What's your Mission?

A woman speaking at a meeting today said she was at loose ends many years earlier when she was drinking and doing drugs.

It was only after she was sober a while that she developed a purpose in life – a mission.

She makes a wonderful point – one I don't often hear at meetings.

When we were drinking and using our mission was to be out of our minds all the time – at least that was the mission I pursued when I was conscious.

She said when she got sober her mission became just that:  to remain sober and carry the message to other alcoholics and addicts.

Her pursuit of that mission has kept her sober for the many years she’s been in the program.

Her message makes a point that can be applied in anyone’s life – not only alcoholics in recovery.

The point is that all of us, like our speaker, need a purpose in life.

Whether our mission is sobriety, going to school, raising a family, learning a trade or breaking a world record,  the mission is what keeps our heart beating.  It makes us want to put our feet on the floor in the morning.

My mission is to stay sober and help others do the same. And each day when I head to the office – though it may be a dull day of shuffling papers – I know that it helps me carry out my mission.

Resolutions

The other day someone asked if I were going to make any New Year’s Resolutions. I said no.

It’s not like I have anything against change or improvement. But for me change doesn't occur overnight nor depend upon a certain date. Like New Year’s.

Change isn't a simple process. Like deciding I’ll do it, and it happens. No, for me change is a gradual process. An example is when I quit smoking 28 years ago.

Once I made the commitment I began making slow changes in my smoking habits. I went from unfiltered to filtered cigarettes. After that I progressed to cigarettes with less tar. Then I tapered to less than ten cigarettes a day. And when the time came to quit – July 25, 1984 at 9:00 am, I was ready. I’d armed myself with Nicorette gum and took the plunge. I've never smoked anything since.

I admire those who change overnight – but I don’t have their fortitude. That’s not my nature.

Each change comes slowly. With exercise, I started light - with few repetitions - and not a lot of weight. Twenty-two years later I’m still at the gym six days a week and enjoy a decent level of fitness. I kept at it because I didn't hurt myself. Nor did I have unreasonable expectations about what my badly-abused middle-aged body could do when I started working out again in 1991.

Same with diet. I gave up meat 22 years, but slowly. First beef and pork. A few years later chicken, then fish. Today I eat virtually no animal products. But I couldn't have done it over night.

To incorporate changes in our lives my recommendation is take baby steps.

Recovery Support

I spoke briefly at a meeting last Sunday about the importance of building a network of friends and supporters in our lives.

This came to mind again this evening while on a three day vacation in Las Vegas with my family. This is something I wouldn't be able to do without all the wonderful people who work for TLC. They keep things operating while I’m out of town or busy with the new Outpatient Clinic.

For those of us in recovery a network of friends is important for many reasons.

Most important is when I've had trouble with my recovery someone has helped me over the bumpy spots. I went to them with issues that might threaten my recovery. They told me how they dealt with them.

Another example is when I've experienced emotional trauma. Over the past twenty years recovery friends have embraced me in a circle of love while I've grieved the loss of loved ones. When I went through a divorce they helped me control my anger and frustration.

A network of friends is a Godsend when we’re in - and also as we go through our daily lives.

Likely Story

A client whose drug tests have been turning up dirty said he couldn't understand why. He claimed he hadn't used marijuana since he started treatment.

          “Maybe,” he suggested to the therapist, “you could talk to my wife.”

           “And why would I talk to your wife,” the therapist asked. “She’s not our client”.

            “Yeah, but she’s still smoking. So maybe I’m dirty from second hand smoke.”

He kept trying various explanations for the rising THC levels in his weekly tests, but the therapist would hear none of them.

This client’s replies are typical of addicts in denial. However, he seems to be an inexperienced user who doesn't realize that counselors have been hearing excuses like his for years. So he’s likely to keep stumbling along until he loses his job or his freedom for drug violations.

As a counselor, who’s also in recovery, I’m not judging this client harshly. And that’s because I did the same thing for years before I finally figured out that the best plan for my life would be to get sober.

But it’s still interesting to hear the excuses we use to explain our behavior - before we finally get honest.

Anger Subsides

Anger’s an emotion I’ve never dealt with very well. In years past I’d let it get out of control and usually ended up looking like an ass – or at the very least feeling stupid.

So today, while driving to a three day family vacation in Las Vegas I realized I’d changed a lot since entering sobriety in 1991. This occurred to me while on Grand Avenue, heading through Sun City toward Wickenburg.

Traffic was snail slow and I was resigned to flow along with it, knowing we’d get there in God’s time. Then, all of a sudden, a truck nearly hit the front of our car as it pushed into the small slot in front of us. I was startled and tapped the horn to let the driver know I was there; at which point he signaled his contempt by flipping me off. And for good measure he slammed his brakes, causing me to do the same to avoid him.

My initial reaction was an adrenalin powered surge of anger. But then I took a deep breath and made a conscious decision not to carry things further. That was a much different reaction than I would have had in early recovery.

I’m not sure when I gave up on anger; it was likely a slow process of change. I think that at some point I didn’t find it all productive. And it seemed to be a lot of work to get back to serenity and peace of mind.

One reason I entered sobriety so many years ago was to have peace and joy in my life. I have that today and I don’t let my reaction to other people take it away.

Recovery Challenges

A former client who left a few weeks ago reports having trouble adjusting to his new life outside the structure of TLC.  Though he hasn't relapsed he says he’s having a lot of "indecision and insecurity."

While I'm not sure this client left too soon - because he completed his 90-day commitment - sometimes three months isn't enough for many of us.

Often we come into recovery after years of trashing our lives with drugs and alcohol. It took us a long time to get to the state we’re in by the time we finally become desperate enough to seek help.

Yet when we’re in the sterile structure of a halfway house - with its restrictions and sometimes uncomfortable living conditions – nothing seems as attractive as being back home in our own place.

However,  the problem is that recovery is rarely about externals like living conditions, jobs, or being back with friends.

Recovery is about learning to live life on life’s terms wherever we are. It’s about learning to fill that hole in our spirit with positive things we learned in recovery. It’s about learning to say no when we’re at wits end and feel like picking up a bottle or going to the dope house.

I can easily relate. When I first went to a halfway house 22 years ago the idea was to get a job, a car, a girlfriend, an apartment and get back into the fast lane of life.

I wanted to leave that halfway house because there was no privacy. Living conditions weren’t the greatest. I didn’t have the kind of freedom I thought I needed.

But I ended up staying a year because I realized I wasn't totally prepared to live on my own.  It was the best investment of time I ever made.

Christmas Memory

Christmas of 1959 a fully decorated 12 foot Christmas tree sat on a platform attached to the inside wall of the South Block at San Quentin Prison.

As the prisoners filed by on their way to the evening meal, several sprayed lighter fluid on it until it was thoroughly soaked. Then one threw a lit matchbook on it.

A quick blaze and plume of smoke shot 30 or 40 feet into the air. Then alarms went off and the cheering prisoners were herded back to their cells. Most of us missed supper that night. That was a memorable Christmas day at California State Prison.

Each Christmas I was locked up way back in last century, the warden would get on the loudspeaker to proclaim that officials would tolerate no floods, fires, or demonstrations. Of course his announcement was the signal to light mattresses and toilet paper on fire, and plug toilets and flood the cell block.

From this backdrop, even though I’ve been free for years, it took a while for Christmas to take on meaning for me. That’s because I’d been steeped in the toxic environment of prison where societal norms were looked upon with scorn and disdain by those who lived outside the boundaries.

Today, though, Christmas means having gratitude - and bringing joy to my loved ones and those less fortunate.

And I owe it all to getting sober 22 years ago and rejoining the human race.