Tag: freedom

Joy; Unbridled — Thoughts on My Higher Purpose During the Coronavirus Pandemic

As the pandemic reaches the seventh month here in the United States, and our death toll continues to climb — in part due to mismanagement and disinformation on the part of the highest levels of our federal government — we are assaulted by science denial and lies on a daily basis. We watch as the President intentionally sows distrust of the electoral process, spreads baseless conspiracy theories, and has calls for his cult like followers to actively participate in voter intimidation at the polls, as it becomes more and more likely that he will lose the election.

We are, rightfully, wary of our fellow humans — no one knows who is infected or who has been exposed. Most of us wear masks, but some refuse to do so — I don’t believe in hell, but if I did, I’d be sure that there is a special place in hell for these people. For those of us who are practicing sanity, we have forgotten what life without masks looks and feels like. We don’t see other people smile.

For many of us, life has taken on a tone of monotony, as if we are living the movie, Groundhog Day, were we are going through the motions and every day feels the same. Blendsday — waking up on Saturday often leads to a moment of confusion about what I have to do for work, only to realize that it is the weekend.

But having the weekend has become small comfort — we can’t really do the things we’d normally do on the weekends like gather with friends and family. Put simply, life doesn’t feel much like the life in the land of the free and the home of the brave lately. It feels dysfunctional because it is dysfunctional. We aren’t living through a time that simple feels dystopian, our time has actually become dystopian in many ways.

This weekend has been different. My son’s scout troop went on it’s first camping trip since COVID started. Things were different on this trip. Each boy slept in his own tent. The adults prepared all the meals. We wore masks all day and gloves during meal prep. We used disposable plates, cups, and flatware. We camped on private land rather than at a campsite — the county parks are still closed to overnight camping and all the state parks are booked.

And yet, it was a change in homeostasis. We were outside. We were together. Doing things. Building fire pits and fires. Boys learning to use tools like axes and saws. Tug of war. Ultimate frisbee.

It was clearly not Blendsday.

Yesterday, in the middle of the day as I was prepping and serving lunch to middle school and teenage boys, I felt something in my chest. A peculiar sensation.

Buzzing. Tingling. Warmth. Excitement.

Moments of joy have been few and far between for so long I almost didn’t recognize it. I mean, I literally felt the feelings in my chest and wondered what was going on. As I made another sandwich, I took inventory of the rest of my body. It was only when I recognized that I was actually smiling under my mask that I could name it.

Joy; Unbridled.

It was a feeling brought on by doing the next right thing. In this case, being a responsible father, serving young men, being a role model for them, and knowing I was making a difference.

One of the other fathers said it best while we were lounging around a fire mid-day yesterday day, “I needed this.” He was referring to being out in the woods, the fresh air, the petrichor of the forest floor after a passing shower, and the physical activities of camping.

And while I needed all of that, it was not just the experience of getting out in the wilderness that brought on joy. My higher purpose in life was being fully actualized in the moment. That’s what life is all about. That’s how we get through the dystopia.

Posted on by damien 2

1827 — Five Years, One Day at a Time

One thousand, eight hundred, twenty-seven days without a drink — one day at a time. But who’s counting?

Well, I am.

Five years is a long-ass time without taking a drink, considering that I drank daily for seven years, and at least weekly for 25 years, leading up to September 23, 2015.

It has been a rough road, especially in the first year and in the last two years. The first year was, well, the first year. I spent months walking around in a fog. I sometimes forgot what I was saying mid-sentence. I craved booze, especially in the first six months. Everything was a trigger. Having a good day, I wanted to drink. Having a bad day, I wanted to drink. The weather was cold, the weather was warm…you get the picture.

The last two years have included family and societal trauma. I went through some things that no parent should ever go through. I watched my son suffer and he showed me what resilience looks like. I’ve been living in the same pandemic as you are and 2020 has been a shit-show with one hit after another. But I’ve always held on to hope and faith that things will get better. And I’ve stayed sober through it all.

These last five years have also been a time of self reflection, rediscovery, growth, and joy. I uncovered the root of my addiction. I discovered that I could let go of the God of my childhood and embrace an understanding of the universe that made room for the mystery without subscribing to a particular dogma. I began running at the young age of 45.

I am grateful that I am now living a life that I couldn’t have imagined back in 2015. I am safe, secure in who I am, have a loving family and a wide circle of friends. I’ve traveled and enjoyed making new friends. I’ve been a better dad and a better husband. I have truly discovered a new freedom and a new happiness. I don’t regret my past; I can look at it honestly and openly. I’ve found peace and I know that my experience can help others. I do not fear people or economic insecurity. My whole outlook on life has changed. These are only a few of the AA Promises, and I am here to tell you that they do come true.

I couldn’t have gotten here without help and hope. Hope and faith that things would be better. Nietzsche wrote, “He who has a why to live can bear with almost any how.” I came into the rooms with only a grain of a mustard seed of hope but I had a why. My reason to live was for my son and may family, quite simply, I wasn’t ready to die and I knew that dying was on the agenda.

I often think about the darkness and despair that I felt as I walked into that 6:00 AM meeting in 2015. I think about the newcomer, and all those out there who are struggling, often in silence — our stories may be different, but we have a kinship of common suffering. We also have a kinship of a common solution.

And so I want to leave you with this as I celebrate my fifth anniversary of choosing to live —

If you are struggling,
If your world feels dark and lonely,
If you look in the mirror and hate the person you see there,
If you can’t imagine living without alcohol or drugs,
If you can’t imagine another day of drinking or using,
If you know that you’re killing yourself with your addiction,
Know that this is how I felt,
Know that others have been right where you are,
Know that you are not alone,
Know that there are ways out,
Know that people want to help,
Know that they can help,
Know that you can accept their help,
Know that you are worthy,
Know that you can overcome this,
Know that you can not only make it, but thrive.

It all starts by surrendering, accepting the fact that you can’t continue to live like you have been, and asking for help.

Posted on by damien 17

Step 12: Give Others Hope

Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

Fundamentally, the 12 Steps are a roadmap for change as well as a guide for living a rich and full life. Whether one calls it a spiritual awakening or something else is immaterial. Some folks do feel that they have undergone a monumental psychic shift as the result of working through the steps. Others feel that the change is more subtle.

I personally suspect that the degree to which one feels a change is highly dependent upon how circumstances of their active addiction. For an addict who found himself or herself living on the street, steeling to survive, and living in constant fear, the shift is undoubtedly monumental. But for others who managed to keep their outward lives together while they suffered existential dread internally the shift may seem less dramatic, at least from outward appearances.

Personally, it took more than the 12 Steps for me to feel a fundamental shift in my outlook on life. Specifically it has taken the support of friends and family as well as trauma therapy. I began trauma therapy about nine months ago and as I’ve learned what triggers me, how to recognize with these triggers, and how to be with these triggers in the moment, I have felt a calmness that I’ve never known before in my life.

Many people do find this calmness through the 12 Steps. I didn’t. I felt just the opposite for a long time because the 12 Steps tripped my triggers. I am triggered by the word God. I am triggered by the the notion of an omniscient, omnipresent, and benevolent deity. The root of these triggers are in my life experience. I suffered spiritual trauma when I was told that my birth father could never go to heaven because he died of suicide. Additionally, my life experience is at odds with the idea that there is a benevolent deity directing the world — my direct experience is the opposite. The universe is chaos.

And yet, I’ve learned to accept this. I’ve learned that even if the universe is chaotic, it can still be a power greater than myself. I’ve learned that the mystery of the universe shows me that there is something more out there. Something that deeply connects us to all other things in the universe.

Recently, I was reminded of the scientific Law of Conservation of Mass, which states that matter can not be created or destroyed. When I consume food, that matter gets converted into either cells in my body or waste. For my rational brain, this is proof enough of the interconnectedness of everything in the universe.

For the past few months, I’ve been attending a Unitarian Universalist church and have found in this church a welcoming of my skepticism. It’s as if I suddenly found a bunch of people who think like me. Who suspect that there is something out there but who may not always be sure. The church is welcoming of theists, non-theists, atheists and agnostics. There is very little dogma. They don’t tell me how to believe. And that’s what I needed. This is my spiritual tribe, at least for now.

Importantly, I couldn’t have considered attending this church without going through the therapy process. I needed to deprogram old thinking and old patterns of behavior that no longer served me.

In the 12th step, we are asked to carry the message to other alcoholics. I believe the message is simple. There is a way out of the horrors of addiction and we can have a happy, healthy, and full life without the bondage of addiction. In short, it is a message of hope.

That is what I felt when I came into the rooms in 2015, a great sense of hope. Hope that I could turn things around. Hope that I could feel better. Hope that I could get the monkey off my back. Hope that I could be free. Hope that I might live past fifty years old.

Interestingly, when I was in high school I knew the importance of hope. In a very dark time I scrawled out a short poem that likened life to a matchstick. It shines bright and strong. Intense and dramatic after being lit. And then it’s over. The poem asked the question, if there’s nothing more than this life “why even spark the match?” Years later, one of my teachers found this poem tucked inside my old social studies book and got it to my mother.

And so, when I was confronted in therapy with the question, “what does a God provide to people who believe?” I knew the answer even if I wasn’t ready to accept it. The answer is hope and meaning.

And hope was vital. Without hope, my recovery would not have been possible. And so, even if I don’t like the words, I’ve had what one might call a spiritual awakening.

We need to be able to see that there is a way out of the things that we struggle with. We need to see that our struggles are part of the human condition. All humans struggle with “character defects.” All humans have problems with their egos. All humans have thoughts that if given voice might cause others to pause, to be taken aback. There is nothing unique or special about alcoholics and addicts that predisposes us to these things. The difference is how we have attempted to cope. Alcoholics and addicts have attempted to numb the pain of being human. But numbing the pain doesn’t make it go away.

What helps in times of struggle is the belief that the present reality won’t always be the reality. That things can and will get better. It doesn’t matter what the struggle is — it may be addiction but it may be something else — the message of hope is the answer.

I carry the message of hope with me in my daily life. Through my words and actions, I share it with others who are struggling. Sometimes in one on one conversations, sometimes in tweets with the RecoveryPosse on Twitter, and sometimes here on this blog.

Posted on by damien 5

Vegas, Baby…Vegas

If there is a place on earth for which I hold more disdain than Las Vegas, I have yet to see it. In truth, Vegas was never my place even when I was a drinker. Sure, I had some wild times here, and even a few that might be considered fun, but on the whole it’s loud and obnoxious and the main point in Vegas is debauchery. And still, I come to Vegas at least twice a year for my job. Believe me, it’s not by choice. It’s hard to be a sober guy in Sin City.

I’m here for my company’s annual Sales Kick Off which is part hype machine, part celebration, part learning, and part marathon. I’m surrounded by people who are pushing the limits of their bodies with drugs, alcohol, and PowerPoint. I spent the past two nights hanging out with coworkers and genuinely had a good time with them but I’m pretty well done at this point. There’s only so much hanging around in a party atmosphere I can take these days.

We’ve got very full days here. The first session is at eight in the morning and we go until six at night, followed by dinner and a party. This is just part of the job when you’re in sales. And it could be miserable for a guy in recovery, but I don’t let that happen.

I knew I needed a plan to keep my sanity here, so I made the commitment to myself that I would leave the socializing events as soon as I felt it was time and I planned to find a few meals that weren’t provided by the company — all the meals are buffet style at these things, it’s the only way to feed several thousand people. I was especially encouraged after a friend on twitter told me about a few good spots in my hotel, including an Asian noodle spot. I’ve made a point of getting some good meals instead of the buffet and passed appetizers that are on offer at the social functions.

On the first night, I didn’t keep my commitment to myself and I stayed out with the boys longer than I should have. As the conversation got repetitive and the drinking got harder I hung out as if I were trying to prove something. This was a mistake. I found myself questioning why I was hanging out. When I found the idea of a drink starting to sound good I made my way to the room. I was pretty worn out the next day. Social Fatigue had set in and taken it’s toll. Last night, I was truer to myself and bailed early. I was in bed and asleep by 9:30. It was good. Let me tell you, dealing with an 8:00 start is much easier without a hangover.

Tonight, I skipped the social event and instead had a date with myself. I made it to the noodle place, and ate some really great soup. Then I went to see Jackson Browne play in the Venetian Theater. Man, what a show! I thoroughly enjoyed seeing a dude in his seventies play his heart out. He played a number of his greatest songs. It was artful and beautify.

I was most certainly the youngest person in the audience, and I’m sure some of the septuagenarians were wondering what the hell I was doing there all by my self, but I felt right at home. It’s so good to be comfortable in my own skin. I never would have done this when I was drinking. The idea of going to a concert by myself would have been horrifying. But not these days. These days, it’s great. Several times during the show, I thought to myself that I was exactly where I was supposed to be tonight. I was taking in great music, stone cold sober, and enjoying myself. For once, I felt like I actually belonged in Vegas and that it might not be such an awful town.

Posted on by damien 4

Something More than Free

Time flies when you’re busy. My last post was written while I was in Asheville, NC. Upon our return I jumped into the mix of my new job. I am currently drinking from the firehouse at work and have had very little time to write.

That said, it hasn’t been all work and no play. I went on a camping trip with my son and his Cub Scout pack and I’ve been working on following through on my plans to get more active and track my calories. That’s had a good effect, and I’m down about five pounds from my recent average. I’d like to drop about 45 more.

I’ve had some ups and downs, including a rather uncomfortable spot while out to dinner with a customer when I was confronted about why I don’t drink. I answered honestly and it want a big deal, but it felt like one that night. Happily, I was able to talk with a good friend in recovery about it and came to the conclusion that I needed to address the incident openly and honestly, which I did and I don’t think it will be an issue again.

The new job is pretty awesome and I’m really enjoying it. I’ve got a lot to learn and it could easily be overwhelming but I have a set of tools that I didn’t have 19 months ago and they are working when the stress piles on.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my sobriety and the freedom that it gives me. That’s really the key, it’s the sense of freedom that I have that keeps me going and that keeps me coming back for more.

Hope you are all well.

Posted on by damien 7

Freedom & Willingness

Several years ago, my wife said to me, “I’d spend my last dime on travel” and I was dumbstruck. Certainly if I were down to my last dime I wouldn’t spend it on travel. Certainly I’d spend it on food, or better yet, beer. This was before I’d gone off the rails – in fact well before I’d gone off the rails. But that was my thought.

In the interceding years there were many times when my wife suggested we go somewhere — a long weekend, a trip over a school break — and I was adamant that we could not possibly do it. I always used money as the excuse. And money was a problem at times — it’s hard to find extra cash when you’re blowing more than a car payment on booze in a month.

If I’m honest though, the money wasn’t really the problem, it was simply that I wasn’t willing.

We talk about willingness in the rooms a lot. We tell people who have trouble with the higher power thing that they only need to be willing to believe. We tell people that they need to be willing to do the work. We talk about being willing to get vulnerable, willing to ask for help. And all those things are important, but what I needed most was a willingness to engage in and live life. I needed to become willing to do the things that I previously had no will to do.

It took time, but after a while I found myself willing to do things that I never imagined I’d be doing. Willing to go on camping trips with my son’s Cub Scout pack. Willing to take trips to NY and NC to visit my wife’s family. Willing to spend the money to take my family away for the week of my son’s spring break. (It certainly helps that I can better manage my finances now that I’m not drinking my cash each week.)

Since I got sober we have taken many trips as a family. We’ve been to Maine as a family and visited friends. We went to Bethel Park, New York for the Stevie Winwood and Steely Dan show. We’ve been to Martha’s Vineyard for vacation. We’ve went to Shenandoah over spring break last year and we’re in Asheville, NC for Spring Break this year. In years past, most of these trips simply would not have happened because I was not willing to do them.

There were many reasons why I wasn’t willing, but the biggest one was because I wasn’t willing to not drink the way I wanted to. I wasn’t willing to embrace this life and fully engage with my family.

When I look back on things it’s easy to get angry with myself. It’s easy to find fault. But the thing is, I wasn’t free. When men and women aren’t free, their choices are limited. And very often they can’t make the best choice simply because they don’t have the freedom. In some sense, freedom brought willingness to my life.

I’m glad to be free.

Posted on by damien 10