Unmotivated Client

Sometimes we give up on clients who are unwilling to change. And it's difficult when we have to do that. But when a client's unwilling to change, in spite of our best efforts, what else can we do?

This came up recently with a client who's been with us for more than five years. Most of that time he's worked for TLC using his considerable talents in support of our maintenance and remodeling team.  For the past several months this client has been counseled weekly about conflicts with other employees, about not reporting to work on time, and about his lack of interest in 12-step meetings. He’s been confronted about playing video games and surfing the internet until 1:00 am. At each session he says he's going to change.

But within days he's back to old behavior. Often when the crew truck arrives he's still asleep, the alarm ringing in the background. And, of course, the supervisor leaves without him and he loses a day's work and pay.

The consensus among the staff is fire him from his TLC job and let him seek employment outside the program.  Everyone believes he’s probably too unmotivated to find work and will probably be discharged for not paying service fees.

At that point he’ll confront real world responsibilities that may help him realize he’s responsible for taking care of himself.

"Status" in Recovery

Before writing this morning I glanced at the headline of the automobile section of the newspaper. Beneath it was a picture of a Cadillac Escalade. The headline described the vehicle as a "status symbol."

For some reason this resonated with me because at one time I would've said "yes, this is the vehicle I want to drive."  But today, as a person in recovery, my values have changed. I'm no longer the car I drive nor the house I live in. I no longer must wear clothing with expensive logos or patronize fancy restaurants. I try to do nothing with money solely for so-called "status."  Because I've come to recognize that "status" is about what other people think of me and how I rate in their eyes if I spend a lot of money. 

That has nothing to do with my sober life today. What's important to me is sobriety. It's important to me how many people I can help in my business and in my personal life. If people think well of me because I drive a fancy car and wear expensive clothing, then they won't think well of me if I'm driving an ordinary car or wearing off the rack clothing from Wal-Mart. And why should I care about what people who have these kinds of values think of me?

Now I'm not saying there's not a place for nice things in our lives. I happen to own an 10 year old  Z06 Corvette that I enjoy driving on weekends and holidays. It was a relatively expensive car when I bought it, but I enjoy driving it because of its less than four seconds 0 to 60 performance as an off-track race car. But the car I drive daily is a used Prius.  I also own two pair of expensive levis. But I wear them because they are comfortable and because they fit well – not because of what someone will think of me when I wear them. Also, I got them on sale at an aftermarket retailer at a great discount.

What I explain to others in recovery is that once we have the basics, the rest is mostly about ego. After all, does Bill Gates’ car get him to the office any faster than mine? And the roof on my home keeps me just as dry as would the roof on a $10 million house. The rest is about style and ego - and that's not what my recovery is about today.

Eighteen Months Later...

            "You don't ever have to feel this way again."

That statement stuck with last night's speaker, who was who was graduating from the 18 month Hard Six program. He said that during his intake interview at the Roosevelt house he was demoralized and beat down from drinking. He'd just come from the homeless shelter to seek help. And when the resident doing his intake told him he didn't have to "feel this way ever again" he was hopeful.

He did what he was asked to do in the Hard Six program. If he was asked to dig a ditch, he did it. If he was asked to wash cars he jumped in and participated.  He couldn't say no – which is one of the program guidelines. Even though it was difficult, his focus was on staying sober. He was tired of living on the streets, of being stinking drunk, demoralized and experiencing blackouts. He finally was assigned to work in the outreach department in the corporate office. He stayed there for several months, until he got off restriction and began working for a private business.

It was inspiring to hear this man's testimony. Even though everyone has an equal opportunity to get sober at TLC most clients don't have the self-discipline and fortitude to do the simple things they're asked to do. While the average person who doesn't have a problem with alcohol and drugs would look at TLC's requirements and wonder what the problem was, most addicts and alcoholics are starting out at the bottom. Sometimes even the simplest tasks, such as making a bed or shaving every day and showing up to work on time is difficult. Our job here is to teach clients how to live like so-called "normal" people. It might seem simple – but it's one of our biggest challenges.

Today our graduate lives in TLC's long-term sober housing. He loves his job. He's attends Rio Salado College with the goal of becoming a drug counselor. He has a wide circle of friends in the recovery world.

He closed his remarks last night by saying, "What I was told at my intake was true: I haven't felt the way I felt when I came here since I got sober."

Lost Serenity

 After nearly 21 years of sobriety I maintain serenity pretty much all the time. There are exceptions though, and yesterday was one of those exceptions. And, as usual, my loss of serenity was my fault.

A few weeks ago I'd  made an appointment for an annual liver checkup. I've had hepatitis C for 25 years, but it's pretty much stable. While my viral load is over 2 million, my liver is healthy. Because of this my doctor never prescribed interferon to get rid of the virus. In any case, I keep these annual appointments to monitor the condition of my liver.

Now usually making an appointment with my liver doctor is simple. I ask my primary physician to make a referral. Once the referral is made the liver doctor sends me out for a few tests so he can see what's going on. And that's what happened in this case. I got an ultrasound and blood test and had a date to see the doctor. But then his accounting person called and said they no longer accepted the hospital network my insurance was in – that they'd have to cancel the appointment.

No problem. If they couldn't accept my insurance I'd  pay cash – and work it out with the insurance company later. Then someone from the office called me and told me they didn't accept cash. And, of course, that's when my blood started to heat up. Because I live in a world where everyone accepts cash. The explanation was that if I came in without insurance coverage and the doctor made referrals for further tests then I wouldn't be covered for those tests. And when I told them I'd pay cash for those, too, they said that wasn't acceptable. And that's when my serenity went into the toilet.

I won't go into a lot of boring detail about how the situation escalated. But I will say that on four different occasions I had an appointment. Then I didn't have an appointment. It went back and forth like that for several hours until I finally did see the doctor. And - needless to say - I had to make amends several times during the day as my attitude about the situation got worse and worse.

As I said in the beginning, my loss of serenity was my fault. If  I'd remembered that I had changed networks recently I might have checked with the doctor's office to find out if he was in that network. Also, I could've reminded myself that when dealing with big organizations with lots of people it's not unusual for communication to go sideways. After all we live in an imperfect world. The more moving parts there are, the more chances for mistakes and misunderstandings.

But this morning I have my serenity back.  And I’ll try not to make assumptions that might take it away from me.

Keep on Giving

A foundation of the 12 step program is carrying the message to others. But sometimes carrying that message comes with a price. Sometimes the price is small. We may spend some of our time taking a newcomer to a meeting, or spend free time helping them work the steps. We may answer phone calls at night or at a time that is inconvenient for us. However, this is a small price to pay for the gift of sobriety. We give away what we have so we can keep it. A friend who has been sober for a long time, however, recently paid a heavy price while helping a man through his early sobriety.

This friend has been sober for a long time and has helped hundreds of alcoholics during his 30 years of sobriety, including this writer. So we were all disappointed when we heard that one of the men he sponsors is suspected in the burglary his house while he was on vacation. My friend lost several thousand dollars worth of personal possessions. But an even greater loss was the sentimental value of some of the things that were taken. Also, his sense of trust was shaken.

His attitude toward the burglary is a good example for us.  He says the things he lost were "just stuff." Much of it can be replaced, with the exception of the memories. He doesn't have obvious resentment. He seems philosophical about the loss.

And the last time I saw him he was at a meeting still trying to help others stay sober.

Their is a Difference

Yesterday at a Labor Day barbecue I saw once again the difference between alcoholics and social drinkers. As an alcoholic with over 20 years of sobriety it was interesting to watch social drinkers have fun. Every once in a while the host would return to the liquor cabinet and pull out a bottle. He’d then put ice in a glass and fill it halfway for the guest who was drinking with him. They drank in a way that I never understood.

Once I opened the bottle of liquor, it never went back in the cabinet. And I didn't spend any time - as they did - discussing the quality of the liquor. If it had alcohol in it my goal was to drink it all as fast as I could. And if anybody else wanted some they’d  have to find me. Because once I got hold of the bottle I would disappear until it was gone. The only way I’d share alcohol was if there was plenty to go around – and that didn't happen very often.

Another interesting aspect of the conversation among those drinking at the party was how they were going to get home. One guest told his wife she'd have to drive because he'd had too much to drink. Agreeing with him, she limited herself to one drink so she could drive them home safely. Their behavior was totally different from mine. As soon as I had a few drinks I thought it was a perfect time to drive. While I was fortunate enough to never get into a serious accident that involved anyone else, it is only by the grace of God I never killed anyone while driving drunk.

Being at this event didn't make me want to drink, but it once again emphasized for me that there is a constitutional difference between so-called normal people and us alcoholics.

Meeting Magic

The magic of the 12-step programs was on display at yesterday’s meeting. In the room were several newcomers with less than 30 day’s sobriety – and a few with only 24 hours.  Sprinkled among them were three people with over 20 years, and one man with 30+ years.  Also in the mix were half a dozen members who’d been sober upwards of ten years.

The contrast between newcomers and old-timers was strong. Those who’d been around for years spoke briefly about what it was like before the program. But most of their time was spent telling of the wonderful lives they have today – all because they found sobriety so many years ago.

One man had been on vacation with his family for nearly three months, and was leaving for another trip in a few days. Another talked about his business success and the circle of friends he’d found in sobriety.

And no matter what success the long term sober were enjoying today, they all talked about the peace and serenity they found in the program.  The joy they took in their lives today gave hope to those who had just walked in the doors looking for answers.