I quit cigarettes a few years ago, for good, and that makes me feel as if I have some understanding of addiction. Maybe it does, at least as far as smoking. It took me years to quit properly, and it was not easy. It gives me hope that I at least conquered something. Maybe because of that experience, this place I am in now with alcohol feels familiar, albeit embryonic. I am in the stage (probably an unofficial one) where I *want to want to* quit, but don't yet actually *want to*. But time's a'wastin', and I want to live my life better than this.
At least, I do until about 8 PM every evening. I don't know what it's going to take for me to get there.
Reading your stories every week humbles me and makes me feel not so alone. I see that I am lucky to function as well as I do, and that I am my own train wreck waiting to happen.
Mostly, though, I deeply envy each of you who are in recovery, who have reached the point at which you have had enough and have struggled over one of the largest barriers: your *want to*, your *ready*, has arrived, and you have taken it with you to the other side. You're DOING it. You're living better than you thought you could when you were in the thick fog of addiction. I want you all to see that this is true, even if you're lonely, broke, lost, in pain, or flailing today. You're on your way, day by day, to being even better--whatever that means to you, however small your steps.
It’s been over three years since I stopped drinking. I made the decision to give it up after about a decade of thinking about quitting. The last two years have been full of big changes, some of which I would call miraculous. I’m a parent now, my child has been on earth for 18 months, and I’ve never felt more clear about how important it is for me continue on the path of sobriety, therapy, meditation, nonviolent communication—and I’ve never felt more like an alcoholic. Full-time caregiving is the most intense and challenging and consequential thing I’ve ever done. It brings me right to the edge of everything I don’t want to see or accept about myself, about others, about the world, about life. It’s so tempting to seek escape. I’m working hard to be gentle and generous, and this community really supports me in this effort. Thank you.
I love all these shares. Thank goodness for people who are willing to be honest about what hurts them and scares them, as well as those who have managed to change the trajectory of their lives.
I connect most strongly with the writer whose partner has been sober for 90 days and who fears a relapse. For those of us who love alcoholics and addicts, we are never safe, not when they’re out there drinking and using and not when they’re sober either I was never safe. When I finally started going to Al-Anon, the meetings were filled with people who had never been safe and who had found a way to survive and thrive in spite of their fears. I know it sounds impossible. It took me some time to believe the people in Al-Anon meetings were neither lying nor delusional. Many loved their lives and loved their qualifiers without the safety net of knowing what the next day would bring. It’s not a perfect organization , Al-Anon, but it’s got a magic I’ve never found anywhere else.
I’m always moved when I read TSB but today I feel especially moved seeing people show up and try against all odds. There is so much pain, but so much grasping for something better too. Also, I too do not care about the fancy vegetables? A revelation.
I read all of the entries today. So many things resonate for me. All of us are trying to find a way to get through the day and maybe sometime actually love ourselves. I want to offer one piece of advice I have found helpful: treat yourself like you would treat a beloved child or friend. That kind of compassion and gentleness directed toward myself feels soothing and healing and, simply put, nice.
Stopped dope & booze, sober date: March 19th 1985. I have a sponsor, a group, I work the steps and have a service position. I drank & drugged too much, too often and I nearly lost my life. I went to a party in 1970 and I didn’t get home until ‘85. I’m told I have a body allergy where I break out in handcuffs with broken bones dreams and relationships. We pay dearly to recover.
Since being sober Grace has allowed me to do the things I’d dreamed about, meet many of the people I’d read about and be the person I’d imagined possible for myself, my family and community in a “thinking, feeling and exquisite Universe.” In my first 9 years, I traveled the West paid for by the international org. I admired, danced with and hugged Shamans, Native Chiefs and a High Priestess Witch Laureate and was adopted by The Western Shoshone. The fellowship encouraged me to go back to school so I finished the undergrad and earned a Master’s degree in Counseling Psychology as a “ Master Of Education” lending M.Ed. to my signature help healing and teaching.
What I’ve found is a power greater than dope, booze and illness.
By attending gatherings (meetings) regularly, realizing that “the war” is over for me, I find us mutually recovering from a world that has a broken heart. We’re appreciating a miraculous gift, magically given to ordinary people, now very nearly 89 years ago. “The lie is dead. We do recover,”
I wish you all 10,000 of the finest blessings, I hope you always have enough and May you walk in beauty, beloveds.
To the mother who just got back into full time motherhood: so much admiration for what you’ve accomplished so far, and rooting for you and your daughter so hard.
I have a six year old daughter, too. It’s incredible, your growth while also enduring being gutted by the separation. I’m a bit second-hand gutted just reading your telling of it. Thank you for sharing and I’ll look forward to hearing your next update. Sending some psychic support or prayers or whatever we want to call it your way.
These shares call to mind a sentiment I sometimes hear at meetings (and that I feel too): it’s good to feel these feelings, to cry, even though it feels so painful.
"....to desire less and less of myself in the world. And thus I envision even less and less of myself in the world. Less impact, less value, less interest. I exist, but for how long? That's not suicidal ideation, but rather the sense that people whom no one needs disappear a little more every day. I am too tired to resist my fade or its inevitability, let alone stop it or reverse it. What do I do in the meantime?"
I can remember a few times I felt this way in sobriety, as if I were having a "bottom" while sober... one time was after a surgery that left me lying in bed for days taking pain medication and rewatching Grey's Anatomy for the 5th time. (Do not recommend). A day or so after I was done with the pain medication I felt extremely suicidal... it was somewhat of a relief to find out my withdrawal symptoms were "normal" and that very dark, sometimes suicidal, thoughts were common in people coming off these types of meds. I didn't feel so crazy anymore and it gave me hope to know my emotions would be balanced again in time.
Another time I hit a bottom in sobriety was/is far more complicated and started after my dog Abby died due to an attack by 3 larger dogs. The guilt I felt (and still feel) is unbearable and makes me feel like I don't deserve to exist on this planet. I was her mommy and I should have been protecting her and I put her in a position where she ended up getting killed. There is a small part of me that can have some compassion for myself (mainly thanks to extensive PTSD therapy). Obviously if I were clairvoyant I never would have put her in that situation. I really thought the dogs would just sniff each other and then we'd be on our way to the park. At night when I try to sleep I relive that night over and over, then those thoughts snowball into thinking of all my screw-ups and all the ways I have messed up my life and the lives of those around me. It feels like I'm suffocating. I'm crying now as I write this. I need to talk about it but also I feel guilty when I do, like I'm traumatizing other people. I even feel some guilt writing this. I don't know how to forgive myself. Because of my trauma I am always waiting for something bad to happen. Truly, my greatest wish is for a giant meteor to just wipe us all out. No more pain, no more grief for anyone. I can't bear the thought of losing anyone else. How do people live in this uncertain scary world?
When I get in these dark places, sometimes it helps to reflect on other times in my life when I was depressed, or anxious, and I came out the other side somehow. I can do it again. My life before and since sobriety is a testament to the fact that I can do hard things. A friend suggested getting a box and whenever something makes me laugh out loud or whenever I feel joy, even for just a moment, to write it down and put it in the box. He said that soon enough I would run out of room in the box for my happy memories. He assured me that good times are ahead, even if I can't see them. As another friend likes to say, "Don't worry... it'll get different."
What an incredible group of check-ins this month. I relate to this so much “I realized how much of my identity was wrapped up in my consumption patterns”! Consumption of everything.
Relapse is anathema to recovery. It may be a part of what got you to your first day in a continuous run called sober time but, recovery days are counted at least by continuous abstinence.
If recovery includes relapse then I have 49 years with 39 of continued “clean” time. Functionally I’m 39 years sober.
If time really doesn’t mean anything then you may be fine with getting a sponsor or your Surgeon from their fresh release from detox. “Think.”
I quit cigarettes a few years ago, for good, and that makes me feel as if I have some understanding of addiction. Maybe it does, at least as far as smoking. It took me years to quit properly, and it was not easy. It gives me hope that I at least conquered something. Maybe because of that experience, this place I am in now with alcohol feels familiar, albeit embryonic. I am in the stage (probably an unofficial one) where I *want to want to* quit, but don't yet actually *want to*. But time's a'wastin', and I want to live my life better than this.
At least, I do until about 8 PM every evening. I don't know what it's going to take for me to get there.
Reading your stories every week humbles me and makes me feel not so alone. I see that I am lucky to function as well as I do, and that I am my own train wreck waiting to happen.
Mostly, though, I deeply envy each of you who are in recovery, who have reached the point at which you have had enough and have struggled over one of the largest barriers: your *want to*, your *ready*, has arrived, and you have taken it with you to the other side. You're DOING it. You're living better than you thought you could when you were in the thick fog of addiction. I want you all to see that this is true, even if you're lonely, broke, lost, in pain, or flailing today. You're on your way, day by day, to being even better--whatever that means to you, however small your steps.
Thank you for lighting the way. <3
“thank god that I was right about my fear that everything would change if I quit.” Yes. Yes yes yes yes yes. Keep writing and sharing please.
It’s been over three years since I stopped drinking. I made the decision to give it up after about a decade of thinking about quitting. The last two years have been full of big changes, some of which I would call miraculous. I’m a parent now, my child has been on earth for 18 months, and I’ve never felt more clear about how important it is for me continue on the path of sobriety, therapy, meditation, nonviolent communication—and I’ve never felt more like an alcoholic. Full-time caregiving is the most intense and challenging and consequential thing I’ve ever done. It brings me right to the edge of everything I don’t want to see or accept about myself, about others, about the world, about life. It’s so tempting to seek escape. I’m working hard to be gentle and generous, and this community really supports me in this effort. Thank you.
I love all these shares. Thank goodness for people who are willing to be honest about what hurts them and scares them, as well as those who have managed to change the trajectory of their lives.
I connect most strongly with the writer whose partner has been sober for 90 days and who fears a relapse. For those of us who love alcoholics and addicts, we are never safe, not when they’re out there drinking and using and not when they’re sober either I was never safe. When I finally started going to Al-Anon, the meetings were filled with people who had never been safe and who had found a way to survive and thrive in spite of their fears. I know it sounds impossible. It took me some time to believe the people in Al-Anon meetings were neither lying nor delusional. Many loved their lives and loved their qualifiers without the safety net of knowing what the next day would bring. It’s not a perfect organization , Al-Anon, but it’s got a magic I’ve never found anywhere else.
I’m always moved when I read TSB but today I feel especially moved seeing people show up and try against all odds. There is so much pain, but so much grasping for something better too. Also, I too do not care about the fancy vegetables? A revelation.
I read all of the entries today. So many things resonate for me. All of us are trying to find a way to get through the day and maybe sometime actually love ourselves. I want to offer one piece of advice I have found helpful: treat yourself like you would treat a beloved child or friend. That kind of compassion and gentleness directed toward myself feels soothing and healing and, simply put, nice.
Don't have much to add other than thank you to everyone for sharing.
yer the best.
Stopped dope & booze, sober date: March 19th 1985. I have a sponsor, a group, I work the steps and have a service position. I drank & drugged too much, too often and I nearly lost my life. I went to a party in 1970 and I didn’t get home until ‘85. I’m told I have a body allergy where I break out in handcuffs with broken bones dreams and relationships. We pay dearly to recover.
Since being sober Grace has allowed me to do the things I’d dreamed about, meet many of the people I’d read about and be the person I’d imagined possible for myself, my family and community in a “thinking, feeling and exquisite Universe.” In my first 9 years, I traveled the West paid for by the international org. I admired, danced with and hugged Shamans, Native Chiefs and a High Priestess Witch Laureate and was adopted by The Western Shoshone. The fellowship encouraged me to go back to school so I finished the undergrad and earned a Master’s degree in Counseling Psychology as a “ Master Of Education” lending M.Ed. to my signature help healing and teaching.
What I’ve found is a power greater than dope, booze and illness.
By attending gatherings (meetings) regularly, realizing that “the war” is over for me, I find us mutually recovering from a world that has a broken heart. We’re appreciating a miraculous gift, magically given to ordinary people, now very nearly 89 years ago. “The lie is dead. We do recover,”
I wish you all 10,000 of the finest blessings, I hope you always have enough and May you walk in beauty, beloveds.
To the mother who just got back into full time motherhood: so much admiration for what you’ve accomplished so far, and rooting for you and your daughter so hard.
I have a six year old daughter, too. It’s incredible, your growth while also enduring being gutted by the separation. I’m a bit second-hand gutted just reading your telling of it. Thank you for sharing and I’ll look forward to hearing your next update. Sending some psychic support or prayers or whatever we want to call it your way.
Very beautiful, raw stories. Many thanks to all who contributed—and love and strength on all your journeys.
These shares call to mind a sentiment I sometimes hear at meetings (and that I feel too): it’s good to feel these feelings, to cry, even though it feels so painful.
I found this share to be very relatable:
"....to desire less and less of myself in the world. And thus I envision even less and less of myself in the world. Less impact, less value, less interest. I exist, but for how long? That's not suicidal ideation, but rather the sense that people whom no one needs disappear a little more every day. I am too tired to resist my fade or its inevitability, let alone stop it or reverse it. What do I do in the meantime?"
I can remember a few times I felt this way in sobriety, as if I were having a "bottom" while sober... one time was after a surgery that left me lying in bed for days taking pain medication and rewatching Grey's Anatomy for the 5th time. (Do not recommend). A day or so after I was done with the pain medication I felt extremely suicidal... it was somewhat of a relief to find out my withdrawal symptoms were "normal" and that very dark, sometimes suicidal, thoughts were common in people coming off these types of meds. I didn't feel so crazy anymore and it gave me hope to know my emotions would be balanced again in time.
Another time I hit a bottom in sobriety was/is far more complicated and started after my dog Abby died due to an attack by 3 larger dogs. The guilt I felt (and still feel) is unbearable and makes me feel like I don't deserve to exist on this planet. I was her mommy and I should have been protecting her and I put her in a position where she ended up getting killed. There is a small part of me that can have some compassion for myself (mainly thanks to extensive PTSD therapy). Obviously if I were clairvoyant I never would have put her in that situation. I really thought the dogs would just sniff each other and then we'd be on our way to the park. At night when I try to sleep I relive that night over and over, then those thoughts snowball into thinking of all my screw-ups and all the ways I have messed up my life and the lives of those around me. It feels like I'm suffocating. I'm crying now as I write this. I need to talk about it but also I feel guilty when I do, like I'm traumatizing other people. I even feel some guilt writing this. I don't know how to forgive myself. Because of my trauma I am always waiting for something bad to happen. Truly, my greatest wish is for a giant meteor to just wipe us all out. No more pain, no more grief for anyone. I can't bear the thought of losing anyone else. How do people live in this uncertain scary world?
When I get in these dark places, sometimes it helps to reflect on other times in my life when I was depressed, or anxious, and I came out the other side somehow. I can do it again. My life before and since sobriety is a testament to the fact that I can do hard things. A friend suggested getting a box and whenever something makes me laugh out loud or whenever I feel joy, even for just a moment, to write it down and put it in the box. He said that soon enough I would run out of room in the box for my happy memories. He assured me that good times are ahead, even if I can't see them. As another friend likes to say, "Don't worry... it'll get different."
Peace, Warriors
Thank you for your writings. I am still working on letting go of things I cannot control and I’m six years sober. This does not appear to get easier.
What an incredible group of check-ins this month. I relate to this so much “I realized how much of my identity was wrapped up in my consumption patterns”! Consumption of everything.
Relapse is anathema to recovery. It may be a part of what got you to your first day in a continuous run called sober time but, recovery days are counted at least by continuous abstinence.
If recovery includes relapse then I have 49 years with 39 of continued “clean” time. Functionally I’m 39 years sober.
If time really doesn’t mean anything then you may be fine with getting a sponsor or your Surgeon from their fresh release from detox. “Think.”