Still addicted

Someone I've known for years ago is in the hospital again after a third heart attack.

She's had a valve replaced. She's had stints put in her heart. She has a pacemaker. The doctors placed her in a nursing home for a few weeks after her first heart attack. They wanted to give her a long period away from cigarettes before they sent her home.

But within days of being home she was smoking again. Not so much at first. But after a short time she was puffing away like before.

As someone who lost seven family members to emphysema and COPD I'm against tobacco use. It was excruciating to watch them slowly suffocate because of this horrible addiction.

And while I might sound preachy, I'm a former smoker who quit smoking 31 years ago.. I know it's not easy. It's hard. I kicked heroin a few dozen times. And quitting nicotine was the hardest habit of all to break.

I know we have the right to kill ourselves however we want. I hear addicts say all the time that they're not hurting anyone but themselves. Not true.

We all have someone who loves and cares about us. Whether it be children, spouses, friends, or co-workers, we have an obligation to take care of ourselves for them.

That is, unless we just don't care. And I don't think many of fall into that category.  Especially when we have loved ones in our life.

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Being Patient

After 24+ years of working with addicts I've developed patience.

I try to give everyone an opportunity. Just show me something says the voice in my head. Give me an inkling that you might possibly - maybe - perhaps - want to change. Shed a tear. Just a hint of humility. A little scrap of willingness so we don't have to put you on the streets.

Sometimes I ask myself why I'm not tougher. Why I can't act like the boss and send unwilling clients on their way.

But, unless they're a threat to the safety of others - or else bring drugs into the program - my first choice is not to throw them out.

And I think one of the reasons is that way back in the last century a few people showed me a lot of patience. Compassion. Kindness. Love.

And as a teenager and a twenty-something I was a lot like many of our clients today. I was angry, full of suppressed rage. Confused. Thought the world was out to get me. I sometimes hated everyone. No one understood me. I felt sorry for myself.

But I remember some of the kind people who tried to help. My family. Therapists in the State Hospital. Teachers. Parole Officers. School counselors. They reached out and told me what would happen if I didn't change. But I was too angry - and much later realized that most of them were right. And a lot of them hung with me as long as I let them.

So today, I recall the kind people who tried to lift me up in spite of myself. A lot of people spent hours showing me compassion and kept coming back.

Today I try to pass that on when dealing with a difficult client.

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Looking for Children

We often get calls from parents. They're calling recovery programs, looking for addicts that have fallen off the radar.

Some say they haven't seen their child in a few months. But others haven't seen them for ten years or more.

Maybe a family member is in poor health and they want to reconcile with their child. Or at least talk to them one last time. There are a lot of reasons.

Sometimes they'll say they've checked with the prisons and hospitals. But have had no luck. They're hoping we can help.

Usually we'll take the name of the person they're looking for. Then, if they're with us, we'll pass the message to them.

Those who call - or show up - always seem to be hurting. Their voices sometimes crack with emotion. One can feel the pain in their voices.

Some take the time to talk about their child's addiction. About how he or she was once a 4.0 student or a star athlete. Until drugs or alcohol derailed their lives. They appreciate the moments we spend listening to them.

If we could record these calls and play them back in our group sessions it might help some of us. We would realize the devastation our using brings into the lives of those close to us.

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Taking the Time

"The time to relax is when you don’t have time for it." Sydney J. Harris

If we don't relax once in a while we're making a statement. What we're saying is we don't have time to live well. To take care of ourselves. To enjoy life.

Often I'm around those who say they don't have time to work out, to meditate, to eat right, to read a book.

They're busily engaged in the next thing, the newest distraction. Or they stay immersed with work to avoid being present with themselves.

However, most find time to be on Facebook. Or to play video games. Or perhaps veg in front of the television for hours on end. Or else a lot of time looking at their devices.

I once made a suggestion to someone who watched TV about four hours a day - but said he didn't have time to work out. And the suggestion was that he cut an hour or two out of that time for the gym. But he said he was "too tired" to do that after working all day.

Some look at distraction as relaxing. But distraction is really just a way to avoid being with ourselves.

A better way to relax might be a walk in the park. Maybe watching a sunset, or clouds drifting by. Maybe talking face-to-face with loved ones.

None of us on our deathbed will say that we wished we'd spent more time watching TV. Or visiting Facebook. Or playing video games. Or being at the office.

Hospice workers say the dying often wished they'd have spent more time with their loved ones.

Something to think about when we say we "don't have time.”

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The Dilemma

The recovering addict's dilemma is that he or she knows how to feel good. And it's easy to get there.

Snort a line. Down a forty. Slam some heroin. Smoke a bowl. Wash down a few pain pills. Ahhhh...

Yes! Instant gratification. Pain is gone. Hurt feelings are no longer there. Problems dissolve without effort.

But even though we know how to change our state we can never again live this way. Not successfully.

Over and over I've worked with those who can't tolerate a small amount of pain or frustration. Instead, they relapse so they can get a moment's respite. But I've never once heard of it ending well.

No one's ever sent me a post card that read "I've started using again and my life is great! I finally figured out how to do it right. Wish you were here."

Instead, we get reports from jails or the streets or hospitals about another addict whose life is a train wreck.

Those of us who stay clean and sober come to realize that life is sometimes painful. Disappointing. Depressing. That it has its ups and downs. We learn to live in the real world.

And while the real world is sometimes a roller of coaster of successes and failures, it's far and away better than where we came from.

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Powerless?

The subject of powerlessness came up at a meeting yesterday.

And I thought it interesting that we alcoholics believe we have any kind of power.

I performed a lot of important tasks while using. I ran the government. The CIA. The economy. A few wars. Fortune 500 companies. Most everything, including the lives of those around me.

But the reality was that I couldn't control my own life. I was so in control that I ended up in jails, prisons, and mental institutions. I lost everything over and over. Jobs. relationships, homes, businesses – all of it.

A major breakthrough in my life was when I admitted I was powerless. A huge weight lifted from my shoulders. All of a sudden I was able to focus on one thing: staying clean and sober.

There was a great sense of relief when I lost the illusion that I had power, that I was in control.

Instead I found gratitude that I was a lucky survivor - one of those made it to the safe haven of recovery.

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Being Fortunate

I spent a few days this week revisiting my past when a relative came to visit from my hometown in California.

It was wonderful to spend time with a family member. And her visit reminded of how fortunate I was to have moved to Arizona over 30 years ago.

The people I knew - those still alive - are doing the same things they were when I left in 1982.

Some are slinging dope. Others are fighting criminal cases or Federal indictments. A few are serving so much time they'll rot behind bars. Some are living on the streets.

And I know that if I hadn't left there I wouldn't be alive. I'd have remained immersed in the drug culture underworld I grew up in. I knew too many people.

Somehow God and fortune smiled upon me though. I got off the bus in Phoenix in July of 1982 with $300 in my pocket. I didn't know a soul, but was still able to find drugs and alcohol. But it was never the same.

Even though it took me another nine years to get sober, I never sunk to the level I was at in California. I made a few half-assed runs at recovery. Until I finally had enough pain to want to change.

And since I made that decision I've been in recovery ever since - almost 25 years.

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