There is so much that’s special and so much meaning in the Sponsor-Sponsee relationship, but there is nothing like seeing the Program take hold in someone else. You can compare it to sowing seeds and taking delight in the ones that defy the odds and find purchase, or the return of the prodigal son, or the shepherd rejoicing in finding the single sheep that was lost.
It reminds me of the moment when you let go of the seat and watch the six-year-old on the bike wobble down the sidewalk. You jog along, keeping up the patter and pretending to still have a grip on the back of the seat, not letting the six-year-old know they are actually doing this themselves. There’s that truly magical moment when the bike wheels straighten out and the speed picks up and you stop running and the six-year-old realizes they know how to ride a bike.5
What I think is really cool is how Daniel has made his own path in sobriety. I mentioned this the other day, but among other things, Daniel is a pretty talented musician. He met some other musicians at a meeting and now they get together, rent studio space, conduct their own “AA meeting” and then play. I think that is awesome and here’s them playing “What’s So Funny About Peace, Love and Understanding:”6
I’m a sucker for Elvis Costello and cold, gray fall days like today remind me of being in college and listening to those albums over and over again. Is there a better line than: “I don’t know if you’re loving some body, I only know it isn’t mine.”
Hearing Daniel and his band of alcoholics play makes me smile.7 It's a great reminder about what it is we're recovering. I don't like the idea that we're recovering "from" something so much. I prefer using the word "recovery" in the "look what I found that I thought I had lost" sense. For sure, Daniel and I are recovering from a disease, but we are recovering something way, way more valuable and way, way more exciting. We're recovering the things that gave us joy and let us connect to the people who love us. It turns out the song is right, there's nothing funny about peace, love and understanding.
Thanks for Letting Me Share
Is it going to surprise you that I’m the older brother?
90 Meetings in 90 days.
The former litigator likes to get out every now and then.
Yes, I am going to continue to insist that I was a “classy alcoholic.”
And you know what they say about learning to ride a bike. Also, the six-year-old may not know how to use the brakes yet, so it’s not completely clear sailing.
There are even rumors of a gig.
Tell me there’s not a great band name in there.