Tag Archives: substance abuse

Dancing with Myself

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If we get four more inches of snow this week it will beat NYC’s snowiest winter. Crazy! I’ve been so distracted by the constant below-zero weather I hadn’t noticed the extra snow. I have, however, noticed that the winter blahs are catching up with me – even with my active daily participation in an anti-seasonal affective disorder regiment (an hour of fresh air, exercise, and mega amounts of citrus and dark leafy vegetables). I’m not the only one feeling this way. Almost every conversation lately is about being over the weather, the need for a vacation to sunny states, and seemingly serious considerations about moving away. Although I’m dedicating this week’s post to everyone who’s had to put up with this year’s brutal winter, I’m hopeful even warm-state recovering addicts will accept my challenge.

There are two things about “cabin fever” that are especially treacherous for recovering addicts. There’s both lethargy and lack of motivation and way too much time to think about ourselves. When we’re actively participating in our life time spent overthinking is minimized. Isolated and inactive, we can think our way into despair and anxiety. I propose it is time to start moving. Have some fun and lighten up your mood.

When I was an only child in a household where there was active alcoholism, I found solace by creating dance routines in the basement. I spent a lot of time in a fantasy world where one day I would get to be one of the dancing Golddiggers on the Dean Martin Show. To prepare myself for this destiny I’d turn up the volume on my favorite tunes and dance my ass off. While my amateur dance routine days have come and gone (ironically exhausted by years on a strip club stage), this winter I keep renewing my spirit by blasting music and dancing like a fool.

Go to your music collection or to Pandora and locate the favorite tunes from your life and turn up the volume. Dance like a fool in the privacy of your own home. You can dance with your friends, with your pets, or by yourself. Try those crazy moves you know you can’t do and laugh a little. Sing along. JUST START MOVING! I guarantee that if you can keep this up for 30-45 minutes you’ll flip out by how much better you feel. Free your body and mind, dance as wildly as you can, break out in a sweat, and enjoy the fact that you still have a heartbeat (even if it feels like its going to pound right out of your chest). For 45 minutes a day you can lift your spirits and get a break from thinking about yourself. It’s a win-win and a perfect way to begin March. By the time the weather breaks you’re going to be able to translate this dance time into exercise time. For anyone who’s been on the fitness fence, take this post as a challenge. Who knows – maybe it will kickstart the desire to include regular exercise into your life.

Remember – recovery happens in mind, body, and spirit. Dance your way out of the winter blahs. You can lighten your existential load by weakening the grip of seasonal affective disorder. Have some fun!

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ACOA and the Recovering Addict

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For ten years I lived in a cute one-bedroom railroad flat. It was a great apartment by New York standards. A railroad flat is a series of rooms that open into one another. From the desk in the furthest room I could see clear to the other end. I sublet my place in 2003 and moved into an enormous apartment in Los Angeles. The rug, which had been wall to wall in my largest room in New York, was now an area rug in the living room. There was a dining room, a large kitchen, 2 huge bedrooms, a balcony and a backyard. I arranged the furniture and put my desk in my bedroom. It took several months before I noticed that I only left my bedroom to go to the kitchen. With all this glorious space, I continued to live inside the square footage of my NYC apartment. I was going to have to make a conscious effort to spend time in different rooms until it felt natural. I’m sure people who’ve spent extended time in prisons share this experience when returning to the outside world.

Children adapt to their environment in similar unconscious ways. Children growing up in a household impacted by addiction or alcoholism will turn their fear and pain inward and adopt negative belief systems about themselves and the way the world works without question.

If you grew up in an alcoholic family and are now in recovery, you’re probably doing things and feeling things that don’t make sense to you. You watch friends who got clean around the same time as you did move forward in their life and you start thinking that maybe you’re just too broken – even for recovery. You suspect that the happiness you see in others isn’t in the cards for you so you try to practice acceptance and find gratitude for what you do have. You slogan yourself to death and jump into step work – but progress is slow and most days you are a breath away from losing whatever good mood you are having. When you’re happy you feel anxious because you know something will fuck it up, when you fall in love you brace yourself for heartbreak. You can’t understand why you can’t even really enjoy the good times without anticipating disappointment. You question whether you aren’t working a good program or think maybe you need to have more faith, do better step work, find a new sponsor, or take more commitments. (For anyone sober outside of a 12-step fellowship, you may often feel hopeless because you are out of ideas how to think your way into feeling better). You know something isn’t right but you can’t put your finger on it. You do a lot of comparing of yourself to others.

Growing up in a dysfunctional or alcoholic family, feelings from childhood have shaped your relationship to yourself and to the world and these don’t miraculously heal without being addressed. Children of alcoholics adapt the same way I adapted to a small living space. Even when there was room to move around, I didn’t. If you feel like something is keeping you boxed in – even in recovery, it is time to uncover how being a Child of an Alcoholic affected you.

The damage done in alcoholic households vary but one thing is common – children don’t feel safe. For some children of alcoholics, violence and emotional abuse is the norm and for others it’s the internalized disappointment from years of broken promises. Safety and security can be threatened by the fear of drunk driving accidents, threats of divorce, or the ongoing silent treatment between parents. Whatever forgiveness or acceptance you have gained by saying “They did the best they could with the tools they had” these words do not heal the child who was frightened, wounded or abused. Until a recovering addict addresses their ACoA issues, they continue to live inside a box constricting their freedom to grow in recovery, to find peace, self esteem, love, and to enjoy their life without waiting for the other shoe to drop. For some addicts and alcoholics, staying sober is impossible unless their ACoA issues are excavated and healed.

There are a number of books written about ACoA and trauma, there are therapists who specialize in Adult Children of Alcoholics, and of course there is the ACoA 12-step fellowship. I think 12-step fellowships are especially healing for recovering addict/alcoholics because the empathy, compassion and camaraderie provide a lovingly safe place that many ACoAs have never experienced. This safety will give you the strength and courage to work on ACoA issues (with outside help) so that you can truly experience freedom from the past. ACoA work will take you out of the one room (of your sobriety) and teach you how to move around the entire house.

This is the Laundry List (taken from www.adultchildren.org) :

The Laundry List – 14 Traits of an Adult Child of an Alcoholic
1. We became isolated and afraid of people and authority figures.
2. We became approval seekers and lost our identity in the process.
3. We are frightened of angry people and any personal criticism.
4. We either become alcoholics, marry them or both, or find another compulsive personality such as a workaholic to fulfill our sick abandonment needs.
5. We live life from the viewpoint of victims and we are attracted by that weakness in our love and friendship relationships.
6. We have an overdeveloped sense of responsibility and it is easier for us to be concerned with others rather than ourselves; this enables us not to look too closely at our own faults, etc.
7. We get guilt feelings when we stand up for ourselves instead of giving in to others.
8. We became addicted to excitement.
9. We confuse love and pity and tend to “love” people we can “pity” and “rescue.”
10. We have “stuffed” our feelings from our traumatic childhoods and have lost the ability to feel or express our feelings because it hurts so much (Denial).
11. We judge ourselves harshly and have a very low sense of self-esteem.
12. We are dependent personalities who are terrified of abandonment and will do anything to hold on to a relationship in order not to experience painful abandonment feelings, which we received from living with sick people who were never there emotionally for us.
13. Alcoholism is a family disease; and we became para-alcoholics and took on the characteristics of that disease even though we did not pick up the drink.
14. Para-alcoholics are reactors rather than actors.

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Is the FUN over now that I’m clean?

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funI was so grateful to finally get clean it never occurred to me to question what fun would look like in recovery. Although it made me sad, a part of me was prepared to adapt to a fun-free existence if that was the clean and sober trade off .

When I had less than 90 days clean I ended up at a 12-Step picnic in Griffith Park in Los Angeles. I’d been exposed to the  hip Hollywood recovery crowd at a world convention a few months before I got clean. When I got out of rehab in New Orleans, I boarded a Greyhound Bus back to LA. I knew I needed these people in my life if I was going to make it. The only person I recognized was a teenager with 6 months clean who I’d lived with in someone’s kitchen when we were using. I kept my eye on him for some sign of acknowledgment all day while going through the motions of selling sodas for the hospitality committee. The day was a series of  my self-conscious awkward attempts to fit in.

The picnic ended with a meeting. Everyone shared their gratitude for the gorgeous day and the fun they’d had – everyone that is except me. I wanted to cry. If this was what fun was going to look like in recovery, God help me.  I only had one idea of fun and it was a memory or fantasy I’d been chasing for a million years. Fun would be a hotel room, a lot of drugs, a lot of money, and a lot of sex with someone who I was attracted to and excited by. Anything less was not going to cut it as fun in my books. The happier people sounded the deeper inside myself I went. I was consumed by such immense sorrow  it left me lost and alone. I hated this and was not having fun. “Patty, would you like to share?” Suddenly everyone was looking at me and before I knew it I was saying out loud everything I’d been thinking. Fuck it. Too late now for pretend gratitude. When the meeting ended people told me to hang on, that it would get better. More people talked to me that night than in the previous week of meetings strung together. By the time I went to bed, I felt pretty good.  I had hope that there was life after drugs.

I share this story because everyone experiences something similar to this when they first get clean. I had absolutely no clean fun reference points. I’d been high from 12 to 28 so whatever fun I’d had happened under the influence. The only thing now that was impeding my ability to have fun was my self-obsession.  Feelings of insecurity, self-consciousness, and adolescent awkwardness permeated my every activity in public. The pressure I put on myself to “appear cool and unaffected” was killing me. In truth, life without drugs was unchartered territory and I’d always relied on the comfort of the emotional detachment heroin had provided in social settings. Without it I felt exposed and vulnerable.

In spite of my cynicism, I said yes to every invite and we traveled in sober packs – to concerts, to parties, to dance clubs. Soon my life was as rich as it had been before drugs isolated me. Along the way I developed deep friendships that exist to this day.

The interesting thing is rediscovering what fun means to me as I get older. Every few years, I have periods where I no longer know where I belong socially. Things that interest me now tend to be more solitary. Too much solitude- even if it’s spend doing things I enjoy – becomes lonely and I’ll think “I need to enhance my personal life, meet new people, go out and have fun” but these thoughts are filled with that question “What does fun look like to me now?” Sometimes I will go out and realize I am the oldest person in the room and start to wonder where my peers are.  It can make me feel as awkward as my early days in recovery. Thankfully I have enough experience to know that if I keep an open and curious mind my experiences will reflect this. When I shared my thoughts at that picnic years ago, I discovered that I wasn’t alone.  I find this to be true now too. I talk to other people who are single and over 40 or over 50 and ask them what they do for fun and – maybe it’s my generation – but it seems a lot of them are asking themselves this question and have started trying new things, testing new waters and are more than happy to include me.

It is so easy to get caught up in life and responsibility that we forget to play. If we lose our sense of playfulness and joy old ideas will creep in that say the only real fun is found in a bottle or a substance. Don’t let your disease trick you with this lie. If you feel like your life is lacking fun, commit time to exploring different things until you discover what fun looks like for you.

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You don’t like relationship drama. Really?

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How many times have we heard I am not into drama? Ever notice that whoever says this usually follows it by complaining about an emotionally exhausting  situation involving a relationship (romantic, family, friends, or co-workers)?  Are you the one complaining about drama or are you the type who suffers in privacy by guarding the secrecy of your emotional chaos and all-encompassing anguish?

Drama was such the norm when I was getting high that I didn’t even register it. Perhaps it’s from having moments of serenity in recovery that make us all too aware when drama  comes along and throws off our emotional balance. We don’t like it – but damn there’s almost comfort in its familiarity.

Whether the source of drama has roots in a platonic or romantic relationship, the feelings are the same – obsessional thinking and a compulsion to continue engaging in it expecting different results. Sound familiar? Without drugs and alcohol, it’s pretty common to discover ourselves in a situation that we seem unable to walk away from no matter how horrible it makes us feel. With romance, like drugs, when it stops working we always hold out for some sign that it is returning to that place of euphoria or bliss that we experienced at the beginning. The cycle of obsessional thinking, compulsion behavior, denial of the reality, and the default setting of turning the pain inward is so familiar that we are able to withstand it long past a healthy expiration point.  But why is it when we are able to bring affirming recovery actions into every other area of our life we feel incapable of letting go of certain relationships or behaviors in relationship even when the pain is causing us to fantasize about using again?

When we were getting high most of us watched our lives shrink. Pretty much our only concerns were getting and using and finding ways and means to get more. Anything else happening in our life had no real emotional effect on us unless it got in the way of our using. Oh – one feeling persisted – shame.  When our sober lives fill with drama centered on another person (usually a romantic or sexual interest) our emotional lives shrink. Everything takes second place to the source of our obsession. We think about him/her all the time, replay past conversations searching for a clue to make sense of the situation and indulge our daydreams in future conversations. We find ourselves reaching out to friends (or suffering in silence) only to describe how we feel in relation to the object our desire/drama.  The fullness of our life is shrinking as we become a broken record of same story different day.

Do we really hate the drama or is it serving us in some way? By having one feeling – pain – displacing all other emotions we retain some level of control. The other feelings can’t affect us if we are blocking them out by our current drama. If we go from one dramatic relationship to another we have succeeded in getting out of experiencing the full range of emotions that life in recovery offers. It almost makes sense for someone in early recovery to jump on the relationship bandwagon because extreme pain and extreme pleasure are safe whereas the whole gamut of grey area feelings are unfamiliar and usually uncomfortable to sit with.

Take a risk and disengage with the drama – give yourself a set abstinence period and acquaint yourself with what might really be going on inside of you.  Journal, meditate, take walks and share your process with someone you trust.  Self-discovery is necessary for deep self-acceptance. How free do you want to be? Recovery is limitless.

 

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Becoming the friend you want to be

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friendshipWhen I used to try to kick heroin by the second night my brain would be up caught in a video loop of every terrible thing I ever did to anyone who ever cared about me.  I’d never been held accountable for the majority of it. Only I knew how far I’d fallen from being the kind of person I wanted to be. I loved my family, my husband, and my friends yet at the end I was alone. It was my form of damage control. I hated what and who I’d become and I couldn’t stop using. I was truly hopeless. Nothing stirred the heart-sickness in me more than replaying the ways I’d behaved with the people who’d cared. The pain this caused was so unbearable that I could never stay clean through it. I always picked up on the third day.

I’ve watched countless addicts go through this exact same process while detoxing.  Witnessing their despair while the unrelenting disease of addiction kept replaying these old tapes, I was able to make a connection between these specific feelings and the addict’s overpowering obsession to use again.  Despite all the other major destruction we create while using, it is the shame, remorse, guilt, and regret from the pain we have caused others, from seeing the evidence that we are no longer the person we know we can be, are meant to be, that causes us the most grief when we are getting clean and in early recovery.

When we get clean we usually aren’t aware of when we bring old behaviors into new friendships until there are consequences. How many times have you canceled plans with a friend at the last minute because something more exciting came along or because you just didn’t feel like doing anything never considering that it showed a lack of respect for someone else’s time? Or worse, lied to get out of a commitment and got caught? When have you given an honest unsolicited opinion and not realized how hurtful it was until your friend stopped calling you back?

Each of us have our own moral compass that guides us to live in accordance with our higher self. We usually know when we’re off course by a feeling in our gut that tells us something is not right. This is a good thing. It teaches us how to be the person we truly want to be. In recovery we learn how to be a better friend – and this matters because when we hurt people in recovery, not only do we feel shame, guilt, remorse and regret, our disease will start to play the old tapes of a lifetime of bad behavior to others and amplifies our shame. These feelings have the power to trigger cravings again.

What qualities do you value most in a friend? Do you value loyalty, trust, support, a sense of humor, someone who accepts you without judgment? Someone who is forgiving? What else is important to you? Does this describe you?

To get an honest appraisal of your friend-skills ask yourself these questions. Also note  when your behaviors line up with what you’ve listed as qualities you value in a friend.

Do you play different roles – strong with some and helpless with others?

Are you a people pleaser continually brushing aside feelings of resentment or anger?

Are you a giver or a taker or do you fall somewhere in the middle?

Are you a fixer or the friend always asking for advice?

Do you strategically seek out friendships that get you closer to the dream job or a person of romantic interest?

Do you have friendships of convenience but you never get invested emotionally?

Do you sustain long-term relationships, and if so what do those relationships look like.

The difficult part is to see where your behavior benefits you in some way.  When you are giving is it because there is something you want in return? Do you manipulate others to get your own way? Do you use guilt or the silent treatment rather than communicate how you feel?  Do you keep score? Do you ask for advice to avoid personal responsibility?

Some of you will be pleasantly surprised to discover that you are what you seek. Anyone new to recovery may find this exercise very uncomfortable – but don’t despair because there is a solution.  List every behavior that you want to eliminate and for the next week make a conscious effort to take the opposite action. Put in some effort and change happens. You’re worth it.

 

 

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The Upside of Shame

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Regrets. I’ve had a few, but then again, too few to mention. (My Way, Frank Sinatra)

Wouldn’t you love to be able to hit rewind and delete entire episodes out of your past rather than have to deal with the fallout clean and sober?

When I used to try to kick dope, the physical withdrawal was nothing compared to the  movies playing non-stop in my head of every single thing I ever did or said that made me feel like shit. It always touched on the things that hurt or betrayed the people I loved (whether they knew it or not) like birthday money from my folks I’d blown on coke, the time my dad drove from Toronto to Buffalo to meet a flight I’d forgotten about, relationships I’d discarded, friends I’d lost, the time I left my dog in my apartment while I spent a weekend on the Virgin Islands. It was all there in living color, the shit I did, accompanied by a gnawing soul-sickness.

The behaviors we engage in that fuel the beast don’t completely disappear when we get clean. The “disease” gets a lot of mileage from shame. Whenever we act out in our selfish or thoughtless behaviors in recovery and feel bad, thoughts of using pop up – always an unconscious antidote to our negative feelings. The way out of this cycle is in repairing damage we have caused and learning how to do things differently. Recovery gives us the opportunity to change.

On a positive note, guilt and remorse are natural healthy feelings because they let us know we are not psychopaths.

It’s through these feelings that we build our moral backbone in recovery. This moral compass lets us know how far we have strayed from our own deepest beliefs and values. They teach us right from wrong, teach us how to be loving – toward ourselves and others, toward animals and nature. We don’t learn this by having debates, or philosophizing over coffee with our friends, or because family, religion or the courts shoved a moral code at us. We discover morality through our feelings. And they never lie. They let us know when we do something that betrays our very nature.

Shame is the real killer for addicts because shame is personal. It’s how we feel about ourselves in the privacy of our own mind. How are we supposed to take care of ourselves, love ourselves, if we believe we are worthless? “We are as sick as our secrets” is true because shame is so personal. Guilt says, “What you did was horrible.” Shame says, “ You are horrible.” Secrets nurture shame – so get rid of them.

Imagine – even at the peak of our addiction we could not escape regret, guilt, or shame when we acted out against our most heartfelt beliefs. That says a lot about the human spirit. Even when we believed we truly didn’t give a fuck our heart was storing up the memory to haunt us later. The human spirit is pretty amazing. Even the madness of addiction can’t reach in and completely rewire our conscience.

 FEELINGS

 

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