The reluctant player

I would like to tell you that I’m going to pick up where I left this last week.  But I don’t think I can.  When I addressed the question of morality, it left me a little overwhelmed with just how to approach the subject.  Well, I suppose I did approach it, but to fully give my one-sided view of the moral implications involved with addiction, started to feel irresponsible in some way.  Because I am biased, and everyone knows it.  It implies that there are two teams and that because I drank, I must be on the dreaded immoral team.  And who wants that?  Certainly not me. The gym teacher just said that everyone had to play, so I slunk behind the crowd of others, until the jerk of a team captain finally chose me.  I was the only one left on the field, and yet, I still have to play.  I still have to be part of the conversation, because it’s a requirement.  I just got passed the ball, and I’m trying to figure out what the hell to do with it, frankly.  Can’t I just sit on the sidelines?  I’ll cheer.  I promise.

So I thought a lot about it over the weekend.  I didn’t write.  I decided to just sit awhile.  Listen.   And in truth, I wasn’t sleeping very well, so I thought it best to just use these early hours for reflection and renewal, rather than productivity in written form.

If you would have asked me at any point growing up what I wanted to be, my answer never would have included being an addict.  That didn’t seem possible, nor would anyone in their right mind choose that.  In some ways, when I look at alcohol’s effects on me, I can say with honesty that it feels like addiction chose me.  But, there has always been choice present in my life.  We are surrounded by choice.  It’s just that the actions themselves have become so mundane, that we don’t even notice that they are occurring. 

I’ve had short conversations with a few friends about the final days in my addiction, asking for help, and going away to rehab.  Their response has been quite accepting.  They assured me that it is a disease, and that they are just happy that I got the help that I needed.  But it’s very hard to hear the word disease in these moments when I do not feel diseased at all.  Not now.  When I work and play better than I have in years.  I don’t want to be looked at as diseased, maladaptive to functional daily living or society as a whole, because I am not.  The reason why many people with long-term sobriety stay quiet, is because for many of them, it doesn’t seem relevant anymore.  Not that they ever forget their past, but that with time and action, they have moved so far from any initial diagnoses, that they don’t need to be reminded of it all the time.  And why would they?  Certainly not by others.  That’s not healthy.  You throw shame into the mix, and do we really question why an airline pilot should or would announce that he’s been sober 10 years, to a cabin full of passengers that didn’t even ask the question?  Um….nope. 

But what if his co-pilot was actively struggling with addiction at the same time?  Well, the knowledge that someone that he respected had struggled as well, could be just what he needs to acknowledge his own behavior and reach out for help.  Finding kinship in my failures and initial shame is part of what propelled me out of both.  

I saw commercials growing up about addiction.  They usually had imposing music, dark and shadowy backgrounds, and videos of a junkie in a bathroom.  Um….that wasn’t realistic to me.  I was a white, suburban kid who excelled in choir and drama, who loved being in the gifted and talented club, and who had supportive parents and family.   There were no warnings that seemed applicable to me. 

And those same pictures were presented to me throughout the years.  Pictures of what addiction looks like in its final stages.  Well, if that’s all we see and all we talk about, a person will only get help when they’ve gotten there?  And by that time, it’s real fucking hard.  I know this. 

I’ve already started these conversations with my own children.  I think education is key, and also being willing to have hard conversations.  Where, when and how to have those conversations is open to individuals and collective organizations, but these must be topics that we address, even if it’s only with our own children and friends. To present what addiction looks like in its many phases with truth and accuracy, because it is a progressive disease, which tiptoes so lightly around the days and years, that I didn’t know it was in my midst.  And to present the confusion that is inherent in the disease, like periods of abstinence, or a perceived retreat in severity.  These happen, and it's all too easy to think that the worst is over.  

To have the conversations with high schoolers who may have had their first black out the weekend before, and college kids who are taking drugs to study, and young suburban moms who look forward to their wine with friends, and functioning coworkers who don’t look so good when they show up for work in the morning. 

How refreshing would it be to have even one day where all those who have endured addiction and overcome it, wear a ribbon to identify themselves?  I promise you it would be eye-opening to say the least.  Since I’ve come forward in this way, I’ve had people that I grew up with and people that I’ve worked side by side with as an adult, claim their past to me.  People that I had NO IDEA suffered from the same affliction as myself and have not only recovered, but thrived professionally, socially and personally.

Unfortunately, I can’t expect everyone to do this.  What’s in it for them, really?  I don’t mean to be negative, but…..I can tell you.  The same questioning of past activities, moral failures, and doubt in present recovery that I face every day. 

I am no poster child for recovery that gets presented with pride.  I don’t have a splashy recovery story with abandonment, homelessness and a prison stint in my past.  But my affliction was just as insidious.  And my recovery efforts are just as commendable. 

I hope that others who see themselves in my story, ask for help if they relate in distinctive ways.  I hope people have hard conversations with those they love if they see warning signs that cause worry.  And I hope even more that we all talk about addiction before any red flags are present.

But mostly, I hope that even promoting openness will do something of good. 

Today, I choose to write again.  To be open.  To stand in the light of imposed judgement and conjecture.  Because if I don’t, who will?

I have people around me that understand addiction and recovery, and they are not all addicts.  That’s what I want for everyone.  Even if it starts with people that I have direct contact with, that’s at least a beginning.  I denounce the idea that I and others like me should only feel truly accepted and understood in a basement room of a church in a 12-step meeting.  Not when we know the statistics, folks.  There are real reasons why this kind of fellowship is important, and just as many reasons why it is a problem in the continuation of the issues at hand.

There are millions of people in recovery.  All around us.  It doesn’t matter if it’s been one day or 15 years.  They are doing the work.  And for those of us actively moving away from our addictive past, there is safety in numbers.  There is camaraderie in hope.

Can’t we all just sit in the same room and have a civil conversation?  Where blame and judgement are put aside, because understanding is simply more important? 

I hope so.