What we learn from AA

Embarking on a journey with the 12-step program is like signing up for a lifelong course in personal growth and self-discovery. Over the past 34 years, the lessons I've learned extend far beyond the initial focus on addiction recovery. These principles have shaped my worldview and approach to life in profound ways.

First and foremost, the 12-step program has taught me the value of acceptance. The first step, admitting that I am powerless over my addiction, laid the groundwork for a deeper acceptance of my other limitations. This principle is not confined to addiction; it applies to all aspects of life. Embracing my imperfections and recognizing that I can't control everything has fostered a healthier relationship with myself and others.

Another critical lesson has been the power of surrender. The idea that there is a higher power—however you define it—helps me let go of the illusion that I must control every outcome. Surrendering does not mean giving up; rather, it means accepting that some things are beyond my control and finding peace in that acceptance. This shift in perspective has reduced my anxiety and allowed me to focus on what I can change.

The program also emphasizes the importance of community and support. Over the years, the fellowship within the 12-step community has been a constant source of strength. The connections made and the shared experiences have reinforced the idea that we are not alone in our struggles. Mutual support and understanding are crucial for healing and personal growth.

Another invaluable lesson is the practice of rigorous honesty. The 12-step process encourages a deep, sometimes uncomfortable self-examination, leading to personal accountability and transformation. This ongoing practice of honesty helps me navigate life with integrity and build trust with others.

Finally, the program’s emphasis on service has been transformative. Helping others has not only reinforced my own recovery but has also given my life a deeper sense of purpose and fulfillment. Service is a reminder that giving back is a vital part of maintaining personal growth and staying grounded.

In essence, the 12-step program has been more than a path to recovery; it has been a guide for living a balanced and meaningful life. The lessons learned over these three decades continue to inspire and challenge me, making each day an opportunity for growth and renewal.

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Memories of Mom

For over years Christmas hasn't been one of my favorite holidays.  And it's not because I'm some kind of a grinch.  Or don't like to see people celebrating the holiday. The reason it's not one of my favorites is because my mother died 31 years ago on Christmas Eve.

She'd been in the hospital since November 1, 1994, to have a piece of metal removed from her leg that was starting to cause her pain. She had broken it several years earlier and the doctors placed a metal splint on the bone in her leg, along with a few screws, so as to give more support to the spot where the break had occurred.  But it had begun to cause her pain and she asked if I thought it was a good idea to have it removed.

Of course I don't like surgery or hospitals – I know they are necessary for our survival – but I left the decision entirely up to her.  Because she was the one who was suffering from pain, not me.  Of course, in retrospect I would have told her to not go into the hospital.  But the way she explained it to me is that it was a very simple surgery that would be done on an outpatient basis.  The metal splint would be removed and she was to return home the same day.  But things didn't go quite the way she explained it.

The doctors decided to keep her in the hospital under observation for a few days because of her reaction to the surgery.  They wanted to make sure that she was entirely functional after she left.  Anyway, to make a long story short one complication led to another and her condition started to deteriorate.  At one point she even developed pneumonia.  But after some therapy so she could get used to the new splint that they had put in her leg they made plans to release her on Christmas morning of 1994.

I'd gotten off work that day and went home to shower and was planning to visit her as I did every day she was in the hospital when a call came from a nurse.  She told me my mother had passed away 15 minutes earlier.  Of course, I was devastated and went to the hospital full of grief and with tears running down my face.

It seemed surreal to me, so unbelievable, because I was planning on picking her up the next morning and taking her home.  But it didn't happen that way.

Many people have advised me to get over my grieving and I believe that I did a long time ago. But still, because it happened on Christmas Eve I'm always reminded at this time of year that I lost one of my best friends, someone who supported me through the many years when I was living the life of a drug addict.  She didn't support my habit or anything like that.  But she did encourage me to get help both when I was in jail and out of jail and it took me a long time to follow her advice.

One of the things that makes me happy is that she was able to see me sober for three years and working in the recovery field.  I think that gave her more joy than anything.  And even though I recognize that today, the Christmas holidays are not the best time of year for me.

Staying Calm

Sometimes it's difficult for us addicts to remain calm and peaceful when it seems the world is on a path to self-destruction and collapsing around us.  

Fighting in Ukraine and Israel.  Inflation raising the cost of everything.  Homeless people proliferating in our biggest cities.  An abundance of negative drama in the media.  And it might seem hard to stay serene because we don't do what we used to - which was to medicate ourselves.

Drugs.  Alcohol.  Whatever it took to numb our brains and desensitize us.  When I was high nothing mattered.  Not wars.  Not $5.00 a gallon gas.  High interest rates and food costs.  My attitude was "So what?"  When my brain was numb none of it mattered.

However, today we can't use substances to stay calm.  All that happens if we use is that we further destroy our lives and things get more complicated.  But there are healthy things we can do.

For openers, we can start by talking to our sponsor.  After all, most of the issues and drama that we encounter in our recovery is something our sponsor has already dealt with.  A sponsor with any kind of time has answers and suggestions to help keep us on track.

And something that works for me personally is a workout.  A good run on the elliptical or 45 minutes with the weights can pump calming endorphins into my system - and endorphins are more powerful than opiates without the dangers of overdosing.

Another personal favorite is meditation.  I do 30 minutes each morning when I first awake. A recent study at Oxford University in England showed that 15 minutes of daily Mindfulness meditation is 20 percent more effective than depression medications.  And with no side effects.

So there are safe places to turn when things get tough.  We just need to be willing to use them.

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Almost Gone

"The bad news is time flies. The good news is you’re the pilot."  Michael Altshuler

I looked at the calendar yesterday and realized that most the year had passed. It seemed like a minute ago it was New Year's Day. Now the year is nearly over. So what did we do with our time?

I know what I did. I helped others wherever possible.  My wife and I took a couple of trips. We purchased two investment properties. In other words we made some kind of progress by taking regular action.

I know people who live with ideas for years before acting on them. And others never act on them.

For example I was eating with some folks I hadn't visited in a while. And they were discussing the same old subject: they wanted to lose weight. But while they were having the discussion it was over a table of rich food. And dessert came at the end.

What the saying above means is that you're in charge of what you do with your time. You are the pilot. But if you have ever observed a pilot in action you know that they are highly disciplined. Because one error could end everything. Not only for them, but for everyone on the aircraft.

Taking control of our time requires discipline - but that's also how we get to our destination.

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Change or Die

 Change is difficult. I was reminded of that recently while rereading a 2005 article in Fast Company magazine, entitled "change or die."

The author described how nine out of ten patients who've had open-heart surgery - when told they’ll die if they don't start exercising, eat right and quit smoking - will not or cannot change.  They keep up their bad habits in spite of the consequences. At first these numbers amazed me, but then my experience with our clients lent credibility to this author's story.

We have clients who relapse repeatedly even though life has shown them it doesn’t work. Fear of jail, institutions or death – doesn’t deter them.

As an outside-of-recovery example, I see the unwillingness to change with our clients who smoke. Statistics show that 18 to 20% of the general population smokes-in spite of the health risks and expense.  But in the recovery community the numbers are upside down: about 80% of recovering addicts and alcoholics smoke. Non-smokers often pass through a cloud of smoke to get into a 12 step meeting. And often during meetings the real addicts take a smoke break because they can't quell their addiction for the hour it takes to complete the meeting.

In the Fast Company article the author says fear of death doesn't make people change. He writes that people will change if they believe they can have a better life.

“The patients lived the way they did as a day-to-day strategy for coping with their emotional troubles." Telling people who are lonely and depressed that they're going to live longer if they quit smoking or change their diet and lifestyle is not that motivating," a doctor cited in the article says. "Who wants to live longer when you're in chronic emotional pain?"

So instead of trying to motivate them with the "fear of dying," One of the doctors reframes the issue. He inspires a new vision of the "joy of living" -- convincing patients they can feel better, not just live longer. That means enjoying the things that make daily life pleasurable, like making love or even taking long walks without the pain caused by their disease. "Joy is a more powerful motivator than fear," he says.

I believe this article correlates with what we try to do at TLC: to show our clients they can have a more joyful existence when they stop their negative addictions – a lifestyle they can gain by living by 12-step principles.

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No more Excuses

 We addicts have all kinds of excuses for using. And often that keeps us from changing.

And when we tell our sad stories to counselors or therapists they often cosign our bullshit. They understood why we drank, or smoked, or slammed a needle in our arms. Or at least they acted like they did. And that didn't help me get well because I needed someone to make me look at reality. Someone to be a little tough with me in a positive way.

When I was in my teens, I was in a rage. Life was unfair. The world was cruel. Counselors tried to help. But I viewed them as part of the system. So I wouldn't drop my defenses and let anyone in. That attitude kept me locked in my rage and confusion.

I fought with everyone. I thought I was tough. But really I was so full of fear and anger that whoever was nearby was the enemy. It took many years of using and trouble with the law before I changed.

And what changed me was time. I started paying attention to others who had stories of abuse. Many of them suffered much worse than I had. And they were like me, always in trouble. Full of fear and rage.

When I saw myself in them I had a spiritual awakening. I came to accept that bad stuff had happened to me. But also to others. Unjustifiable things. Things humans shouldn't do to one another.

But I also came to realize that no matter what happened it wasn't worth living my life suffering over it. And I decided to change.

Part of that change was putting down the bottle over 34 years ago. Part of it was deciding that I wasn't going to let my disease me hostage any longer.

That's when I took the first steps down the path to emotional freedom. And today my life works.

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Back with Family

One result of addiction is that many addicts and alcoholics eventually lose their families.

Of course, it doesn't happen right away. Many times families exhibit unusual patience and spend thousands of dollars trying to get an addict back on track. But finally many of them give up. Their addicted family member has stolen from them. Maybe they've gone to prison or jail a few times. Perhaps they've been in accidents. Or maybe ended up in the emergency room after an overdose. The emotional baggage overwhelms many families and they understandably give up hope.

When I first came into recovery nearly 35 years ago I had a few phone numbers, but none of them really wanted a call from me. Including my family members. And it can be quite discouraging for the newcomer when they feel there's little chance of getting back together with those they love.

Yet I'm here to tell you that all of that can change. But it doesn't happen overnight. For most of us it doesn't happen even in the first six months. But within a few years – as long as we stay clean and sober – our families will realize that we're serious about recovery and start communicating with us once more.

I know that in my case it took about three years for my family to realize that I was serious about staying sober. And once they realized that, we started spending holidays together, summer vacations together and saw each other on a regular basis. At one point I had five family members living with me in a three bedroom house.

And for some of us, the very unusual happens. For example in my case, I even had a daughter show up who was born in the late 1960s, a child that I was unaware of.

As long as we remain in recovery, there's hope for us all.

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