July 14, 2011. On Sobriety

"Good for you!."

That's what most non-alcoholics say when I mention that I haven't had a drink since December 1995. The other thing I hear sometimes is, "That must take a lot of courage." Or, "you mean you don't drink, EVER?" I always smile, because I am not a brave person. What it took to get and stay sober is the help of other people. Like survivors of the same plane crash, we help each other to shore. The stronger ones help the weaker, the old help the new. An no, I cannot drink safely, so I don't drink. Ever.

I also get asked, "What's the hardest thing about sobriety?" I think the anticipated answer is something like, "Going to family events where everyone is drinking." And that was tough for the first year or two. But now, with a little more perspective, I believe the toughest thing has been realizing how many of my problems were/are NOT so easily blamed on my drinking. They are, in fact, part of who I am, even without a drink.

For example, I long assumed that the reason I had trouble with office jobs was that I was perpetually a train wreck before 11:00 a.m. Yet when I got sober, I found it no easier to sit in a gray-walled cube all day, staring at a computer. Yes, it was easier to GET to the cube, and to do it punctually. But the day-to-day business of it was still like  rolling naked in iron filings.  It was an unfathomable disappointment. I even went to a shrink because of it. "Teach me some tricks," I said, "to get me thru the work day."  "Tricks?" said my shrink. "There are no tricks."

She did send me for a variety of psychological tests, administered at a local university by a guy young enough to have been my son. "Well," I thought, "at least at the end of this I'll have a diagnosis." I was hoping for ADD. But at the end of 3 days of testing, he said, "You suffer from anxiety and depression."  "Jesus fuck, kid," I said, "I know that. Isn't there a syndrome, an acronym, a pill?" "No," he said.

So, there it was. I was in my own stew.

In 2004, after the loss of our twin boys to a severe preeclamptic episode during the 24th week in utero, and even more psychotherapy por moi, I thought I would lose my mind. I kept imagining those two tiny babies on a raft at sea, tossed by angry waves under a black sky. Or toddling thru the woods alone and lost. And me, helpless to get to them. Sometimes, these thoughts would hit when I least expected, and I would have to pull to the side of the road, weeping. I prayed but it did no good.But I kept going to my shrink. And I kept talking.

And I realized a few things. First, that despite being told that my recovery from alcoholism depends on my spiritual well being, I am not a spiritual person. For years, I was told to pray to a "higher power of my choosing," but all I could muster was beggary, flattery, or rage. And the God of my upbringing was no help. He seemed to have a drinking problem himself. Just a mean old drunk with a bucket of lightning bolts and no heart. An evil clown waiting around the corner to whap you in the face with a custard pie.  No help whatever.

I did at least decide to stop fetishizing over thoughts of suicide. An old high school pal had told me: "you can't win, you can't break even, and you can't quit the game." He was talking about the way high school rigged the game against us, but it applied here too.

I'll say one thing for aspiritual recovery (I prefer "aspiritual" to "atheistic"), it's very freeing. No more begging or cajoling. No more lugging virgins, kicking and screaming, up to the volcano's rim, only to toss them in and return to the village to find nothing has changed. Pain happens. Joy happens. Be kind. That's about it.

Years ago, while quite drunk, I wrote down three lines, typed them on a small piece of paper, and folded it into my wallet. They are:

1. Admit that all is flux.

2. Love and be loved fully.

3. Lengthen your line without shortening the line of another.

For my money, you can keep your Ten Commandments and your weeping Jesus on his landlocked mast, those three say it all. 

So, what has been the hardest thing about sobriety? Learning that the things I do best, the things I truly love doing, even on my best day, have little or no real value (monetary or otherwise) to others. And knowing that's just who I am. The music I enjoy, the authors I read, are largely unpopular. I leave my car unlocked because nobody would steal it, or my CD collection. I don't dance, I don't understand what an mp3 file is, and I think most TV programs are for subnormals. I'd rather talk to a wino than a preacher. Half of the best moments in my life have been spent alone. I like to sit traveling backward when on a train. I dislike shopping. All the tattoos I have, I've designed myself. And I'm fairly decent on the harmonica. 

So there it is.

Good for me?

Good for you.

Another day at a time.

Comments

[Solitary Diner]

This is a beautiful post. I've been reading Cecily's blog for years now, but it's interesting to see the same stories told through another voice and from another perspective. Thanks for writing.

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[Charlie]

Schmutzie - Wow, thank you.

[trainwatcher]

This post makes me wonder if you've been reading my unwritten lifetime diary, with a few additions/deletions/alterations. I couldn't have summed up this "life" thing with a fraction of your clarity and perception. Thanks, Charlie. This one's a keeper, for sure.

[Idaho Dee]

I love how you examine your life. Cecily does it too. You seem to know yourselves so well and graciously accept yourselves. What a blessing (and effort/work, I realize) that is. Sometimes it seems the more "religious" people I know are less self-examining and even less accepting of themselves. I aspire to your level of self-examination and acceptance.

[Charlie]

Thx Dee. You're right about the hard work.

I was told that the quality of my recovery would be proportionate to the thoroughness with which I examined my character, even my most destructive faults. And that's pretty much true. The more honest I am about my imperfections (some alterable, others not so much),the more clarity I seem to have about other things.

It is, of course, antithetical for the alcoholic/addict to embark on a soul-search. Everything about us says: hide, anesthetize, deflect. And that's where the effort comes in... this continual process of dragging one's character defects into the light of honest self-appraisal.
]

[Nikki]

"Pain happens. Joy happens. Be Kind. That's about it."-LOVE this. It should be this simple.

Also-Jesus Fuck? I almost fell out of my chair laughing.

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I couldn't have summed up this "life" thing with a fraction of your clarity and perception. Thanks, Charlie. This one's a keeper, for sure.

[Elise]

How did I miss this amazing post? Really beautiful Charlie.

[Dana]

Anxious to read more of your work. This is amazing! The last paragraph moved me...sent me into another place where I am sitting on a train in Europe. Rarely am I taken from my office chair into someone's thoughts like that. I can relate to those moments alone and to being unique and finally starting to realize in my 30's that it's okay to be different and not care what people think. My life is rich. Okay.

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Good on you for kicking the habit, many don't.

Its interesting how you blamed a lot of things on the drink, but once sober the same problems exist.

Hope you find peace and harmony in all that you do

[Martha Lutz]

If you wrote that your spiritual. Great post - thanks!