I’m grateful for a cold, snowy morning. I’m grateful for a new desk set-up and organized closets. I’m grateful for having what I need. I’m grateful for super excellent coffee, Schumann piano trios and a very cold and frosty-looking pirate balcony. I’m grateful to be sober today.
Winter has arrived here in New York. It’s a windy, frosty morning, it’s a morning that is designed for the WFH culture that the pandemic produced. I’m headed to the office. Not to be a braggy, weather-warrior, I just love going to the office. There’s a picture of me, that I can’t currently locate, luxuriating in my first office. The year was 1985 and I had successfully completed my first year of law school and had arranged to work for the summer at a law firm in Cedar Rapids.
I had a great summer, actually got to sit second-chair at two jury trials and was given work that was way too substantive, given my experience. But the most important thing they gave me? They gave me my first office. I struck the perfect pose for the photo I can’t find, tie loosened, leaning back in my chair and, of course, the feet up on the desk. That was a very, very confident pose for a 22-year old. There was a lot of chaos coming in just the next six years; by 28, I was living in DC, had been married twice and child number one had been born. I was drinking a lot as a young lawyer, nearly every night at the bar in the lobby of the building and was already developing the skills necessary for the afternoon slip-away.
I’m thinking a lot about those early, young lawyer days, as I start at another law firm, as not such a young lawyer. A tremendous amount has changed and the learning curve is pretty steep, but it’s exhilarating and exciting and man, do I love my office.
I’m there a lot. I go most weekdays and, so far, I’m 2-2 on Saturdays. And that is a whole other sub-topic, my love for going to the office on the weekends. I love padding around when it’s quiet and kind of dark, I’m way more productive when I’m alone and know it. I love finding hide-outs in the library for the same reason. You start to see the pattern emerging, right?
There’s skepticism in some circles about so-called “process addictions,” gambling, sex, shopping, work, etc.Are they really addictions? Are they the same as alcohol or opiates? Hopefully, you’re not expecting an answer here, at least not this morning. I’m not really sure how those stack up, but I can feel just as panicky about not having my phone available as I felt waiting for the Commissary to open up at 8am. The difference I can see, alcohol for me was more about aiding in the presentation of a slightly different, more publicly palatable version of myself, than simply escaping everything. I think some of the other addictions/compulsive behaviors fall more in the category of escapes.
If we’re laying cards on the table, work and an office are a great way to hide out from life. People will even admire you for it. It’s a compulsive behavior, at least for me. Does that mean I’m not able to control it? No, I’m also very good at not working. But when things start to push in on me a little too much, well, heading off to work at the library, or now, at the office, is 100% a form of escapism and plays to my love of isolation.
At this point, I could simply set some artificial boundaries in an effort to “control” the behavior, no more office on Saturdays, no shopping this week, no box of Pop-Tarts. Maybe I’ll pull that off this week or next, but I won’t actually change anything. What I learned from the Big Book wasn’t just about drinking, it was a plan for living, and that includes the other sparkling facets of my personality. The passage on page 417 (mentioned just last week) is not just about drinking stuff and getting angry at people, it’s also about those feelings that we just need to get out of here!
Understanding that feeling, and the other feelings that I have here and there, has been the key to my sobriety. The Big Book says famously, and quite repetitively, that self-knowledge is never enough. The repetition is meant to underscore the need to find a “Higher” power than ourselves to assist in the whole endeavor. Self-knowledge is critical to the endeavor; actual self-knowledge might be the point of the endeavor. The paradox is that I began to find myself, once I admitted that “myself,” was not capable of getting me sober, or, more importantly, restoring me to sanity.
The Second Step doesn’t say, “could stop our drinking,” it says, “could return us to sanity.” Sanity obviously involved a lot more, involves a lot more, than just not drinking. The Twelve Steps are intended to promote the broader exercise of self-examination and self-improvement. The more I apply those principles and methodology to myself, use the lens of AA and the Big Book to examine other troublesome parts of my life, well, it works pretty well and I find myself feeling more and more happy and content.
I’m still going to the office today. I get a lot of pleasure from the commute, from the coffee stops on the way to the subway and then in Bryant Park. I find it easier to concentrate, and it will be less isolated than sitting here at home looking out at the island that may well be named for me. I don’t mean to suggest that this some kind of relentless, Sherman’s March to the Sea version of self-improvement. It’s important to point out the attribute being pushed on page 417 is not “self-improvement,” it’s acceptance.
I have a lot of foibles, quirks and eccentricities. I believe in some pretty crazy stuff and have made a lot of mistakes. I’ve done things that hurt other people and myself. I have regrets, fears, things I’m still ashamed of, but it’s the Big Book, the work of the Twelve Steps and passages like on page 417 that help me see how I got to those places, and help me stay on the right track. The Big Guy pitches in and tries to make sure I know when things are on the right track, like during my coffee break on Saturday:
Great post, TBD - I'm really behind on my reading, but I loved your words about the NYC weather and your love for the office! Have a great day!