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  • 5 Ways to Process the Death of a Friend in 12-Step Recovery

    5 Ways to Process the Death of a Friend in 12-Step Recovery

    Dealing with the death of a close friend in sobriety can be tough. But if you follow some simple guidelines and take it slow, you can transform a painful trial into a caring tribute that honors their memory.

    When a friend in a 12-step fellowship dies, processing the loss can be challenging, even if the person was sick with a chronic disease or naturally nearing the end of life. The idea that someone might die is very different from the reality of that person dying and being forever gone. 

    Because of the way we share in 12-step groups, we quickly become intimately acquainted with our fellow meeting-goers. We also see our peers regularly—weekly or more frequently—often over years, sometimes decades, in the same rooms and homes and restaurants. The resulting relationship is uniquely strong and meaningful. So when a loss occurs, whether you are working a program or just on the outskirts of meetings, it can be tough to get through. However, if you follow some simple guidelines and take it slow, you can transform a painful trial into a caring tribute that honors their memory. 

    Recently, I lost a sober friend in a 12-step fellowship. Although we rarely saw each other outside of the meetings, there was a close connection between us. His smile helped me overcome a feeling of alienation after I’d moved to a new neighborhood and started to attend new meetings. He made me feel welcome. As a person with the disease of alcoholism or addiction or whatever you want to call that sense of being “other” and “less than” that bubbles up from within, I resisted, especially then, acceptance and comfort when it was offered to me. My new sober friend, a senior citizen in his 70s, helped me overcome this insecurity and feel “part of” a meeting that eventually became my beloved home group. 

    Not that long ago, he was diagnosed with a brain tumor. At least, it seems not that long ago. When it happened, I immediately knew something was wrong. Although his smile remained bright, his health and strength were taken from him. He fought a courageous battle for well over a year. 

    My friend was loved by many, and after he passed, we had to figure out a way to process his death. The guidelines below, which focus on maintaining decency and decorum and avoiding added hurt and unnecessary damage, helped us grieve. (Although these suggestions may be helpful in general, they are specifically meant to be considered within a 12-step context.)

    1) Respect the Spiritual Principle of Anonymity

    The 12th Tradition of Alcoholics Anonymous states: “Anonymity is the spiritual foundation of all our Traditions, ever reminding us to place principles before personalities.” The majority of 12-step fellowships have adopted this tradition. In the digital age of mobile technologies and the internet, anonymity needs to be respected beyond the original boundaries of “press, radio, and films.” 

    Although many people, including myself, are quite open about sobriety on social media, others are strict about maintaining anonymity. When a sober friend dies, you may be tempted to post a tribute on their Facebook page, letting the world know that they died sober. Resist the temptation. By taking such an action, you could be violating their anonymity, and revealing something to family or co-workers that they would prefer to have kept anonymous. Also, don’t automatically assume you know all the details, which brings us to number 2.

    2) Never Presuppose a Relapse or Speculate on Causality

    Sadly, people in recovery sometimes return to drug and alcohol use, and sometimes it results in death. Although this was not the case with my friend, I have seen too many people overdose and die or develop fatal diseases because of excessive drinking. However, when a sober friend dies, until you know for sure from a medical report or similar legitimate source, you shouldn’t speculate on whether or not they relapsed. Such speculation is nothing more than gossip, even if you don’t intend it to be. As Aesop wrote in a fable and Thumper later adopted as his motto, “If you can’t say anything nice, then don’t say anything at all.” 

    Even if someone did die as a result of a relapse, do not act like the “wise” sage. It’s not your job to use that knowledge to warn others. Such an attitude raises you above the emotional reality and places your sobriety on a pedestal. And imagine if you are wrong. Then, not only have you damaged a sober friend’s legacy, you have hurt yourself by telling such a story. In these cases, better safe and kind than sorry and foolish. As a member of a 12-step fellowship, I don’t want to point fingers or take other people’s inventories. I don’t want judgment to consume my capacity for love and empathy. 

    Instead, focus on the good: What was special about your friend?

    3) Be Cautious and Respectful When Speaking to the Family

    If you meet a sober friend’s family at a memorial service or funeral organized by them, make sure ahead of time that it’s okay to discuss your friend’s sobriety. Many people remain anonymous even within their own families. They also have friends and co-workers who know nothing about what happened in the past. 

    It’s not your job to enlighten everyone about what a great speaker or sponsor your friend was. You will likely end up creating confusion and uncertainty. And if your friend did not disclose his or her participation in a 12-step program, you could be adding to the family’s already-heavy emotional burden. 

    If you believe the family may not be aware of a sober friend’s 12-step participation, then come up with a story about how you knew each other. Maybe a book club, a favorite activity, or a past introduction through mutual friends. 

    It’s easy to take the focus off of you by talking positively about your friend. You can tell people what a good person he or she was and how much you enjoyed their sense of humor. With my friend who died recently, his family knew about his sobriety and celebrated it. At the same time, people who knew him from 12-step fellowships talked about his business acumen, his lovely smile, and his joking personality. It was not hard to find topics to discuss that were outside of the 12-step context. 

    4) Set Up a Separate Memorial for the 12-Step Fellowship to Mourn and Celebrate a Sober Friend

    Although it makes sense to attend the family’s funeral or memorial service to show your support by being present, it’s a good idea to set up a separate memorial service as well. This second service can focus on your sober friend’s 12-step community. Often there will be a meeting before this kind of memorial service. Then, in the service, people will openly talk about the person’s role in the fellowship, and what gifts he or she brought to the program. The meeting and the service should both be open so that anyone can attend. When you publicize this event, be careful not to use social media in such a way that violates anonymity. In most cases, word-of-mouth at meetings and personal one-on-one communications should be enough to raise awareness. 

    5) Celebrate the Positive and Maintain a Loving Legacy

    Once a sober friend is gone, the best way to process that loss is to celebrate the positive. Rather than focusing on the loss, talk about what that person gave to others and their memorable qualities. My sober friend always made a point to offer a seat next to him to newcomers. He made everyone feel welcome. Today, I do my best to maintain that loving legacy by doing what he did. I keep his smile and his love alive by going outside of my comfort zone, following his example, and acting as he did. 

    As alcoholics and addicts in 12-step fellowships, we are vulnerable to our character defects, and sometimes end up relapsing as a result of them. The process of getting sober is about progress and not perfection, and we make mistakes and fall back into deeply entrenched negative patterns of behavior. The death of a sober friend reminds us of the real, lasting value of our sobriety. We can celebrate the positive while we grieve the loss. We recommit not only to our recovery, but also to practicing the principles that reflect the best qualities of our departed friend. 

    In Memory of Lenny Levy

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • 7 Ways to Be a Rebel…in Sobriety

    7 Ways to Be a Rebel…in Sobriety

    Alternate rebellion can help shake up ennui and distress, otherwise known as life. It’s a great act of self-acceptance in a world that wants you to follow their dumb unwritten rules. Guess what, world? I do what I want. 

    People who have struggled with addiction and alcoholism are rebels by nature. If you disagree, you’re just proving my point. Getting into recovery and following the rules we need to follow if we’re going to stay sober and have a better life can feel like something’s missing – that old Eff You to the face of the world. But what if there were ways to rebel that didn’t leave a trail of dumpster fires and broken bones in your wake?

    Alternate Rebellion, which is taught in Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (DBT), is the idea that there are healthy, nondestructive ways to rebel, or “act out.” There are many ways to feel like yourself without hurting yourself. It’s also highly effective as a tool for distress tolerance (a term that describes one’s capacity to cope with or withstand negative emotions or stressful conditions).

    What follows is a list of several acts of alternate rebellion I have found to be very satisfying, and a link to a more comprehensive (and less aggressive) list. We already know how to get creative under pressure when it comes to self-destruction. Now, that same energy and talent can be used in ways that make you feel good about yourself before, during, and after. After all, everything we do in life is because we’re searching for a certain feeling. There are so many more ways to get there than the limited world of self-harm.

    1. Cut off a friend you find boring

    I had a friend — I suspect most of us have had this friend — who was sweet and loyal and utterly boring. Half the time I didn’t know, or care, what the hell she was talking about. I think a lot of us feel like we have to take what we can get in terms of human connection because we’re so fundamentally unlovable, but we don’t. Even if, say, that friend was there for you during a really dark period in your life — you realize that was their choice, and of course they got something out of it too. Ignore their calls. Refuse to read the Twilight fan fiction they keep pushing on you. When they reach out to say “What happened? Are you dead?” Refrain from saying, “Bitch, you know I’ve been posting on Insta.” Say you just don’t feel like chatting right now. Because you don’t. To them. Revel in the fact that you just did something kinda bad. It feels good.

    2. Disagree with an overly confident person

    I cannot recommend this enough. Especially people who can’t handle being disagreed with. Los Angeles is lousy with them. And I hate to state the obvious, but they are usually straight white men. Easy to find. You don’t have to lie; I guarantee you hear things you don’t agree with every day. And just like that: Hey. I don’t agree. Smile. The smiling is the best part. If you want to present your opposing view, have at it, but often the look on their face and their sheer inability to deal with being disagreed with is enough.

    3. Get a tattoo 

    I went from having zero tattoos because commitment issues to having six in eighteen months because addiction issues. I regret nothing. That’s actually the first tattoo I got: je ne regrette rien. I am not French, but I do identify as a snob. There’s a great story behind it, which I will happily tell anyone hitting on me and also you. It was posted by a friend of mine who was dear to me in only the way someone you’ve followed on Tumblr for many years and only met twice in person can be. She wrote that she spoke French and nobody knew that about her and also that it’s the title of a gorgeous song, so she wanted to get it as a tattoo.

    It was one of her last posts. She died suddenly in her bed at the age of 32. So I got the tattoo to honor her, and because all the bullshit got me here. Also, it’s a chance to stick a needle in your arm, but in a good way. I love my tattoos. They make me feel like a badass. Some people say oh no, they are forever, but guess what? The body is so temporary. Also: lasers.

    4. Play uncool music with your windows down

    I’m partial to Miley Cyrus’s Party in the U.S.A. right now, but you do you, boo. Don’t play it so loud that you scare dogs and upset children, but, you know, a little loud. Just loud enough that you feel like you shouldn’t. And dance. Dance and don’t let anyone looking at you stop you. And don’t stop at a red light next to a Tesla containing an outwardly perfect person. Party. In the U.S.A.

    5. Travel somewhere you’ve always wanted to. Alone. Even if you don’t have “enough money.”

    Traveling alone is my jam. I always wanted to go to Italy, and in rehab I moaned over the fact that it wasn’t fair that I couldn’t drink wine in Italy. Guess what? Nobody was taking drunk me to Italy. Traveling alone is the best because you don’t ever have to compromise on what to do or where to go or what to eat – every rebel’s dream.

    In the past two years I’ve been to Costa Rica, Thailand, and Bali alone as well as a dozen states in the continental U.S. I frequently bring my dog, who flies and stays everywhere free because I have a letter from my therapist, another fantastic act of alternate rebellion. I love whenever someone tries to tell me I can’t have my pet somewhere. I quietly offer to show them paperwork, while in my head I’m screaming “EXCUSE ME HE’S AN EMOTIONAL SUPPORT ANIMAL HE KEEPS ME CALM.” I’ve been nervous about how I’m going to pay for my upcoming Italy/Greece trip, but writing this helped me remember that I had no idea how I was going to pull off any of the other international trips either. Financial insecurity is lame, so I cured it with another act of alternate rebellion. 

    6. Take a bath in the middle of the day

    I actually did this in the middle of writing this article and it felt fantastic. I was sitting here feeling resistant about doing one of my favorite things on earth, writing, and contemplating shutting the computer down and taking a nap, eating even though I’m not hungry, turning on the TV, or a host of other things that are mildly self-destructive and won’t help me feel good about myself in the long run. So I lit my best candles, threw some crystals in there, added a few handfuls of epsom salts and a liberal amount of lavender bubbles, and in went my Juul and I. Right before I did it, I thought: I’m totally not supposed to do this, but it isn’t hurting me or anyone, so YAY. That is pretty much the definition of an act of alternate rebellion. 

    7. Wear your jammies out in public

    A lot of people have strong opinions about people wearing sweatpants in public and I think it’s so outdated. It’s nice to be comfy, especially when you’re in distress. When I was drinking and using, sure, I’d look a mess and probably have unbrushed teeth and hair as I went in search of an open liquor store on any morning of the week, but it’s so lovely to put a little makeup on, brush my hair and teeth, and put on my most stylish and comfortable loungewear, and go out…anywhere. The grocery store? Oh yeah. The movies? Even better. Something about wearing sweatpants in public tickles me. Always has, ever since my college roommate said when we were hungover one Sunday, “You’re going to wear THAT to the dining hall?” Yes, bitch, I certainly am.

    My intention with this piece is not to convince others to do exactly what I have done, but to inspire your wheels to turn toward what feels good to you. Alternate rebellion can help shake up ennui and distress, otherwise known as life. It feels like a secret even though it’s often the opposite. It’s the individuation so many of us missed out on in our lost adolescences. More than anything, it’s saying yes to yourself, to your inner child, to exactly who you are exactly at this moment. It’s a great act of self-acceptance in a world that wants you to follow their dumb unwritten rules. Guess what, world? I do what I want. 

    A list of tiny alternate rebellions can be found here: https://www.dbtselfhelp.com/html/alternate_rebellion.html

    And more information on DBT here: https://behavioraltech.org/resources/faqs/dialectical-behavior-therapy-dbt/

    How do you rebel in recovery? Tell us in the comments.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • 6 Amazing Benefits of Giving Up Alcohol and Joining a Sober Community

    6 Amazing Benefits of Giving Up Alcohol and Joining a Sober Community

    We no longer look for short-lived highs followed by compounded messes and erratic emotions. In our willingness to be present, to be aware of our inner lives, step by step we create the lives we really want to live.

    Hi, I’m Karolina and a proud member of the sober community. I didn’t really think I’d ever find myself here. Sure, I had a love-hate relationship with alcohol that filled me with more hate after each hangover, but who doesn’t? I didn’t identify as a “problem” drinker as a lot of my drinking looked like what everyone else was doing. Was I even allowed to quit?

    And yet there was that unease, that cognitive dissonance; I knew I was made for more than hangxiety and regret. After years of feeling stuck, I finally tried sobriety as an experiment and fell in love with my new life. It turned out everything I truly wanted was just on the other side of my fear: happiness, purpose, friendships, love, and growth.

    And so here I am. I’m not in AA or traditional recovery (although I’ve been working on my self-development through other tools, books, and community groups since I quit). I don’t relate to words like “relapse” or sayings like “one day at a time.”

    I wondered: did I fit in here? Into this landscape of sober people? For a long time, I didn’t even like using the word “sober,” because it felt so antithetical to what I was experiencing in my alcohol-free life. I was discovering joy(!) and gratitude, not somber misery. Why was it painted to me so grimly before? This was life in HD technicolor.

    The love I have for my new life is the result of the connections I’ve made with sober women and men. In all the other associations and lives I’ve led, I have never found such an openhearted, empathetic group of support and friends. Adding my own voice to the sober community and sharing advice with those who are still on the other side of fear has given me a new purpose. A sense of place. A calling.

    And yet it’s such a diverse space. We all have different stories, different identities, and life experiences. And we use varied methods and paths to find our happier selves. Some of us are in AA, some of us make our own way. Some of us have experienced deep trauma, others are the epitome of privilege or luck. Some of us turn to logic-based approaches, while others turn to spiritual ones.

    We may have our own unique paths, but we have so much more in common:

    1. We No Longer Settle

    We knew it well. Waking up frazzled, in pain, sad, and ashamed. Is it possible to have a hangover without having an existential crisis at the same time? Who was that person last night? Why did she do this to me? I can’t keep on like this. And yet it keeps happening, because alcohol is our plus one. The world told us to drink. We listened. And even though it feels miserable at times, drinking seems safer and easier, a comfort zone of sorts.

    And then one day it hits us. Screw “safe” and “easy.” We stop settling for hangovers. We stop settling for complacency. We stop settling for mediocrity. And it trickles down into our lives, because when you stop asking yourself if your life is okay and instead ask if it’s actually fulfilling, you get to the real heart of the matter.

    2. We Look for Deeper Connection

    Scientists say humans are prone to addiction when they are isolated and lonely. And what’s lonelier than pretending everything is fine? Or fake friends forged over boozy conversation that you can’t remember the next day? It’s a disconnection that hurts our souls, and once we go sober, it doesn’t stand. We can no longer fake it, and we open up to the vulnerable inside us.

    We look for real connection, with people who really see us and honor our life. We strengthen bonds with loved ones, free to finally be comfortable in our skin instead of always looking for something outside of us to find comfort. And we look to see our empowering lifestyle reflected in other badass men and women. The friends I’ve made in the sober community have completely transformed my life. It’s a space designed for love and support, ever growing with enthusiasm. Just look at the sober parties, the meetups, the community groups. We are hungry for the real deal of connectedness, and not the flimsy social glue served in a cup.

    3. We Are Present in Our Lives

    Life comes with feelings and stressful situations and doing hard things. And it also comes with joy and meaningful development and growth through adversity. Instead of being present with our feelings, we’re taught to have a drink, release a chemical reward, and numb uncomfortable thoughts. Abracadabra, instant gratification. A drink, the easiest solution to not deal with your life. And to train your brain to look for the easy rewards, to find entertainment so passively, you literally just sit on the couch.

    But screw “easy,” we said. We want to be active agents in our life. We want to create, build, dream, and we want to feel. We no longer look for short-lived highs followed by compounded messes and erratic emotions. We embrace the uncomfortable and do hard things. Because that’s how you build your dream life. In our willingness to be present, to be aware of our inner lives, step by step we create the lives we really want to live. Finding gratitude, awe, beauty and the fulfillment that comes with awareness of your true desires.

    4. We Rebuke Societal Conformity

    How many people wouldn’t dare refuse a social drink for fear of standing out? Or because they worry others would assume they have a problem?

    We sober folk not only have the bravery and courage to say no to drinks at cocktail parties, and networking events, and lately even yoga studios, but we also say no to societal conformity and the whole idea that alcohol is requisite to a fun and fulfilling life. Who said? Who profits when we believe this? We don’t and instead we question that entire line of reasoning and find our own self-actualization instead. When you look past societal pressure and a desire to fit in, you can find your true voice. It’s not just passing up a drink at the company happy hour. We don’t want to be like everyone else. We want to be exceptional.

    5. We Smash Our Self-Limiting Beliefs

    If we can quit alcohol, our Achilles heel, in a booze-soaked society, we can do anything. And we finally start to believe this ourselves. My love-hate relationship with alcohol led me to believe a number of things that weren’t inherently true about me: that I couldn’t have fun without booze, that I was awkward at socializing, that I couldn’t do hard things like run long distances or launch a business. And that most of all, I couldn’t go against the grain and opt out of drinking.

    But I did it anyway. I smashed my self-limiting beliefs about alcohol, giving me the courage and confidence I needed to do a whole host of things I was scared of. I’ve seen it all around me in the sober-sphere. We speak up, write books, launch businesses, share our stories, run marathons, show our children healthier coping skills, and do so many things that our drinking selves were way too stuck to even attempt.

    6. We Know the Art of Transformation

    Our lives are masterpieces. We came here to expand our souls; we were meant to evolve and grow. And the role alcohol played in our lives and the ways we surmounted that allowed us to completely change everything. Most people say quitting alcohol was just the very first thing. The foundation that allowed everything else to fall into place. Our lives are dedicated to health and well-being and love and connection that not too long ago were overrun with shame and despair and insecurity. We practice gratitude and self-acceptance and self-love.

    That’s the art of transformation and we know it well. We feel such hope and possibility for anyone coming to the same questioning about alcohol in their lives, because we know how much happiness and fulfillment lies on the other side. Change is scary and uncertain. And yet by letting go of what no longer served us, we completely reinvented our lives for the better.

    From the very outset, I’ve been in awe by the bravery, whole-heartedness, and full embrace of life I’ve seen here. That set my aspirations way above a happy hour and allowed me to completely reinvent my life. Thank you for welcoming me.
     

    What joys and epiphanies have you experienced in your new sober life? Tell us in the comments: What would you add to this list? 

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • 5 Tips for Staying Sober at Events Where Everyone Else Is Drinking

    5 Tips for Staying Sober at Events Where Everyone Else Is Drinking

    You don’t have to miss out on all the fun, just the part you thought was fun but always ended in trouble.

    Summer is well under way! Everyone wants to be a part of grilling out, parties, concerts, and outings with friends. Often these events include alcohol use. Fear of missing out (FOMO) is a real feeling people struggle with in sobriety. What will I do with my free time? Will I have to find new activities? Will my friends abandon me on weekends? You won’t lose this fear when you first make the choice to go sober; you might not ever lose it.

    Imagine any of the following scenarios: 

    – A friend invites you to an open bar bash.

    – Your favorite band is playing as part of a daylong music festival where folks start drinking in the morning.

    – All of your relatives are coming to the traditional drink-till-you-puke Memorial Day pool party. 

    What can you do? I don’t advocate putting yourself in a position where you might compromise your sobriety, such as attending an event like Beerfest, where the focus is solely on drinking. But you can enjoy events that include alcohol while staying sober. You need to prepare appropriately and know your limits during the event to set yourself up for success.

    You can easily fill your calendar with sober events and dry venues. There are various recovery groups and organizations that throw “sober” parties. I’ve been to many and they are as good as the effort you put into having a good time. You can check meetup.com or google sober events in your city to find them.

    I spent the first year of my sobriety quietly healing and feeling bitter that I couldn’t participate in the drunken stupidity I had always been a part of. But I haven’t shied away from events since then. I’ve learned it’s important to do some thinking and planning ahead of the event. Arm yourself and have a strategy – think about who you’ll be with, how you will respond if asked to drink, what you’ll do if you start feeling an urge, and most importantly, how you’ll have your own special fun at the event.

    I recently attended a weekend-long music festival. The venue had alcohol and many people started drinking when they arrived and kept going. I felt urges at times, but they weren’t unexpected. Since I had prepared myself, I knew how to handle them. 

    Here are some specific ways I approached the weekend and similar events since becoming sober five years ago.

    1. Get a Support Person

    Attend the event with someone you trust to look out for you. Perhaps this person is also sober, or perhaps you will be their designated driver. I’ve had many people play this role over the past five years. The common thread is that each person knew I wanted to avoid drinking. I felt accountable to them and they felt accountable to check in with me.

    I had my 17-year-old daughter as my support person for the music festival weekend. She’s aware that I’m sober and have struggled with alcohol abuse. While I didn’t explicitly ask her to support me, I knew I was accountable to her and responsible for her safety. Attending the festival was my gift to her, so her presence was required. Her age restricted her from purchasing alcohol so we were already on the same page on alcohol consumption. 

    2. Have a Line Ready: “I Don’t Drink.”

    There’s nothing actually complicated about telling people you don’t drink, but it might feel complicated. I understand the turmoil you might feel when someone either offers you a drink or asks what you’re drinking. That moment feels like you have a spotlight shining on you while the crowd breathlessly awaits your answer. You need an automatic way you can refuse the offer, a canned response you can use without thinking. My response is always “I don’t drink.” Nothing complicated, nothing hedging, nothing apologetic. You aren’t wracking your brain for an excuse. You don’t need one. I assure you, anyone worth your time doesn’t care that you aren’t drinking alcohol.

    I stood in the same line to get my seltzer at the festival as the people getting their beer and liquor. Plenty of already lubricated people offered to buy me a beer. “No thanks, I don’t drink.” That’s all it took.

    3. Get a Drink – Something Without Alcohol

    I love ice cold club soda or seltzer water. I slam these back as fast as the bartender can make them. Add a twist of lime or some grapefruit juice and I’m sipping on something sweet along with everyone else guzzling Long Islands or Gin and Tonics. I don’t feel left out, and you shouldn’t either. I’ve never encountered a judgmental bartender, although I made that a barrier in my mind before I started attending events sober. I was sure the bartender would laugh at me; probably ignore me for future drink requests. Never happened. I still get to tip for service. I still get to relax and sip. 

    You can start with making some mocktails or non-alcoholic drinks at home so you know what you’d like to order. Perhaps you’re a simple cola or lemon-lime soda drinker. That’s fine. I personally don’t recommend non-alcohol beer – I found it makes me crave the real thing, which is dangerous when it’s available. Experimenting at home will give you a feel for the taste and action of drinking various non-alcoholic options, but in a safer setting.

    Sometimes sipping club soda or coke without rum leads to stressful conversations with drunk people as the night wears on. I’ve had countless conversations with people about why I’m drinking “Perry Air (Perrier)” and why I don’t choose something alcoholic. I do my best to not act offended on the outside even though I am offended on the inside. No one needs to know what the fuck I’m drinking. But it’s not the time or place to set the person straight. I look at this as a misery loves company situation: Someone gets drunk enough and realizes how miserable they are, so they want to spread the cheer. Fuck them and walk away. (See the next suggestion.)

    I was pleased that I didn’t encounter anyone trashed at the music festival. I drank my seltzers and relaxed. I’d prepared for the worst, considering the heat and length of the event. I was ready to leave if anything felt too uncomfortable or anyone became confrontational. I avoid trouble when I’m sober.

    4. Remove Yourself from the Situation When Necessary

    You are responsible for your sobriety and the choices you make and you need to be aware of your limits. You will learn which situations intensify your cravings to drink. In the beginning, you might try setting time limits: spend one hour at a bar and then check in with yourself to see if you think you’re okay to stay longer. If you begin feeling overwhelmed, you need to have a plan in place. Your support person should be aware that you will leave an event as soon as you feel uncomfortable or vulnerable.

    I knew I’d have several cravings over the course of the music festival weekend. I had one as soon as I parked and saw people pre-gaming with 24-ounce cans of swill in the parking lot. As badly as I wanted to join them, I knew I couldn’t. I had my daughter next to me. We walked to the nearest gas station and bought a coffee, which helped. I followed that up with some texts to a supportive friend who replied that I was certainly not going to let a temporary craving prevent me from hitting my fifth full year of sobriety. She was right, I wasn’t. The cravings went away and the music played on. The weekend went well.

    5. Treat Yourself

    Here’s a fun one. Focus on giving yourself the best time you can without alcohol. If you’re at a sporting event or concert in the U.S., you are saving at least $8 for each drink you don’t have. Reward yourself. Repurpose some of that money for other tasty treats. Most venues have plenty of tempting snack and meal options, easy replacements for drinks, hangover not included.

    Another strategy is to track what you don’t spend. For example, you went to a concert and didn’t drink five beers. That’s a $40 savings so spend $40 on something to spoil yourself or a gift for someone else. Or spend $20 and save $20. You’ll quickly reach high numbers, while realizing you wasted a terrible amount of money on alcohol.

    I used the money I saved from not purchasing alcohol at the weekend festival to justify buying my daughter additional memorabilia during our trip. Win-win.

    Enjoy Yourself

    I’ve struggled to have fun on more than one occasion. You can lose track of the point of going out when you focus on what you can’t do. I used to imagine there was a spotlight focused on me when I’d order my seltzer with lime, cue sound of record scratching, and then I was done for. I can’t promise you’ll have a great time not drinking while others are, or focusing on staying sober while alcohol is around. But I do know that you can still attend events with alcohol if you come prepared. You don’t have to miss out on all the fun, just the part you thought was fun but always ended in trouble.

    You deserve to be with your friends. You deserve to listen to live music. You deserve to be at family gatherings, and you deserve the respect of yourself and others. You’ve likely overcome mountain-sized challenges already. With some planning and structure in place, you can have the social life you deserve.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • 7 Things I Wish I Could Tell My Parents About My Addiction

    7 Things I Wish I Could Tell My Parents About My Addiction

    Here, on this motel floor, I need to know that you still love me. If it isn’t too painful for you, please visit me in rehab. When I tell you that I’m finally ready to get clean, please believe me even if it’s the 100th time.

    I constantly find myself in conversations with both of my parents about that dark time in my life. In the beginning of my sobriety, I tried to explain to them about opioid receptors and dopamine levels but it never seemed to make a difference. Many parents have a “You did this because you are weak!” mindset. They think that you can just quit. Well, Mom…

    1. I Can’t Just Quit

    I’ve been tired of this life for a long time and I have the desire to be the person you once trusted. But every time I quit, I get sick and believe that life just isn’t worth living. I’ve tried to get clean but once the fog clears I realize how much I’ve damaged my life and I go back. I wish I could snap my fingers and be normal with a job and home, but my brain has changed. I want to be the child who you loved unconditionally but I’m not, I’m sick. I don’t like sleeping outside and going to rehab every few months, but that’s what this drug has done to me. It’s a part of me now and unless I have it I can’t even get out of bed. I hate myself and what I’m putting you through, but my mind and body are broken right now.

    2. This Isn’t Your Fault

    This didn’t happen because you left me to cry it out in the crib for too long or because you weren’t strict enough. There isn’t a recipe that you followed to make me a drug addict. This happened because I tried something out of curiosity and my brain and body responded in a way that made it impossible to stop. Ever since that first time, my brain hasn’t worked the same. I am not lazy, stupid, or weak. I wish that I could sleep this off with a hot shower and an iron-rich diet but it doesn’t work like that. It started off as fun, but now I’m trapped.

    3. My Addiction Shouldn’t Be the Topic of Gossip

    I wish you could tell all your coworkers that I graduated from that expensive university we planned on me attending. I know you aren’t proud of me right now, but I’m still a person. I want you to heal and be able to talk about how much I’ve hurt you, but please don’t use me and my addiction as entertainment. I am still your child.

    You might not know much about how addiction works but I need for you to keep my most embarrassing secret close to you. Your coworkers and distant relatives don’t need to know that I’m in jail yet again. My great grandmother that lives a thousand miles away doesn’t want to hear about how I am living in a dirty motel. Unless I’m a threat to them or their belongings, I ask that you protect my dignity. People assume the absolute worst about people like me and I’m not proud of anything I’ve done to feed my addiction. Along with getting high, I have engaged in degrading behaviors and even exposed myself to disease and violence.

    When people hear, “My child is a drug addict,” they think about every negative thing they’ve ever seen in a movie or heard on the news and they will apply it to me. Why would you even want to share these awful things? Talk about the president or what movie you just saw instead. When I get better, I will have to face what I have done and accept the mistakes that I have made. I will have to face the people that you shared my humiliation with. Please don’t think that I am asking you to suffer in silence. There are support groups and therapists who have the knowledge and skills to help you get through this, too.

    4. Try to Learn About My Addiction

    Did you know that the American Medical Association classifies my addiction as a disease? I didn’t make this up to make you feel sorry for me, it really is. I made the initial choice to start using drugs but when I wanted to stop, my brain said no. It made everything else in the world unenjoyable. Could you imagine not being able to enjoy your favorite piece of cake from the best bakery in town? This is my life right now. The chemicals in my brain have been reprogrammed to want one thing only.

    If you don’t believe me, and you probably won’t, take ten minutes and do a little research on addiction. While you are clicking on different links and learning about what I’m going through, please look at all of the different treatment options too. Did you know that there is a medication you can give me in an emergency that will reverse an opioid overdose at home? It’s called naloxone and you can get it from the pharmacy and it could possibly save my life.

    I know that you want me to get better. I do, too, but it’s much harder than just saying no. It’s important that you know that there are some medications available that can help my cravings and others that will completely block the effects of opioids. Whether or not these are what’s best for me is something I will have to decide on my own but you should know about them. As long as I am seeking treatment or have even talked about how I want to get better, I am still here fighting.

    5. I Have Suffered Through Incredible Trauma

    I have seen death and loss. I have lost my dignity and self-respect. Some of my friends have died because of these drugs and I have been close to death myself.

    I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to talk about the terrible things that have happened in my addiction because I know how much it will hurt you. You might say that this is my fault and that I’m weak, but I’m not. I’m in here fighting with these memories and still waking up in the morning. When I get clean, I will need time to heal. I will need counseling and even a little bit of space.

    6. I’m Sorry

    I’m sorry I stole from you and constantly lied to you. I’m sorry I didn’t make it to Thanksgiving last year, and I’m sorry you found me unconscious. I’m sorry that I made you cry. If I had a penny for every regret, I could pay you back for everything you’ve done for me. Right now, however, I would probably spend that money on drugs because I’m sick. One day I hope that you will forgive me. I don’t expect you to forgive me soon, but hopefully you realize that your child is still in here.

    7. Please Don’t Give Up on Me

    I’m not asking you to give me money, that ship has long sailed. I’m not asking you to let me come home or even to trust me right now. Here, on this motel floor, I need to know that you still love me. I need you to call me and tell me how you are. Please be a constant in my life, even if it’s just through text messages. If it isn’t too painful for you, please visit me in rehab. When I tell you that I’m finally ready to get clean, please believe me even if it’s the 100th time. If I tell you that I’m going to start taking medication to help with my sobriety, be proud of me! Don’t tell me that I’m trading one drug for another, because I’m trying.

    Just please, don’t give up on me.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Everybody Knows: 10 Lessons from 10 Years of Sobriety Without AA

    Everybody Knows: 10 Lessons from 10 Years of Sobriety Without AA

    In early sobriety, someone told me that since I’d gotten sober without AA, I wasn’t an alcoholic, and that since I didn’t go to meetings and ate the occasional mushroom, I wasn’t sober.

    On May 26th, I celebrated ten years of sobriety. People have found my story noteworthy because I got sober without rehab and stayed sober without AA. I don’t understand my story to be a unique miracle; in my travels in the last ten years, I’ve encountered a lot of folks with similar experiences. But I struggled in early sobriety with no roadmap for recovery. Much of what “everybody knows” to be true about alcoholism, getting sober, and recovery simply did not apply to me.

    Here’s what I learned as I forged my own path and created my recovery. Whether you’re deeply immersed in sobriety, newly sober, considering getting sober, or just feel like the structure of AA isn’t serving you, I hope this will help. 

    1. You Don’t Need to Be an Alcoholic in Order to Stop Drinking

    Seems obvious, doesn’t it? But when the monolithic sobriety support group that eclipses all others has “alcoholic” in the title, it’s a small logistical leap in the mind of someone reluctant to quit drinking.

    “It says ‘Alcoholics Anonymous,’ and I’m not totally sure I’m an alcoholic, and everybody knows that AA is the only way to get sober so… let’s do shots!”

    After 17 years of problem drinking, I still wasn’t certain I was an alcoholic. I’d filled out questionnaire after questionnaire — haven’t we all? Sure, there were a few warning signs: I’d blacked out repeatedly and I’d pissed the bed repeatedly and I drank alone and I sometimes drank in the morning and my life had become an uncontrollable mess… But there were still a lot of loopholes. Several times, I had been able to quit drinking for a week or a month or a couple months; once even a year. I didn’t drink at work or show up late or call in sick. Sometimes I was able to have one drink and go straight home (usually when I was already so hungover I felt like my heart was going to stop, but they didn’t ask for those specific details in the questionnaire). 

    For simplicity, I’ve winnowed all those questionnaires down to one question: Would your life be better, easier, more manageable if you stopped drinking? If the answer is yes, then stop drinking, just for a month. If you can’t do it, then yes, you’re an alcoholic and you need to stop drinking. And if you can, why not just go another month? And then another? Once you’ve been sober for nine months, then let’s tackle the scary question of whether you’re an alcoholic or not. I think I’d been sober for nearly a year before I could cop to that ugly word and by then I was so entrenched in sobriety that there was no turning back.

    2. AA Does Not Define Alcoholism or Sobriety

    In early sobriety, someone told me that since I’d gotten sober without AA, I wasn’t an alcoholic, and that since I didn’t go to meetings and ate the occasional mushroom, I wasn’t sober. This neatly dismissed my life-defining problem, my hard-won solution, and the humiliating, laborious hell I had endured in order to find a solution to my problem. I wish I’d had the confidence to respond with one word: bullshit.

    The Oxford English Dictionary defines alcoholism as “addiction to the consumption of alcoholic drink; alcohol dependency.” It defines sober as “not affected by alcohol; not drunk.” Dependence upon AA is not specified as a requirement for alcoholism. Nor is there any mention of attendance at AA as a necessary qualifier for sobriety. Another secretive society that tries to own both the illness and the cure is Scientology, which is to say these tactics are the mark of a cult. If you have accepted that you’re sick and you recognize that you are getting better, do not let anything slow you down.

    3. If You’re Waiting to Hit Rock Bottom, You’ve Stumbled Into Something Worse

    “Everybody knows” that an alcoholic has to hit bottom before they’re ready to quit drinking. A friend once marveled to me that I plowed through life-changing experience after life-changing experience without changing at all. Similarly, I endured low after low without making any corrections.

    A staple of my childhood cartoon viewing was The Mighty Hercules, a low-budget animated series created in the 60s that played early mornings on public access TV in the sticks in Canada where I was born. Nearly every episode revolved around the evil wizard Daedalus nearly destroying Hercules before he put on his magic ring and… listen, it hasn’t aged well. But the show was my first introduction to the concept of a bottomless pit, this horrifying sensation of falling for all eternity.

    That bottomless pit is where I found myself in early 2009. The Handsome Family neatly capture the alcoholic’s escapist conundrum in the final lines of their song “The Bottomless Hole”:

    And still I am there falling, down in this evil pit / but until I hit the bottom, I won’t believe it’s bottomless.

    I never found bottom. Mercifully, I had the realization one day that I never would, that I would just keep falling. In terror, I stopped immediately. I never went back.

    4. There Is No Singular Epiphany, No Billboard From God Stating YOU MUST CHANGE YOUR LIFE

    When I quit drinking, I had no inkling that I was quitting for good. I just knew that I couldn’t go on. I put a couple of days together, then a couple weeks, then a couple of months. After ten years, yes, I recognize now that I was quitting for good. But it wasn’t because I knew the next bender would kill me. It was an accumulation of small grievances that, in aggregate, made me want to die. I always had a headache, I never had any energy, I was always nauseous, I had exhausted all excuses and apologies beyond reason, I had no prospects, I knew my drinking life was unsustainable, and I couldn’t see a future. You can waste your entire life waiting for that crystalline, cataclysmic epiphany. Instead, I made a big change for small reasons and discovered a new life.

    5. Cry As Much As You Can

    Quitting is hard. Jesus, before you even get to quitting, life is hard, mornings are a hell both reliable and surprising, working for a living is a sustained slow-motion nightmare. Quitting drinking is admirable and you should not be expected to suffer in stoic silence. It’s okay to feel sad, it’s okay to get mad, it’s okay to mourn your old life and fear the future and hate yourself. Soak your pillow every chance you get. Eventually, you’ll run out of tears. You’ll cry yourself dry and you’ll have to get on with the living.

    6. Quitting Drinking Immediately Makes You a Hero, But It Doesn’t Immediately Make You a Good Person

    In early sobriety, I was lost. I was depressed, humorless, anxious, silent as a stone, exhausted and insomniac, quietly fuming and easily enraged. I imagine my friends hoped I wouldn’t relapse… and also prayed I would so they could bear to hang out with me again.

    Be generous and forgiving with yourself as you ride out these extended unpleasant withdrawals. Be forthright with your peers if you can, and ask them to be generous and forgiving with you. Getting sober is to be admired and supported even in the ugliest phases. In the first few days, the first few weeks, even, let it be enough just to not drink. The rest will come, in time.

    7. Emotions Are Temporary

    The word “emotion” is comprised mostly of “motion,” which is to say emotions are always in flux, storming into us with no warning and often retreating as suddenly. I had poison ivy often as a kid and I learned that cold water temporarily lessened the itching, but if I could submit myself to a blazing hot shower and moments of torturous itching, the heat burned the itch receptors out and then I’d feel no itching at all, sometimes for hours.

    In early sobriety, I was subject to unexpected attacks of fury or terror or paralyzing sadness. Fighting the feeling only prolonged it, sometimes for the entire day. Sitting in it, marinating in the negative emotion —actively trying to get as mad or scared or sad as possible for as long as possible — burned through it quickly and released me.

    8. Every Illness Is a Physical Illness

    Mental illness lives in the brain… but the brain lives in the body. If you deny a schizophrenic water, dehydration will end their life before mental illness can even damage it. I once made the mistake of posting a Bill Philips quote on my Facebook — “Food is the most widely abused anti-anxiety drug in America, and exercise is the most potent yet underutilized antidepressant” — and watched my feed catch fire, my friends suffering from mental illness protesting that they didn’t need to go for a walk in the woods, damn it, they needed their pills, and how could I diminish their suffering?

    Mental illness is real. But if you smoke cigarettes, pound coffee and soda and energy drinks, eat Burger King and Sour Patch Kids and lie on the couch in front of the TV all day, you won’t need mental illness in order to feel insane. I have clinically diagnosed anxiety and depression. When I got sober, I treated it with anti-depressants… and exercise and sunshine and tons of fresh fruits and vegetables and vitamins and lots of water. I’ve been off meds for years now, but I think getting a clinical diagnosis and a prescription for psychiatric medication were integral to my early success. If you need medication, by all means, take your meds and feel proud for practicing self-care. But caring for your body — exercise, sunshine, sleep, fresh fruits and vegetables, lots of water — helps everything.

    9. Getting Sober Doesn’t Have to Mean Being Reborn; Reinventing Yourself Is Optional

    I wanted to quit drinking for years but I feared AA and “inspirational” sobriety so much that I was willing to endure the worsening horrors of my alcoholism. When I finally stopped, I certainly didn’t feel like an image on Instagram of a sun peeking through clouds. I felt shell-shocked, with no idea who I was. Could I still laugh at dick jokes? Could I still resent America and fear capitalism and think the world was basically full of shit? Could I still play in fun, dumb, dead-end bands and listen to the Murder City Devils and flip off assholes who cut me off on the BQE? Yes, yes, yes.

    Sobriety doesn’t come with mandatory enrollment in some flowery cult of positivity. Making the decision to quit alcohol means that and only that, everything else is optional. Sobriety and long-distance running helped soften my dead-end nihilism and my contempt for humanity but that’s because it was a change I elected to make. After ten years of sobriety, I’m healthier and happier and less self-loathing but still largely the same cynical prick I was before, because that works for me. 

    10. There Are No Straight Lines in Nature, There Are No Straight Lines in Recovery

    In my ten years of sobriety, I’ve infrequently used marijuana, mushrooms, DMT, MDMA, prescription painkillers, etc. Pot has always felt like a flawed way to unwind, usually just a waste of time. CBD, on the other hand, has been tremendously helpful for managing pain and getting to sleep at night. Mushrooms have been integral to my sobriety, and I honestly believe they’ve made me a better person. DMT was painfully intense and deeply transformative, too complex to describe as “good” or “bad” but I’m grateful to have done it. None of these substances have ever made me crave alcohol. Painkillers have gotten me through muscle spasms and surgery and MDMA has provided great connection with people I care about, but neither has felt particularly therapeutic and both have left me depressed and craving alcohol at times.

    Though some of these experiences have not supported my sobriety, none of them have compromised my sobriety. I am a pure alcoholic and I know one drink would be my undoing. But as my sobriety is solely my creation, I own it. I define its parameters.

    Two months after my “official” sobriety date in 2009, I flew out to Colorado for three days to play a music festival. I got drunk before my flight and stayed drunk the entire weekend. I blew an important show, I embarrassed myself in front of a woman I’d had a crush on since we were kids, and I threw up scotch out of my nose on the street. I drank on the flight home but when I woke up the next day, I went right back to sobriety and haven’t taken a drink since.

    When I tried to write about this episode in The Long Run, my first narrative about getting sober, my editor took it out. When I wrote it into a book proposal, my agent took it out. When I wrote it into my memoir, I Swear I’ll Make It Up to You, my editor took it out. People love this bullshit Hollywood narrative of “hopeless alcoholic hits bottom, has a lightning bolt epiphany, and goes forth to never drink again.”

    Fuck that. Getting sober is a messy process. Stick with it, it’s worth it.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • 5 Messes I’ve Had to Clean Up in Recovery

    5 Messes I’ve Had to Clean Up in Recovery

    When I’m on top of my 10th step game, it goes something like this: Sorry, my bad. How can I fix it? The apologies come easily, and I promptly follow up with offers to make up for all harms done. But I’m not always on top of my game.

    What Does Recovery Feel Like to Me Right Now?

    Good question.

    It feels like making less mess, less often and…
    It feels like cleaning up the messes I still manage to make.

    When I’m really on top of my 10th step game, it goes something like this: Sorry, my bad. How can I fix it? The apologies come easily throughout my day, and I promptly follow up with offers to make up for all harms done. Then at night, under the covers, I make sure to scribble in my journal for those few minutes before Mr. Sandman knocks me out cold. Surprisingly, I learn a lot about myself in those last illegible minutes of consciousness. I see the patterns within the actions, where someone (sometimes me) gets hurt.

    But I’m not always on top of my game.

    Here are five messes for the first five months of 2019 and how I’ve managed to mop them all up.

    1. My Kid’s Library Fines

    In January I tore open another notice from the collection agency looking for me to make good on my son’s library fines. It was at least the sixth notice, and it had been years since I’d declared the book lost. ‘Til that point, though, I’d refused to send payment, both for the late fees accrued while I waited for it to turn up under the bed or at school, and for its replacement charge (because it never did).

    I was waiting for amnesty. I’d heard the library does this from time to time, waive all late fees. I didn’t feel I should have to pay $41.10 on a fantasy book about cats. My kid’s read all of them: the series on cats, dogs, wolves, and bears—for free, but I couldn’t cough up $41.10 for accrued fines? That’s insanity!

    Finally I saw it. I could screw up my kid’s credit before he gets the chance to do it himself. Everyone should have the right to ruin their own credit. No one should be robbed of that privilege by say, a spendthrift spouse, or a stingy, stubborn parent.

    So last week I finally fed three twenties, one single and one dime into the fine box at the local library. It felt great: a clear account and a clear conscience. The cost of coughing up proved well worth the relief it bought. Lesson learned: going forward, I’ll suck it up, pay promptly, and stop getting those “important notices” in my mailbox which have a way of souring my serenity.

    2. My Speeding Ticket

    Contrary to what the bumper sticker reads, I want to believe my choices behind the wheel don’t really matter.

    Not long after the library’s collection agency stopped courting me, I tore open another “important notice,” this time a $50 citation for speeding in a school zone.

    My first response was to defend myself: Oh brother, I wasn’t speeding! According to the fine print, I was going “41 mph in a 30 mph zone.” My second response was to rationalize: Come on, I was only going 11 miles over the legal limit. And my third response, finally, was acceptance. Yes, I was unlawfully speeding.

    I don’t write out many checks anymore, which might be why I get all pouty when I have to actually do it. It’s so damn involved: the writing, folding, sealing and licking (do I have a stamp?) and then the envelope knocks around my backpack for a week before I remember to mail it. But the mailing of that check made payable to the NYC Department of Finance felt good — the act of popping it into the blue box on the corner, both a physical acknowledgement of my error and a conscious effort to rectify it. It was another Step 10 moment, making amends to my fellow drivers and pedestrians of central Brooklyn. And hey, I found myself feeling a fourth response rising, gratitude: Hey, it was a school zone after all. I could have hit a kid crossing Ocean Parkway on the way home.

    3. My Unhappy Downstairs Neighbor

    Who does jumping jacks at 10:30 at night? I do, and it’s a problem because I have a neighbor below me who doesn’t sleep well. Sometimes my teen doesn’t get around to practicing piano until 10:30 pm either, and if it’s Haydn, I’ll break out into pretty awful pirouettes on the living room rug. Born about when Stalin first came to power, my neighbor always smiles kindly at my kids on the elevator. This babushka’s done nothing to deserve my thoughtlessness. It’s taken her banging the broom handle against her ceiling — more than once — to make me realize her reality and stop. This last time she knocked on my door in her housecoat.

    It shouldn’t have come to that. I apologized, again, but this time it felt different. I felt her frustration with me, and her chronic fatigue, bordering on despair. I prayed for the willingness to find a solution, and got one. My teen now practices by 9:30 pm, or not at all (mostly not at all). And instead of performing leaps and bounds to my reflection in the living room mirror, I’m using a folding chair from a funeral parlor as a ballet barre to do late-night low-impact leg lifts and silent swan arms. And I’m saving all jumping jacks for the laundry room.

    4. My Coffee Table Catastrophe

    Clumsiness isn’t a defect per se, but the carelessness that leads to avoidable accidents is. If you’re a good housekeeper, and sober, you don’t usually break shit. But when you’re willful, preoccupied, or impatient —whether drunk or dry — the odds are less in your favor. I was feeling all three when, to earn a few extra bucks, I was cleaning my neighbor’s home recently.

    It was an Ethan Allen bicentennial-era colonial table from the ‘70s, with a smoky glass insert. I could have just wiped down the glass. Or I could have taken a few moments to study the situation, then gingerly lift the glass to clean the crumbs along the maple-esque ledge upon which it rested. I did neither. In my haste to move onto activities more worthy of my talents coupled with my resolve to get at that damned dirt at all costs, I reached down underneath the glass and pushed it up with force. In slo-mo horror, I watched the six-foot tinted glass oval slip from my fingers, tilt up, then fall smack through the frame and shatter against the parquet floor.

    Oh f*&$%!

    Thankfully, after a little conscious breathing and a lot more profanity, I had the presence of mind to pray. I credit the serenity prayer for helping me come up with a sober 10th step strategy: apologize, clean it up, save a shard, identify a glass factory in the tri-state area that makes custom inserts for vintage coffee tables, place the order, pick it up and deliver the replacement glass to its rightful spot, nestled in that oval frame set between two plaid sofas in Mr. Donald’s living room. Good as new!

    The problem was, I didn’t want to do any of this. I wanted to cry and run home instead. I wanted to bail on this good neighbor, who’d been a true friend to me, my sons, even my ex, all these years, pre- and post-divorce. This neighbor who brought me fresh mint from the farmer’s market and cannolis from Bay Ridge, who got my latchkey kids off the doorstep and into their home when they’d forgotten their keys. I wanted to leave this true friend with a true mess. Fortunately, though, I didn’t. I sucked it up and swept it up, and followed through on all the rest. Today I’m even more grateful for the friendship of my forgiving neighbor. And I’m not ever allowed to touch his new coffee table.

    5. My $700 Face Cream

    And here’s a real dollop of sloppy spending. One recent morning I was trudging that road to happy destiny and stumbled. I fell, hard. Nose to pavement, that mindful breath knocked clean out of me, knees bleeding through the exposed portions of my distressed denim, I saw the cause: it was those stubborn roots of that ancient tree — my character defects. They’d buckled the pavement and tripped me up again.

    I’d just performed the single most obscene act of overspending in my not-short lifetime: I dropped down the Visa for a $765 face cream. My sober spending habits — and my sanity — snagged by those sinewy tendrils: vanity and fear. In that shockingly short-sighted moment when I confirmed the purchase, I sought false comfort in cosmetics instead of in the care of my creator.

    Pre-sobriety, I tried to self-soothe with a bubbly Bellini or a pitcher of sangria. Towards the end, it was bargain barrel red and Four Roses blended whiskey. Typical addict’s descent: desperately seeking substance for relief from self. So it was humbling now, five years into recovery, to admit to this irresponsible oopsie with the ol’ plastic. And no surprise, the high from spending on skincare lasted only as long as it took that confirmation email to hit my inbox. Almost instantaneously, I added panic and guilt to my shopping cart.

    That nagging itch of fear around aging, illness, and dying with a Siamese instead of a soulmate was now the sharp pain of fear and remorse that I might not make next month’s rent, and my kids’ summer holiday could be spent at the rundown neighborhood triplex — rumored to have bedbugs — instead of lobbing lemony tennis balls all day long at camp.

    I was stunned and embarrassed by my reckless misuse of purchasing power — certainly too embarrassed to admit to my sponsor that, in my quest for an eternally youthful jawline, I was galloping straight into the jaws of debt instead.

    Luckily I had just enough recovery to rein it in, and turn towards Step 2. I asked HP for guidance and got it:

    The solution was obvious:

    Return it.

    And still more lucky, dermstore.com, with more than 10K visitors monthly, takes all returns, no questions asked. What’s even better is that when those unsaleable items in my character — fear and vanity — trip me up, I can pick myself up today, blot my bloody shins, and choose a different path. In my drinking days, I was down for the count on all my defects….

    So, thanks, Second Step, you stopped the runaway horse of spree spending, and you too, Step 10, because I was able to reverse the financial harm done to self. My face, while not slathered in luxe cream tonight, feels radiant and clean, because I can face the Visa bill in the morning.

    My Sober Strategy for the Second Half of 2019: Steps 6 and 7

    But the habit of relying on Steps 2 and 10 to bail me out of scrapes is wearing on me. It feels un-sober. I’m starting to think that lasting emotional sobriety depends on my willingness to keep plugging away at 6 and 7, to really yank at those defective roots of self-centered fear and vanity.

    Soon after that life-affirming afternoon five and a half years ago, reading my 5th step aloud in a garden gazebo as mosquitoes ate me alive, my sponsor suggested I follow up by reading Drop the Rock: Steps 6 and 7: Removing Character Defects. Four years after that, I finally Primed the paperback to my doorstep and began reading. One story is resonating right now. A gal beset by sloth, who struggled with clutter for years, finally struck on a solution that pretty much sums up my strategy today:

    “I now know that if I don’t want to live in a mess,” she realized, “I need to pray to God for the willingness, courage and motivation to clean up my own mess.”

    Isn’t that what I tell my own teen 20 times a day anyway?

    I may never completely stop this habit of compulsively punching 16 digits into devices for ill-conceived purchases (did I mention I want to lease an Audi Q5?) but this week my impulse purchase was three Wham-O Frisbees. Progress.

    Half-measures avail me nothing. I gotta push myself to make those 10th step amends, to others and to myself, as promptly as possible, but better late than never! And I can use the steps (and the slogans, and my sponsor, and my sober sisters) to help me break each amends down into baby steps, steps that will take me further from, rather than closer to, that first drink. This feels like recovery, and a better set up for long-term sobriety and my happy life.

    Final Takeaway: Do the right thing, even when I don’t want to, even when it doesn’t seem like a big deal. Or, even when it is actually sort of a big deal; in fact, it feels so big, it’s kinda overwhelming:

    Still do the right thing.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • 10 Experiences That Are Way Worse When You Relapse

    10 Experiences That Are Way Worse When You Relapse

    There is no situation that cannot be made worse by relapse.

    No matter how you slice it, relapse is a drag.

    Making the decision to quit wasn’t easy. Your life hadn’t been going in the right direction for a while. A lot of things were going wrong, and most of them were because of drugs, alcohol or other addictive behaviors. The people in your life were starting to resent you and think you were nothing but trouble, and you know what? They probably weren’t wrong.

    You finally made the right decision for yourself and for those around you, and you got clean. You looked different, you felt different, and the people in your life that mattered were proud of you.

    Then you relapsed.

    Relapse isn’t part of recovery for everyone, but it is extremely prevalent. According to the National Institute on Drug Abuse, relapse rates for all substance use disorders, including alcohol, is 40-60 percent.

    If you’re one of those people who quit drinking or using and never looked back, good for you. You’re an inspiration to a lot of people and you should be proud of yourself.

    But if you’ve relapsed, don’t give up. You’re in good company. And what you’ll realize is that once you get clean and relapse, it just isn’t nearly as fun anymore. Sitting at the bar and getting hammered feels different; doing a line feels different; waking up in the morning broke as a joke feels different. I mean, even having a huge piece of cake feels different.

    Here are 10 disappointing side effects of relapsing:

    1. Two-Day Hangovers

    If you drank all night–or worse, all day and night–and think that your hangover doesn’t seem all that bad, you’re probably still drunk. Hangovers just aren’t as cute the second time around. While you used to consider yourself a professional drinker, now that you’ve relapsed you know you’re just some idiot that drank too much, blacked out and acted the fool. You now have to wait a whole day before you feel even somewhat human again. That’s if you’re lucky. The two-day hangover seems to be related to age as much as it is dependent on how much you drink. Day one is when your head pounds like a heartbeat and your mouth feels like the inside of a box of triscuits, while day two is when you’re just tired and missing 40 points from your IQ.

    2. Letting People Down

    Oh hey, people weren’t actually counting on you, were they? Get ready for some super awkward conversations. When you first got clean, a lot of people were proud of you. It could have been your significant other, your friends, or your coworkers A lot of them were probably even people that you didn’t think noticed that you had a problem. That felt good. You had some pride, and for once could hold your head high. Now that you relapsed you couldn’t feel more stupid. Because when you quit you admitted to everyone that you had a problem and you were trying to fix it. But did you? Nope.

    3. Partying Feels Like a Job Now

    Remember back in the day when you first started partying? It was beautiful then, or at least some of it was. The scenes you were a part of were fun and celebratory, and there was an anticipation in the air like something good and amazing was going to come your way? Or maybe it was just a feeling you were chasing, and when you drank or used you finally felt okay. Yeah, well, once you relapse those days are gone. Whether you’re heading on down to the bar or getting ready to shoot up, you’re pretty much on the clock. Partying now is like strapping on your hard hat and going to work.

    4. Ruined Relationships

    Back when you first started using you didn’t even think that your addictions would affect your relationships. Maybe you found someone that partied just as hard as you do, or maybe you found someone that wanted to fix you and take care of you. Then as you moved through life you started seeing the failed relationships pile up. When you relapse, you aren’t kidding yourself anymore. You totally know your addiction is going to mess everything up but you do it anyway. It’s more just a matter of long you can pull off the con before you get busted.

    5. Hanging with People You Don’t Like

    When you were partying all the time you had all sorts of friends. Then when you stopped you noticed most of them vanished. But it didn’t matter because you also noticed that you didn’t like them a whole lot anyway. Like, seriously, why were you hanging out with that dude? This becomes way more obvious after you relapse. You know that your crew is a cadre of wastrels, scammers and con artists, but you keep hanging with them anyway because anyone else might call you out on your behavior.

    6. Being Broke

    Whether we like to admit it or not, money matters in this world. When you were younger and partying like mad, being broke might have even felt just a tad romantic for a little while, but most people who have struggled with addiction have money problems at some point. That is, unless you have an unlimited supply of money, which is even worse than being broke. When you got clean, all of a sudden you had more money, which in anyone’s book is a good thing. But now that you’ve relapsed, you’re back to bumming drinks, waiting until payday, and paying for things with change.

    7. Humiliation

    Okay, just admit it: you feel like an idiot. Back in the day, you might have used your substance of choice to feel more comfortable around people, or at least more comfortable with yourself. Whether you got messed up to feel cool at a social gathering or you used by yourself at home, you knew were different than anyone else. That you weren’t a sheep. You had your own vibe. Now you just feel stupid. Once you relapse, you’re either going to just try and hide your use or you’re going to use and just try to front like you feel cool about it. Either way, you’re not fooling anyone.

    8. Work Suffers

    Whether you’re a landscaper, a CEO, or a freelance writer, if you’re active in your addiction, your work is going to suffer as a result. When you were using before, you might have fooled yourself into thinking that your drug or alcohol use wasn’t affecting your work but at some point, you knew that it was. It might have even been a big reason that you stopped. Now that you relapsed you just can’t even fake it anymore. If you’re working for someone else, you know it’s just a matter of time before your poor job performance gets outed, and if you’re working for yourself well… Good luck.

    9. It’s Harder to Lie to Yourself

    People always act like lying to someone else is a big deal. Well, it is, but it’s nothing compared to how you might choose to lie to yourself. You know the lies. You’re under control. You can quit whenever you want. This isn’t that big of a deal.  When you relapse it’s pretty much impossible to do that anymore. You know just how much your addiction takes from you, and you know it’s just a matter of time until everything is just incredibly awful all over again.

    10. You Have to Find New People to Fool

    Maybe you need to find a new bar to start hanging out at where everyone doesn’t know that you’re going to get obnoxious and forget to pay your tab. Maybe you want to find someone new to date that doesn’t know how everything is going to end in total disaster. Maybe you need to find a job where your boss doesn’t know you’re going to be late all the time until you get fired. When you relapse it’s like starting all over again. But you know, not in a good way.

    Relapsing isn’t the end of the world, and since so many people have gone through it, you’ll have lots of support when you come back. You’ve learned what not to do next time you’re faced with whatever it was that triggered this episode of drug or alcohol use, and now you’re learning how to come back from it. Just keep your head up and keep working at it. You’ll get there.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • 5 Unexpected Things That Happened When I Surrendered

    5 Unexpected Things That Happened When I Surrendered

    Spiritual surrender is like letting out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. My next relapse no longer feels like it’s coming for me. I made it out. I’m alive!

    You are the sky. Everything else is just the weather.
    -Pema Chodron

    New Year’s Day, West Hollywood. I had three days sober off a brief marijuana relapse and was headed to an AA marathon. After parking, I realized I was out of juul pods so I went on a search, rectangling around the block on my way to the meeting hall, hoping to find a store.

    When the first meeting ended, I panicked. Where did I park? I ran out, saw my car, took a picture, and ran back in. 

    Several hours later I discovered that the photo wasn’t of my car. I have a gray Prius in L.A., which is every third car. I scoured the neighborhood. A well-meaning valet tried to help and I yelled at him. Hours passed. It grew dark and cold, my phone now at 11%. I stopped to breathe. Big fear.

    Voices and the tinkling of glass tumbled onto the street from a bar. The thought of drinking or using hadn’t occurred to me. And why would it? A glass of wine or a joint wouldn’t help me find my car.

    Just at that moment, the heavens opened up and God reached down a golden hand through pearly gates and spoke.

    That didn’t happen. But what did was pretty fucking rad.

    I saw that every problem in life is exactly the same as losing your car.

    I walked past the valet again and apologized. I knew that I had parked headfirst rather than parallel, near Robertson Boulevard.

    He pointed. “You’ve got one more block like this.” I stood at an actual turning point.

    I had been looking for my car on the wrong side of the street.

    I found it 30 seconds later. That was the moment the course of my life changed forever.

    These are some things that happened for me, and may happen for you when you cross the street of spiritual surrender. 

    1. I’ve stopped trying to get over on my addiction.

    Am I allowed to drink kratom? Vape CBD? Take pills? A doctor will happily prescribe whatever I think I need. And aren’t magic mushrooms a spiritual experience? I spent years in fauxbriety. I spent an entire summer posted up in a Kava Kava bar while we all nodded out on kratom tea and talked about our favorite AA meetings. Note: I am not talking about anti-depressants, anti-psychotics, other psychiatric medication, non-narcotics in general, and supervised pain management after injury.

    For the problems I have encountered in my own life thus far, holistic alternatives work better than anything big pharma wants to sell me. I never win. Addiction always wins. I was constantly sending myself the message that I wasn’t enough or okay just the way I was; I needed a drug that I considered not really a drug to fix it. Actually? I don’t. 

    2. I feel relieved. Like amazingly fucking relieved.

    Spiritual surrender is like letting out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. The shoulders go down the back, the face softens, and the respiratory system begins the great energetic exhale. It sounds like the ocean. My next relapse no longer feels like it’s coming for me. I made it out. I’m alive! There is hope. I don’t live in fear of what I may do to myself anymore.

    3. I can let go of people and summon new ones.

    I lived in a perpetual state of war. I believed that you were my problem and I saw boundaries as a personal attack. I clung to people who had limited love and empathy to give. I would give you more of my time, money, and energy than I could afford and blame you for it. I would let things build and build and build until I got blackout drunk and told you OFF.

    I have been working on myself pretty hard since 2012, and haven’t done most of the things most of the time since 2016. But until I surrendered, I didn’t believe I could let go of people before the relationship blew up. I didn’t even know what I wanted; I would just sense what you wanted, then decide whether or not I would give it to you. We live in a sick society full of broken toddlers. Emotionally, I’m in elementary school now. I no longer need to punish myself with reflections of a past me. Every time I let someone go I make space for someone new. I can see that many people are simply lost in their own pain, and can’t see past themselves. I can have compassion, and empathy. From a distance. 

    4. I can be in a world of pain without bleeding on everyone.

    As I grow older, traumas and patterns emerge, deeply embedded toxins and conditioning that wants to be felt and released. This week has been intense and painful. I felt attacked by the universe. In the past, when things like this happened, I panicked and made desperation phone calls to anyone who would listen. “I have to call in the troops,” I would say.

    Today I am able to allow emotions to flow through me even if it feels wrong at first. I can put down the looping stories and let myself feel. I can make the connections from current triggers to past traumas, advocate for myself when necessary, get on stage and be funny even when my life feels like it’s been dropped on the floor. Before surrender, the only time I was accused of being professional was on Seeking Arrangements. And there are lessons in pain. There are always lessons for those who are brave enough to look.

    5. I believe in myself enough to do the things I believe in.

    I am practicing Ashtanga yoga again, something I’ve been talking about for years. I’ve given up meat and most dairy. I believe that pigs enjoy warm baths just like I do, maybe more because they aren’t thinking about how many people downloaded their podcast. Also please download my podcast: Comics Book Club’s: Drunk & High on Petfinder.com with Amber Tozer. I pray, I meditate, I have cut down caffeine and have a plan to get off nicotine. I completed my first pilot script, waking up at five a.m. to write and rewrite so I’d be finished in time for a fellowship deadline.

    I used to hate myself so much I could rarely let myself enjoy anything, most of all my very favorite things. Now I am ready to do what I came here to do, with enough wild stories to last the rest of this life and a different sort of story to write into the fabric of my future.

    I’ve got my head just enough out of my own butt to see the world beyond myself. There is so much out there! Awakening is very exciting, and it feels. Oh, does it feel.

    I wish the same for you: May you be happy, may you be free, may you be at peace, may you be loved. May you believe in yourself. May you find a way to be ready to do what you came here to do. We are all worthy of that.

    Please feel free to share your stories of self-love, surrender, spiritual awakening, personal redemption, and your trolling (if you need to) in the comments. 

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • 5 Lessons from 5 Years of Sobriety

    5 Lessons from 5 Years of Sobriety

    When I reflect on this choice I’ve made every day for five years, I realize sobriety is a limitless resource, readily available for anyone who needs it. I won’t run out of sobriety one day if someone else becomes sober. I won’t run out if 500,000 people become sober.

    I’m entering my fifth year of sobriety this April. Finding and maintaining sobriety has been no small task and I’ve learned a lot about myself over this time. I’ve changed from who I was as a drunk and as a newly sober person to who I am now. There have been high points, low points, and everything in between.

    I’ve had many opportunities to share my experience with others: I’ve spoken at conferences, written articles for The Fix and many other online publications, been interviewed by WIRED, and been a guest on numerous podcasts and radio programs. I’ve felt scared and vulnerable sharing my stories and experiences, but on each of these occasions I’ve been rewarded with community support and increased accountability. Inevitably someone reaches out to thank me, in person or virtually. I believe this human bond we create through sharing is critical for all who struggle with addiction. 

    In this post, I am commemorating my fifth sober anniversary with a reflection on five lessons I’ve learned. Holy shit! Did you read that? I’ve been sober for five years. I didn’t know I could make it five days, let alone one year. I would have laughed if someone told me I’d make it five years. Wasn’t I just pulling a typical Victor and waiting for the fallout from one of my drunken rampages to calm down? Turns out I am able to stick with something.

    I’ve spent most of the last five years examining myself and reflecting on life. One thing is clear, I am full of contradictory thoughts and actions. We all are. As famed American poet (and proponent of being naked in nature) Walt Whitman wrote in Song of Myself:

    Do I contradict myself?
    Very well then I contradict myself,
    (I am large, I contain multitudes.)

    You will see my contradictions here and elsewhere. Let’s jump in to the lessons.

    1. Recovery Does Not Equal Recovered

    I still have cravings for alcohol. I still need to remove myself from situations that make me feel out of control. My life is not perfect and I’m not all better. I have the same shit, the same trials and temptations to deal with, but now I address them as a sober person. I don’t believe in full recovery – not for myself. I’ll define recovered as either a complete lack of interest in drinking or the ability to drink in moderation with no chance of falling back into abuse.

    I’m aware some people identify as recovered and no longer have issues. I don’t dispute their recovery but I have enough self-awareness to know this has yet to occur for me. My thoughts when I crave alcohol are to feel drunk, to overconsume, to try one more time for the elusive buzz I spent over 10 years unsuccessfully chasing. To stay successful in recovery, I need an in recovery–not recovered–mindset.

    2. Sobriety Is What You Make of It

    Sobriety without additional work has a limited impact on your life. It might be a huge impact, but the ceiling extends drastically upward when you combine it with additional work on yourself. Alcohol abuse wasn’t the only issue I had and being sober allows me to begin addressing these underlying issues. I’ve needed to continue working on myself beyond sobriety. I have areas of deficiency I’ll need to work on for years, if not forever. For the sake of brevity, I’ll refrain from listing these.

    Sobriety (from alcohol) at its most basic level is a period of time spent not drinking. I understand why many people commit to the day at a time mindset. You need to have small, achievable time frames to get through cravings, days which you spend refocusing, creating healthier habits, rebuilding or building a new life, and building your support system. Simply staying sober will heal your body. Staying sober while learning and growing will heal your mind as well.

    I haven’t always been successful at doing more than staying sober. In fact, I’ve recently gone through a year or so of backsliding when it comes to handling my anxiety and mental health and building social support, which has resulted in some drastic negative changes in some of my closest relationships. However, I have stayed sober and this has allowed me to correct my course. I’ve become proactive in using techniques to manage anxiety and I’ve pushed myself to develop new and deeper relationships with positive people who support me. I’m seeking new opportunities to grow in the right direction.

    3. Sobriety Is My Soulmate

    Sound dramatic? How about, sobriety is my rock? Sobriety is my better half? Sobriety is the one thing that has been there for me every single day for five years. Sometimes I didn’t want it around and sometimes I’ve had to fight to keep it. I’ve gained and lost a number of things over the past five years but sobriety is the one consistent positive presence in my life. I get to choose every day whether I want to keep my sobriety or not. Choosing yes for another day deepens my commitment and strengthens the neural pathways that help me resist temptation.

    When I reflect on this choice I’ve made every day for five years, I realize sobriety is a limitless resource, readily available for anyone who needs it. I won’t run out of sobriety one day if someone else becomes sober. I won’t run out of sobriety if 500,000 people become sober. Sobriety can be everyone’s soulmate simultaneously.

    Sobriety won’t leave me if I slip up. These five years are made up of a string of days where I’ve made the same choice. If I had chosen to drink on any of these days, sobriety wouldn’t be any less available to me; I could have come back the following day. In that sense, five years is meaningless. Regardless of what stage you’re at, or even if you’re just thinking about it – sobriety will be there when you’re ready for it. Sobriety won’t judge you. Sobriety doesn’t care if you had a drink yesterday, or if you’ll have another drink in a week.

    4. Drunk Conversations Are Toxic to Everyone

    I remember being the drunk who shared my philosophy of the world with anyone who’d listen. I was so smart, my insight incomparable, my language spot on. If only I could hold on to that level of confidence when I’d sober up the next day, I’d show everyone how great I was. Yet I could never muster the words or confidence when I wasn’t drunk. In sobriety, I see drunk conversations as absurd, pathetic, or sad at best. Few sober people would say the words that so comfortably spill out of the mouths of drunks.

    I still frequent bars and venues where alcohol is a focus and I still encounter plenty of drunk conversations. They fall into three categories:

    1. Drunk with plans to conquer the world. You have the ultimate plan and you know how to execute it. If only the rest of us were as excited as you are about it. You’re going to pass out before you can start making progress.
    2. Drunk with plans to conquer their date. This is disgusting. You are seducing your date with slurred words and poorly veiled references to sex. They are looking around to assess their exit strategy. Hopefully you don’t throw up on them.
    3. Drunks who are sad, whiny, or complaining about life. Bartenders find themselves having to support these conversations unless it’s a group of drunks and then it becomes a contest over who is the most aggrieved. Sometimes these folks end the night with fighting or violence. Regardless of how tough you talk or how many people you fight, drunk shit-talking still boils down to being a sad, whiny loser.

    I’ve written these three conversations out using a judgmental tone. And while I am judging, I am also aware that I’ve been an active contributor to each type of drunk conversation on dozens of occasions. I’ve done my part to give others uncomfortable experiences. I apologize for that and hope some of my work in sobriety has atoned for some of what I’ve done.

    5. Being Vulnerable Without Alcohol is More Authentic and More Rewarding

    I had what I refer to as diarrhea mouth when I would get drunk. I couldn’t stop talking. Alcohol was a truth serum for me: I could get drunk and tell you exactly what I was thinking and feeling. I could express elation, I could express sorrow. I could tell you I hate your fucking guts. The words came easy (see my previous lesson!). Speaking the truth while being vulnerable without alcohol is more difficult, but it’s also more authentic.

    I now pause before I share my thoughts and feelings. I have coherent thoughts during this pause where I calculate whether what I’m saying might be harmful to others. I also consider if what I’m saying leaves me exposed to criticism or hurt. This pause didn’t exist when I was drunk. I’m also fighting my natural tendency to withdraw from being social during the pause. Sober Victor is someone who is less comfortable sharing what is happening inside of him. I still end up saying hurtful things or oversharing in ways that might make others feel uncomfortable, but I am aware of and accept the consequences.

    My vulnerability extends beyond what I say. Writing exposes me to criticism in the form of online comments or posts in other forums. Opening myself up to written criticism from others is a reversal of how I used writing as a drunk. I used my writing to hurt people: mean texts, drunken Facebook posts, belligerent emails, and even hand-written letters were a hallmark of my absurd drunken behavior. Again, I hope the words I write now to share what I’ve learned provide some atonement for the words I’ve written to hurt people.

    Here is a sixth bonus lesson. I plan to write more about this in the near future. My reflection on my history of alcohol use has led me to conclude:

    6. I’ve Abused Alcohol Since My First Encounter

    I didn’t progressively become an alcohol abuser. Yes, my abuse became worse, but I abused from the beginning. I’m fairly certain I’ve never had a single healthy experience using alcohol. If you can relate to this, consider stopping your drinking until you can figure out if you do have an issue.

    Five years have passed in the blink of an eye. I had no concept of what five years would be like when I first stopped drinking and I’m not sure I fully understand or appreciate the magnitude of this accomplishment. I’m not sure I’d have been healthy or alive to write this if I hadn’t found sobriety.

    What do I see for the next five years? I’m committed to staying sober and I’ll need to make some adjustments to accomplish this. I have recommitted to seeking support in the form of healthy relationships with other sober people, attending support groups, journaling, and practicing mindfulness. My sobriety is not on cruise control. I also intend to stay an active contributor to The Fix and other relevant publications; I find it helps me stay accountable.

    Thank you for reading this post. Thank you for being part of my journey. Please share this with anyone who might find it useful.

    View the original article at thefix.com