Alison's Insights

Accepting Mid-Life Addiction Recovery One Slow Deep Breath At A Time

Archive for the category “Uncategorized”

There Are Two Chairs. Pick One.

Do you remember when age advancement was highly anticipated? We stood with pride at half-year marks and counted down the days until our friends gathered to celebrate in our home. I recall everyone enjoyed party hats, balloons, and games of fun that, at our house, included those my mom thought better for our young minds.

One of her favorites was a version of the memory game. A tray was presented with items underneath a towel. Once removed, small household items were revealed. Participants had one minute to study what they saw. When time was up, the person with the most remembered was deemed our winner.

Boring as that game was, we tolerated the challenge because we knew a fan favorite, musical chairs, was next.

This was a contest of strategy. We gathered in a circle around opposite-faced chairs which numbered one less than the participants. When the music started, a parade around the seats began. With great anticipation, all eyes focused on which chair would secure a continued spot in the game. When the music stopped, anyone not seated and one chair were eliminated. That parade-choice-exclusion process continued until two seats remained. One promised the hoped-for prize, the other a promise for next time.

Years later, I faced a similar challenge when the two chairs in front of me were marked PROBLEM and SOLUTION. I had two choices. Choose the chair that signified a continued effort to validate, justify and rationalize my consumption of too much alcohol and not enough food, or take a leap of faith and sit in the one that offered help to disengage from all that.

I paraded around those chairs in search of a strategy to sit in both. No matter how I maneuvered my foot placement, I could not make that work without falling through the space between them.

I had to decide. I had to pick a chair.

two-chairs-option-2

Once made, relief fell over me like a warm blanket on a cold day. That four-legged seat marked SOLUTION offered my tired mind, body, and spirit the longed-for rest I never thought possible. From my single choice, things began to change for the better.

Yesterday, I shared that story with a woman who confided she was in relapse and could not stop her downward spiral. Although she talked in detail about what led to the return of unhealthy behaviors and how that made sense to her, the tear-soaked face before me begged for hope. Therefore, I felt compelled to offer a glimpse of what happened when I stood where she now stands.

As she reached for another tissue to dry her wet cheek, I touched her arm and said, “You know, there are two chairs in front of you. I suggest you take a slow deep breath and pick one.”

She smiled when we walked to our cars. My sense is, her choice was already made.

A Moment to Breathe

Do you find yourself circling a readiness for recovery or to overcome a difficult situation? Are you in silent battle of the pros and cons between what feels comfortable and what seems challenging? Take a moment for a slow deep breath. Consider your current walk in problem-living quicksand. Are you willing to deal with continued consequences that often result from endless justification, rationalization, and lies, or are you willing to see what living in the solution could feel like? These are the chairs are in front of you. Take another slow deep breath and pick one. The exhale felt once you make that choice will signify if your chair is the right one. 

I’m interested in your thoughts about readiness and chair choice. Feel free to leave a message here or include when sharing this post via your favorite social media site. 

 

 

The Power of Inspiruption

When was the last time you heard or read something that shot a powerful bolt of inspiration through you? Maybe there was a quick turn of your head to listen closer, or a rapid eye-race back a few paragraphs to assure what you read still rests on the page. For me, the disruption to my train of thought is so sudden, the only words to bounce the walls of my mind are, “Wait. What was that?”

My arms tingle, my mouth goes a bit dry, and I scramble to grab a pen and capture what I mentally took in. In that instant, I feel a heart-to-heart connection to the words, the person sharing them, and the intention for which they are offered. Then, after silent recalibration, everything I thought about a certain subject shifts.

I call this experience an inspiruption. I am inspired to such a degree that my whole sense of what previously made sense is now disrupted.

2016-10-12-07-13-33

No doubt I experienced these kinds of sharp-turn realizations earlier in life. Teachers, authors, friends, bosses, even conversations overheard in strange places, pinged me to reconsider things.

Yet never with such intensity than the inspiruptions that led me to gather up the courage to put down my (hopefully) last glass of wine and pick up my first healthy and full fork.

Once in the arms of recovery, I heard the words that to this day can send a shiver through me. Someone looked me straight in the eye and said, “Yeah, me too.”

That small sentence is, perhaps, the single most important recovery blanket of hope and comfort for anyone in recovery. When the sentiment is wrapped around someone filled with fear and doubt and shame, what happens next is an inspiruption of profound measure. The body language cannot be mistaken. Facial muscles relax, shoulders drop, and fists unclinch. I’ve seen this happen right before my eyes and, for me, is nothing short of a miracle in motion.

Many moments of inspiruption have occurred since the day that reaction was mine. These days I surround myself with people and pages that wake me up, pull my breath, or push a tear beyond the walls of my pride; all indicators that more light must shine on a subject subconsciously left dim.

If I chose to disregard these moments of inspiruption, the opportunity for change might be lost. I’ve come way too far and gone through way too much to start denying  what is undeniable.

This is why I strive to keep my ears and eyes on guard in preparation for the next moment of inspiruption. Practical experience proves that when they arrive, what I do next is sure to powerfully change me for the better.

A Moment to Breathe

What came to mind when you considered my initial question? Did something happen as a result of that moment of inspiration? Were you overcome with excitement or startled by fear? If the latter, my suggestion is that when—not if—this happens again, take a deep breath and allow yourself to peak around the corner. What awaits might be a solution for something you never thought possible. Feel free to share your thoughts or experiences as a result of inspiruption here or as you share this post via your favorite social media site.

 

 

Aw, C’mon, One More?

Last week, I sat in another funeral home thinking of the power we give to the desire for just one more.

When I was young, I begged for one more hour to play outside, stay up late, or talk on the phone. I asked my dad for one more push on the swing, one more toss in the air, or one more story. Although I didn’t know at the time, when I was denied these things, my parents helped me when I couldn’t help myself. They knew what I needed regardless of what I wanted.

When I got older, I pleaded for friends to stay for one more drink, one less meal, or one more minute to grab that gorgeous guy’s attention. The next morning, I silently thanked my friends for their strong suggestion none of that would work well for me in the long run. They pushed me from the very things I wanted but did not need. Once again, I was helped when I couldn’t help myself.

Then came the day when one more led me to the desire for no more. Had that not happened, I could have ended up just like my friend we came to mourn last week. Her one more led her to the last decision she’d ever make.

disappearing clock

Addiction is not a game or a passing phase. Many forget that. I told myself thousands of silent times that the water rushing into that hole in my life’s boat was problematic, but there was always that one more piece of duct tape to cover what I refused to believe could happen. I thought my short-term solutions would take care of what was fast becoming a long-term problem.

Not a day goes by without some reminder of this insidious disease. I listen to story after story from people who taught themselves to believe that after some period of time in recovery, one glass of wine at a dinner party or one skipped meal during a busy day would certainly not become a cause for concern. Then, in no time, one more turned into many more and for some, the option to seek recovery isn’t theirs to make.

Life is not a dress rehearsal. We’ve got one shot at this thing. I’m grateful that simple idea called for my attention before the God I pray to called me home.

What lays heavy on my heart is that my now deceased friend really wanted the kind of life many in recovery suggested she might have. I know this because we shared many late night conversations about this very subject. That’s what is so heartbreaking. The words I heard of commitment and desire led me to believe something her actions did not.

As I drove home from the memorial service I cried. At first the tears fell for my friend’s family, in particular, her sister because losing a sibling is not a club I wish to welcome anyone into.

Then, in that moment of connection, I smiled knowing there will always be one more chance for me to offer one more person, one more message of hope.

A Moment to Breathe

Have you ever told yourself doing something unhealthy one more time wouldn’t be all that bad? Or, what about the last time you said hurtful words one more time to prove a point? Take a moment to breathe and consider whether those situations ever worked out as you hoped they would. Did you suffer any consequences—emotional or physical? Instead of regretting one more time, why not take one more breath before you do.

I’d love for you to share thoughts about what I’ve written. Please leave a message below or as a comment when you post this piece via your favorite social media spot.   

Are You An Emotional Fearcaster?

When something is about to happen that you’ve never experienced before, are you instinctively stress-free and calm?

If so I salute you because in most cases, I’m not.

What’s interesting is that I don’t fear the situation, I fear the assumed associated emotions. I lament about my ability to handle possible feelings of failure, rejection, inadequacy, confusion, remorse, or that I’ll somehow feel flawed, helpless, inferior, lonely, or flustered. Sometimes the list can seem endless. This is what I refer to as emotional fearcasting.

Just like the weather forecast is a prediction based on current conditions and not a guarantee of what will occur, I consider emotional fearcasting in the same manner. I forecast my future emotional state based on my current emotional condition and if what’s next feels uncertain, I’m mostly likely in some state of fear.

fearcasting image 1

Instead of trusting a proven past of getting through tough times, I make sweeping assumptions and react rather than respond. I start to panic based on what I imagine rather than breathing in what I know.

Years ago my sought-after solution to calm my fear was a glass of wine combined with numeric verification from piece of metal that I was in control. That is not my solution today. Now I create a plan of action for myself not a plan of attack against myself.

Over time I’ve learned each day offers me an opportunity to learn new things about the world, life, and even myself. If I’m capable of that, then there’s every reason to believe how I feel today could change by tomorrow.

This is why I cannot possibly have a lock on how I’ll feel emotionally down the road. My perspective will have shifted even if only in a very slight way.

For example, when I started this blog. I feared no one would read one word I wrote. I was certain the comments offered would shame me for my lack of literary perfection, word choice, or grammatical expertise. I thought my experience with recovery wasn’t relevant for more than a handful of people. I anticipated failure rather than acceptance and held myself hostage in self-doubt.

None of that came true.

Then I think about the fearcasting I did before college, my first corporate job, marriage, and recovery. I pre-felt all kinds of emotion and feared my inability to manage them once they showed up. However when I finally met with each experience, what I felt was nowhere near the anticipated drama.

I’m most kind to myself when I stay open to the flow of things rather than resist them. If I trust my proven past to help predict my emotional future, fearcasting isn’t for me.

I hope to remain open by taking deep breaths while depending on a forecast for weather not fear-based emotions.

—————————————————————————

A Moment to Breathe …

Are you experiencing an emotional fearcaster? What story are you telling yourself about what’s around the corner, down the road, or sometime next year? Are you relying on past emotional experiences to mentally describe how your future ones will turn out? Take a moment to breathe and contribute your thoughts with a comment below or when sharing this post via your favorite social media site. 

Befriending Fear-Based Gratitude

Last week my brain experienced a head-on crash.

From one direction came grief on the date of my older brother’s birth. He died way too young and far too soon. From the other direction came the heart-breaking news a dear friend with long-term sobriety had relapsed.

Like an EMT first on the scene, I assessed the situation of mental mayhem and thought-strewn debris. Initial instinct was I focus my attention out instead of in.

After a deep breath and bit of prayer, I sought guidance from a woman whose recovery I admire. She suggested I launch into the initial protocol for someone in relapse. I took those actions only to receive no response.

The implied denial and resistance evoked all kinds of emotion within me. I know there are absolutely no guarantees for this kind of thing. The monster of addiction lurks around every corner just waiting to grab hold in moments of vulnerability. This means no matter what weapon I yield the demons surrounding someone else are not mine to overcome.

I’ve known this truth for years yet I simply cannot deny the human element. I do care and I am sad and yes, really scared. Even though I believe we have a Higher Power watching over us I’m just as fallible as the next person. The God I pray to will allow me room for question and doubt, welcoming me to experience feelings of heartbreak as I bear witness to another loved one falling prey to the monster I abhor.

What amazes me most is when the dust settles I feel grateful for this experience. Is that selfish? Is this perceived benefit stemming from someone else’s pain and shame and guilt and remorse somehow wrong? I don’t think so.

Just like my brother’s death, my friend’s relapse is a not-so-gentle reminder of what can happen if I start to think the very basics of what has kept me in a healthy place don’t make sense anymore.

These instances of fear-laced gratitude catapult me back to core principles such as honesty, faith, integrity, acceptance, humility, and service. I consider how, when stemmed from desperation, I finally became willing to take suggestions and subsequent action. I thank God I surrounded myself with people who offered me direction and guidance when I had none at all.

when its too much

No one has the answer for someone in addiction hell. All anyone offer is an answer or what worked for them and now provides practical experience for others.

I hope my friend in struggle gives me an opportunity to share what helps me when I feel off-balance and why I push myself to remember sacrifices made when I chose alcohol and the scale over vacations and celebrations. I’d remind us both of the sorrow and pain I could not share with friends and family because I feared their judgment more than I feared the long-term consequences of my health.

I’d verbally recall what I missed when physically present but mentally lost. Countless moments my mind would drift from what was right in front of me to panic and fear-based anxiety. I’d shut down to avoid what I thought required of me. Those silent sometimes paralyzing feelings took precedence over people, places, and once-in-a-lifetime experiences.

If those recollections don’t ignite a perspective shift, I’d divulge the truth of how I didn’t fail others nearly as much as I failed myself. Even today as I promote the ideas to focus forward, pay forward, and move forward, I am equally prone to question my choices and consider when I’ve failed myself.

I’d finish by reminding my friend the very same thing I tell myself every day. The only thing I’m assured of is what’s right in front of me. The decisions I make in the moment have tremendous impact on how I’ll feel hours from now. Choices and the consequences are mine, good or bad.

Maybe one day I’ll have the chance to say some of this. Until then I’ll let the dust of destruction and chaos settle to allow me grace and befriend my fear-laced gratitude.

A Moment to Breathe..

Have you had the bone-chilling experience to witness people’s negative consequences only to realize you were somehow spared from the very same? Is there a lesson to learn in that universe-provided mirror? After a deep breath and strong exhale, jot down what comes to mind. As your gratitude emerges please consider leaving a comment below or share this post and your experience via your favorite social media site. 

Mind the Gap

You know how some random song stays with you long after hearing the first note? What about the phone number from that TV commercial you’ve seen once too often?

What’s so interesting about these mind invasions is how quickly I’m reminded of a time or place when I first heard the song or jingle. I think about the people who were around me and what I was doing. Sometimes I welcome those memories and sometimes do not.

I wonder if these methodical melodies embed themselves for a reason. My sense is they do.

When I was in London one phrase was heard almost daily. The words have not left me and hopefully never will.

Like most metropolitan locations, the exact square-mile city offers various forms of transportation. Of particular preference for me was the underground train system. My cherished prepaid pass allowed quick access to zip from one end of England’s capital to the other. Rarely did I wait long for next train to whisk me toward another exciting (albeit touristy) destination.

the tube

Once inside I dodged fellow travelers prepared to exit at the next stop. Perhaps some people get easily frustrated by this kind of jockey-for-position dance but when I heard “Excuse me M’lady” the British accent warmed me like a welcome blanket on a cold day.

When the train would slow in advance of the next station an enchanting, non-intrusive message filled the air to caution exiting passengers they “mind the gap” between the train and the platform.

As the value of my prepaid rail card lessened my confidence for exit-safe foot placement increased. However I became quite fond of the recorded gentle reminder because as the words settled in they began to mean something far more.

How many times have I stood oblivious to what was lurking in the small space between where I am in life and where my next right step will lead? I spend countless hours in contemplation of pros and cons whether to stay put or move forward. Yet I wonder why I put far less effort into consideration of emotions hidden in the small crevice between here and there.

Before I transitioned away from a life of too much booze and not enough food, I launched myself from one situation into another without any concentrated thought of emotional ramifications. I moved in reaction to them not in response of them.

The repeated message in London’s underground warns of possible danger if caught in a manufactured platform gap. The fissure I need to watch out for is the one between what’s comfortably safe and what’s safely uncomfortable.

How interesting. Both require I pause and be mindful of potential consequences while at the same time act as a shield to protect me from possible emotions I’m not prepared for.

Just as no one wants to get caught off guard with their foot stuck between a soon-to-be-moving train and the platform, I don’t want to get caught off guard by unwelcome emotions when I exit a place considered safe.

This is why I cherish the embedded message from London. The words remind me to not only watch my step but to watch my emotions if I don’t mind the gap.

———————————————

A Moment to Breathe…

Are you thinking about what next right step might be for you? Are you contemplating a change but resisting the forward motion? Look down. What’s in that gap right in front of you? Does an emotion need your attention before taking action? I’d love for you to offer your thoughts here by leaving a reply or share this post via your favorite social media platform.

Until then, take a moment to breathe.

 

 

Recovered versus In Recovery. What’s Your Answer?

I really enjoy chatting with those relatively new to the recovery scene. Their wonder, excitement, fear and skepticism is fascinating. I never tire of remembering what the world was like when seen through eyes that were once mine.

Recently one of these new friends asked me a question often heard, one that seems to spark a LOT of rather animated chatter among those in the rooms of recovery.

“Do you consider yourself recovered or in recovery?”

Now, there are those who firmly believe they have recovered and there are those standing firm they will always be in recovery, equating their quest for truth as a never-ending journey.

My answer is always the same.

“I have overcome the obsession to drink and control my body weight, shape or size. I remain in recovery to stay that way. This is what works for me yet I suggest you find what feels right for you.”

You see I don’t think this is about semantics. I suggest this is about what keeps people sober and free from a life of secrets and shame.

No matter how one identifies themselves in relation to their shift from the unhealthy behavior(s) they once faithfully served, who cares. No one is totally right and no one is totally wrong.

However when speaking with someone fresh from their last drink, drug, binge, bet, unprotected partner or exercise marathon, the idea of a recovery graduation isn’t one I chose to plant. I prefer to encourage the pathway toward a positive solution rather than a finite end result.

Some people have shared their thoughts about being “in recovery” somehow means they’re still struggling. I’ve no doubt that could be true if we’re only referring to what may have been a life-threatening behavior of choice, but isn’t life in general very often a struggle? At some point aren’t most people faced with unexpected situations which could lead them to feel vulnerable and emotionally weak?

In those immediate few seconds following one of life’s left hooks, I’m not so sure there’s 100% guarantee one will never, ever feel triggered to lean into what once proved soothing. That doesn’t necessarily mean returning to booze, drugs, food, sex or money but rather the thoughts and actions surrounding them.

Personally I’m not willing to take that chance.

Every day I hear stories about what happened when someone made a decision to stop doing whatever they did to get clean, sober and healthy in the first place. The outcome has yet proven beneficial. Maybe they didn’t re-engage with an addictive behavior but the account of how miserable their life became keeps me alert.

The important element is what I tell myself, what I believe, and what keeps me willing to move forward, learning more about what’s necessary to maintain the mostly peaceful life I now lead.

I don’t concern myself with what others think about how I identify my recovery status just as I have no business getting involved with how others perceive their transformation path.

Perhaps if we paid more attention to sharing what works rather than what we name our progression, we might better encourage others to seek what could work for them.

Today I hope my actions speak louder than any spoken answer.
A Moment to Breathe .

What’s Really Meant When Saying “Yes, but…”

I recently called a friend to talk with her about a choice I needed to make. I’ve learned through the program of recovery how valuable perspective beyond my own helps assure I’ll do the next right thing.

However there are times, like this one, when I already know what I want to do yet I go through the motions anyway.

Bad idea.

Sure enough things didn’t pan out the way I had wanted. When I ran into my friend, I had to fess up about the result. This is pretty much how that conversation went:

FRIEND:  So how did everything work out?

ME:  The outcome wasn’t so great. I went ahead with my original idea.

FRIEND:  I thought you agreed to go in the other direction.

ME:  Well yes, but…

What I said after the word but proved irrelevant because the quasi-rationale I offered served no other purpose than to weakly justify why I did what I did.

To note, this is not new behavior for me. Several years ago I treated myself to a recovery renewal weekend at the center where I sought treatment for alcoholism. The focus of the weekend was to look deeper into our own recovery process and uncover areas that needed improvement.

A man I highly respect for his acute insight and interesting perspective led one of the more powerful sessions. When I had an opportunity to share a bit about myself, this man I admired interrupted me mid-sentence and asked I stop talking, stand up and begin again.

As a slow-to-change perfectionist, I stood up, took a deep breath and launched back into my story. After uttering about four sentences, he stopped me again. This time he asked I take three physical steps backward.

Admittedly I began to wonder if this guy wasn’t actually nuts and not such a genius after all. However out of respect I did what he asked. I took three steps back and waited for my next instruction. When there was nothing but silence I turned to face the man I questioned and saw him smiling back at me. He took a deep breath and said, “Alison, many times in your story you reference saying “yes but” when others were trying to help you. What happened when you said those words was you moved away from what the universe was pulling you toward.

Yep, I was right.  This guy is a genius.

YES BUT with crossout

Thinking back when I was actively drinking, many people feared for my life as they watched my actions become dangerously unhealthy. Countless times they gently (or not so gently) suggested I consider sobriety. My response was often something like “Well maybe, but I’m under so much stress at work and a few drinks takes the edge off”, or “I guess, but at least I don’t drink as much as some other people.

Eventually I paid more attention to the words I needed to hear and got sober.

A few years later when the behaviors associated with an eating disorder escalated, those same people expressed concern. Once again I found myself in the throes of the “Yes, but…” verbal dance, clutching to the hope whatever I cobbled together in the latter part of that statement would somehow convince others I didn’t need help. I said things like, “I know I should take a break for lunch, but I’m swamped with work and don’t have time” or “I typically eat more for dinner, but I had a big lunch.

When I finally realized I could no longer convince anyone, including myself, why denying my body proper nutrition made sense, I sought the help I needed.

After a great deal of time reviewing my past I’ve come to understand anything I said after the word but kept me stuck in a complicated and dangerous web of deception, lies and isolation.

I’m not alone.

Very often people try desperately to make sense of what they’d rather resist. The “yes, but…” crossroad phrase is said to offset small changes needing to be made and sometimes when faced with critical, heartfelt decisions.

One such experience took place when by brother was kept alive by machines after he suffered a heart attack and subsequent brain injury. In a closed-door meeting, several highly acclaimed doctors suggested our family consider his quality of life if he remained in that state. Out of fear and clinging to any vestige of hope, most of the family responded, “I understand, but what if you tried something else?” Looking back there was a strong belief whatever followed but would be a viable reason to avoid the kind of decision no one wants to make.

Ultimately we each heard our own inner voice of reason, yielding to enough acceptance of the situation to simply say, “I understand.” No further words were necessary.

I suppose that’s the bottom line. When I find myself using the some variation of the phrase “Well yes, but”, I’m actually trying to justify why I don’t want to do, think, or say what’s rational, reasonable, and sound.

Perhaps you’ve experienced this very same thing or maybe you’re thinking, “She might be right, but…

—————————————-

A Moment to Breathe…

Think about the last time you found yourself trying to justify questioned behavior. Did the “Yes, but …” statement find a way into your conversation? Can you now recognize the words said prior could have led to a better choice? Leave a comment below or when sharing this post on your favorite social network.    

 

Peeling Back the Layers

When I was young, I was fascinated by the Matryoshka dolls or the Russian nesting doll sets. I enjoyed discovering one the little wooden figure inside another. According to tradition the outer layer of the set is a woman and the smallest, innermost doll is the baby.

Matryoshka doll Image 1

Little did I know this would be my experience moving through the process of recovery; peeling back the layers of my adult self to reveal what has been fully, solidly true for me from the beginning.

When I said the words, “I need help” I was actually pulling apart the first doll, the outer “grown up” protective version of me who dared never let anyone know who I really was. The stubborn, stop-at-nothing-to-get-my-way, willful and power-hungry me would dodge emotional inquisition with an abrupt turn of the heel or twist of the shoulder assuring no one could get too close. If by chance someone did, I’d swiftly pull my protective shield tighter so my tears and pain of not being understood, accepted and valued wouldn’t be seen. The tighter the shield the louder the messages in my head.

Never let them see you break.

Head high.

Power on.

Have a drink to relax.

No one will notice.

Skip the meal.

Shrink from the truth.

Never let them pull you apart.

Oh how I resisted being pulled apart. I had no idea how much I needed to shed layers to open up and understand how and why the real me could emerge and be free.

In a very profound sense, I had to peel myself all the way back to the solid center where I might reconsider stories I told myself through the years about what a successful life would look like. The process was not easy, fast or in a straight line. The foundational changes I’ve been able to achieve were born from devoted attention to the next right step toward a life that makes sense.

Those who have bravely walked this recovery path before me advised eventually more would be revealed to me about me. I initially feared the idea because I simply could not imagine going any deeper than I already had.

Yet as time goes on I’m finding there is more, much more. There’s one particular story I’ve recently found myself having to reconsider.

This is the story I’d long told myself about money.

Yes, financial layers are tricky and often transparent. One yields security, one status. Another offers shelter and then another, identity. So what happens when these layers begin to shed?

I’ll tell you what can happen. Just like the realization I could change the story I told myself about needing alcohol on a daily basis or why I had to obsessively manipulate the size and shape of my body, I’m finding I can move beyond the story I’d told myself about money and what is real worth.

Do not misunderstand! I am not suggesting I enjoy the daily discussions in the kitchen about what we can do without. This is not the preferred breakfast table conversation but the necessary one. I don’t like this particular phase of the life I share with my husband but I know from experience what I don’t like might very well be just be what I need.

If the absolute miracle of overcoming an unhealthy need for alcohol and a body size and shape not intended for me was possible, I am more than willing to peel back another layer revealing the truth about what I actually need to feel financially sound.

Makes me wonder what’s inside the next little Matryoshka doll of my life. Armed with gratitude for what’s been revealed so far, I can’t wait to find out.

———————————————

A Moment to Breathe ….

What feels challenging for you today?  What layer are you resisting to pull back?  Are you afraid of what might be revealed or are you willing to take a look?  Are you actually protecting yourself or holding yourself back?  Please offer your thoughts here or via your favorite social network by clicking one of the links to share this blog.  

What Lingers In Long-Term Recovery? The Disease of Wanting “More”

The other night my husband and I went to see “The Wolf of Wall Street”, a movie portrayed in hedonistic detail about Jordan Belfort whose life was overtaken by greed and self-indulgence when nothing else mattered and rules were inconsequential. I found the movie fascinating as the underlying message hit a bit close to home.

Spellbound I watched Leonardo DiCaprio work his acting magic to transform into a human example of what can happen when the desire for more becomes intoxicating. This slow-to-take-shape, deliciously dangerous drug of choice twists even the most resistant to stop at nothing while fueling the need.

http://youtu.be/iszwuX1AK6A

As much as I wanted to distance myself from the kind of people illuminating from the big screen, I couldn’t deny the parallel perspective I had before recovery when just enough was never enough. Although I didn’t engage with some of the same behaviors or live a lifestyle even close to that of Jordan Belfort, I was equally addicted to the desire for more of what was not good for me.

There was never enough alcohol when “I’ll have just one more” never meant one. There were never enough ways to deny or manipulate my nutritional needs when I self-convincingly stated “I’m not hungry” or “I ate already” with the same emptiness in truth as in stomach. When “Oh hell, why not” led to “Oh hell, what did I just do“.

After the movie credits rolled, I walked from the theater door to our car shivering from a mixture of memories past and subzero temperatures. When I shut the car door and felt the first whispers of heat, I smiled in gratitude for my long-term recovery and the willingness to go to any lengths to stay that way. The mere thought of waking up and reaching for more alcohol with vague memory of the night before, or silently congratulating myself for a meal skipped made my blood run as cold as the temperature on the other side of the car door.

As I settled into bed that night sober and healthy, I realized I’m not completely free from this addiction for more.

Never far from pen and paper, I made a list of what I currently desire for more and if given the opportunity, pretty certain I’d go to any lengths to indulge. Here’s a little of my list.

– More days in the week

– More hours in the day

– More days of vacation when packing to go home

– More attention from those I’ve yet to know

– More attention from those I do

– More pages at the end of a really good book

– More “likes” on Facebook, followers on Twitter, and readers of this blog

– More reasons to say yes

– More ways to say no

– More sunny days after a beautiful sunset

– More money to ease financial worry

– More opportunity when I feel there’s none

– More tears when they really needed to fall

– More days with my Dad before he died

– More silence when I’m scared to speak

– More ways to make something work easier

– More words to say what I mean

– More presents under the Christmas tree for those I love

– More time with my friends

– More time to write without limitation

– More time to listen

– More ways to better understand a situation

– More light when I’m in a dark place

– More speed for my internet connection

– More battery life for my cellphone, iPad and laptop

– More awakenings about who I am

– More coffee

– More ways to show someone how much I care

As I breathe in all that I seek more of, I realize wanting “more” isn’t just about what’s unhealthy or dangerous.  What’s really at stake is what becomes obsessive in my head. Why is that?  What benefit would I attain if having more eventually led to getting less? If I had more days in the week or hours in that day, wouldn’t I eventually want more of that?  The cycle is endless and the need is never fully fueled.

So, here’s my next right step. I am going to focus on the notion what I want is often not at all what I need, and why accepting what I’m presented each day is the key to peaceful contentment. I may not particularly like defined time-frames, limited resources and waiting for things to happen, but in retrospect perhaps my life is infinitely better because of them.

Maybe I need to write more about that.

————————————-

A Moment to Breathe…

What do you desperately desire more of? Will having more of whatever hits your list ultimately allow you to live a peacefully balanced life? Will the consequences of having more outweigh the short-term satisfaction? After asking yourself these questions I’d love your input on this topic.  Leave a reply here or comment when sharing via social media. 

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: