Tag: 12th Step

What a difference a year makes


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.

A new understanding of surrender


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…

Day 146 – Addiction doesn’t discriminate…it’s a shame we do ;)


I was meeting some friends today to go to an event.  Due to heavy traffic and event parking limitations, we agreed to meet somewhere then head over in one car.  I suggested my church parking lot, on the near north side of downtown.  One of the guys didn’t want to meet there as he was afraid to leave his car “in the ghetto.”  So, we agreed to meet at one of the local Catholic school’s parking lot’s in a trendy part of town near the event.  Turns out, this was the school my friend attended as a youngster.  In the end, I parked my car and we rode in his car.  As we were leaving the area, he asked “Did you lock your car?”  When I answered yes and asked why, he told us that when he was growing up, he used to come to the lot and check for unlocked cars and steal their change.  He didn’t want anything to be stolen from my car.  Hmmm…  Funny how we see in others what we are sometimes afraid to see in ourselves.

I tell this story because I’ve heard the same comment from other friends about attending certain self help group meetings in different neighborhoods around the city.  One guy said he didn’t care for a certain meeting room because it was “in the ghetto.”  His comment has always stuck with me simply because of my life experience with respect to diversity.  Funny thing – I learned early on in recovery, as I sat in a treatment center with men & women who were from various ethnic backgrounds, different socio-economic backgrounds, etc…we all had the same story.  We all had our bottom.  We all fell victim to the same disease.  It didn’t matter if I was homeless, or a chief executive…a housewife or an auto mechanic.  This disease is the great equalizer.  And, if I look for the differences instead of the similarities, I run the risk of missing the gift of someone’s experience, strength and hope.  And it is that gift, along with the grace and love of my Higher Power, that helps keep me clean and sober…and one day may literally save my life.

Tonight, I went to a self-help meeting “in the ghetto.”  I was the only white man in the room, and one of only a handful of white people out of the 30+ in the room.  I may also have been the only gay man.  There was one woman in a wheelchair.  The youngest was probably in his early 20’s…the oldest was in her late 60’s.  Bottom line, there was diversity.  And yet as we went around the room and shared, there was nothing different in the stories than I would have heard in one of my more regular meetings where I’m less of a minority.  And I connected with something that each person had to share — heard a couple insights that gave me a different way of approaching a couple areas in my life — and left feeling just as energized, peaceful and inspired as I have almost every meeting.  There is no better than or worse than — we truly are equal.  Even outside of addiction, we are all blessed children of a loving God / Higher Power, however we are able to see and understand Him/Her.  And to put labels and hierarchy is such a shame…such a missed opportunity.

I pray that my Higher Power continues to grace me with eyes to see and ears to hear…and where I fall short, the willingness to admit my faults and forgive myself.  In doing so, I’m in a better position to love others and see their brokenness as the same, no better or worse than mine.