Something that isn’t talked about enough in the rooms of the recovery community — courage. It takes courage to admit that we have a problem. It takes courage to ask for help. It takes courage to leave behind old habits and old coping mechanisms. It takes courage to get honest with ourselves and others. It takes courage to get sober or get clean. ...
Before I begin, I want to say, categorically, that I’m not going to pick up a drink. When I think about the escape that alcohol provides, I can’t help but remember the emotional prison where it held me hostage for so long. ...
Earlier this week, I was at a discussion meeting where the topic was “having fun in sobriety.” Very quickly there were a number of shares that centered around making friends and doing activities with other members of a home group. Stories about coming into the rooms and quickly developing friendships with people who had common interests came up. People talked about going to a variety of activities including football games, movies, dinner, dancing, etc. ...
“I only run if someone is chasing me, like you know, the cops.” I’ve said that thousands of times, perhaps hundreds of thousands of times. Usually, I said it either when someone suggested that I go for a run with them, or when they were bragging about their latest extraordinary run. Fitting that I’d move to a running town, made famous by some fool who runs in all sorts of weather wearing nothing but a Speedo. One of the few successful shops on Main Street in Annapolis is a running store. It’s been there as long as I can remember. You can’t take a drive for more than 30 minutes without seeing at least 25 of those obnoxious 26.2 euro style stickers on cars. I’ve always enjoyed seeing the occasional 0.0 sticker, thinking to myself “I’m not the only one who doesn’t run.” ...
This weekend, I’ll be heading up to State College, PA for the first time since I got sober for the annual Blue White weekend. For those of you who aren’t Penn Staters, this is a spring scrimmage football game complete with tailgating and about 100 thousand other Penn State fans. It’s also one of the last big weekends for Seniors who are getting ready to take their finals and graduate. ...
Anxiety. Fear. Agony. Those are the words that come to mind when I recall the first wedding I attended sober. It was a scant sixteen days after I’d given up the drink. I was still in withdrawal, and probably had no business going to a wedding of a fraternity brother. Still, I was committed to attending and even more committed to not drinking. ...
Yesterday, I was blessed to attend my Aunt Debbie’s wedding at Quiet Water’s Park in Annapolis, MD. It was a beautiful ceremony followed by a very nice reception. We had music, and dancing. I was surrounded by my family as well as my cousin’s family and I caught myself smiling several times. I can’t say that I didn’t think about drinking at all — I did, how could one not when there was wine and beer available and others were imbibing — but I didn’t want any alcohol. I was at ease with myself and with the event. I was in the present moment, enjoying just that moment for all that it was worth. That’s a wonderful way to live. ...
Last night, I drifted off to sleep thinking of the song Helplessly Hoping by Crosby, Stills, and Nash. The ideas of helplessness, hopelessness, and hope kept swirling around in my head after I received a kind comment from a woman who’s living through the hell of watching her husband struggle with opioid addiction. I thought about how helpless my wife must have felt when I was drinking. There was nothing she could do to help me; she was just as trapped as I was in the cycle, maybe even more than I. Though it may not have seemed viable a the time, she had the choice to remain with me and to hope that I’d someday get it together. She could have left me. Lord knows many people do leave their loved ones when addiction holds them in its grasp. I thought about how hopeless I felt when I was in the end of my drinking days. Indeed, it was a deep feeling of despair and hopelessness that permeated my existence. Day after day, despite knowing that nothing good would come of it, I found myself drinking. And day after day, I hated what was happening. I couldn’t see a way out. The idea of not drinking felt like abandoning a friend. Albeit a friend who continuously beat the crap out of me, who toyed with my emotions and who took every opportunity to convince me that I needed him. Mixed in with the feelings of hopelessness, was a healthy dose of helplessness. ...
For all the talk in the rooms about smashing the ego, recovery really is all about the self. I mean, really, it’s all about becoming the best self that you can be. Recovery encompasses so much more than just not using intoxicants, it’s about learning to love yourself and to accept yourself as you are and helping others to do the same. ...
On Friday we did something that most folks would find foolish. We headed north rather than south in the middle of winter. We flew to Maine. We left the relative warmth of Maryland (23F when we left) for the relative cold of central Maine (-9F on Sunday morning). But our time here has been full of warmth. And not simply because there’s been a fire burning non-stop in the white cast iron stove in the living room, because we’ve been with our good friends, Shawn and Andy and their daughters. ...
Having a Laugh with Schwinger Photo by Marvin Joseph Update: This is a post from another blog. I migrated it to this blog because it’s an important part of my story. This was posted just over three years before I fully surrendered and accepted that I am an alcoholic. ...
Update: This is a post from another blog. I migrated it to this blog because it’s an important part of my story. This was posted just over three years before I fully surrendered and accepted that I am an alcoholic. ...