inspiring each other to greater understanding, compassion, love, peace and truth
Crazy dreams and restless nights are back. This one was part comedy, part Lochness-monster-meets-12-steps. Very odd sh*#.
Sank backwards into a lake in a souped up Thunderbird after a night of off the wall sharings and goofy car chase scenes.
Last night, I sat in church listening to the pre-service music, reflecting on my journey over the past 365 days. This was my second Christmas clean and sober. Last Christmas, I was 3 days into inpatient treatment spending the holiday getting the help I so desperately needed. I can recall a couple of people asking gingerly how I felt about being in treatment for Christmas, almost afraid to ask out of well-intentioned pity or sadness. But in my heart, I knew that the alternative would have been miserable. I was vocal and grateful about what a wonderful gift to be alive, full of life. I was glad to be in the treatment center over Christmas. It was where I needed to be. And every step of this journey has been exactly what I needed to go through – whether I felt it or not at the time.
I literally teared up with joy during most of the pre-season music and during the carols throughout the rest of the service last night. I didn’t hold it back completely because it was wonderful to feel the joy and excitement of the season – almost as if the entire experience were new to me. And in one respect, it was. I was given the gift of new life a year ago and much like I imagine it is for someone who survives a bad accident, or treatment for cancer or other life-threatening illnesses — like addiction — I truly see life from a different perspective. As the Judy Collins song says so poignantly from her own experience, “I’ve looked at life from both sides now…”
I take things a little less for granted. I don’t sweat the small stuff as much as I used to. I savor the moments a little more than in the past. And, with each day that passes, I grow in acceptance, surrender and humility through the grace of my Higher Power.
I teared with joy for Adrian, born on my re-birth day, named after his father’s close friend who died of an overdose three years ago. I felt gratitude for the two newcomers at Homegroup just before the service, thankful that they found the courage to walk in the rooms and seek freedom. And, I cried with a hopeful sadness for my friend J who text me this week, still in the grips of his addiction – hopeful that the experiences he has had with recovery wrestle to the forefront of his mind and spirit and give him the courage to find help.
What a difference a year makes.
What a change in perspective.
Merry Christmas.
Last night, I got a text from an old using buddy. In fact, J. was the one with whom I reconnected on my last relapse. He actually called me on my stuff then — talked about recovery — and had us pray together. In a sense, he pulled out of my rut and called me back to a more serious and honest recovery. So, like a little brother, he has held a special place in my daily prayers over the past 40 days.
Sadly, he’s still caught in the grip of the disease. He wasn’t texting to see how my Christmas shopping was going. When I replied with questions about his recovery and told him I would be here for him if he needed to talk or go to a meeting, the texting stopped. My heart broke. I said a prayer for him and drifted off to sleep.
Today, I was sharing with a friend about the late night contact. I talked about how there was no temptation to do anything more than help. I shared that even had I been out at my house alone or somewhere on my own (vs. where I am now with a roommate), I probably would have been ok with the text. “I didn’t call anyone as it was late — but if I had been alone, or had problems letting go, I would have.”
That’s when my friend pointed out I still was looking at this the wrong way. I was talking about my strength and my ability to say no. I wasn’t talking from a position of surrender, giving up control, and admitting powerlessness. It’s the cunning part of the disease – wanting me to believe I can handle things like a text from J. With that false pride, next time I might put myself in a risky situation because I think I can handle it. Or, I might not call as quickly as I need to and succumb to the temptation. My friend even cautioned me that praying isn’t sufficient. Like the 5th step in our fellowships tells us to share with our Higher Power and another human being, that triangle of confession is at the heart of admitting — of finding the humility to acknowledge true powerlessness and lack of control to God and another human being.
Good insight. Focus on surrender, not strength — on powerlessness, not ability.
I continue to pray for J – because at this point, that’s the best I can do for him. To think I can save him, or be there for him is truly naïve. The temptation to pick up would be too strong. My recovery comes first – and if I honestly want what’s best for him, I need to keep him in my prayers — asking for God’s will, not mine. To vainly try anything but surrendering him to my Higher Power is really more about my disease, my wants and an unhealthy codependency than it is an honest desire to see him do well.
The good news is I know God’s will is for him to be clean and to find freedom. It’s just a question of when he hits his bottom and accepts that he is an addict. He has some knowledge of recovery…so I pray that his bottom isn’t too low.
Letting go…
The Magical Storybook of Professor Peacock 