Recovery

If you get 2000 sales people in a single room and mix in cocktails, football, and music, then the noise level in the room is bound to become significant. To be fair, this is supposed to be fun. This is supposed to be a social event. But to a person like me it quickly becomes unbearable. In the past, these events were the perfect excuse to get good and numb. Cocktail parties are a professional hazard in my line of work. They are somewhat unavoidable. As a sober person who is also an introvert, they are incredibly draining. Not only are there too many people, not only are most of them drinking to excess, but the noise level is just plain overwhelming. I am someone who quickly goes into sensory overload in situations like these. ...

dogma |ˈdôɡmə| noun a principle or set of principles laid down by an authority as incontrovertibly true I have a long standing distrust of organized religion. I grew up going to Catholic school. The Catholic’s had all the answers, and they were entirely sure that they were the only ones who had the answers. In my daily religion classes, I learned that Protestants were not true Christians, that Jews had missed the message, and we didn’t talk about Islam. I learned that there was “one catholic and apostolic” church. I learned that all other religions were “less than” Catholicism. And while I wasn’t in a practicing Catholic family, I eventually received the Sacraments and was confirmed when I was in 10th grade, even though I am confident now that I really didn’t believe. Now, in 1986, a new house was built on the vacant lot next door and Norman moved in. Norman was a born again, fundamentalist preacher who had two kids and a wife. He drove a Mercedes (which was really odd for anyone in Taneytown, MD at the time). His wife was an attractive lady and I always had the sense they should be on PTL. ...

From a very early age, I harbored a deep sense that I wasn’t good enough, that I didn’t fit in somehow, that I was less than. Growing up in the country, my early feelings of unworthiness stemmed from the fact that my family didn’t have a farm, that I didn’t have my own bb gun, that I didn’t have a pocket knife and of all things, that I didn’t have a down vest. See, those were the things that the “cool” kids seemed to have. As a kid, I was oblivious to the good things that I had. It didn’t matter that my father was a world renown instructor at the National Fire Academy. Never mind the fact I was sent to private school because my parents desperately wanted to make sure that I got an education in a town where education wasn’t valued as highly as a set of antlers mounted on the wall of your living room. When I reached the age that little boys start to think that it might be nice to be around little girls, I felt like all the girls wanted nothing to do with me — and for the most part I think that was true. I asked the same girls to “go with me” over and over and got the same response every time, “no.” Not even a “thank you.” It didn’t help that my options were limited to about 15 girls in my class, but I didn’t understand that. Years later, I still struggled with this. On the night that I met my wife, I was so convinced that she wouldn’t want to see me again that I struggled to ask for her phone number — after talking to her for nearly two and half hours at a bar in DC. Finally, in desperation she pulled out her card and said, “Call me” before leaving for the night. See, my feelings of unworthiness were so strong, perhaps only outweighed by my fear of rejection, that I’d never asked for a girl’s phone number in a bar. I was 31 years old and couldn’t work up the nerve to ask for her number. At times, those feelings are still strong in my recovery. ...

When I got sober in September of 2015, I found myself in a unique time when my schedule was incredibly light. For about 6 weeks, I didn’t really have any customer appointments. My business partner was on vacation for a week or two at the time. The quarterly team meeting was in my town so I didn’t have to travel. In sort, I was blessed with a very light load. It was a time unlike nearly any other in the six years I’ve been in the position that I hold. And I was absolutely blessed. ...

I've got another confession to make I'm your fool Everyone's got their chains to break — Foo Fighters I’ve got a confession to make. I have a real hard time with accepting things that are out of my control. Especially when it comes to my family. Especially, when it comes to my son. My son can be challenging. He has a strong will and is very smart. He knows when something is bullshit and he usually calls it out. He’s also easily distracted. Homework, especially project work, is difficult for us. And it drives me batshit crazy to watch him take hours to do something that I think shouldn’t be a big deal. My wife has told me for years that perhaps, just maybe, there’s some ADD/ADHD going on. And I’ve fought it. Fought it tooth and nail. ...

Today marks one year and two months since I put down the drink and started to rebuild my life. Of course it wasn’t planned, but it seems fitting that today is also Thanksgiving in the US. I am grateful so much in my sobriety that it can be difficult to list them, but I’m going to give it a go anyway. ...

The past 45–60 days have been insanely busy for me. Since October 10th, I’ve been on a plane every week except for one week, when I was sick as a dog and couldn’t even stay awake for more than a few hours. I’ve been to Massachusetts, Maine, Paris, London, California, Connecticut, and Pennsylvania. Many of these trips have been for nearly a week of travel. I don’t have the number of miles I’ve traveled at hand, and it probably wouldn’t be healthy to tally it up, but it sure feels like I’ve been around the world. This does not count my driving to local appointments or the activities that I’m involved in with my son. The autumn always feels compressed. There always seems to be too much to do and not enough time. This is probably due to the fact that we lose daylight rapidly in the fall. Our days get cut short and the angle of the sun is low. Everything feels constricted in the fall. With the addition of the travel schedule I’ve been maintaining, I’ve had a perfect storm for anxiety. And then there is the whole election, which has stirred up even more anxiety and venom. I’ve finally done what I said I’d do last Saturday and deactivated my Facebook account after what can only be described as a relapse of bad behavior. ...

There was a time, not too long ago, when I honestly wondered if I’d be able to let my son join Cub Scouts, not because I don’t value scouts, or because I was afraid for his safety, or because I don’t like the outdoors. It was purely because I could not imagine showing up to den meetings sober. Camping never entered my mind. ...

Much has been written about how social media, and Facebook in particular has contributed to the echo chamber effect. I’m not going to write about that. I’ve experienced it, and you probably have as well. What hasn’t gotten as much attention is how this echo chamber is affecting our mental health — at least, I haven’t seen much about it — perhaps because my particular echo chamber is uniquely curated by an algorithm to me. ...

I am going to go a bit off topic today, but I will try to bring this back to recovery. I know many of my brothers and sisters in recovery share my thoughts and are feeling sad, lost, and afraid this morning. I also know that many do not. You may not agree with my assessment. You are welcome to your opinion. I respect your opinion, please be respectful of mine. ...

Gratitude Today I’m grateful that I seem to have turned the corner on my head cold and I’m feeling better. I’m grateful that I made it to a meeting last night after a 2 week hiatus. It was good to be back in the rooms and to feel the warmth of the fellowship. I’m grateful that the sun is shining and the temperatures are cool. I particularly love autumn weather. Positive Experience ...

I’m starting a new series, based on the guidance from this article on Inc. I also must give credit where credit is due, my good friend HD started this recently, and his post today, was the kick in the ass that I needed to get started. ...

“As rain falls equally on the just and the unjust do not burden your heart with judgment but rain your kindness equally on all.” When I first came into the rooms, I was emotionally shattered, unsure of myself, unsure if I was in the right place, and frankly scared out of my wits. Like many people, I found that I was warmly welcomed by a group of strangers who had been exactly where I was each in their own way. After asking for help, I was given a list of names and numbers on the back of a piece of paper printed with the prayer of Saint Francis. “Welcome Home” was written at the top and I was told, “we’ll love you until you love yourself, keep coming back.” I felt absolutely no judgement from the group and for that I was thankful. I’d read much of the Big Book prior to coming into the rooms and understood a lot about the program. I was uncomfortable with what I saw as overtly evangelical religious language in the steps but chose to ignore this and to “take what I like and leave the rest.” There were other things that I was uncomfortable with in the rooms, mostly the trite little sayings… one day at a time keep coming back you’re only as sick as your secrets let go and let god just for today I know it’s the first drink that gets me drunk Over time, I became more comfortable with these little catch phrases, and I’ve been adopted some of them myself, because I now have a better understanding of just what they mean, even if I may think that they are overly simplistic in nature. I mean, lets face it, telling myself that I’m not going to drink just for today when I know damn well that I need to make sure I don’t drink for the rest of my life is a little mind game that I play with myself. And I’m okay with that. But there’s one turn of phrase that I hear in the rooms that really sticks in my crawl. He’s a Dry Drunk!...

I caught myself doing that thing again. The one where I rationalize my past. The mind sometimes races when it should rest. That happened last night. In truth, I should have been exhausted and fallen quickly into deep slumber but my mind had another agenda. It happens when I know I need to wake early, especially if I have a flight to catch as I did this morning. Rest did not come easy, and when it did, my sleep was marked by fitful dreams, walking in a seeat, and a phone call from the airline alerting me to a delay. ...

"fear of people…will leave us" Once I got sober I quickly found that I could drop many the things that I feared. I was no longer trying to hide the facts of my alcoholism. I was making positive changes that had big and immediate impacts on my daily life. I slept better, which meant I felt better. I quickly found that everyday pains and gut issues were subsiding. The physical wellness that arose out of my sobriety is a wonderful gift. And yet, there have been other, more important gifts – loss of shame, less irritation with life, less anger. Perhaps the gift I’m most grateful for is that the fear of people left me. I recall hosting meetings for my team in my hometown about three weeks after I surrendered. I was nervous for sure. I couldn’t take the guys out to the best bars in Annapolis. I couldn’t drink with my team. I knew that would be difficult, and it was. I remember the team dinner seemed to drag on and on, well after I was ready to call it a night. But I also remember talking with the valet parking attendant at the hotel for about twenty minutes before dinner. I had no room at the hotel because I was going home to my house. I had no business grabbing a drink at the hotel bar and it was nice outside so I’d gone out to catch some fresh air while the team got ready to go to dinner. I don’t recall the specifics of the conversation but I do remember that I recognized that I was actually connecting with this young man. ...