Fit Recovery

Home » Cycling » The Biggest Hurdle to Clear in Continuous Recovery isn’t the Drink or Drug…

The Biggest Hurdle to Clear in Continuous Recovery isn’t the Drink or Drug…

February 2018
M T W T F S S
« Jan   Mar »
 1234
567891011
12131415161718
19202122232425
262728  
Advertisements

If you’re new to recovery, in recovery, or struggling a little bit with your recovery, grab a cup of coffee and stick around a few minutes.  This one isn’t short, but it gets somewhere good.

I follow a lot of recovery blogs – I’ve also unfollowed as many, or more… and the unfollows are all due to a personal flaw of mine.  I find it difficult to sit back and watch someone blindly walk through their recovery and fail, only to blame that failure on a symptom of the problem.  Worse is to watch someone continuously put themselves into positions that make failure inevitable, let alone more likely.

My problem is that when I decided to quit, I didn’t mess around.  Even at 22 years old, barely old enough to drink legally in the USA, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, my drinking career had come to its inglorious end.  That didn’t come immediately, though.  I was sent to inpatient treatment at a working farm (back when they detoxed you right, I was still hungover, with alcohol in my system, when they sent me to the pigsty to shovel pig $#!+.  Cold turkey, baby).  The day of my intake, I fully planned on doing my time in treatment, just long enough to get out of trouble with the law, to return to my drinking.  Two weeks in and I’ve still got the shakes, night sweats, nausea… That’s when I knew if I kept drinking, what was left of my existence would suck.  I’m one of those lucky few whose liver can’t keep up with my stomach and melon.  Based on liver enzyme readings, doctors gave me till I was 30 for my liver to completely shut down if I kept drinking as I was.  Folks, dead at thirty.

So, that brings us to my decision to quit, to really quit.  I was fortunate enough to not involve my ego in that decision – I didn’t care what I had to do, I just wanted the pain to stop (mental and physical, remember, I’m going cold turkey).  This is the beauty of doing things the hard way, my friends.  By relieving the symptoms of detox with drugs, you lessen, even cheapen, the experience of the detox.  My detox lasted weeks and it was f***ing miserable.  There’s no way I wanted to go through that again.  The fear of reliving my detox helped to keep me sober.  If it’s not as painful, it’s not as big a deterrent to picking up a drink again.  Anyway, my ego…  the one thing that I knew when I quit was that I knew nothing.  I had no clue how to stay sober.  I couldn’t make it more than a few days with my best effort, so I’d do whatever they told me to do.  I’d have stood on my head in the corner if that would have done any good (though I didn’t make that public knowledge, lest someone take advantage of it for a good laugh).  They handed me a book and said the instructions for how to stay sober are on the first 164 pages.  Do that and you’ll have a chance, so I did.

I also didn’t have a major problem with “the whole God thing”.  Let’s just say I was comfortable with not knowing anything – even at 22 when we know everything.  I considered myself a “recovering Catholic” right from the beginning.  I didn’t get the whole “fire and brimstone” God that I’d been taught about since I was a kid, so I took baby steps and I talked about my hang-ups… then, because I’d put my ego on the shelf, I actually listened to others who had figured that out already, and I tried to do what they did.  Eventually I came up with a concept of God that worked for me – that didn’t require me to stand on a hill with a trumpet, extolling God (in fact, I often have a problem with God’s cheerleading squad – they’re just as insufferable as the tiny minority who are anti-God and loud).  However you choose to look at it, I made a deal with God on the day I decided, for real, to quit drinking.  I thought, “God, I’ll make you a deal.  I’ll give this recovery thing everything I’ve got, if you’ll help me”.

That was it, nothing more, and the weight that was removed was immeasurable.  Well, immeasurable at least until I did a Fifth Step, that was so awesome I still can’t quantify it without sounding like a USA Figure Skating announcer (ridiculously over-the-top enthusiastic).

Sometime after leaving treatment, and with a full desire to continue my sobriety, I walked into a bar with my six-month coin.  Actually, it wasn’t any bar, it was my bar.  My stomping grounds.  I can’t remember why I went in there, it wasn’t nefarious and it wasn’t so I’d be tempted – in fact, it wasn’t even at night… Anyway, I spoke with the owner for a bit, and let him know I’d quit and wouldn’t be around anymore.  He said, and I can still remember this 25 years later, “Wow, I didn’t know you had a problem”.  All I could think was, “Wow, you’re not very perceptive.”  A short while later (a couple of months maybe) I was at a bar across the street with a good friend from school, celebrating his birthday with a local police officer friend of his…  They had beers, I had a near beer.  I’d been sober for going on eight months and drank that near beer without issue.  Then I ordered another.  I drank that one half-down and froze.  I stood up, apologized and said I had to go.  I left some cash on the table and walked out the door.

The infinitesimal amount of alcohol in a non-alcoholic beer triggered something in my melon that took me straight back to the day before I went to treatment.  I was scared.  I drove to an outpatient treatment center I’d been through a couple of years earlier and asked to see my old counselor.  She saw me and I explained what had happened.  She explained that I had been as close to a relapse as a person could get without actually relapsing.  Let’s just say I understood.  I thought I’d been doing good.  After some analysis with that counselor, though, I found that I’d been falling away for almost a month and a half.  I called my sponsor on the way home.

That conversation was interesting.  He gave me a few pages to read from the Big Book and asked me how I parked my car, whether I pulled into a spot nose first or whether I backed in.  I told him I pulled in nose first.  He said I should back in to every parking spot for the next month and that he’d tell me why after the month was up.

I did.  For a month I backed into every parking spot I could.  At the end of the month he let me in on why.  He said, Jim, I had you back into parking spots for a month because it was easy and if you weren’t willing to do something that easy without complaint, there’s no way you’d be willing to do what it takes to stay sober.  It was more than fifteen years before I found a reason to walk into a bar again, and that time it was with a sober friend who also happened to be my salesman from work… and that was the last time I was in a bar.

This goes back to that “stand on my head in the corner” thing.  Most people, especially nowadays, would question backing into a parking spot to stay sober.  They’d say it was stupid and useless and tell me how stupid I am for requiring such a stupid thing…  All the while, proving exactly why they can’t stay sober and keep relapsing.

Motherfucker, I said stand on your head in the corner and it’ll help you stay sober.

It did me.  Folks, my biggest hurdle in the way of my recovery was me.

 

Advertisements

24 Comments

  1. Awesome post my friend! Thank you!

  2. tammi1438 says:

    This is brilliant! So very true. No one wants to do the hard work or think they are the actual problem. You are right sir if they are going question standing on their head (I usually say go stand in the parking lot on your head), with the defective brain they are working with, then they are not ready to get sober.
    I was thinking the other day due some issues at work, all this attention on addiction, or the “epidemic” I think is creating more victims than it is helping. Victims in the sense that “I have a disease ” therefore not responsible, rather than, Yes I have a disease and it is now my responsibility to manage it and do the freaking work. Dude you are spot on. But i think these days we are in the minority. I love your honesty about your recovery and the willingness to do the work.

  3. saoirsek says:

    Yep, that’s about it… excellent post Jim. Have to say I share that frustration seeing someone half arsedly ( may not be an actual word ahem…) try to stay sober and worse not at least keep an open mind re. The program. But I get it, I’ve had times when I’ve questioned the 12step program but was quickly brought to my senses, the memory of the last year of my drinking * shudder* is usually a good way to remember the pain of drinking. I’m by no means a big book basher but it really works. For me the problem was me too but when you say that to people they assume you are saying you’re a hopeless, savage, depressed mofo and AA is there to remind you of that…eh NOT TRUE. AA gave me hope and trying to use the 12 steps in my everyday life helps keep me in check…phew, sorry about that long post. I’m just particularly grateful at the moment, had a few wobbly emotional moments in the past few weeks but didn’t drink or act out…🙂

  4. Brilliant post Jim.

    I didn’t go through any program or have any support (other than close family who were happy to see me sober), I just decided to quit one day after about 20 years of uncontrolled drinking (I stopped smoking the same day). It was the best decision I ever made, but 6 years on and I still don’t feel I’m over it and basically ignore all social occasions, as I simply cant relax and be sociable without the lubrication of alcohol. I went from being the most gregarious to the dullest in the room, which was actually why I had taken to drinking with such gusto all those years ago.

    I wonder if I had followed a step by step, would that have made a difference rather than this feeling of just being “on hold”….

    • saoirsek says:

      @TimeToTri It’s never too late, find a meeting, what have you got to lose🙂 Stop believing you’re dull, that’s feeding into the belief that drinking made you more ‘ interesting’ Anyone who does triathlon is already interesting 🙂Also, you probably have a lot of experience to share in the rooms!

    • bgddyjim says:

      See, and that’s why “the program” is so special… I am surrounded by sober people all of the time. I bowl on a sober league, I go to three meetings a week with friends, I have dinner with friends when my wife and kids are away and I’m feeling a bit lonely…. Nothing says you can’t start going for the friendship, brother. One way or another, it’ll change your life. Either way you go, congratulations, man. What you did is NOT easy. I am very impressed. Also, what Saoirse said…

  5. All very much appreciated! I always have a sense of sharing a secret when I come across stories of getting over alcohol abuse.. being the only one not drinking can be a bit frustrating at times, so it’s good to know I’m not the only one.

    And yeah, triathlon is what replaced my boozing, so getting knocked off the bike and being forced to stay sat on my arse for so long brings it all more into focus, so this post was very timely, thanks Jim!

  6. Dude-fantastic post. I still back into my parking spot. You’re right—We are the biggest obstacle to our own sobriety. If we don’t want it, how will it happen? That stinking thinking kicks or we climb up on that big old pity pot blaming everything and everyone around us when the problem and solution are staring back at us in the mirror. Glad you made the decision and have kept with it. Blessings.

  7. I agree. Truly. Outside forces are nothing compared to the force of nature in between my ears. Awesome post. Speaking of forces, this is a tour de force.

  8. Bilbo says:

    thank you, glad i found you, I’ll be reading your blog with interest.

  9. Patunia says:

    I need to remember the backing into a parking lot trick. So many times someone tries to force us into sobriety. Until it’s OUR time, it’s pointless to try. Right on brother. Right on.

  10. Well written and informative post.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: