Category Archives: 12-Step Programs

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Just how smart are we?

In some places, traps are made by cutting a hole in a coconut just big enough for a monkey’s hand, and then tying it to a tree with a banana inside. The monkey reaches in and grabs the banana, but gets stuck because it can’t get its hand out without letting go of the banana. All it needs to do is let go. Instead, it ends up in a stew. Monkeys are stubborn.

Sometimes we cling to things — arguments, ideas, relationships — because we already have so much invested in them, even though we might be better off letting them go. Humans are stubborn, too (but we are supposedly smarter than monkeys).

WHAT IS RELAPSE?

by Michele O. Webb BSW, CAP

What is relapse? It’s when you pick up a drink or a drug, or resume another addictive behavior — right? Well, let’s think about that. What does the dictionary say?

  • Relapse: To suffer deterioration after a period of improvement, or
  • A deterioration in health after a temporary improvement.

These definitions seems to fit our needs, but let’s look at them carefully. They both mention deterioration of improvements. Deterioration is a process, not an event — and so is relapse.

Do I relapse when I pick up a drink? Huh-uh. The relapse occurred before I used my drug or acted out, or I wouldn’t have used, would I? A person who isn’t already in relapse isn’t going to pick up.

So, when does relapse happen? Over a period of time. Recovery isn’t about what I’m doing in other people’s eyes. It’s about changes that are happening inside me. I choose to recover, or not. I choose to do the things that will be helpful in overcoming my addictive behavior and addict thinking, or not. I choose to pay attention to the guidance of other people who have been successful in the recovery process. Or not. I choose to follow the suggestions of experts. Or not.

Probably the easiest way for me to know if I’m in recovery is to look at my attitude toward my program or (perhaps more accurately) the program I’m supposed to be working. Do I pay attention to what others say, or do I look for reasons to discount their remarks? Am I as honest with others as I’m able, or am I keeping secrets to protect my addiction? Do I harbor the idea that I’ll learn how to drink/drug/gamble/etc. in moderation, so that I can enjoy myself again? Can I hardly wait to get back to the old people, places and things, and the way I used to live my life before? Only I can decide for sure, but most folks would say that with that attitude, I’m headed for trouble on a shortcut, instead of on the long path to a better way of life.

When we relapse, we move farther and faster away from our genuine effort to apply ourselves and make changes in our lives, and we slide, slowly but surely, into our old thinking and behavior. It’s a process, not an event. We may remain abstinent, but without help we are unlikely to make the changes we need in order to have a happy, fulfilling life.

The good news is that recovery is also a process. We don’t have to do it perfectly, we only need to give it a good, honest try — and keep trying, even on the bad days. If we don’t give up; if we don’t let ourselves stay on the slippery slope into old behavior that sometimes seems so familiar and inviting, we will eventually find ourselves in recovery. And we’ll discover that it’s the opposite of addiction. In recovery, things just get better and better.

If we let them.

There, But For The Grace Of God…

Note: this was sent to me in an email, and I have attempted to find its origin on the Web. Unable to find any reference to the title, I assume that it is anonymous and, thus, in the public domain. If this is not the case, and I am so notified, I will credit the author and/or remove it immediately.

IT STARTED out innocently enough. I began to think at parties now and then — just to loosen up. Inevitably, though, one thought led to another, and soon I was more than just a social thinker.

I began to think alone — to relax, I told myself — but I knew it wasn’t true.

Thinking became more and more important to me, and finally, I was thinking all the time. That was when things began to sour at home. One evening I turned off the TV and asked my wife about the meaning of life. She spent that night at her mother’s.

I began to think on the job. I knew that thinking and employment don’t mix, but I couldn’t help myself. I began to avoid friends at lunchtime so I could read Thoreau, Muir, Confucius and Kafka. I would return to the office dizzied and confused, asking, “What is it exactly we are doing here?”

One day the boss called me in. He said, “Listen, I like you, and it hurts me to say this, but your thinking has become a real problem. If you don’t stop thinking on the job, you’ll have to find another job.”

This gave me a lot to think about. I came home early after my conversation with the boss.

“Honey,” I confess, “I’ve been thinking…”

“I know you’ve been thinking,” she said, “and I want a divorce!”

“But Honey, surely it’s not that serious.”

“It is serious,” she said, lower lip aquiver. “You think as much as college professors and college professors don’t make any money, so if you keep on thinking, we won’t have any money!”

“That’s a faulty syllogism,” I said impatiently.

She exploded in tears of rage and frustration, but I was in no mood to deal with the emotional drama.

“I’m going to the library,” I snarled as I stomped out the door.

I headed for the library, in the mood for some Nietzsche. I roared into the parking lot with NPR on the radio and ran up to the big glass doors. They didn’t open. The library was closed. To this day, I believe that a Higher Power was looking out for me that night.

Leaning on the unfeeling glass, whimpering for Zarathustra, a poster caught my eye: “Friend, is heavy thinking ruining your life?” it asked. You probably recognize that line. It comes from the standard Thinkers Anonymous poster.

This is why I am what I am today: a recovering thinker. I never miss a TA meeting. At each meeting we watch a non-educational video; last week it was “Porky’s.” Then we share experiences about how we avoided thinking since the last meeting.

I still have my job, and things are a lot better at home. Life just seemed…easier, somehow, as soon as I stopped thinking.

I think the road to recovery is nearly complete for me. Today I completed my final step. I watched American Idol.

Building A Recovery Toolkit (Part II)

ImageTaken down to its bare essentials, recovery is remarkably simple: replacing the habits and thinking of an addict with those of a physically, emotionally, and spiritually healthy person. The key is “replacing.” If we remove a bad habit and leave an empty spot, it’s likely that other bad habits will slip into that space. Substitute addictions are an excellent example: eating, sex, gambling, excessive exercising, working, smoking and so forth. Nature, as they say, abhors a vacuum — and so do addicts. Didn’t we spend a great deal of time and effort trying to fill our empty spaces?

It’s a good idea to start the day with healthy ideas and thoughts. I have two books that I read from each morning, meditating briefly on the ideas they bring. I’m on my sixth trip through one, and my 4th through the other. They help me start off in a recovery frame of mind, and with healthy ideas in my head that I can try to implement in my life throughout the day. I make notes of passages that particularly catch my eye, and ideas for things to write about. Often I’ll read a passage in the basic text of one of my recovery fellowships. The idea is to at least begin the day with my head in the right place.

Daily contact with other recovering people is another must for me. Texts don’t count. I need tones of voice and nuance, and my supports need to hear me. It’s easy to hide feelings in a text or email, and I need my supports to know the reality of what’s happening in my life, and as far as possible in my head. I have a core group of folks that I’ve been talking to regularly for years, and they can generally tell when I’m feeding them a load.

Addicts are loners. Even those of us who used around others never let our companions see who we really were, and heaven forbid anyone else should find out! In the process of supporting our legend, we got further and further from the reality of who we were in our own minds. People with poor self-esteem have to protect themselves, and there’s no such thing as an active addict with good self esteem. Which brings up supports.

As recovering people, the most important thing (after abstinence) is learning to trust others. We can’t get the unconditional love that we need without first trusting without conditions. This extends beyond the 4th and 5th Steps; it has to become a part of our daily lives.

We learn to trust by trusting. First, just a little bit: testing the waters. If that goes okay, then a little more, and then a little more. Eventually we learn who we can trust, but we can’t do that without taking at least a little chance. We do that by getting to know our peers in the program: first maybe a couple of people who sound like they know their way around sobriety, along with a couple of folks at our own level of experience. We make phone calls, talk after meetings, maybe go out for pizza. As we get to know them, we develop feelings about who we want for our “core group.” Those are the folks who go on speed dial, that we learn to turn to when things are bothering us. We need three or four of these folks, at least.

We don’t develop relationships like that without trying. I tell the guys I sponsor to call me and three other people every day, and to note it in their journals. (At least they’ll have to open them for that, if nothing else.) My reason for insisting on that is simple: if we don’t get in the habit of calling our supports when we feel good, we’re not going to call them when the crap strikes the propeller. Instead, we’ll recoil back into our addict shells, and that’s the most dangerous place we can be when we’ve got trouble in our lives.

Meetings are a must. They’re available online, by phone, and obviously in person. There is absolutely no excuse for blowing off meetings. Newcomers need one every day. We spent far longer on our addictions than we’ll ever spend on our programs, so we need to knuckle down and take our medicine. I’m diabetic, so I take my meds every day and watch my diet. I’m also an addict, so I go to meetings, talk to my supports, and watch out for people, places and things. Same difference.

There are dozens of other healthy things to add to our toolkit: meditation classes (I recommend at least a few), yoga, regular get-togethers with supports for fun and games or a movie, reading, bird-watching, hiking and other exercise (always in moderation), classes in all sorts of things — all the stuff that would have interfered with our acting out is now open to us. Some of us enjoy keeping a written record of what we’ve done, so we can go back and remember things we enjoyed (another new experience: wanting to remember).

The important thing is to do it! Leaning on our shovels and telling everyone how some day we’re going to own the company is no way to get long-term sobriety. Active addiction was the worst job we could ever have. Compared to that, a little work to get better is no big deal.

Scary, maybe, but no big deal.

Building A Recovery Toolkit (Part I)

ImageWhen we first get into the rooms of recovery we hear lots of suggestions. Some of us take them seriously. Others see them as simplistic, and not applicable to people with experience/education/intelligence like ours. I plead guilty to a prolonged membership in that category; it didn’t help my recovery at all. I discovered, after paying a high price, that those suggestions definitely apply to me, and I’m still taking them.

It seems to me that people “in recovery” can be divided into two classes: recovering and getting by. I avoid “drunk”, “relapsed”, “dry drunk” and similar put-downs. While they’re useful in their way, they’re weighed down with derision and emotion. What I’m referring to here is folks who may be abstinent, but who aren’t getting all they could out of recovery. Continue reading