What's in the details?

Some of you may have asked yourselves why I’m putting myself out there in this way. And you may have been a little stunned at some of the details I’ve provided thus far.

I do not offer those specifics to shock you. Let me make my reasons clear and plain. I offer them because if you are remotely like me, meaning, if you’ve ever exhibited addictive behavior, you may see yourself in even a single sentence. And that’s a powerful realization. When I first heard other people’s stories, I marveled at the fact there were times when I could have just filled my name in the blank as they spoke. Even minute details. It’s completely true, and very, very strange when it first happens. So that’s one reason why I tell you the specifics of what the drinking behavior looked like in the past. That I blacked out almost any time I drank in high school, and that I didn’t even know what that was, so I certainly didn’t talk about it. Or the first time that I hid a bottle. Or the first time I drank badly when my children were awake. Or the first time that I drank during a morning hour, signifying the beginning of a very swift final decline in every way that took only weeks. Yes, I spiraled out. Bigtime.

But I wasn’t spiraling all the time. If that would have been the case, surely I would have felt the worldly forces throwing me out of orbit. The majority of the days, weeks and months were spent with a few glasses after 9 pm, when I didn’t think I was doing harm. When I altered seemingly easy situations to endure, like watching a show on Netflix while lying next to my husband. Why would I do that? Was I trying to escape? Absolutely not. I just wanted to create a myopic view of life in those moments, where my fears and anxieties could be sequestered in the closet awhile. I could feel relaxation after only one glass, so if I drank two quickly, ease might even come sooner. And that’s what I wanted. I just wanted to be relaxed. There were occasions when I stashed a cute, little bottle of Chardonnay in the side pocket of my purse, so I could make it through a social gathering that I didn’t want to attend. It’s not like I did this all the time, so that minimized the shock of that action. I only felt that shock for a few minutes, until I had ingested my remedy. Most of the time I drank during the late evening hours, or when I got home from an event. But the fact that I EVER hid a bottle in my purse, sets me apart in some way. That’s what I believe. Other people don’t do that. I don’t like to say normal people don’t do that. That’s a negative way to view this thing, and I like to stay clear of language which supports that I’m weird in some way.

Ha! Let’s visit that for a moment. Suppose I am weird. What of it? Weird like my cool drama teacher from high school, that everyone adored? Or weird like someone’s creepy uncle who gives lingering hugs and leaves his cologne on your clothes? (please pick the first choice)

Evidently, I’m a little bit of an anxious being. If you know me, I might not seem as such. I like to be easy-going, likable, pleasant…and I am. But what you didn’t see was a person who thought too hard, felt too hard, and spun out if life got too hard.

Other people’s stories may be quite different, yes. That’s important to point out. Again, the grey. But when I was asked to claim addiction as a defining feature for myself, which has to happen for true acceptance, it was the details of absolute shame that shocked me out of denial. That’s why I tell you the dirty details. Yes, the devil is in those details. If you think I should be ashamed of them, you are correct. I was, and it’s still incredibly painful to acknowledge them. But sugar coating them doesn’t make them go away, for me or anyone else. Period. If that makes me seem bold, well cool. I’ll take it. If it makes me seem stupid, then just know the risk of ever going back pushes me past stupidity into the willingness to be bold.

Drinking was the most solitary thing I have ever known. Isolation grew and my tolerance for it changed who I was. What started out as an activity with others, turned into hiding drinks at night so I could just go to sleep.

So what happened to the anxiety? Well, the intensity on a daily basis….just went away. It’s captured in bottles that never enter my house anymore. That part is amazing. But I had to learn to sit through the remnants of what exists naturally. Even this writing helps. I sat on a lot of bottled up emotions and thoughts that were years in the making. And that has turned into difficult moments where I use different coping skills, and also traits that seem to be even fuller, so I channel them. The most unexpected part of all of this, is that if I just sit awhile, the answers always come. Always. So, I trust myself and my ability to see things clearly, more and more every day.

So, if anyone questions my resolve or my personal choices in my recovery efforts, they must beware of the reaction they get. Those directives are reserved for a very small group of individuals that I trust. They know me, they know my whole story, and I trust that they have my best interest in mind. So, when they speak, I listen. Those close to me know the progress, they feel it, and they’re more relaxed in my presence than they ever were. I find that I don’t have to try to support my claim of recovery. I don’t have to argue anything. And that’s true freedom.

No, it’s not my job to convince you of anything. This is just the simplest explanation I can give about what recovery looks like for me. I hope it helps others.

But, there’s always doubt, right? I don’t doubt that alcohol will always be an option for calming my inner fears. That’s a reality. I see it every day. But months into recovery, I also don’t doubt that I’ve found answers to living life healthily. Daily. That’s another reality, an elevated reality. And through different choices, I can choose to deny unhealthy fear into my head and heart space.

I’ve sat with my failures and parceled through more shame than the poor sap who’s stuck in the mailroom. There’s a solid reason why people count the days of sobriety. Because we are proud. I’ve worked through some intense shit, and I’m proud of my success thus far. Unfortunately, even saying those days, points out the fact that I likely failed at other attempts along the way. I did. Most of us tried numerous times to quit, only to decide later that maybe we weren’t as bad as we thought, or maybe we could cover it up a little longer. I tried this. I failed. It got worse.

I finally decided that I was too old for this shit, and that I deserved more, and so did everyone around me.

Oh man, I look forward to the day when I can say years in recovery. I have to remind myself that my efforts are important, regardless of their historical merit in someone else’s eyes. The worst insult you can give a person in recovery is to minimize what they’ve already done. That’s not a slap in the face. It’s an all-out attack with assault rifles. Plural.

I am tired of feeling alone, and I’m proud to share with others…both people that have suffered from addiction, and those who haven’t. When I realized that I didn’t have to be alone, it was refreshing and encouraging. I love being among other brothers and sisters who share a similar past, because we know each other. I mean know each other. Like twins separated at birth that end up meeting years later and discover that they have similar personalities and the same exact haircut.

But I also want to connect deeply with people that DON’T have the same history. I don’t need to insert myself into the popular crowd. I just don’t want to sit awkwardly and wait for someone to join me at the lunch table. That’s probably another reason why I’m putting this all out there. Don’t worry, I am not going to be the token recovery queen who has quotes at parties that no one wants to hear. Geez, I hate that. If asked, I’m always open to share what is working for me. I enjoy talking about it. But I don’t feel the need to spew my anecdotes around me like a sprinkler, with no regard for the fact that the yard has already been watered!

I’m not a different person entirely than who you knew before. Mike calls me Jen 2.0. If there’s things you liked about me, it’s likely that I still have those qualities. And if you didn’t like me when I drank, well, you are in good company. I didn’t either, so we are good. We see eye to eye on that.

When I seek to understand people who are different than myself, I have to be humble and listen, accept that they are not me, and not run away because they said something that I didn’t like or didn’t agree with. Sometimes it’s a challenge, but usually it sheds light on something about myself that I should probably take a look at.

You know what’s amazing? I looked up the phrase “the devil is in the detail” and found that it is derived from an opposite saying. “God is in the detail.” -expressing the idea that whatever one does should be done thoroughly. I’m not making this stuff up, ya’ll. I promise. Check it out on Wikipedia. They always tell the truth.  It's their job.

So if the devil is in the detail of Addiction, I argue that God is in the detail of Recovery.

I hope that I don’t offend others as I work through what’s important to me right now. I hope that the details bring us together in understanding, because no one wants to be alone. The fact remains that I felt like two people for a long time…one that others knew, and one that they didn’t. There were times when people found out that I was in addiction or still in addiction, and I ended up hurt and a few even left. And it’s terribly difficult to accept that that’s what needed to happen, because they had to do what was right for themselves. That doesn’t mean that I accept responsibility for the wrongful actions of others. That’s dangerous territory. It’s not my job to excuse others or explain why bad things happen. It’s just my responsibility to look at myself. Bad things happen in life, from outside forces or otherwise, and sometimes there are difficult circumstances to overcome. Shit happens, and it did. It’s just a reality that I made it even worse for myself when I drank through the pain.

There were also many relationships that I didn’t foster. Those were just lost opportunities, and I hope they are still there. Invitations I turned down, friendships that blurred in vision. It’s possible I felt unworthy of people’s love while I was in active addiction. There’s also the shallow reason that possibly that person didn’t like me when I drank, so I avoided them. That’s a horrible thing to admit.

Thank God that isn’t the case now. Thank God that I didn’t lose the most important people in my life. Honestly, I’m lucky, because that’s not the case for many. Imagine trying to go through addiction or recovery when you don’t have a family. Those people just have to create a new one, frankly. And that just takes even more work.

But if anyone can do it, it’s a person in recovery. Don’t assume that we are powerless just because admitting that, is part of Step One. I’m only powerless when it comes to the effect of ethanol on my physical and emotional well being. That’s the way I like to put it.

I don’t want to be pitied. Just respected for my efforts thus far. Staying positive is not being in a state of denial, it’s just another effort to be thorough with my recovery. If you see yourself in the details, know that you are not alone. I am there. God is there. And together, we are mighty.