Acceptance – Where’s the Bathtub?

Not long before we bought our home, the previous owners had the master bathroom remodeled. They took out the bathtub, making room for an oversized walk-in shower, and the extension of the countertops and cabinet spaces to accommodate double sinks. They did a really nice job of updating the look, and creating a comfortable space.

The only problem is that once we had been here for a while, Amanda realized that she missed having a tub handy. Missed being able to lounge in a hot bath. We talked briefly about changing things yet again, but quickly realized that was cost-prohibitive, given the fact that other areas of the house also needed updating. So, it was decided that for now, if she wants a bath, Shaun’s tub upstairs will have to do.

One thing we had also discussed was getting a hot tub. Again, the cost of a full-sized model was not practical, so we shelved that idea. Shelved it until last weekend when we were walking through our local Costco. There, on sale, was an inflatable hot tub. When I saw it, I thought it represented a reasonable compromise, and an affordable way for Amanda to be able to soak away life’s aches and pains.

“Babe, what would you think of one of these?” Her response to my question was immediate and direct. I was surprised that she did not take time even to consider my offer. Surprised, that is, until she explained that she knew how much I had to do to keep the water our swimming pool in good condition. The last thing she wanted was to turn that kind of work into a year-round project. “I appreciate the offer; but you have better things to do with your time.”

As we continued our conversation, I realized that she had long-since settled the matter in her mind. She said that she had come to the conclusion that for the time being, she would live without a bath tub, or a hot tub for that matter. “When we downsize, we can find a home with a bathtub in the master bathroom. I’ll be just fine until then.”

Thank you Acceptance!

Contemplating it as my spiritual principle of the day, I realized that Amanda’s outlook toward that hot tub at Costco was a good example of one of the ways in which I can be doing a better job of practicing acceptance. It reminded me that I can sit and stew in the past decisions, especially when they adversely affected others. My guess is that Amanda had mentioned her acceptance in this area, but it had not registered in my mind. Thus, I had continued to contemplate solutions long after the need had passed. For whatever reason, I could not allow her acceptance to translate into a resolution in my mind.

As examples go, this one is not all that earth-shattering. It does, however, serve as a good example of how I can beat myself up over the past in ways that are completely unnecessary. In the same way that I tend to hold onto resentments (something I am working on in my current round of step work), I can project resentments onto others. I can hold onto my past failures until long after they have been resolved in the minds of others. Sometimes, I hold onto them tightly even after they have been forgotten by everyone else.

This is especially true concerning the people with whom I used drugs. It would be no smarter to seek these people out to make amends than it would be to tear down a newly remodeled bathroom to make room for a tub. Only in this case, it could cost me a whole lot more than just money.

Today, I will work on practicing acceptance by realizing that I am not the object of others’ scorn. I will give myself a break, realizing that some of the things I still beat myself up for from my days of active addiction, are probably a blip on others’ radar. I’ll accept that some things from my past are not directly amendable. Instead, I can simply accept those things, learn from them, and live my life accordingly.

Have a remarkable day!

Kindness and My First Time Off the Diving Board

I want to say his name was Mike. After so many years, there is no way for me to be sure of the name of the man who taught us to swim at the local pool, so I’ll just refer to him as Mike.

When my brother and I took swimming lessons, I could not have been much older than five or six. My parents had purchased a membership at the pool, and wanted us to know how to swim. So, for two weeks we showed up each morning, along with other children our ages, and took swimming lessons.

Starting with the very first day, when all of us were clinging to the concrete edge of the shallow end of the pool, we all wanted the same thing. We wanted to jump off of the diving board. One of the bolder children among asked right away, “Can we jump off the diving board?” That is when Mike let us know that we would get to… just not today. With that, we were divided into groups, and went over the basics of swimming with the high school students who were assisting Mike.

The next day, more of us asked, “Today? Can we jump off the diving board today?”

When Mike repeated his answer from the day before, there was a sigh from each of us. You’d have thought someone had stolen candy from us all. That’s how disappointed we were. It was disappointment that grew each day, as more of us would ask, only to receive the same reply from Mike.

On our final day of swim lessons, Mike’s answer changed. “Yes, today each of you will get to jump off of the diving board! You will all take turns at the end of today’s lesson. Now, let’s get to work.”

None of us could focus on what we were supposed to be learning that day. We were too excited to finally be getting to jump from that diving board. Oh, it would be glorious!

A funny thing happened once the day’s lesson had ended, and Mike told us all to line up at the steps to the diving board. Somehow, from that position, the diving board looked much more intimidating. It was either three or four steps up a ladder to the diving board’s surface, and then, there was the walk to the end of it. Out over the water. Water at the deep end of the pool. It reminded me of stories of pirates forcing people to walk the plank.

As my fear mounted, I found myself moving to the back of the line of children readying themselves to jump. One of the student instructors was there waiting beneath the board, just to be sure all would go well; but I was still frightened. My stomach began to cramp in the way it so often did back then. Why was the line moving so fast? If it would just slow down, maybe it would be time to go home before my turn had come.

Alas, my turn came. Was I crying? Probably. Did I feel like a scaredy cat? Yep. Was I convinced I would die if I jumped off of that diving board? Absolutely!

Somehow, Mike knew all of these things. “Don’t worry Kent. I’ll jump with you!” His kind, encouraging words coaxed me up the ladder and onto the diving board. With his hands on my shoulders to remind me that he was there, we walked to the end of the board. “Do you want to jump in just holding my hand, or do you want me to hold you when we jump?” I opted for him to hold me, so Mike picked me up, cradled me in his arms, and we jumped.

When we made it back to the water’s surface, all of that fear was gone. Once I was able to hear once again, I could hear the other children cheering. I looked at Mike with a huge smile, “Can I do it again? Alone this time?”

In the coming years, I would jump from that diving board hundreds of times. Eventually, I even made my way to the high dive. Never again was I afraid, because with his one act of kindness, Mike had set me up for success. He had been there to show me that I could do it, just like so many other children before me had done.

Last night at our recovery home group, I celebrated my sixth year clean. Celebrating along with me were two friends who were celebrating the one-year anniversary of their clean date, and my sponsor, who was celebrating 23 years of continuous clean time. At the request of one of the friends celebrating his first year, my wife Amanda spoke. She shared her experience, strength, and hope with to a room filled with both recovering addicts, and family members who were there to offer encouragement.

When introducing her, the fellow who had asked Amanda to speak began by admitting that he didn’t much like her when he first arrived. Everyone got a good chuckle out of his honesty. To many, when they first come into the rooms of recovery, Amanda’s kindness and enthusiasm can be off-putting. Before long, however, this friend learned what so many of us have learned. When someone is afraid of jumping into recovery, Amanda will be there to offer that kindness and encouragement. When she is around, no one feels like they have to jump into life’s deep end on their own.

As she shared, it became obvious that life’s hardships had done their very best to squelch Amanda’s kind and encouraging spirit. Introducing drugs had only made matters worse. Two of the greatest gifts God has given her were covered over for several years of her life. However, in the same way that she offers kindness and encouragement to others today, people offered it to her when she came into recovery. That’s because none of us has to recover alone; and once we’ve had a taste of it, we want to share it with others.

My prayer today is that I would be able to practice kindness in the way Mike did by helping me jump off the diving board that very first time. I also pray that I would practice kindness in the way Amanda practices it, as she encourages everyone she meets to…

Have a remarkable day!

Forgiveness and Year-End Inventory

A little later this morning, I will be taking a break from all the time off from work that I have been enjoying. Amanda and I will be traveling to Oklahoma City to visit the warehouse where my company keeps inventory to supply my customers. There, the two of us will take inventory of all the pails, drums, and totes of product. It is one of those year-end activities that I’ve grown accustomed to performing.

Ideally, everything will be in order. That is, in the best of situations, there will be the correct number of each item. Ideal, yes. Expected? Not so much. There sometimes are discrepancies in the count. A pail here, or a drum there that has somehow gone missing. Or, in other instances, there will be an extra pail or drum. It is difficult to explain how such mistakes can happen, given the measures in place to assure accuracy throughout the year; but mistakes can happen nevertheless.

The key is for Amanda and me to be accurate in our counting. That is one reason that I’m looking forward to having her go with me. In years past, I took inventory on my own, and found that making mistakes was much easier when I didn’t have anyone else’s help. There is just something about that extra set of eyes that makes all the difference in the world.

Once we finish, and we have double-checked our numbers, I will send an Excel file with the results to our office in New York. If the numbers all check out there will be much rejoicing. If, on the other hand, the numbers do not match, adjustments to inventory will be needed in order to make the records balance. Amounts in the final tally will be adjusted to account for any discrepancies. Efforts will be made to uncover the source of any errors. Comments will be added as needed, in order to satisfy the curiosity of our auditors.

Such counts are being taken globally this week. From Oklahoma City, to India. From Switzerland to China. Inventory will be taken, accounts will be reconciled, and the slate will be cleared for the coming year. All so that come January 1, we can begin the year with a fresh start.

I can learn a personal lesson from the inventory process I participate in at work. It is a process that teaches me what forgiveness should look like.

Step Four calls upon the recovering addict to take a searching and fearless moral inventory. These words may sound daunting; but in truth, they simply mean that I do my best to be accurate. I look at my moral assets and liabilities. I account for discrepancies between how I should be living and how I have actually been living. As with today’s inventory, these things are put into writing, so that they can be reviewed and discussed with my sponsor.

Then, in Step Five, we try to determine the cause of any discrepancies. In a moral inventory, instead of some shipping error, or damage that was before unaccounted for, I am looking for character defects that are behind discrepancies. Then, soon after, in Steps Six and Seven, I look for help from God in avoiding acting out on these defects in the future. With Step Eight comes my willingness to implement the changes that will make a difference in the future.

In the Ninth Step, I get to clean my slate in order to begin anew. If I discover that a customer has been shorted on an order, I make it right by addressing the error, and either refunding their money, or sending them the missing product. This is making a direct amends. In other cases, where the source of the discrepancy cannot be found, or where perhaps a customer has gone out of business; I cannot make direct amends, but can resolve to do better in the future.

One of the keys to this process is that I cannot control how a customer will respond. They may be happy to see that I have discovered errors, or they may reject me for them. Some may go as far as to end the business relationship, thinking that we are no longer to be trusted. (This is more common among individuals than in business; but it helps with the illustration just the same.) The key, however, is that at the end of the process comes January 1.

It is an important lesson for me to remember as the new year approaches. This annual reconciliation of inventory for work, and the fresh start that I get come January 1 is relatively easy for me to accept. In my personal life, I struggle with the process. Rather than finding forgiveness for my past, I want to hold onto it. I want to continue to beat myself up over it. Even after letting go of old character defects, and embracing spiritual principles in their place, I regularly remind myself of my past failings.

Likewise, I can be like that unforgiving customer. I can form resentments toward those who have wronged me. Rather than learning from those experiences and moving on, I sit in anger as though it will somehow bring me comfort.

So, today I pray for a January 1 experience. I pray that the inventory I am currently conducting in my life would result in the freedom found in forgiveness. Forgiveness toward myself, and forgiveness toward others.

Have a remarkable day!

Responsibility, the Sluggard, and the Trash Heap

“Somebody should.” – The Sluggard

According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, a sluggard is a habitually lazy person. We’ve all known a sluggard, or at least known of one. When I think of a sluggard, a picture comes to mind from my days spent in Southeast Missouri. Every four weeks, I would drive the highway between the towns of Fredericktown and Farmington, Missouri as part of my sales territory. Along that route, in the middle of nowhere, stood an old ramshackle of a house. It was built on the edge of a hill, with a steep slope just outside the back step.

Apparently, the occupants of that home did not want to pay for trash removal. Instead, they simply threw the trash out the back door of their little house, allowing it to run down the hill. My guess is that it seemed like a viable solution in the beginning. Sure, it was unsightly; but no more so than the old Naugahyde couch that graced their front porch. So, trash simply went out the back, and rolled down the hill.

Over time, though, that trash had done what trash does. It piled up. In fact, it was piled so high that it was now level with the back side of their home. My guess is that every time someone added to that pile of trash, the same thought ran through their mind. “Somebody should do something about this pile of trash.”

NEWSFLASH – When it comes to gift-giving, it may be the thought that counts; but when it comes to getting rid of a stinky pile of health-hazardous trash, the thought is never enough. Someone desperately needed to take responsibility for removing that trash. No one ever did.

My experience with addiction is a lot like that trash pile. For years, I considered my substance use to be a means of escape that was both reasonable and sustainable. It was a time in my life when the trash that came as a result of my using fell far downhill, and away from my door. As my disease progressed, and my using became more obvious to those around me, I noticed that the fallout was ending closer and closer to my doorstep. Anytime I was confronted about my personal trash heap, my “Somebody should do something” response came in the form of blaming the other person. They just needed to lighten up a little.

As much as that trash had accumulated over the years, introducing meth into the picture caused exponential growth in my life’s trash heap. It was no longer located at my doorstep. Instead, my trash heap had made its way right into the center of my living room. Into the center of my spirit. I became so accustomed to it that I stopped even posing the sluggard’s question. Instead, I no longer saw the trash heap, because it had become such an integral part of my life.

One thing that is not emphasized enough about recovery from drug addiction is that the trash heap we accumulate during our using days does not magically disappear when we stop using. I can remember how shocked I was to discover that my personal trash heap was still there, even after I admitted I had a problem. Not only was it still there; but now I could see and smell it very clearly. On several occasions, the stench was so bad that I ran back to meth in hopes of escaping it. Those brief escapes found me once again saying “Somebody should do something.”

Then, I would get clean again, only to find yet more trash had accumulated.

My inner sluggard began to finally disappear when I scheduled time to work through Step One with my sponsor. As he walked me through that step, he helped me begin clearing the debris from inside my spirit. With each step we worked, more of that trash heap was removed. Also, with each step worked, my attitude changed. I no longer had room for that sluggard of old. I discovered, and even embraced the fact that the “Somebody” I had been looking for was me. I needed to do the work; but I didn’t have to do it alone.

God sent others into my life, who, along with my sponsor, helped me with the process of clearing away that trash. Yes, I had to do the heavy lifting; but they were there cheering me on, encouraging me to keep coming back. I was finally taking responsibility for my life, and the results were showing!

My first round of steps cleared the trash from inside my home, and away from my doorstep. However, there is still all of that trash that covers the side of the hill in the back of my mind. So, I continue the work. I am working a round of steps to clear trash from four different sections of that hill right now. In addition to that, my trash clearing includes therapy and medication to help improve my mental health. It also includes a thriving relationship with God through regular prayer, meditation, and church attendance.

Responsibility, it turns out, is a wonderful thing. The more I practice it, the smaller my trash heap becomes. Clearing away that trash will be a life-long process. As long as I practice responsibility, I never have to add to that trash heap again.

Have a remarkable day!

Humility – “Why Don’t You Try It?”

What is the best sandwich in the world? Well, having experienced a lot of different sandwiches, in a lot of different places, I would have to say that the best of them all is hand carved turkey breast, topped with mayo mixed with cranberries, on sourdough bread. It is something that began showing up on menus at various sandwich chains in the past few years; and it is delicious!

Yet my experience with this particular sandwich dates back to my youth. One Thanksgiving night, after the effects of having overeaten during our holiday feast had subsided, I was looking for a snack. Mom had set out all the fixings from earlier that day, along with the basic things needed to make sandwiches. Thus was born my favorite sandwich.

I don’t remember who all was there, but I do remember that everyone looked at me like I was a little crazy. After all, who in their right mind mixes mayo and cranberries? It’s just not natural. Those things can’t possibly taste good, right?

“Why don’t you try it?” That was all I ever said. For decades, side-eyed curiosity at my culinary creation received this simple reply. Instead of trying to convince others of how wonderful the combination was, how lifechanging it would be, I simply suggested that others try it. I don’t recall ever having any takers. Not one person tried my crazy sandwich; but the offer stood. “Why don’t you try it?”

Tradition Eleven tells me that in recovery, “Our public relations policy is based on attraction rather than promotion.” As someone who worked in media for a big chunk of his career, this tradition really ran counter to my beliefs when I first arrived in the rooms of recovery. I envisioned leveraging my old contacts to help get billboards put up all over town. “Surely we could fill the rooms if we advertised. If people just knew. Why, think of all the lives that would be changed!” When I voiced these thoughts to Amanda, she would gently remind me of the Eleventh Tradition. Eventually, I came to see the wisdom behind it.

Although our area does promote the Helpline we operate, it only appears on a handful of bus benches scattered around the city. It is very low-key and basic. Nothing near as flashy as I had once envisioned.

Our meetings are the same way. There are no pledges to sign, or promises to make. There is no elaborate initiation process for members. Instead, we are told that we are members when we say we are. That’s it. That’s all it takes. A simple declaration of membership reserves a seat for any addict who is seeking recovery from drug addiction.

Like my special sandwich, the most forceful anyone ever gets is to ask “Why don’t you try it?”

When I offered this simple suggestion to try my special sandwich, I never thought of it as an act of humility; but that is exactly what it was. I never forced my way on others, or tried to convince them that my way was the best way. Instead, I opted for a humble suggestion in the form of a simple question. In the case of my special recipe, it took decades to catch on with others.

It is the same with recovery. One of the greatest acts of humility that one addict can offer to another is to simply ask “Why don’t you try it?” Instead of trying to promote recovery by showing off how successful we’ve become, or how we’ve been welcomed back by family and friends, we humbly offer our experience, strength, and hope to others. Sure, all of these things may come up; but they are never offered as promises; because our only promise is freedom from active addiction. It is a promise that has led thousands of us to say, “Maybe I will try it.”

Have a remarkable day!

Hope – I Just Wanted to Go Home

My first night of college was terrible. I don’t think I have ever admitted it to anyone before now; but that first night, alone in my dorm room, I felt truly alone. Mom and Dad had dropped me off earlier in the day. After helping me unload, they had headed off on a new adventure of their own – life as empty-nesters! Meanwhile, there I was, lights turned out, listening to the goings-on of my dorm floor.

True, I could have been out in the hallway with the others, chitchatting the night away; but I was tired and lonely. For whatever reason, I chose to isolate rather than participate. It is a tendency that I now recognize as a side-effect of addiction. That same part of me that insists that the answer for life is to take or do something in an effort to feel better, was insisting on that night that the cure for my loneliness was more loneliness.

I so wanted my roommate to arrive. He had settled in before I ever arrived. He staked his claim on the desk, closet, and bed he wanted, then promptly returned home. As a sophomore, he had no need to be there for the week of freshman orientation. So, he was back home, enjoying a few final days with his girlfriend before being separated by the miles between Bloomington and their hometown.

Yes, night one of my college experience was awful. I wanted nothing more than to run back home. Back to the comfortable and familiar.

The next morning, I padded down to the communal bathroom, where I found myself among other freshmen who were just as lonely and frightened as I was. No, none of us admitted it; but our feelings were apparent in the way we were talking. Everyone was nervous. Nervous, that is, until our R.A., Jim came rolling into the bathroom. Half-naked, like the rest of us, Jim stood there introducing us to one another. It seemed he had an entire dossier on each of us. He knew where we were from, who our roommates were, and for some, even what majors they had declared.

I never would have thought that standing around in a men’s bathroom, wearing only a towel, would be the key to making me feel better about my decision to attend college. Yet there we were.

Yesterday, there was a marathon meeting at a local recovery clubhouse. It began on Christmas Eve, running all day, through the night, and to the end of Christmas Day. It was the place to go for addicts who “Either didn’t have family, or didn’t want to be around the family they had!” My first Christmas clean, that marathon meeting had been a lifeline. Holidays are hard for recovering addicts, and that first Christmas was especially hard. It was very much like that first night on campus so many years ago.

Attending that marathon meeting was much like standing in the bathroom on that first morning on campus. I felt half-naked, frightened, and alone. Instead of wanting to go back home, I wanted to turn back to the drugs that had protected me from such feelings. It would have been a wonderful alternative to that of experiencing what my life had become.

Instead of an R.A. named Jim, that first marathon meeting had people in attendance with years of recovery who were there to share their experience, strength, and hope with the rest of us. As they shared, it was as though they knew my story. I could relate so well to what they had to say. Thus, I was able to believe them when they reminded me that I never had to use drugs again. Not even on Christmas. Especially not on Christmas!

This year, we have had more family and friends around for the holidays than you could shake a stick at. The entire month of December seems to have been centered around gatherings of family and friends. Those old feelings of loneliness and wanting to escape had no room in my life this holiday season. Instead, it was a time filled with laughter and cheer. Also filled with the excited eyes of children as they opened the gifts we were able to provide. It was such a great season that Amanda and I kept proclaiming one thing after the next as a Christmas Miracle!

So, yesterday afternoon, when everything was quiet, I didn’t need a marathon meeting to help get me through the day clean. What I really needed was a nap. However, napping would have to wait; because Amanda and I headed back to that same clubhouse for the marathon meeting. We got to visit with friends, encourage newcomers, and offer hope to everyone else in the room. Just as everyone else in that room gave us hope.

These days, it is very seldom that I need a meeting. However, more often than not, I want a meeting. It is a desire founded in hope. The hope that I might just be able to share a little of what I have with another; and the hope that what I experience will lift my spirits in ways I didn’t even recognize to be needed at the moment.

I never felt scared and lonely again during my college experience, because there were others around me to give me hope. The same holds true in my recovery. Only now, I don’t just get hope from others. I have an abundance of hope… enough to share.

Have a remarkable day!

Selflessness and Christmas Challenges

Today is Christmas Day; and whether one is a believer in the Christmas story or not, what it represents is a wonderful example of selflessness. The very idea that God would come to live among us, entering the world in the form of a helpless baby, offers inspiration to anyone willing to consider it. Yes, a story filled with inspiration; but one that is also filled with challenges.

Yesterday presented me with some of those “Christmas Challenges,” or CC’s. Our family, like so many others, is a blended one. With blended families come challenges on holidays. In our case, the big CC was both logistical and emotional. Shaun’s paternal grandparents were hosting a Christmas celebration for their family yesterday, on Christmas Eve.

When the invitation came, my immediate reaction was to bristle at the thought of him missing Christmas Eve with us. My daughter and her family were making the trip over from Missouri to celebrate yesterday; and I wanted Shaun to be there. Not only that, but Amanda and I had already planned a full day. One that did not really accommodate an extra three hours of drive time it would take to get him too and from his Nanna’s house. This particular CC hurt my feelings, yes; but more stressful was the fact that it interrupted my plans for the day. That’s something that can send me into a full panic attack if I’m not careful.

“Babe, why don’t you drive Shaun. I’ll stay here and babysit the turkey.” This suggestion from Amanda presented yet another CC. “What? You? My Turkey? MY TURKEY???” By this time in our relationship, I have learned to take her advice on such things. She could tell that I was facing a serious CC, and that spending extra time with Shaun, as well as some time alone, would be good for my spirit. So, off the two of us went.

What do you know? The extra time with Shaun was good for my spirit. So was the drive back home; because it gave me a chance to consider what was happening during the rest of the day. Things like the fact that my daughter and her family were driving a total of six hours in one day to be with us. The fact that one of their children (they are a blended family too) was running a fever, had to be left behind with her mom because she could not travel. I realized that Matthew had his own CC to face, and had chosen that path that honored my daughter.

No surprise, the turkey was every bit as good as if I had been the one babysitting it. Our meal was delicious! More importantly, time spent with our extended family was wonderful. Standing next to my grandchildren during the candlelit singing of “Silent Night” was such a special moment. As was the picture we had taken of us all in front of one of the Christmas trees in our church. Ah, family!

By the time we had said our “Goodbyes,” it was time to go fetch Shaun from Nanna’s house. What had been a CC earlier in the day became an act of love instead. When we arrived, we were treated, as is always the case, like family. We didn’t stay long; but while we were there, the time was filled with laughter, hugs, and one incredible gift. Nanna presented gifts to Amanda that had both our names on them.

When Amanda pointed this out, I was flabbergasted. I realized that my very existence could easily represent a CC for Shaun’s dad, and for Nanna. Like I said, though, they treat us, even me, as family. It went from Christmas Challenge to Christmas Miracle!

It is so easy for me to get caught up in what I want on, not just around the holidays, but every day. I am so grateful for the selflessness that I see modeled in others; because it helps me uncover opportunities to practice it in my own life. As I do, I find that life becomes less challenging.

So, thank you Arlena, Matthew, Amanda, Big Shaun, Vicky and Wayne for showing me what selflessness looks like. Most of all, thank you God, for the selflessness you showed us all, and the opportunity to celebrate it today. Because of all of you, I know a bit more about what it means to practice selflessness.

Merry Christmas. I hope you…

Have a remarkable day!

Perseverance – Because Someone Has To

Sitting here this morning, contemplating the spiritual principle of perseverance, I began thinking about how much I reflect on my childhood. It is something that comes out regularly in my writing, as I look back at how the lessons I learned during my formative years helped to shape me into the person I am today. It occurred to me that some might question the idyllic light I cast on my childhood years. So, for any skeptics, and perhaps especially for my parents who probably wonder if I truly see my childhood that way, let me declare once and for all that yes, it was that good!

Sure, there were problems. My brother and I fought – A LOT! There were the occasional scrapes and bruises. Mom had to pull more than one tick from our heads (and other parts) after spending too much time in the woods. I made mistakes, failed tests, even got a “D” in fourth grade for my poor handwriting skills. So, no, it was not perfect; but it was very close!

When, as an adult, my problems with addiction to meth became known to them; Mom, Dad, and John stood by me. They offered help in so many different ways; but most of all, I knew that they were persevering with me. They were unwilling to throw in the towel. There was no question in my mind that they believed in me, because they kept showing me that they did.

There is a myth among recovering addicts that says we all have the same chances at recovery. It is even implied in the literature published by the Twelve Step organization with which I am affiliated. This is, however, just a myth. There is hard data that shows that someone like me has a much better chance at recovery. That when family is there, and is supportive, an addict has a much better chance of success. Thus, I never take the advantages in life that I have experienced for granted. Or, at least I try not to.

I was recently reminded of the importance of having a persevering family in my life, and the influence they have had on my ability to persevere in my recovery. It was an experience that reminded me that when an addict does not persevere, their families will be forced to.

We visited with three children of an addict who were guests in our home. The oldest of the siblings has two children of her own; and despite having more than enough on her own plate, has taken on the leadership / parenting role for the family. There is a lot of pain and anger when they talk about their mother. Who can blame them? I cannot even begin to understand what life has been like for them. I just know that whatever the opposite of idyllic is, that word would describe what they have endured. What they have persevered.

Though they become rarer with the passing of time, there are still those occasions when throwing in the towel on recovery seems like the answer to life. When either depression or anxiety build, and there seems to be no way through, I remember how easy it was to self-medicate with drugs. Practicing perseverance at such times is invaluable. I am able to play the tape through on drug use, and visualize the impact that using will have on me. Perhaps even more importantly, I can visualize the impact that abusing drugs would have on the people who love me.

Such acts of visualization help me to choose healthy alternatives to self-medicating. I can pray, pick up the phone, or schedule an appointment with my therapist. These healthy alternatives help me to persevere. It is hard work; but it is worth it. Not only because it keeps me healthy; but because it means that the people I love most will never again be forced to persevere on my behalf, as long as I continue my recovery journey.

Today, I pray for perseverance. I pray that I would never again be the source of pain or anger for those I love, and who love me.

Have a remarkable day!

Willingness and Bigfoot

“One Night Only! ‘Bigfoot’ is coming to a theater near you. Don’t miss it!”

After the hype of the tv ad, names of dozens of movie theaters would scroll down the screen. There it was… the Palo Theater in Lowell, Indiana. “Mom, Dad, it’s going to be here!” My brother John and I could hardly contain our enthusiasm. For days our friends had been talking about the movie that was going to be showing soon. “Can we go? We gotta go!”

As we stood outside the Palo, you’d have thought a concert was about to begin inside. It seemed every kid from town was there, tiny bodies pressing against the glass doors of the theater entrance. Apparently, like John and me, all of these other kids had convinced their parents to bring them. Or at least, as in our case, had convinced their parents to drop them off for the show.

Oh, and what a show it was too! What a show. What a… letdown.

The entire movie centered around a now-famous bit of 8mm film. The grainy images repeated over and over again, as pseudo-scientists gave their analysis. They were today’s equivalent of the grown adult in their parents’ basement, seated before a computer screen all day, wearing only their underwear. Not exactly what you would call “authorities” on anything. Yet we, along with all the other children in attendance, gave the movie our full attention. This. Had. To. Be. Proof!

Looking back, the only good thing that came from that movie night was the popcorn. At only $.25 per bag, the popcorn at the Palo was a bargain. Though it was laced with enough salt to fill an ocean. I guess that was a tricky way to sell more soft drinks!

Willingness is a tricky thing sometimes. Tricky, because sometimes willingness leads me right into the center of a “Bigfoot Situation.” There is nothing quite like agreeing to do something, only to discover that it was a total waste of time and money. I’ve had a couple of such times in my adult life, when I allowed myself to get roped into a presentation for a multi-level marketing scheme.

Once, I was invited to hear a motivational speaker. “He’s going to be speaking in the hotel ballroom. Would you like to be my guest?” My “friend” was convincing and persistent, so I attended, only to discover that the only thing motivating the speaker was the money he and his wife hoped to make by signing us up to sell juice at $32 per bottle.

Another time, friends invited me over to for dinner, and to “catch up.” There was a catch all right. It came in the form of a video presentation after dinner that was all about a special line of earth-friendly cleaning products.

BIGFOOT!

Willingness can often lead to Bigfoot situations. In fact, sometimes, practicing willingness in recovery can be the granddaddy of Bigfoot Situations. In my case, when I am at local recovery meetings, and those willing to sponsor are asked to raise their hands, mine goes up. I am willing; but like that dinner, there’s a catch. In fact, there are a couple of catches.

First, there is the catch associated with having me as a sponsor. I do my best to be honest about this catch from the very start of a conversation about sponsoring another addict seeking recovery. “I’m not you life-coach, therapist, or banker. If you are looking for someone to hang out with on weekends, or travel across the country with in order to attend a recovery convention, keep on moving. I am just here to help you work through the Twelve Steps. Outside of that, I have a life, and I expect you to be building one of your own.”

I know this is harsh, and is most likely the reason that I’m not sponsoring anyone at the moment. That’s ok though. The last thing I want is for someone to have unrealistic expectations that will later form into a resentment.

The second catch is that addicts have this nasty habit of disappearing without a trace. All of that enthusiasm they once had gets flushed down the drain. Yes, it’s usually drugs. We are addicts, after all. Even knowing this, it can still leave me questioning my willingness. “Should I even bother?”

It turns out the answer is “Yes, I should bother.” Unlike the overhyped movies of my youth, the willingness I show in recovery has real implications for me, as well as for other recovering addicts around me. I continue to raise my hand, offering to sponsor others. I also willingly serve by answering the Helpline our area operates. Doing so allows me to share a little bit of hope with others whose lives are being torn apart by addiction.

Such willingness has spilled over into the rest of my life too. It has helped me to once again become a productive member of society. I’ve become someone who is willing, even at the risk of discovering Bigfoot.

Have a remarkable day!

Unity Among Snowflakes

SNOW!!!!!

I am a sucker for the stuff. I love seeing freshly fallen snow. I also love seeing snow that’s been around seemingly forever. It reminds me of sledding, skiing, and snow-angels. Of so many good times in life.

When I was in college, I made a ritual of taking a walk around campus in the first snow of the year. Donning my blue goosedown coat, boots, and gloves, I would head out to enjoy the scenery. Just like this morning, it would remind me of all the fun that snow had represented in my life. All the fun it still represented.

These days, though I am still enamored by it, my body is no longer as tolerant of the cold as it once was. So, instead of walks in freshly fallen snow, I enjoy seeing it from the comfort of my living room. The memories are just as vivid, and this way, I don’t risk falling and breaking a hip!

When I drew the spiritual principle of unity this morning, I thought about those winter activities I used to enjoy. Pretty soon, I was thinking about the fact that nobody has ever gone sledding on a single snowflake.

As obvious as this may sound, my observation illustrates the power of unity among recovering addicts. Like snow, it has been proven time and again that isolation is the mortal enemy of recovery. I the last two days I witnessed two prime examples of the power of unity.

The first came Tuesday afternoon as I drove through my former hometown. I had lived there for almost twenty years when addiction brought my life to a screeching halt. The memories of the pain I brought to the people in my life, as well as memories of the total loss of dignity and self-respect overshadow any good memories I have of living there. Thus, even the act of driving through the area brings painful memories that trigger that all-too-familiar desire to escape.

I offhandedly mentioned where I was too Amanda in a text, and my phone immediately rang. Frankly, I thought I could bear the burden of that drive on my own; but she was not willing to take any chances. Her call, and the encouragement that came with it, lifted my spirit above those painful memories and triggers. I was no longer alone in my car. Instead, I had Amanda with me. A vivid reminder of recovery and the new way of life I have discovered. Instead of being alone in my thoughts, I was surrounded by love.

The second came yesterday at a meeting we attended. I fellow addict came into the meeting and admitted that he had relapsed. Though a very brief episode, it had obviously taken its toll on his spirit. He came into that meeting seeking unity and found it. There was no rejection or judgement. Not even a hint of shame. Instead, to a person, we welcomed him back and told him we love him. We reminded him that unity is not just for those of us staying clean; but also for those of us who, for whatever reason, stumble.

I thank God for the unity I have discovered in recovery. The changes it brings makes me feel just fine about being compared to a snowflake; because I know that with unity comes great beauty.

Have a remarkable day!