Tag: sober thoughts

Our writer has lost his voice

I feel that I’ve lost my voice in my writing. Since I started this blog, my posts have been largely confessional in nature. Early on, a lot of my posts were about my struggles with various aspects of the 12 Step world as I understood it at the time. Some, but not all, of those misgivings arose from my own misunderstandings of things.

Between years four and five I became much more comfortable with the program, largely as a result of allowing myself abandon the god of my childhood and embrace my own understanding of the mysteries of the universe. And as a result, my writing slowed. But that’s not the only reason.

Over the past two years there have been a series of events in my life that have been incredibly difficult. These events have involved not just me, but my family. They are our story, not exclusively mine, and because they involve others I have not felt that it was appropriate to write openly about them.

This has been difficult for me, because writing about my own struggles has been therapeutic, and I don’t enjoy the cathartic release that came from sharing my story when I keep it inside me. I have shared some of these details with trusted confidants and in meetings, but by and large they have not been on public display.

I have struggled with what to post here. On several occasions I have written a post and sat on it only to decide ultimately that it was not mine to share without the consent of others involved. I know this the right thing to do, but it’s not easy to restrain from publishing.

And so, I find myself at a crossroads. I am not sure that the stories I have to tell are mine alone to tell and I am not sure how to sanitize them in such a way that I can share them. I would like to continue this blog, but I struggle to come up with content that I feel is safe to share at the moment.

I suppose this is growth — this awareness of others. In the past, I might have simply published without regard for the others involved in the stories. I am sure there is a balance somewhere, but, for the life of me, I haven’t been able to find it recently.

Posted on by damien 5

Day-Dates, Reclamation, & Courage and Strength

On Saturday, my wife and I took a drive over to Easton, MD and had lunch at one of our favorite Italian restaurants, Scossa. We ate lunch outside, despite it being 48 degrees. Admittedly, it is a bit odd to eat lunch outside in January wearing our winter coats, but it’s as close as we are coming to normal right now.

Yesterday, we met my brother and his wife and son for a walk at Cromwell Valley Park, north of Baltimore. We did a two mile walk and found an old rusted out car chassis. The engine block was an in-line six. The markings on the block suggest that it was a Chevrolet built in 1948 or 1948. Nature is at work reclaiming the natural materials that were used to build that car. It may take hundreds of years but nature always wins.

Today, I’m thinking about Martin Luther King, Jr. Our own African American pastor spoke about Dr. King eloquently yesterday and shard a recording of Dr. King speaking about his kitchen table experience in 1956, in which he talks about receiving a call around midnight with an ugly death threat, and finding the strength and courage to continue with his mission by calling on his God. My heart aches at the fact that we are still wrestling with white supremacy in this country, but I know that “the arc of the moral universe is long and bends toward justice.”

I am grateful for the day-date with my wife on Saturday, it was time together that was much needed. I’m grateful for the time with my brother on our walk yesterday, and nature’s gentle reminder that she always wins. And I’m grateful for the courage and strength of leaders which inspires me to be brave and strong.

Posted on by damien 0

My Role at Work, My Health, & Cinnamon Tea

In the past 24 hours, the news that several federal agencies had been compromised through a suspected supply chain breach of a network management vendor. I haven’t been as grateful as I am today to no longer be in operations in quite some time. At the same time I have a great deal of empathy and compassion for all those in operational roles and employees the firm and agencies that got breached because I know how hard they have been and will be working for the foreseeable future and just how stressful it is to respond to a breach.

I started to feel the early signs of a head cold yesterday when I woke up. The congestion and other symptoms got worse as the day progressed, and I have a full-on head cold today. In the past, this would have turned into a chest infection and possibly full blown bronchitis. However, my general health has vastly improved over the past five years and I no longer get as sick as I once did. I am grateful for my physical health.

As this day winds down, and I begin to relax for the night, I am grateful for the cup of cinnamon tea with honey that I’m having which is soothing on my slightly sore throat.

Posted on by damien 2

Healing, Running, & Sleeping In

Yesterday, I talked with my dear friend who had open heart surgery last week. It was wonderful to hear his voice and even better to hear that he would likely be discharged to day. I’m grateful for the success and healing and grateful to have him in my life.

It was unseasonably warm yesterday, and will be today as well. I got out for a long run (6.88 miles) and enjoyed making my way through the neighborhoods. I am grateful to be able to run. Running has changed my life in so many ways. Even though I run solo, it has made me feel more connected to my community because there is something about being in the community rather than viewing the community from behind the car windshield and doors.

I slept in today. In the past I’ve often felt guilty about my propensity to sleep late. There is a mythos around the early riser in this modern world and I don’t buy into it, but sometimes it’s hard not to feel guilty because there are so many messages that we receive about being the early bird. However, I know that my body needed the sleep and I’m grateful for it. I’m also grateful that because I slept in, I can sit my Adirondack chair in the sunlight as I type this out on my phone before posting it.

Have a great Sunday.

Posted on by damien 1

Confessions of a Man Addicted to Boots

I have loved boots as long as I can remember. I remember having rubber boots that buttoned around the front when I was very small, wearing sandwich bags over my feet to go out in the snow. When I was in second grade, after we moved to the sticks, I started asking for a pair of cowboy boots, and a insulated vest, because that’s what the kids who’s parents had farms wore to school.

My parents got me a pair of cowboy boots for Christmas and I wore them long after they were too tight for my feet. The were the coolest — the toe, vamp, and heal of the uppers were light brown and the shaft was dark brown with white stitching on the sides.

In high school, I was one of the kids who wore combat boots. I wanted Dr. Martens desperately, especially in the ox-blood color but they were expensive — and the skin heads wore the ox-bloods. The rumor was that you’d get your ass kicked if you were wearing them and were caught by the skins. To boot (pun intended) they’d steal the boots right off your feet. One of my childhood friends got caught up in the skins, and he was the one who told me these stories. I believed him, whether they were true or not.

All this is to say, that I come by the boots thing honestly.

When I got sober though, boots took on a new meaning for me. I had tentatively started tweeting about my sobriety, under my original handle “ddeville.” As I learned more about the Traditions, I felt a need to anonymize my handle. I started out with “sobercyclist” but there was another person who was using this in place of her name and it was confusing to folks. As I sat at my desk one afternoon, wearing a pair of harness boots, I came up with “soberboots” and I hastily registered this domain name. And I quickly developed a sense of an identity around the name soberboots.

I remember feeling out of place at meetings. I had no criminal record, no DUIs, no arrests, no fights, none of what I saw as the trappings of an alcoholic. I thought that I needed to be a hard ass. That I needed to craft an identity that fit the picture of an alcoholic in my mind. I don’t know where I got this, admittedly insane, idea. But I confess that I liked the name “soberboots” because it came with an air of toughness that I felt I needed to be a person in recovery. And I started buying more boots.

The first pair was a legitimate replacement for a worn out pair of ankle high boots lace up boots that I already had. It was a pair of Red Wing Moc-Toes with a lug sole. They were super stiff. They were hard ass. I felt like a bad ass in them.

Next I bought a pair of Red Wing Beckmens in Cherry Featherstone leather. They were a glorious shade of oxblood. I loved the color and I was no longer worried about skinheads beating me up and stealing my boots. And like all Red Wing boots, they were hard ass. Super tough.

Here’s the thing about Red Wing boots — they aren’t fucking comfortable. I know that some hipster out there will argue with me on this, and frankly I don’t give a shit. They are stiff as hell, completely unlined, and most people complain that they take for ever to break in. I’m here to say, that I don’t think they ever break in. I tried my damnedest and I don’t think I ever got them fully broken in even though I wore them nearly every day for a couple of years. And, they are super expensive. I’m embarrassed by how much money I spent on those boots to be honest.

A few years into my sobriety, I tried on a pair of Blundstones which are originally from Australia and are classic Chelsea boots. And they were like slippers — super comfortable boots. Like no pain at all. They look great and while they aren’t cheap, they don’t even come close to what Red Wings cost. Once I bought these boots, I almost never wore those hard ass Red Wings again. I still loved the look of them, but every time I put them on I found myself taking them off as soon as I could. I recognized that I wanted to be comfortable more than I wanted to look like a hard ass.

At the same time, I was becoming more comfortable in my sobriety. I realized that I needed to be me, not some insane idealization of “what an alcoholic looks like.” I found out that some of the dudes in the rooms who looked the roughest and toughest, were actually really compassionate. I learned that masculinity is not defined by boots and muscles, but by the ability to connect with others. I learned the difference between toxic masculinity and being a man.

Sometimes I think about changing the name of this blog. But I don’t think I’m going to. For one thing, my buddy Mark has said that the name is one of the greatest names he’s ever seen for a sobriety blog. And secondly, I feel like there’s still a metaphor in the name. I am walking a path of recovery, and I often wear boots, which provide me with protection and support — kind of like recovery does.

Posted on by damien 0

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

Fall Down Seven Times, Stand Up Eight

Are you Struggling?

Yesterday, one of my Twitter friends sent a tweet saying that she would be deleting her account because she was drinking wine again. A few weeks ago, another friend on Twitter posted that he’d relapsed and he would be deleting his account because he’d promised himself that he wouldn’t keep half-assing sobriety. Perhaps you have seen these messages. Perhaps you’ve sent a similar message. Perhaps you feel an incredible desire to pickup a drink or a drug. Perhaps, you are struggling.

You are not alone.

We are all struggling right now. Humanity has not witnessed a pandemic like this one in over 100 years when the influenza pandemic of 1918 occurred. That’s three generations of humans who haven’t seen anything like what we’re going through at this moment the time. The human condition is difficult.

We are gifted with self-awareness and cognition. That self awareness and cognition mean that we ponder big questions. Questions like What is the meaning of life? and What is my place in this world? These questions are difficult to answer, and indeed the answer for each of us is unique.

We are also social creatures. Yuval Noah Harari argues in his book, Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind that our defining characteristic is our ability to form collective groups around a common story — that what makes us human is indeed our social tendencies.

We are inundated with bad news in the 24 hour news cycle. Daily, we witness dysfunctional responses to a global pandemic by our elected officials — not all of them, but many of them. We see the news of mobile morgues and mass graves for bodies that are unclaimed. We grieve for life as it once was, not so long ago. And we are largely isolated. Cut off from our friends and family. Cut off from our coping mechanisms.

I believe, firmly, that alcoholics and addicts are no different from the rest of humanity. We have maladapted coping mechanisms, but every human being struggles with feelings and emotions. What we experience is part of the human condition.

Frankly, people who suffer from addictions are in a very precarious situation at this point in time. Many of our coping mechanisms have been taken away. Our addictions feed on isolation and we’ve been told to self-isolate. So, it is not surprising that some of us have relapsed. What’s probably more surprising is that others have not.

Shame and guilt are two deep emotions that every addict knows intimately. And the sense of shame that accompanies a relapse or a slip can be overwhelming. I am grateful that I have not had this sense of shame in a long time. But I know what it feels like. I felt it every time I went to the liquor store after I’d vowed not to drink again. Every time I looked at myself in the mirror and told myself that I hated who I was after getting drunk when I’d told myself I wouldn’t do it again.

Shame and guilt are killers.

And that’s why those of us in recovery have a duty to tell our brothers and sisters who have slipped that we understand. That they are welcome back into the fold. That we don’t judge them.

If you’ve slipped, I want you to know that I don’t judge you. I get it. And I’m here for you along with an army of other people in recovery who are ready, willing, and able to help. Reach out to us.

Fall down seven times, stand up eight.

Posted on by damien 4

Recover Your Joy

Our world has felt heavy to me for a long time. If I’m honest, it has felt heavy ever since 9/11/2001. That was the day that everything changed. Collectively, we lost our innocence in the United States on that day.

Since then, we’ve been involved in protracted, un-winnable, perhaps unethical, wars in the Middle East. We witnessed our leaders cavalierly abandon our principles, forgoing due process and endorsing torture. We have suffered presidents who have failed to lead the country with honesty and integrity. And we have witnessed a rise in radicalism on both the left and the right, and with this rise, a fracturing of the country along political lines that is more severe than at any time in our history.

And we now face a deadly plague that has expanded around the globe.

These are difficult and challenging times. And it can be hard to find reasons to smile. Hard to find joy and humor in these times. But that’s exactly what we need in times like these.

It’s incumbent upon us all to find humor and joy wherever and whenever possible. We must have faith and hold hope that things will get better, and they will. They always do.

So how does one find hope, humor, and joy, in times like these?

Here are a few suggestions:

  1. Go for a walk, a run, or a bike ride and feel the sun and wind on your face. Getting outside is foundational to my recovery. I have always been one to be outside rather than inside, even as a child. There is something to getting some vitamin D and immersing oneself in the natural world. Don’t wear earbuds.
  2. Cook good food and eat it with your family and friends. Cooking is creativity. For me, it is an outlet. Magic happens as onions sizzle and flavors combine in the pot. Sitting down to a good meal with friends and family resonates deep in the human experience. We have been eating communally for millennia.
  3. Escape. Healthy escape in a good book, a podcast, or a movie can be just what one needs to feel momentarily happy. There’s nothing wrong with an escape once in a while, but escape can become problematic when it’s the only coping mechanism that one knows and practices.
  4. Meditate. Yes, meditation really does make things better in life. Get yourself an app, a pair of earbuds and a cushion and practice. I can personally recommend Calm, Insight Timer, and 10% Happier. I have used them all and have found them to be well worth it. I am not paid or otherwise compensated by any of these companies, I just like them and use their products.
  5. Make art and music. Maybe you don’t fancy yourself an artist. Maybe you don’t believe you can play an instrument. Maybe you’re a Picasso or Santana’s cousin. Drop the judgement and just do something to get creative. You may surprise yourself. You may find that you have a talent that you never knew existed. And if you do these things without judgement, you may just have some fun.
  6. Listen to music. If you really don’t think you can make music, spin some tunes that remind you of a good time in your life. My go-to tunes to feel good include The Rolling Stones, the Stone Roses, Van Halen, New Order, Bill Evans, Miles Davis, and John Coltrane. And of course that band from college that played the same set every night in all the bars that I frequented, the Dirges.
  7. Watch a child play. Or better yet, play with a child. I guarantee you will find some joy and laugh if you get down on your hands and knees and play with a little one.

We need to have some fun and find joy to make this life meaningful and to get through the hard times. These are hard times. Find and make joy whenever and wherever you can. Even if it’s just a small thing, it will make a difference in your day.

How do you find joy in life? Drop me a comment and let me know.

Posted on by damien 4

Thoughts on Gratitude and Acceptance

I used to hate when the topic of gratitude came up in meetings, and it seemed to come up all the time. Early in my sobriety I had two feelings about the topic of gratitude.

  1. I’ve got little to be grateful for because I can’t drink alcohol like a normal person. I’m going to miss out on so much.
  2. I’m not the one who should be grateful. I’m making a sacrifice so that everyone around me is better off.

Talk about some clouded thinking.

The truth was that I had a lot to be grateful for when I quit drinking. I hadn’t lost my job. I hadn’t lost my family. I hadn’t had a DUI. I hadn’t severally hurt myself (I came close a few times with a kitchen knife and my index finger, and nearly fell into a fire pit once). I hadn’t drank to the point that I’d done physical damage to my body (though I was well on my way I believe).

I had pretty much come out of it unscathed. I still had a great job, making good money. I still had my house and car. I was living very comfortably in a nice neighborhood. And yet, I longed for more.

And then there was the whole martyr syndrome. I’m not the one who should be grateful, I quit drinking. Holy shit is that delusional. No one owed me anything and my sacrifice, was really just me admitting that I had a problem, needed help, and getting it. But the mind of a person in the throws of withdrawal doesn’t work very well.

I had to rebuild connections in my brain before I’d begin to understand how clouded my thinking had been. Though I don’t know when it all changed, it was well over a year before I started to grasp the meaning of being grateful. Time brings clarity, and eventually, I understood that I have a lot to be grateful for in my life, and that nobody needed to be grateful that I got sober, except me.

We live in a society that is fundamentally based on false promises. Capitalism is based on a theory of perpetual growth. Growth comes in the form of products and services sold for cash. We are groomed from an early age to be consumers. The disease of wanting more is built into our systems.

And so I find myself wanting more. I find myself feeling dissatisfied with what I have. I forget that I need to be grateful for what I have instead of grasping at what I don’t. I spent a fair amount of time today, thinking about what I don’t have in this material world. Thinking about what I want to buy, the lifestyle that I want to live. I want to be independently wealthy and have a winter house in Charleston, SC and a summer house in Camden, ME. Oh, and I don’t want to work anymore.

Here’s the reality. With hard work and good fortune, I’ll be solidly middle class for the rest of my life. I’ll never be independently wealthy. I will probably never have two houses, let alone in two gorgeous towns on the Atlantic coast. And that’s okay.

What I do have is a very comfortable life in a comfortable house with a family that loves me. I’ve got my health and I expect to live to a ripe old age if nature takes its course and I’m lucky. And for all that I’m grateful.

I can visit these picturesque Atlantic coast towns on vacations. And it’s okay to have the fantasy, but it’s not okay to let the fantasy bring on a case of the “I don’t have its”.

Posted on by damien 4