Recovery is a Subtle Game

My favorite bumper sticker has always been, “I didn’t quit I surrendered", and I loved sayings like, “Give time time” and “Trust the process”. But now, at more than 30 years in recovery, I feel a kind of sadness that time has indeed passed and that the doors that opened so widely and generously years ago to welcome me into AA, now open again and deliver me--sober, sane, healed and still healing-- back into the world. It’s like one of those elevators that open on both sides, you get in, and it goes up but you have to turn around and face the other way to get out. This is what it feels like to be a sober woman who is in long-term recovery.

There is, and this is the nice part, an ease and grace to it. It’s what the newcomers mostly

see when they say, “I want what you have.”  Not that there aren’t days that I hurt like hell, or act like a brat, or can still find myself breathless with emotional pain. The difference is that on those days--like when my brother died or when I learned that my husband was very ill--even then, sobbing on the floor, there was a part of me who could watch and say, “Go ahead, cry, it’s OK; you’ll be OK”.

Another plus of having long recovery: I no longer automatically assume that when something bad happens—and recovery doesn’t stop life from happening--I no longer assume that I did something wrong or that I am being punished or that God is testing me. 

Years ago, before I came into these rooms, when something bad happened it was very likely that it did have to do with something I had done. I drank to excess, lied about it, made crummy decisions about everything, and drank more to tolerate the shame and guilt. On top of that I swung back and forth between compulsive work and sloth, tried compulsive eating, and made a mess of most relationships. My first attempt at fixing what ailed me was men. I tried hard to make people love me. But even love and romance were little comfort. 

I remember going to see a therapist in those painful days just before I got sober. She listened to me pour out my pain, asked me a few questions and then looked me and said that I would need to do a lot of work. She thought I ought to be in therapy twice a week and maybe for about five years. I left her office in tears. Some of the things she said did get through my defenses but I was hopeless with her prescription. I thought I might as well just die because how could I possibly do anything for five years.  Five years? Just shoot me.

Then one day at work I heard some women gossiping about a Board member, a woman I admired. I didn’t know her very well but she seemed smart and kind and had a refreshing sense of humor. The gals at work were whispering, “Well, you know, she goes to AA”. I know they thought they were saying something awful about her, but I thought, “Oh my God, she goes to AA, she goes to AA!” It was my first experience of “If you want what we have…” I wanted what she had and I hadn’t even been to a meeting yet.

I think of that experience when ever I hear someone say, “You may be the only Big Book someone reads”. It was a gift. I was 12-stepped by gossip!

So I went to my first AA meeting. In a church basement of course, and the rest is history. My history, actually. I remember how in those first months I would hear people with three years and 5 years talking about their lives and “working a program”. I could see that they had so much that I wanted: they smiled and laughed and told stories on themselves. 

I look at my friends today. So many years later I am gifted with a group of women friends who have between 20 to 35 years of recovery. Sometimes when we have dinner or take a walk we talk about the changes, the tools we still use and those we depend on less now. We talk about what stays the same and what doesn’t. 

I notice how subtle recovery can be. After a period of years we really are different people. Sometimes we tell stories about the things we struggle with today –yes, struggle remains as long as our commitment to growth remains. I laugh about how shopping has replaced all other drugs. I see that my ways in the workplace still have the echo of a woman haunted by fear. But the big glaring chunks have been removed, shifted, and rearranged. 

What does remain? Questions. There are still so many questions: how do we keep growing?

The good news and the bad is that with double-digit recovery there is a lot less pain. The bad news part is that pain has always been what motivated me. Motivated me for change, for truth, for spiritual growth and motivated me to just plain cut out the crap. So when we get better, and life is easier, and there is less pain, so we just might drift in a way we might not have done in early recovery.

In earlier stages of recovery our shifts of mind and attitude were mirrored by external changes. We saw people gain or lose weight or cut and color their hair. We dressed differently, dated differently, took jobs, quit jobs, changed fields, got married and got divorced and sometimes got married again. Change was obvious and dramatic. If you laid the photos of our first year next to the photos from year five and seven you could see that growth and change had happened.

In later recovery the work we do is less obvious from the outside. In a sense we find our stride and our style, but if we could X-ray the mind, heart and soul of a woman in later recovery we’d see that dramatic change still continues and now more than ever, it is an inside job.

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Lots more on long-term recovery in my book, "Out of the Woods" published by Central Recovery Press.

Recovering Christmas

Christmas and long-term recovery: It changes every year. It involves negotiation and discernment. While some of the holiday habits are always black and white (alcohol) some are grey (food) and some are passionately colorful (relationships).

Holidays have changed so much over these recovering years. From white-knuckled not drinking, to staying away from places and people who drank, to staying away from all family—two years of not speaking to my family of origin while I did the heavy lifting work in Alanon. Then backing into the grey—seeing folks, learning not to lecture (and torture) them, bringing my own beverages and for some years even my own food.

The years of crying when my family sent gifts of alcohol and candy ignoring my abstinence and sobriety, and then years of just crying because I was watching them die—and not me. And then more years of laughing, sighing and just accepting.

Relationships on and off and on again. Marriage and divorce through the holidays. More addictions uncovered, dreaded, accepted, recovered. Crying over all that and then, much later, laughing too.

Now it’s clear that I don’t drink. Guests are welcome to bring their own booze if they take it when they leave. It’s not a temptation. Food is different. Less black and white but always awareness or awareness after the fact and honored in the breach. One cookie? Two? Candy? Well…. Some can stay in the house, some can’t even enter. I no longer demand that other people change their lives for my food plan.

Lots of prayer and an ongoing program. A wonderful sponsor, a recovering family of choice, a spiritual director, sober friends, Alanon friends, OA friends, wise friends who’ve never had any addictions. Lots of gratitude.

Now a new year doesn’t require big promises and big lists of Do’s and Don’ts. The only resolution is keep recovery first. I’m grateful and happy. Long-term recovery: It’s a wonderful life.

Questions About Longterm Recovery and Answers from Paul Hokemeyer

Recently I had the opportunity to get some clinical perspective from a leading addictions expert--Dr. Paul Hokemeyer, Senior Clinical Advisor at Ocean Drive-part of Caron Treatment Centers.

It was helpful to ask about things that I have been thinking about in regard to long-term recovery. Here are some of my questions for Dr. Hokemeyer and his responses. I’m very grateful for his perspective

1. Does the risk of relapse decrease with length of sobriety/recovery?

It depends on how diligently the person is working a program of recovery. In my experience, I’ve found the most effective treatment intervention for addiction is regular attendance at 12 Step meetings, and yet this is the very thing that people let slide after they enjoy a period of continuous sobriety. It’s also important for people in recovery to constantly focus on improving their physical, emotional and spiritual life.

2. Does the look and shape of recovery change after ten years? Or 20 or more?

Yes. Perhaps the most significant change comes in what I call “the pinball effect” --the feeling of being overwhelmed by the options of life. One of the gifts of aging in recovery is the ability to ignore the noise and distractions of life. In long-term sobriety, people are able to focus on the qualitative aspects of their lives, like relationships, meaningful work and peace of mind, and let go of the neurotic pursuit for quantitative fulfillment such as power, property and prestige.

3. Why do we tend to see more people of 19 years and younger in 12 Step meetings? There are many people that have 20 or more years, but where are they seeking recovery support? Are they more at risk or recovering in different ways?

In my nearly 20 years experience in the field of recovery, I’ve found that by far the most successful recovery intervention is full participation and attendance in 12 Step meetings. I think that what happens to people in the 20-plus years is that they get caught up in the drama and anxiety that comes from this “launching” phase of their lives. They put romances, finances and status in front of their recovery.  

4. As we accrue more years in recovery, should we address additional addictions, like food, work, TV, etc.? 

Absolutely. I adhere to the concept of the Addiction Syndrome that was articulated by Dr. Howard J. Shaffer at Harvard University. This concept maintains that at the core of addiction is a personality that is pulled toward self-destructive behaviors. If you’re an alcoholic and you put down a drink, you will gravitate towards another self-destructive behavior, such as compulsive sex or distorted eating. It’s a concept that’s been empirically proven, and one that I see in my practice. Caron has recently launched a new program to address the addictions that coexist. This process itself is called Addiction Interaction Disorder.

This is why we refer to recovery as a practice that must be tended to every day for life. The good news is that this practice enables people to grow in a dynamic and rewarding ways.

Out of the Woods

When I was newly sober the old-timers in my Baltimore home group would say I should not be impatient with my recovery because, “It takes three to 5 years to get out of the woods.” Of course, like many, I thought five years was forever.

Later, near the five-year mark, I realized that it took just that long to get into the woods and to make a real dent in changing my thinking and behavior. I remember when I celebrated my five year anniversary I joked that I had by that time come to in the woods and I was just beginning to identify the plants and creatures that made up the true nature of my character defects, other subtle addictions, and just plan bad habits.

At the five to seven year phase I began to really understand that recovery is a life long process, that there would be no prizes other than a decent life and wonderful community and so I could stop trying to get an “A” in AA.

Of course that meant more changes to my program, like trying a different kind of sponsorship, taking advantage of outside help, and looking at my work and health and family as part of my deeper recovery issues.

By year ten I began to actually have the life that I had dreamed of in the early years. But I also saw that there were fewer and fewer people in the rooms who shared my number of years. At first I felt bad, and I said, as many do, “Where are the old timers?” “Where are the people with ten or more years?” In Baltimore where I got sober it was common to run into people with 15 years or more than 20 years but there was definitely a gap in the ten to 15 year range. What was going on?

When we ask: “Where are the people with ten or more years?” The answer is: They are living sober lives, with new careers, working in their community, often in new relationships and sometimes with new families. We have added the PTA and the Rotary and new children to lives that were once filled with two meetings a day, making coffee and sponsorship. At ten years sober alcoholics start to have what many of us wanted and failed at miserably when we were drinking. It is this very new life, the one I acknowledge with tears of gratitude, which takes me away from AA the way I used to be part of it. Managing the gifts of recovery is part of coming out of the woods.

Yes, it is a paradox, and a subject worthy of sober reflection. We need people with more than ten years to show up at meetings so newcomers can have their power of example, and because no one it automatically “fixed” AA remains a lifetime process. But it is also a time worthy of celebration as sober people are well enough and committed enough to take what they have learned in the rooms and practice that in the world outside AA.

The truth is that there really is a time of coming “out of the woods”, and often this happens as we reach double-digit sobriety. It’s an important time, and one that deserves care and attention. Just like adolescents who have to leave the nest and test their wings we still need a place to recover and to celebrate being in the world with relationships and careers and community service. But we also need to find ways to maintain our commitment and membership in AA and to still make our contribution there, though sometimes in new ways.

Out of the Woods and Into More Feelings

As I approach my anniversary I’m thinking about why I started this blog and this book. When I was ten years sober I realized that there were some things that were different or new in the ways I lived my sober life. When I talked with other women who had ten-plus years, I heard similar observations and questions.

For most of us the raw pain of early days was past but new kinds of pain or “strong emotion” emerged. When alcohol was put down and step work was moving along we began to see the other ways that we tried to stop feeling. Most of us had done at least one version of transferring addictions. Food, shopping, relationships, work, sugar, worry, exercise, TV, and on and on.

So this week it hit me –as I lived through some yucky feelings of jealousy, resentment and shame—that in some ways recovery gets harder. There are fewer “medicators” or distractions. More self-awareness means there is a shorter period of time in which I can indulge in a belief that “they” are my problem. In our early recovery days we heard about how uncomfortable it is to have “A head full of AA and a belly full of beer”. Ditto that with having a head full of AA and a heart full of resentment. You don’t even get to indulge in the fun part before the AA head says, “Uh huh, and your part is…?” Or “Oh might this be a projection?” Or “How nice of you who claims to be a spiritual person.”. Yes, yuck.

And while I don’t think to have a drink I might think a new sweater, some candy or another workshop will fix me up, but then I remember that I know the false solution each of those represents and “Sit still and Feel” becomes the only possible—uncomfortable—solution.

I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m grateful beyond belief for these years of sober life but sometimes I want some polka dot band-aids and red licorice and the cashmere comfort of unawareness.

Longer is Harder

One of the hardest things in long-term recovery is when you can’t quite get to where you really want to be. I’m talking about beliefs and behaviors. Finding myself saying or doing something that isn’t in line with who I want to be and who I know I could be or who I probably will be. Soon, I hope.

When I do something now that I don’t like it seems harder to accept because there is no one to blame. Blame is so over. I have too much program in my head and in my being that even when I want to blame or try to blame I get it. I know. But there is also no fallback position in later recovery like, “I won’t do that after I have a year of sobriety” or “After I work the steps then I won’t be like that anymore.” Nope. There is just me, my head and patience.

The good news is being able to visualize and imagine what a new behavior would look like, what my changed belief might sound like and how much more peaceful my life would be. But this too is humility. Patience. Progress. Not perfection.

Holiday Airports or How to Test Your Recovery

We are home. A three day holiday trip to the Mom-in-Law became 8 days. Delay, cancellation, stand by. By now you know what happened in the Northeast and consequently what happened to airplanes and airports everywhere.

In addition to no clothes, no phones, no makeup, no internet and no fruit –in Florida! I did get a great experience and test of my recovery.

Here is the bad news and the good news:

In the first day –or two—I saw my almost physical resistance to acceptance. “They do not mean our plane? Not our plane; not my plane?” (You would have thought I owned the plane). Even when the very patient airline staff member explained that Yes it was Florida and no there was no snow here but there were also no airplanes here either—I had this visceral insistence that it could not be. Then as I accepted that we’d spend the extra night, God laughed. It was explained that we’d spend at least four more nights. (It turned out to be five).

That first day I felt very unrecovered. Then I also watched myself be very nice to complete strangers but a cranky, unsettled wife to my husband. What does it say in the Big Book about how the people we love get hit the hardest?

The other not-so-recovered part of me that I got to witness for days was the shopping addiction. This was totally weird. I did not drink, smoke or take any drugs. I also did not binge on sugar or pizza or holiday goodies but I shopped at airport newsstands and at CVS like it was Saks: “Oh, look pink nail polish, I must have some; and those plastic barrettes adorable! and nude colored peds—amazing! This went on for days.

The other less than recovered part of me was my thinking—mostly about work. I called my boss who was very gracious but I could not shake the worry—“what will people think?” “I’m going to be in trouble.” “I’m such a bad employee”, etcetera etcetera etcetera. All those paperback self-help books in the airport newsstand did come in handy. New word: rumination. New list for my therapist: What the…?

But there is also good in this unexpected holiday inventory:

My first instinct was to pray. And to pray for acceptance. Even though the results were not great I did keep praying. And I kept saying, “This is what it is and this is what is happening”.

I also started a gratitude list. I was sober and stayed sober, I just bought 18-hour mascara, my manicure was the new varnish kind that lasts two weeks; I had eight days with my husband in small spaces and some of those days with his mother who sometimes called my by his ex-wife’s name—and I laughed! And I and we kept laughing.

Also on my list: not traveling with an infant—several families were; Not blind—a couple near us were BOTH blind; no one screaming at me—a husband behind us in the long wait lines kept screaming at his wife. And no drinking—we saw lots and lots of drunken people in airport bars.

But here’s the best and what I want to hold on to: In all these days all my comforts and defenses were removed from me: privacy, control, looking good, attractiveness, work—I could not please or impress or even create and I found out that even with all of that removed—I still exist.

The Paradox of Time or One Day at a Time Maybe

In San Antonio I saw 50,000 AA members play out one of our major paradoxes. As AA members counted down their years of sobriety we cheered like mad for the man with one day and the woman with three weeks. Then when the old timers stood up we screamed again.

We do this in our home groups too. We are thrilled for the person with 24 hours, five days or one month. We say, “All that any of us has is today”, and “The person who got up earliest today has the most sobriety.” Then we brag that our sponsor has 28 years or that our sponsor’s sponsor has 35.

A contradiction? A paradox? I think the reason we are in awe of old timers is that we know that if they have been sober that long then it has to be true that they have been through it all: love, loss, illness, death, success, failure, more success, more failure, new love and more heartbreak—and they stayed sober through those things that we desire and fear.

And that is what we want for ourselves—one day at a time.

An Intimate Gathering of 50,000

So “Why?” I’ve been asked, “Would you go to Texas in the summer to spend five days with 50,000 people?”

Simple answer: Because they are 50,000 sober people.

Better answer: Because with 20-plus years of sobriety I can sometimes begin to think I know some stuff; I can sometimes feel like a senior member of my group; I can smile knowingly at newcomers and I can forget that I am just at the beginning of making a sober and sane life.

But in San Antonio I was a baby again. Yes there were folks there with one year or maybe 5 five years but the typical attendee had 10 to 20 years of recovery. The speakers had 18, 28, 38 and 52 years of sobriety. One evening five speakers each had more than 40 years. Folks with that kind of history have been sober long enough to change careers several times, have more than one marriage or divorce or death –in sobriety. They have seen AA change and they have changed. They have had many sponsors and home groups and sponsees and worked the steps a variety of ways and their immersion and transformation shows.

Being with those folks doesn’t make me more sober or make time move faster but it is a powerful reminder that there are lots of people who still have what I want and it makes me recommit to this life out of the woods.