Recovery – Cheeky Street

Decisions, Devotion and Destiny

Today marks two years since my Mom passed away. I still hear her voice but her singularly calming, practical presence is missing. Her bluntly honest remarks often caught people off guard or made them laugh (if not a little bit uncomfortably). I don’t know too many people who are both blunt and smart. Generally, I just feel disappointed with the world and miss Mom especially because her confidence and clear communication was always one thing I knew I could rely on in this world.

I have become permanently impatient with people who are reluctant to make decisions – or more precisely – accept responsibility for making them, when it seems like such an important time to respond to the urgency in our world. The last 3 jobs I have held all curiously presented the same set of frustrations: people “in charge” who wanted authority but either had no desire, impetus or wisdom to exercise their authority. I would bring important issues to leaders that impacted my day to day (and would result in wasting resources if left spinning indecisively) only to be pushed off for some future date when making a decision would become clearer for them. What? I remember thinking, “Dude, you are literally being PAID to make DECISIONS. Like, that’s your JOB!” as I walked away in frustration. But the universe continued to present this frustrating set of circumstances to me over a period of several years in jobs I grew to strongly dislike – so there must be a good reason, eh?

I have concluded that this lesson repeatedly appeared in my work life because there was something else I needed to be doing. Primarily, listening to my own voice and cultivating the “meaning” that I found so disappointingly missing elsewhere – within myself. As a woman approaching 60, it’s fair to say I have spent two decades devoted to my family. Not just the person who made sure tasks were completed – but real, geniune, from the heart devotion – the kind you feel towards your first love. As an empty nester, I’m still very devoted to children. On this rainy morning of the anniversary of my Mom’s death, I just returned from delivering a birthday package and cake from Birthday Connections to a child in need who currently lives in a domestic violence shelter. I feel really good about having the privilege to be in a place in my life where I can play a small role in uplifting another person and be true to something I feel devoted to in my heart. I think Gen Z’ers would call this “Alignment.”

A new friend of mine surprised me yesterday with a “Yahrzeit” candle – a memorial candle in the Hebrew tradition to light on the date of a loved one’s passing and keep lit for 24 hours of remembering, honoring the deceased, performing acts of charity in their memory, etc. I had already intentionally chosen to volunteer today for Birthday Connections as a way to honor my Mom, who successfully nurtured and raised seven children. But the Universe really wanted me to “get” this lesson, so my friend Shelly, who has experienced much loss, generously opened her heart and gifted me this beautiful and gentle tradition. I am so grateful and deeply comforted by her kind act. In the Christian tradition, lighting a candle is a form of “devotion” – recognizing the sacred in another person and memorializing their goodness through prayer and remembrance. It isn’t even noon yet and already I can say I have fulfilled the mission of this day – and will spend the next several hours in gratitude and restful contemplation.

We are all born to discover our unique gifts. As Ralph Waldo Emerson beautifully writes in an essay:

“Rings and jewels are not gifts, but apologies for gifts. The only gift is a portion of thyself. Thou must bleed for me. Therefore the poet brings his poem; the shepherd, his lamb; the farmer, corn; the miner, a stone; the painter, his picture; the girl, a handkerchief of her own sewing.”

The gift of intentionally (decisively) honoring my Mom’s memory today and practicing devotion in her memory by supporting a local child in need brings me to my final thought – my destiny. I honestly am starting to believe that my destiny in life is to be a “feeler of big feelings” and conduit for people who may not recognize or articulate their own. In other words, I’m the uninhibited person in the room who will say something awkward that is maybe cringe but also funny – and potentially touches another person’s heart so that healing can begin. So far, I have been fortunate to be able to recognize mostly good things from the painful experiences I have had in life. And without fail, honest and good-hearted people have met me along the way to help me make sense of recent losses and pain.

I will conclude with a thought about recovery. Lately I have been thinking that I have not been very “emotionally sober,” even though I do not drink alcohol anymore to survive big feelings. There have been a couple of major losses in a short period of time in my life and many days, I find myself “growling” at the world instead of living in gratitude and bowing in reverence towards my good fortune. This is why I am considering going back to a 12-step recovery program and actively working the steps of AA. An old friend has recently reappeared in my life and kindly offered to accompany me as I start this journey over – in search of emotional sobriety. Rolf Gates, a brilliant yoga instructor and recovery writer, writes in his “Daily Reflections on Addiction, Yoga, and Getting Well”:

“Much of early recovery was like finding the bodies trapped in the snow after an avalanche. Frozen in their last moments – new boots, worn parkas, bits of scarf. My sadness was overwhelming. My 12-step sponsor, Henry, knew this about me. He was kind to my sorrow. There were no answers for what broke my heart. There was no getting any of it back….

….Henry would look at some broken part of my life, lift an eyebrow, and drawl, “what is was like.” We would laugh until tears came to our eyes at what it was like and would be no more.

Reflection:

Life has put people in your life who have not been afraid of your sadness. Thank them with your heart. Maybe thank them in person. Who has helped you laugh the laugh of freedom?”

The people who are appearing in my life who are not afraid of my sadness are helping me heal and discover new ways to use parts I have previously discarded and labeled “broken.” To me, this is a destiny worth fighting for and enjoying.

Hello, Whimsy!

In 2 weeks, I will celebrate TEN YEARS SOBER!! Getting sober was the single most impactful (and difficult) thing I have done in my life. I have 10 years of supporting evidence that I will not bore you with, you will just have to trust me. TRUST is the operative word because before I got sober, I had forgotten how to trust myself. Walking through life distrusting one’s own impressions, intuitions, thoughts and feelings can lead to long-term nervous system dysregulation and persistent and extreme feelings of anxiety, burnout and depression. This was my life off and on, even during periods when I was not binge drinking, for 40 years.

Shackled to my own perceptions of existential threats, I once experienced life as a daily pop quiz for which I was unprepared. Why didn’t I trust myself and my own unique strengths and capabilities? How could a person ever learn to hang their self image on the validations of others? I think you have to begin teaching children in early childhood ways to reassure themselves that they are safe and supported. Allowing self-expression of “big emotions” instead of punishing disruptions in the day helps children learn that, even though they are not “big people,” their fears, needs and feelings are valid, important and worth pausing with a safe adult to co-regulate. This was unheard of in the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s when I was growing up. So dysregulated people often reached for ways to numb those big feelings they never learned to trust and process. Hi, my name is Joan, and I’m an alcoholic.

10 years ago I did not have this clarity about how I had developed such a dysfunctional relationship with alcohol. I only knew that if I did not find sustainable recovery, my family was doomed and I would forever regret it. Self-blame came second nature to me, so I just assumed I was a weak and flawed human, incapable of “controlling” my alcohol intake, so I first stepped into recovery full of guilt, self-loathing and shame. Not very pleasant or motivating emotions to sustain recovery, to say the least.

If I have learned anything these past ten years it is this: you absolutely cannot hate yourself into changing. Long term, sustainable recovery from addiction requires lovingkindness towards oneself – it’s like building a real foundation of stone instead of pretty rainbows that can vaporize the moment the atmosphere changes.

To create a loving space for myself to understand and change the ways I have sought safety from my own fears and anxieties through alcohol and in unhealthy relationships, the best tool I have discovered is practicing mindfulness. Buddhist meditation and mindfulness/lovingkindness teacher Sharon Salzberg talks about “add ons” – all the mental and emotional fears, biases, beliefs that we overlay onto our present experience, in a talk she gave to to the Mindfulness Association called “Look for the Add Ons”:

“One classical meaning of mindfulness is a quality of awareness where our perception of what’s happening in the present moment is not distorted by bias. So old fears, old habits, projections into the future – whatever it may be – may well arise – but they don’t take over. A very common one would be something like feeling a physical pain or heartache and immediately thinking, “What’s it going to feel like in ten minutes? What’s it going to feel like in a week? What’s it going to feel like in a month?” So we are not only experiencing the actual distress of now – but we are now adding all that anticipation to it, often feeling just overcome and defeated. And giving up. So it’s not that the pain feels glorious. And it’s not that the impulse to add on will rise, but it need not take over. ” She goes on to tell a story of a time she was teaching with Joseph Goldstein when a person described tension they felt in their jaw and concluded that they would “I am an incredibly uptight person and always have been and always will be. And I have never been able to get close to people and it will never change.” Joseph responded, “You mean you felt a lot of tension in your jaw. Why are you adding a miserable self-image to a painful experience? ” In this exchange, Joseph Goldstein kept reminding the man of his experience in this moment, only to be met by ever more elaborate stories (add-ons) by him. He concludes, “It is geniuinely painful to feel the tension in your jaw. But on top of that, you are now going to be alone for the rest of your life.”

“In mindfulness meditation, we look for the add-ons. We look for what might be added on to the direct experience and see if we can relinquish the hold of those add-ons. It’s not that they won’t arise, they won’t be tempting – but they needn’t take over.”

I was 49 years old when I decided to get sober and my children were 14 and 16. It was a very busy time in our household. My husband was working hard re-building his law practice after an 8-year hiatus. My daughter was exploring her independence as a new driver with friends I did not know very well. And my son was struggling with his own anxiety and depression and desperately needed a healthy, attentive, responsive caregiver. I told my AA sponsor more than once, “How can I take care of myself right now when my family needs ALL of me?” It seemed insurmountable to do both. “Take care of yourself first and the rest will fall into place,” she repeated to me hundreds of times. This was counterintuitive to me and required a leap of faith. I felt enormous guilt for “being flawed” and “inadequate.” Those feelings, I discovered many years later became huge add-ons. Just because in the moment I was feeling flawed and inadequate, I made the hugely illogical conclusion that I was permanently incapable of changing. That’s not a great mindset for quitting alcohol, let me tell you!

Like this beautiful lilac bush that was once a tiny sapling from the Wal-Mart garden center I had forgotten I had even planted in the home we left behind in 2010, little by little, and with lots of practice and support, I started to grow and feel better. When I look at this photo my friend Lorna recently shared to show me its progress (current resident of the country home we build and lived in when the children were very young), it strikes me that is is a metaphor for my life emerging from addiction into sobriety. Looking at it I see a hint of the whimsy I so enjoy about life. And it brings me back to my purpose in life: to enjoy the beauty of each moment and attempt to capture some of that whimsy for those I love.

You can’t experience whimsy if you are stuck in the weeds of add-ons, afraid to feel your feelings in the moment, knowing that they will always rise and fall and throughout, you will be okay. I see today how narrowly I escaped never feeling whimsy again had I not listened to my inner voice urging me to find a better way to live 10 years ago. Whimsy is essential to living a full life.

“People who are full of whimsy are odd, but often fanciful and lovely,” (according to Google!). I like home best with my dog, cat and family, nestled in by the fire with pretty lights and books. Simple joys bring lasting comfort and don’t require wine.

How did things turn out for my family, ten years after the turbulence that led to my decision to get sober? Beautifully. Somehow, with lots of support, I was able to simultaneously take care of myself and my family and give them what they needed. We are close and loving and enjoy laughing together. Whenever one person is hurting, we all feel it and find ways to support one another. My lifelong dream of building a happy family is fulfilled. As I approach my 60’s as a sober person, I plan to make whimsy more of a priority. This could show up as homemade jam I gift friends and family or a day trip to visit Clydesdale horses “just because.” I don’t take it for granted – this whimsy has been hard earned!

The work and the whimsy will continue. I am hoping they yield entertaining stories to share with the world.

Consumed

“Fun” me, getting a pedicure 10 years ago – and having a glass of wine

June 8 will be my “Golden” Soberversary (8 years sober on the 8th, yippee!). I think about my sobriety alot. Conservatively, let’s say, I have thought about it 10x a day for the past 8 years – that’s at least 29,200 times I have mentally focused on any or all of these things:

wanting a drink; regretting having past drinks; avoiding thinking about drinking; considering some of the reasons why I ever thought drinking was good for me; feeling disgusted by my drinking; feeling rage over the reasons why I turned to drinking in the first place; overcome with gratitude for finding sobriety; loving myself immensely for having the courage and persistence to keep working at sobriety; awe over the endless supply of love and support from my family; resentment over the fact that I can’t be a “2 drinks only” gal ever; amazement and joy from rediscovering my childhood self, acquainting her with my adult self and finding ways to meld the 2 together; hating the alcohol industry for convincing women drinking is a solution to meeting the exhausting demands of a family; fantasizing about a time when I am old, nobody needs me and I will be free to drink; envisioning my future self, a successful writer and strong family matriarch who never thinks about drinking; and so on…..

Clearly, you are starting to get the idea of how completely consumed I can be with the power of alcohol.

I have learned, after years of reflection, that we enter into agreements with ourselves (consciously or without awareness) . These powerful agreements, when acted upon daily, shape our future selves and deeply influence the people we love. 10 years ago, I was stuck honoring several disastrous agreements I made with myself. My children helped me understand how harmful those beliefs were. Fortunately, things my children said to me during this time helped me see I was not being true to my authentic self.

One Friday evening my daughter’s Freshman year of high school, I had started drinking again after sustaining sobriety for 5 months. (I decided to break my agreement with myself that I was a healthier, happier person without alcohol). My daughter had a friend over and they were about to be picked up by the friend’s parent to go to a party. I was the unlucky parent who won the 10 pm pickup lottery for the girls that night. Before leaving, my daughter came to me and pointedly asked, “Mom, do you think you can stay sober long enough to pick us up tonight?” Today I am sickened by this memory. I feel shame, guilt and enormous indebtedness to this sweet 14-year-old who simply needed assurance that I had her back. I think my husband ended up picking the girls up that night and I don’t remember what I said to my daughter in response to this. Sadly, I don’t think my response was very maternal or soothing – I am guessing it was sharp and defensive, giving my daughter none of the reassurance she was hoping for in that moment. Terrible behavior! I desperately needed to make a new agreement about my parenting. It would be another 6 months before this happened. I wish I could change the timeline and erase the damage, but I can’t.

My son had his own way of showing me how absurd my agreements with myself had become. We had good friends visiting from out of town, and I had spent the afternoon drinking wine with my Mom friend while my son played with her sons. When we got back home, he observed my intoxicated state and began teasing me by becoming an exaggerated version of me in that moment. Grabbing an empty beer can and throwing it across the room he yelled in a deranged voice, “You kids know NOTHING about LIFE!” It was very funny in the moment and we all laughed. I have thought about the scene many times over the years and each time I am more grateful that my son had the courage to show me who I was. He was telling me how ridiculous my agreement with myself was. I was not the Mom who could spend the day drinking with a friend then come home and have a peaceful evening with intelligible conversation. I became someone he didn’t respect or trust. A lot of kids (he was 12 years old) would not have had the courage to parody their caregiver in front of them to get their attention. I thank God my son did and I wish he never had to do that.

Looking back, instead of actual parenting during that period of time, I was mainly managing chaos, and mistakenly believing I was doing a good job. Our family was forced to enter into an agreement with an impaired caregiver that what I was giving them could be enough, even though it fell considerably short of the mark. When I was drinking, I was definitely not emotionally available. And when I was nursing my daily hangovers, the best I was giving them was empty words of encouragement without much of an example of actual follow through. I had recently agreed to give up on my short term goal of going back to school to earn credits towards becoming an Occupational Therapy Assistant. When the Anatomy 101 class started getting really difficult, I stopped substituting popsicles for my 5 o’ clock glass of wine and gave up. I explained to my daughter, who noticed I gave up pretty quickly on a goal I had so proudly announced, that the homework and life balance was “just too hard.” She looked directly at me and said flatly, “Mom, I’ve never seen you try.” She, of course, was telling me about my behavior. She had no idea how consumed my every thought was with how I could manage moving forward in my life without alcohol.

In the end, I never became an Occupational Therapy Assistant. Instead, I agreed with myself I would become the best version of parent I could be, and not worry about the rest. It’s now 8 years later. My daughter has graduated from college and is pursuing her passions in a large city. My son is in college and working hard to build his own dream of a contented life. And my husband will be retired in a matter of weeks. He doesn’t lie, and he credits my support as a source of strength that has helped him get to this enviable point in life. It appears as though the shift I made was enough for them.

In my early sobriety, I used to resist the advice my sponsor often gave me to “put yourself and your sobriety first and the rest will all work out.” I was consumed with the weight of the responsibilities of parenthood and couldn’t envision the possibility of both taking the best care of myself possible and meeting my children’s needs. “How can I take the time to work on myself when everything at home feels so all consuming and urgent?” I would ask. I learned that I was paying more attention to the agreements I made about how our family appeared socially than what was going on inside our home. When I learned to let go of my attachments to external appearances, I stopped caring about earning the validation of our social group. I got to work loving myself and my family and that’s what finally ended the cycle of feeling consumed by the wrong agreeements.

It took years of hard work and weathering regrets and disappointments to be able to establish and honor new and healthy agreements with myself. The most important shift was from the underlying agreement that nothing I did mattered or made a difference (my self esteem was so low in addiction). In recovery, the fundamental agreement has to be that everything you think, say and do matters every single day! I have forgiven myself for not being able to pass Anatomy 101 at the local community college. I have a fulfilling part-time career as a rehabilitation technician (fancy way of saying I support physical, occupational and speech therapists) working with children with disabilities. Not one day goes by that I am not gratefully able to draw upon the wisdom and strength from my journey in sobriety. It’s a unique gift I am able to joyfully give. I’m consumed in a deliberate way now.

No, Deb, We’re Actually Not Playing in the Same Sandbox

I’ve written about the long period of time when my kids were young when a few businesses my husband was involved with simultaneously combusted – leaving our lives scattered in pieces to salvage the best we could. So I won’t bore you with the story again except to reference an odd phrase one of my husband’s employees repeatedly used in conversation with me to convey – I am not sure what – “We’re all playing in the same sandbox!” she would exclaim every time she saw me. Um….was it solidarity? Compassion? Manipulation? Honestly, it annoyed me because we were SO NOT in the same “sandbox,” figuratively or literally. There were disastrous and long-term financial and professional consequences from the partnerships and businesses that fell apart that affected many people – just not so much “Deb.” The memory of this strange interaction tumults my consciousness back to a feeling of deep isolation. And that’s when the addictive thinking began.

I mention this because I want to talk about trust and friendship and understanding. These are the best contexts for me to share with you that recently I chose to have a couple of glasses of wine. Relapse. That’s what my Therapist calls it. I think that is a brutal word, especially since some of the recovery literature and support groups make it sound so hauntingly awful – and shameful. I am not ashamed that I wanted 2 glasses of wine ….. twice lately …. and that I gave in to my desire. My Therapist wants to make sure I understand that the “relapse happens in the thinking a long time before the behavior” – and I do. I will be honest, both times I drank I felt utterly terrible physically for 2 days after. Nor did I get the “fun buzzed” feeling I recollected and longed for. Just swallowing a sugary drink in hopes of recapturing a feeling of escape. But the feeling never came and the after effects were awful. So I don’t think I will be doing it again. Yet my Therapist and I both want to know why I did it.

Isolation and not feeling connected are the roots of my addiction. When I look around at the true friendships, real connections, and budding feelings of purpose I have at this perfectly awkward midlife time of life, what I have is good. REALLY good. I just don’t seem to want to accept it, if that makes sense. My friend Shelley, a dear old friend with whom I have recently reconnected, helped me see something about myself glaringly obvious to her: my addiction must have somehow also been driven by the desire to escape from the natural physical changes women experience in midlife. Yes, Shelley, yes! You are right! Her compassion, insightfulness and kindness led to tears streaming down my face when she said: “You are probably just now, in your sobriety, learning to accept your body and wrinkles for what they are while other women your age have had more time to adapt.” Bingo. I’ve written about taking dexedrine (pure speed prescribed by a doctor) for (I can’t even remember the bs diagnosis – something like “unresponsive depression”). I was super skinny then. Now I am hungry all the time. But if you compare my overall health today to what it was during my skinny and addicted years – I am far healthier, though more plump, today. Shelley is helping me understand “you are not supposed to look like you did 25 years ago.” My body today is not a “mistake.”

I think comparison is the reason why I relapsed. “Everyone else” is having so much fun drinking and having fabulous bodies. I hope you are laughing because I am! Our addictions will tell us lies about ourselves and others all day long if we let them.

What will I do now? I will work harder to accept and love myself. I have learned so many things from this journey but it takes time and effort to put it all into daily practice. Drinking is and always will be a problem for me. When I drink, I am not my authentic self and it is difficult for me to get back to that. Some of today’s “spiritual junkies” tout that “Calm is my superpower.” And that sounds attractive. I want it. Like sobriety, I will do anything to get it and keep it. Now back to work.

I Think I know What Joy Is

I got to spend 3 whole days with my daughter who left for college this past August. Let it be known, Momma is still not adjusted to this transition. Daughter, however, is fully settled and thriving. Experiencing her life, all the wonderful parts she chose so lovingly to share with me this weekend, has blessed me immeasureably. I see now the future she embraces instead of the fear, worry and sadness I have held for so long.
The weather was perfect, and our weekend began with my sweet dancer performing in her University’s “Greek Sing,” a talent show of sorts geared toward entertaining the hundreds (if not thousands) of Moms visiting their college students. Seeing the entire ensemble gave me concrete proof that college students are “different” than high school students in many ways.

Young adults moving about the world in their own skin, playing by their own rules and trying new experiences with their peer groups exhibit an energy and effervescence that is contagious.

It felt wonderful to step away from the tired, grumpy, complain-y adult world of “ain’t it awful” to breathing the spring air of fresh life, young energy and optimism for the future. That energy was palpable. I soaked it in. I feel new.

We enjoyed lunch with her new friends and Moms at the Sorority house then a lovely evening meal that she and her friends had carefully plotted – and everything was perfect. I was captivated by watching my daughter and seeing both parts of myself as a young adult and a whole new beautiful person – the unique woman she is evolving to become. She’s on her way. She’s where she needs to be. All my heaviness, worrying, tears – have just been for a Momma who didn’t yet understand her new place in her girl’s heart and life.

She proved to me this weekend I am still very much in her heart. Fairly newly sober, I need “spaces” in each day now to process my thoughts and feelings and renew my energy. Intuitively she understands this. We did everything at my pace and she gently led me through the weekend without pressuring me to do more than I could. Staying centered is important to me now, and I had no idea how very much my daughter respects and understands this.

Instead of continuing the evening with the group after the dinner, she told her friends we’d probably go back to our hotel and watch a movie. I was delighted. Off the hook yet also blessed to feel so “understood.” Ironically, one of our favorite movies happened to be on tv – “The Blind Side.” As we wound down the weekend, the words of Michael Orr to his Coach and later his Momma perfectly reflect my Daughter’s gentle love and presence: “I’ve got your back,” he said. So does she, and this Momma is beyond proud and happy.

The Practice of True Belonging

Lately I have reflected alot on Brene Brown’s definition of “true belonging” from her latest book, “Braving the Wilderness”:

“True belonging is the spiritual practice of believing in and belonging to
yourself so deeply that you can share your most authentic self with the world and find sacredness in both being a part of something and standing alone in the wilderness. True belonging doesn’t require you to change who you are; it requires you to be who you are.”

There is a big whopping heap of wisdom in that one little definition! Consider it from the framework of a marriage: a happy and successful “union,” some say, is the sum of two whole parts. Both partners are complete going into the union. What about the years when outside influences and family responsibilities gnaw at the core of one’s “whole self” – what about times when you are giving so much of yourself, you feel lost inside your own home?

This happened to me when a series of overwhelming challenges happened in rapid succession. Not only did I not belong to myself, I felt separate from the “wholeness” of marriage. Alone and terrified. Money, kids, health, work, geography and all kinds of other mini-challenges crept in my life and the me I was once so solidly familiar with started to disappear. Often weary, I dulled my fighting impulse with red wine. I thought I was stronger (i.e., belonged more authentically to myself) when I was drinking, but this could not have been further from the truth. I forgot how worthy I was of a happy life, so I drowned all my dreams and ambitions in alcohol. Fortunately for me and my family, a spark of life remained and I woke up in 2015 to the realization that I had made a big mess trying to comfort myself through numbing rather than belonging. I was in a crisis of disconnection.

Brene Brown continues her definition of true belonging”

“True belonging is not something that you negotiate externally, it’s what you carry in your heart. It’s finding the sacredness in being a part of something and in braving the wilderness alone. When we reach this place even momentarily, we belong everywhere and nowhere. That sounds absurd, but it’s true.”

I wonder if the quest for “true belonging” isn’t the biggest challenge we as humans are meant to overcome. It seems so simple but the piece that brought me back to myself and the living world and my family was finding the sacredness in being a part of something. Somehow I had internalized the message early in life that belonging equaled weakness so when the road of my life got very twisty – I retreated into myself and stopped connecting.

Many addiction experts believe that the opposite of addiction is not sobriety – it’s connection. I wholeheartedly believe this to be true. The joy of connection is an equal opportunity healer – yet for some, the most difficult to attain. If you are around enough people who suffer from addiction disorders, you will likely hear it repeated that they are grateful for their addiction because it led them to this awareness that true belonging to yourself so deeply that you can share your most authentic self with the world.

Living a sober life after years of dulling the brightness of the real world truly is an adventure in re-connecting with the child you once were and the loved ones you travel with. I am grateful to Brene Brown for helping me to clarify the importance of true belonging, it is the foundation for my whole life now.

Paychecks and Blueberries for Sal

“She will call less and less,” my husband casually remarked last night about our College Freshman whose nightly calls warm my heart. I bit his head off. “DON’T SAY THAT!,” I yelled back. Silence. What was that about, I began thinking. Everything is off kilter these days because it’s all new: our first child recently left the nest for college and at 51, I am in a new job, earning more than I have in eight difficult years. I call them “difficult” because I have never fully embraced my value as a stay-at-home-mother, even though this is what I always wanted to do.

The sacrifices you make when you decide to earn less in exchange for being more present feel mostly unnoticed and under appreciated most of the time.

But that’s the kind of Momma I wanted to be! ALWAYS available, no matter what. So when my biggest paycheck of eight years hit the bank account last night, I found myself weighing the value of the money versus the value of being physically present for the household. Here’s how it feels to me: in the short term, putting a hefty-ish paycheck in the household account feels better than making sure there is a roast in the oven but in the long term, knowing we raised a young woman who wants to touch base with us often is the greatest payoff possible.

We are all conditioned to thinking of our investments – financial, emotional, intellectual – in terms of returns. That’s why I count the number of days I maintain long-term sobriety, because as the days add up, I figure the greater the “return.” But not if I’m not emotionally sober. To maintain emotional sobriety, you better be invested in pouring every type of energy and asset you have into living a life worth living. After all, what’s the point of removing something as pleasurable as drinking red wine if I’m not going to enjoy the benefit of sobriety and that enjoyment isn’t going to spill over into other people’s lives and well-being? Huh? In other words, it’s just as important to replenish and nourish your emotional, spiritual and physical coffers as it is to earn money and spend it wisely. Now I get to do both: earn money to help support our family and reap the benefits of staying emotionally invested and close to my children as they were growing up.

These days, I think alot about special times with my children when they were young, especially bedtime story reading. My daughter and I had many favorite books, among them, a 1950’s Caldecott Award winner, “Blueberries for Sal.”

Little Sal was so much like my Isa: precocious, daring, full of life and love for new experiences. Together we would read the story about the Momma Bear and her Cub on the same mountain – but the other side and out of view – as the Momma Human and little Sal – picking blueberries to sustain their bodies through the winter.

My paycheck from the new job felt like a pail of blueberries from the book. Very gratifying and fun but also a worthwhile investment for lean, cold days in the future. It felt good and associating it with something so precious from my daughter’s childhood gives me peace of mind that our sacrifices have been worth it. Especially when she texted back, “Yes I do” this morning when I asked her if she remembered reading “Blueberries for Sal” with me.

“Why can’t a paycheck just be a paycheck and not turned into a dumb pail of blueberries, you weirdo?,” you may be asking yourself. Because I am committed to living a life worth living. This is what it means to understand a woman in midlife experiencing an emptying nest and working to maintain sobriety: a cherished moment of understanding in a three-word text from your beautiful daughter away at college puts everything in perspective. And all is well with my world.

Getting Sober Is Like Starting A New Job …. Everyday

Next week I will celebrate my 2nd consecutive year living in long-term recovery from alcohol use disorder. Notice my language. It is very specific for a reason: I believe that I will spend the rest of my life working to develop deeper understanding of my need to numb feelings and, hopefully, will be granted the Grace and inspiration to pursue ever-deeper practices for managing and maintaining a healthy, well-rounded life without relying on alcohol.

I am so proud of this achievement yet I know that I could “slip” at any time if I begin to neglect the positive practices that keep me humble and eager for continued sobriety. Just like a person who has changed jobs, my openness about my struggles is just one of many facts about my life – in other words, sobriety will never define me as a person. Yet, surprisingly, maybe because of tv shows like “celebrity rehab” or the heavy infiltration of 12-step type phrases in popular culture, it has been my experience that people automatically have their own sets of expectations of what your recovery should look and feel like.

It is impossible to convey to a person who does not have addiction controlling their life the excitement and liberation you feel once you decide to change, accept your limitations, and work everyday to seek newer and better ways to live “a normal life” without obsessing over wanting to numb. That’s why I write about it. But it makes people feel “awkward,” it seems. So I am supposed to confine and limit my experience to groups of other “users.” This does not make sense to me. You wouldn’t avoid talking to a person about their new “job,” so why would the topic of pursuing a life without addiction be any different? This is why maintaining sobriety can be difficult – it is more “polite” to ignore the addiction monster in casual conversation. This kind of sweeping under the rug behavior is bad for our children. They need to hear us talking about and showing them what a life built on zero reliance on alcohol looks and feels like. Just like we introduce our children to the concept of work by taking them to work with us, we should not be afraid to declare our commitment to sobriety to our friends, family and community.

The reality is that the younger a person is when they first experience alcohol, the more likely it will cause an addiction problem later in life. We don’t perpetuate self-sabotaging cycles in other health-related concerns (for instance, heart disease), so why are we reluctant to openly discuss and support addiction and sobriety?

I have a suspicion it is because many of us believe one of two things: that we are already slipping into bad habits of relying on alcohol to “numb” difficult emotional situations or we mistakenly believe we are immune to addiction. Those are highly dangerous beliefs. I think another reason people don’t want to talk about their feelings related to numbing and alcohol is because there is a widespread misunderstanding of what a sober life looks and feels like. I will definitely admit (if you have not already ascertained this fact!) that I am a much more sensitive person sober than drinking. I have to work hard to process my thoughts, feelings and responses to everyone and everything around me to avoid falling into old patterns of numbing. But that doesn’t mean my life is no longer fun or that I will not tolerate others’ drinking around me (everybody has their own barometer of tolerance about this, so it is always thoughtful to ask).

Over the weekend, I felt so many “feels” as we celebrated our first-born child’s Graduation from High School. At once sentimental and fearful, the onslaught of well-wishing from people in your life you may still be reconciling with, the entire weekend was challenging and tiring for me to navigate. And the past two nights, my poorly trained brain with only 2 years of sober thinking under its belt, even began telling me “You should go ahead and enjoy a drink or 2 or 10. You don’t really have a problem.” This is proof to me that I will spend every waking moment for the rest of my life “managing” this enormous force that lives inside of me that wants to numb everything.

Finally, some thoughts about people in Recovery that might help others better understand this journey:

Sober people are fun people;

Getting sober means the party is just beginning, not ending.

Sober People do not intend to make you feel uncomfortable ;

Sober People would rather you throw out all your old ideas about Recovery and learn by engaging with them rather than avoiding the topic altogether;

Just like becoming confident about one’s performance in a new job, living comfortably in your own skin as a sober person takes time, and you should not have any unrealistic expectations about what this should look like – every sober person is unique.

It has been an honor and a pleasure sharing the past 24 months with Readers. I have received so much love, grace and appreciation from the many people who want to understand addiction. This propels me forward, especially after my 99th cup of coffee during absolutely perfect cold Heineken or margarita weather!

For All the Milestones in Life, I Wish You This One Thing

Today, my precious first-born graduates from High School. My God, wasn’t I just at her kindergarten graduation? All of us parents share the same wistful feeling about time with our children – it goes by much too quickly. She’s a healthy, balanced, focused, driven, joyful, beautiful and brilliant young woman now. What more could I ask for? I must step aside and watch her grow.

If there is one thing I have learned from my recovery, it is there is no shame in starting over. I do it everyday. We all do. The previous 48 years of “all or nothing” thinking really limited my growth and perspective and that hindrance ultimately led to a dependence which became an addiction. Now I know. To paraphrase the brilliant Maya Angelou famously, “Once you know better, do better.”

People ask me all the time, “How have you stayed sober?”. The answer is simple: each morning when I open my eyes, I thank God for another day of life and I commit to not drinking that day. I have other things I do, and attending a 12-step program is not one of them. I did for the first 12 months and decided I needed to broaden my resources and thinking, and have happily managed a workable – if not patchwork – program on my own. I am enjoying life today instead of enduring it.

Here’s the point I want to make today: you can change at any time and begin a new path. My 18-year old daughter is graduating from High School tonight with beautiful dreams of her own. There were days when she was very young when I would find myself in a heap of laundry and tears on the telephone with my oldest sister saying, “I can’t even take care of myself. I am so afraid and overwhelmed.” But life marched on, didn’t it?.

The takeaway I want anybody reading this today to receive is this:

Never Be Afraid Of Starting Over

Perfection is an unrealistic expectation and illusion that does nothing but create resentment and discontent. Wouldn’t you be happier saying you tried something and enjoyed the moment rather than standing still in perfect silence, terrified by the prospect you can never be perfect? Motherhood taught me so many things, and especially raising such a determined little character as my daughter, Isabella Bernadette. When she was 3 and just starting out hosting “play-dates,” I would be so desperate to please the other Mothers, I would constantly intervene and scold her, telling her repeatedly to “share” with the other children. Her response?

“I want to share with ME!”

Don’t we ALL? Who can argue with the brilliant logic of a 3-year-old little girl?!

The thing is, we all have to learn to be our own cheerleaders and personal life coaches. Instead of looking in all the wrong places (e.g., malls, catalogs, bars, escapes), the answer can be found within. I guess I was too skeptical, cynical and afraid to trust myself. I know better now, so I am doing better.

Healing Happens in Phases: Ebbing and Flowing

So happy to bring you this insightful piece from my Recovery Friend, Rose Lockinger. If you are new in your Recovery or simply in need of a fresh perspective, Rose’s piece reminds us to expect a journey full of twists, turns, surprises and mini-victories. In short, like all things in life, when doing the work of Recovery, expect the unexpected and welcome the lessons as they unfold. xoxo Joan

You know how people always say that we take two steps forward, one step back, well in no other place in my life have I found that truer than with my recovery.

My recovery, and by extension, my healing process, has been one that involves phases, there are times of growth and times of setbacks, but through it all, I have learned more about myself and what I need to heal the wounds of my life.

See, I have found that the healing process is never linear, although sometimes I would like it to be. Sometimes I want to believe that it will be achieved perfectly but this is never the case. Like it says, progress not perfection, this process of healing involves progress. It never just continues in a straight and logical manner but rather it ebbs and flows, and there are times when I feel like I’m actually healing and other times when I feel like I am completely regressing.

I didn’t understand that this was the way of things when I first got sober and I guess I sort of believed that my life would just get exponentially better day in and day out. The reason why I thought this way is because my life changed so dramatically and so suddenly that I just thought it would continue in this manner forever. The Steps seemed to work perfectly and the further I got into them the better off I became.

I found that I stopped lying as much. I stopped craving drugs and alcohol, and I even started to believe in God, in fact so much healing occurred in that first year of recovery that to a certain degree I kind of felt like I was destined to become the most spiritual being on the planet. That I was destined to be free from all of my character defects within the next year or so, but then reality kicked in and coming down from my little spiritual hilltop, I settled into my new way of life and I began to see that not everything was being healed as quickly as my alcoholism was. I began to see that many of the things in my life that were particularly ingrained were going to take a lot of work to get over and possibly more pain before they were ready to be healed.

I have also found that certain times in my recovery, I thought that I was healed from something, or that I had finally overcome some trauma or defect of character only to be reminded a couple of weeks later that it was still there and there was more healing to be done. I’d get these epiphanies and believe that I understood something that would allow me to change or heal, and to a certain extent I would, but then it would just lead me to more parts of myself that need to be healed.

Without getting too far into the abstract, I sort of believe that this is the way that life works. We are born whole and pure, without any attachment or damage and then through the process of our life we pick up damage and get hurt by people or things. Then once we are ready, we begin the process of healing from this hurt, attempting to get back to a place of wholeness, but the process is unique and there is no set road map. With each layer of healing that occurs another is revealed just like the peeling of an onion, and so the job is never done It is always ongoing.

I’ll give you a recent example from my own life to help illustrate this point. It is something that I have written about a lot and talked about even more, but has been probably the most important thing that has occurred in my recovery and has been one of the greatest sources of healing for me.

For years I hated my ex-husband, but after working my Steps I healed a little bit from the pain that I felt he inflicted on me, and so for a time I was okay. I believed that I had achieved peace with this part of my life and in all honesty for some time, I had. I wasn’t yet ready to really dive into that situation and experience true healing and so I only peeled back the first layer of the onion.

Then I moved back to my home state so that I could be with my kids and in doing so, I had to invite him back into my life. Not in the sense that we were getting back together, but in the sense that we had children together which required regular interaction with him.

Being home and being around him brought up things in me that were tremendously painful and I really struggled for a number of months with this. There were some days where I’d thought I found peace in the situation, only to have it destroyed the following day when he’d make some offhanded comment to me, or I’d find out something he said about me to our kids.

I’d go to meetings and I’d hear bits and pieces of information that I needed in order to heal from the situation and I’d leave these meetings thinking I had finally found the secret that would unlock my healing and allow me to act neutrally towards him, but this just didn’t happen. As the months went on and the pain got greater, I continued my lurch towards healing by taking two steps forward and one step back.

Then something happened that allowed me to know that I truly had healed from the wounds of this part of my life. I finally felt the true acceptance of who he is as a person and what the situation was. I no longer felt anger towards him. In fact, I just felt compassion and realized that he was doing the best he could.

Now even though these feelings seemed to just wash over me in an instant, it was months and months of moving in that direction that lead to the actual healing. Now, this is not to say that I don’t get upset still from time to time because I do, but it is no way shape or form like it was just a few months ago.

So that’s been the story of my healing, a process that is messy sometimes and seems to move in directions that don’t make sense to me, but in the end, work towards my greater good. Sometimes I am aware that I am moving in the right direction, while other times I’m not even sure where I’m going, but through it all, I usually wind up feeling better.

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