Tag: gratitude

Is the glass half full, or half empty?


This is a running joke between me and a very dear friend of mine. I, the eternal optimist, see the glass half full; he the realist (not pessimist! as he points out) sees the glass half empty. We love to tease each other about our different perspectives on life, people, circumstances.

This came to mind recently as I’ve been wrestling with my expectations of other people and situations. As you can imagine, the wrestling comes from being disappointed, sad and frustrated when they aren’t met. I’ve been told that as an addict, it’s important not to have expectations – because they can lead to disappointments and resentments, which are recipes for relapse.

But as I’ve chewed on this and brought it up as a topic in meetings and with my therapist, I have questioned: “Is this really how I want to go through life?  Not having expectations?”  Sounds awfully dull.  Sounds a lot like seeing the glass as half empty!  I’m not ready to make that switch!

Honest – yes.  Open minded – eh…  Willing – not so much.

I’ve been here before.  It’s time to revisit my world view…again.

Without being cliché, what I’m realizing is it’s about accepting things they way they are, not the way I want them to be.  Accepting that people in my life — even friends with 10 and 20 years of recovery — as broken human beings in need of compassion and grace, not judgement and rejection. It’s about living in the moment, and trusting my Higher Power to take care of me. My expectations are about control – and I have to accept that I am powerless over people, places and things. It doesn’t mean I accept injustice, bigotry, discrimination, etc. But, most of the situations in my life recently that frustrate and disappoint me don’t fall into that category.

So is the glass half full, or half empty?

That’s not the right question.  In fact, there is no question.

It’s a glass of sweet nectar – the sweet nectar of life!  Drink deeply and enjoy the refreshing gift.

Feeling the pain I caused others


I’m an intellectual, analytical sort of guy by nature. So regardless of my addiction – or perhaps in addition to my addiction – I don’t connect well with my feelings. I can analyze a situation, describe the feelings I am, was or should be feeling…but I haven’t always connected with the emotions involved. I think it’s part of my coping mechanism for life. Coping with isn’t the same as living, just like tolerating someone isn’t the same as loving them.

I want to experience life – live life – love others…not just cope and tolerate.

I’m learning how to these days in recovery with a lot of tools and help.

This week, I realized how strong that coping mechanism has been.  About a month ago, a friend told me stuff I never knew that was going on around me and about me while I was in my last years of active addiction. In my selfish, self-centered world, I didn’t think anyone knew about my using — nor cared. Secretly, there were times I remember hoping someone would care, would say something — but I also know that most attempts to “help me” would have just driven me further away, strengthening my denial and the grip drugs had on me.

This friend told me about how people very close to me were aware of my using, sometimes in surprisingly graphic and real detail. But, these same folks knew that in most cases, the best thing to do is to let go, and let someone’s Higher Power guide events. Knowing and yet not being able to help was painful for them.  The helplessness, the despair, the concern, the fear.  And, I was oblivious to it all.

But, my analytical mind had really only processed this on one very intellectual level until this week. I filed the “news” away in my memory – didn’t talk about it with anyone really – but it would surface from time to time. Yesterday, I was talking with my sponsor and told him about this realization of the world around me – of the pain and worry I caused for some of the closest people in my life. Even then, I honestly felt little – it was a story, seemingly someone else’s.

Last night, I had some dreams that brought this awareness to light. I awoke and lay in bed thinking about what I shared the day before.  I saw the people involved in my mind, and started to cry – sobbing heavily as a greater sense of guilt, regret and sadness came over me. It finally all hit me — and I simply allowed myself to feel the pain and sadness.

I know the outcome is amazing – we’ve survived this and they continue to be in my life. I will make amends when the time is right.  But, the self-awareness from this is a great gift of recovery. The fact that these two folks courageously faced this situation with appropriate “detached love” and continue to be in my life is an even greater gift.

But perhaps the greatest gift was the reconnection between my intellect and my emotion. I understand better how important it is to live more authentically with the union of heart and mind, living through and experiencing the feelings of joy, sadness, fear that come with the events in life.  For now, for me, this takes conscious awareness and an effort to remain open to possibilities, to new world views, and to a maturing capacity to feel. The “lag” between events and feeling them is growing shorter, but it’s still there. My ability to detach is so strongly rooted in my way of living that it will take time to grow.

But, baby steps.

Today, I can see it for how it should really be.

Today, I feel the pain I cause others.  And for now, that is a wonderful gift.

To be continued….

A Forgetful Pretender


Every once in a while, I come across someone who shares something that encapsulates what I’m experiencing in a way I could probably never articulate. Tonight, someone shared his experience as one of being a “forgetful pretender.” He talked about how he doesn’t have a lot of good memories or bad memories from his past — he simply doesn’t remember much period. He shared how part of that probably comes from the fact that for so long, he wore masks, keeping others at a distance and avoiding experiencing much in life period. In a sense, he was going through the motions. And, since he really wasn’t “present” — since he was more pretending to be someone else to fit in, or to please others, or to live up to some other set of expectations — he was a shell of who he really is…and as such, has little to remember about being there, about feeling, about experiencing life.

Wow.

For much of my life experiences, this resonates.  I have these great experiences and situations, but don’t remember much about how I felt at the time. I often have friends or family tell stories about events in our lives together, and I’m reminded of the facts — remember physically being there – but that’s about it.

I used to wonder if there was some mental block – some “shield of protection” because of some deep emotional scars.

I used to wonder if my brain cells were so fried from my using that I had little left of my long-term memory.

I used to wonder if the lack of storytelling in my life slowly eroded my memories.  Without family get-togethers where we tell stories; without friends in my life from decades of time who help keep stories alive – did the memories just whither away?

may

And now, I can see that while some or all of that may be true — unresolved losses, physical damage to cells and lack of oral traditions — another explanation is my lack of connection to life, to my feelings, etc. could also explain my lack of memory.

Like B., I too am a bit of a forgetful pretender.

Or, was.

Because now, I have the desire to experience life – to be present – to connect with others – to feel feelings.  I have tools to help me cope with feelings and live through them.

It takes time and effort to retrain my patterns of thinking and living to not drift back into old routines. But, I know it’s possible.

And I know it’s worthwhile.

So I’m transforming slowly from a forgetful pretender to an authentic feeler for whom memories will build and last.

What another amazing gift of recovery.

Thanks B. for your sharing and insight.  You’re an expressive poet…