Introduce Yourself

[honeydumplin]

First and foremost, I'm an alcoholic.

I was also a drug addict. As a matter of fact used marijuana, cocaine,
and various other stimulants, narcotics, and depressants over the course
of about twenty years, give or take. Alcohol broke my inhibition,
the coke took me up, and the pot brought me back down again.

My home group is the Men's Group here. Every sober day I experience
can in some way be attributed to a power much greater than myself.
Sponsorship, the fellowship, the brief time I've put forth into working the steps,
and the God of my very limited understanding have been paramount in going
yet another day without drink or drug. For that I am truly grateful.

Sorry that I have not introduced myself sooner.
It isn't that I've been that preoccupied, for ample
time has been there. Nor could the case be made
that there's been nothing to say, because it has.
I just haven't put forth the effort until now.

I saw something the other day(probably in this
forum) that said, "The best things in life, aren't
really things at all." They're more like that powerful
stir that I felt deep within my soul, the afternoon
that I sat and watched a sober sunset, early in recovery,
or reading a book, and being so enthralled that time
doesn't mean anything, sharing an innermost thought
with a person, appreciating a form of intimacy
with another human being for the very first time.
Seeing an aura in a person. Feeling at home,
not only in my own skin, but in my home, in general.

I mean, sometimes I am granted the serenity to listen
to devine messages of hope and renewal, and everything
wonderful in its entirety, and get this overwhelming
sense of gratitude, when peace and joy flows through every
fiber of my being, and I am at one with the universe.
But then there's also those unique occasions, when I see
and hear a guy pick up a white chip, that I also feel just
as humble, and just as grateful, as I did when I picked up one.

Still, I must disclose in a general way, what happened, before I can
ever get to the part where I can tell you where I am now.

Desperation is what brought me through the door.
And what a narrow door it is. As a matter of fact the
further I get from that white chip, the smaller that
door appears, and the more precious crossing through
it becomes.The fear of complacency, tends to move
me through the steps in a way. As confusing as it may be,
it is when I feel myself starting to slide backward, that
I find myself wanting to go forward.

One of the many similarities of other alcoholics I've heard
speak is that rather raw abnormality; that subtle rare
quality that's been like a thorn in my side ever since I can
remember trying to cohabitate with the human race.
For years I just felt like I was out of step with the
entire galaxy.

Why couldn't I talk to people in general conversation?
I thought. Why would I not just be normal? Why did
the tears flow over the small stuff, and how did I find
such dysfunctional humour during a crisis? Why couldn't
I have a relationship with the opposite sex without
sabbotaging it through drugs and alcohol? Why could
I not have a relationship with anyone for that matter?

These questions, along with a lot of other confusion, and
distorted thinking seem to go hand and hand with alcohol
and drug addiction. Actually, they tend to play off of each
other. I drank to distort the confusion, and more I drank,
the more confused I got. Working the steps, the mere
passage of time, and seeking some sort of conception
of serenity have gradually removed those “whys” that
seemed so important.

It has only been recently that I've been able to experience
something like normal confusion. Some days maybe its
organized chaos. Other days, just abundant chaos.
Nevertheless, there is this small undertone of normality
that reveals itself on occasion. Frequently I've found
that those same tones tend to run parallel with the
feeling of being completely powerless of certain things.

Powerlessness over the apocalypse for instance. Over
politics. Over religous zealots. Over other people's
predisposed opinions and biases. To live and to feel that
I have absolutely no control over that stuff relieves
me of a very huge burden, and allows me to distance
myself a bit from the narcissitic, self-absorbed alcoholic
that I have been for so long, and can still be at times.
An ebb and flow, if you will.

I mean there was a period several years ago when I battled
some real demons. At one time, I even thought I was
the antichrist. Is there anything more self-centered, and
power hungry, and pathetic than that?

In consideration of the stuff that I was doing at the time,
it was totally against christian beliefs. So even though I
may not have been biblically the antichrist, I was certainly
participating in acts that were not in line at all with following
Christ.

That's how messed up I was. I was skewed, so why
wouldn't my thought process be skewed as well? And
it was. Just as I would begin to feel how scary it was
to be sober, I'd anxiously anticipate the day I could skew
my head back into drunkeness, in order to not let that be
a thought anymore.

I used to tell me people that I was in recovery. My days
of recovery were Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday.
I'd say it with a smile too, as if I really had everything together.
And I would somehow find a way to cherish it, no matter
how small that recovery was, and tried to use it to my advantage,
as I did practically any other thing at my limited disposal.

When I'd take that very last hit on Saturday at three
or four in the morning, something would kick in. I knew
that with little or no money,the next four or five days would
be tough, and I had to get serious, and buckle down.
Conserve my resources. Which wasn't that hard,
considering there weren't any.

Once I changed gears from getting drunk and high, to
getting a little rest, and doing a few healthy activities like
exercise, and reading some inspirational literature I would
be okay. I'd write a little poetry. Listen to soft music. All I
needed was some time to gain hold of my illusional
willpower. If I could just muster enough, and get my self-
discipline back in order, I'd be alright. But thankfully,
that didn't happen.

And also, there were those rare, and unique times when I
didn't have a penny to my name, and Thursday would go
off without a hitch. I'd think, man this is kinda neat.
Why maybe I can pull this off. Also, to no avail.

That night, I'd have a good meal, maybe get to bed at a
decent hour. Some times I would even run late getting
to the bank to get my check cashed, so that my twisted
idea of recovery could inforced. Without a pocket full
of cash, it was relatively easy. I would even have a few
beers and relax, knowing that I'd made it another day.
Talk about a false sense of security. I was eat up with it.

Then the next day I would be sitting at stop light. In a
split second, with what little resolve I had mustered tossed
to the wind, and a week's salary of cash eating a whole
in my pocket, every idea I had about going a few days
clean would vanish into thin air. I would leave the house
with the best of intentions to go to the grocery store,
and never actually make it to the grocery store.
Sometimes I wouldn't get home until the next day.
And so the cycle continued.

There were times I'd jones for that particular twisted
view of recovery so much, that I craved the calm after
the storm. It was one of the few things that felt real.
Imagine, subconciously wanting to have a hangover
so I could remind myself how awful it was, so that I
would in turn, not want to drink anymore.

To surrender without giving up. To live and let live.
These were phrases plainly spoken to me. Sayings that
I used as life's little mantras when I actively used that I
never had a clue about, but would mention them
nonetheless, as if they were deniable denial; an anthem
excuse for being the drunk that I'd supposedly, refused
to become.

Now, I find that these same sayings are the things
I continue to struggle with in sobriety. But giving
them away, and sharing them, really does help me
to stay sober another day. To realize what they mean.
To say them. To feel them. Its like having an unknown
language translated, right in front of me. But it can only
remain habit-forming, when I commit to it, and practice
it, otherwise it slips away. If I don't use it, I lose it.

Thanks. I hope you don't mind if I share some of it
with you.