The Wonderful World of Weelapse

Please don’t let the title fool you.  I don’t make light of relapse or the possibility of a setback, but also remember, I’m not in the same place today.  And yes, sometimes after some time and effort, situations become a little less emotional, and Thank God for that.  I can’t live my life in a constant state of life or death seriousness.  I want to fucking laugh and smile and move about my day with ease.  And after time, I may even make a crass joke about a serious subject.  That’s okay, ya’ll.  Just consider it another tool in my toolbox that allows me to be human.  And positive.  Like a sarcastic comedian who makes a joke about racial inequality.  You may have to read between the lines to understand the message. 

I’ve made great strides to accept the reality of a condition which threatens to be life-long if I don’t make daily efforts to keep its symptoms at bay.  This is real and present.  But I can’t live in fear of DANGER that waits around the corner of my every next step down the avenue of recovery.  That would be unhealthy.  And subsequently, with time and rational thought, I look at things objectively, because when I let emotions lead, I often make mistakes.  This is how I view relapse now.

In the last week or so of rehab, I was asked to create a relapse prevention plan.  This intrigued me, and it was the first time that I had heard of such a thing.  I don’t recall ever having done that in the past.  And while uncomfortable, it also seemed entirely logical and necessary.  I had to contemplate what the signs might look like if I were to be losing my grasp on recovery and slipping into self-reliance. And I also had to choose how I would address relapse if it occurs and to name what measures should be taken.  Interesting, I thought.  And smart.  Not only have I done this, but Mike and I have also discussed it openly.  Therefore, it’s important to look at my past relapses, and try to identify what they looked like, what the behavior looked like, and where I could have done something differently. 

They call the disease, and sometimes alcohol itself, “cunning, baffling and powerful.”  I agree, but I am careful with how I interpret this description, because to me it seems to liken it to some satanic force that hides in waiting.  And some people feel that is actually true.  That my disease is “doing push-ups in the parking lot, waiting for me” if I’m not doing appropriate recovery work or if I’m not seeking a spiritual path.  That’s just annoying.  Remember, we all have choice, and we all strive to be better human beings (at least I hope we do). To evolve into the best version of ourselves.  Yes, the condition itself is all of those things, but I don’t humanize or personify the disease or the substance.  It’s not that powerful.  I’ve cut off its nourishment.  I realize that my work must be diligent and ongoing, but it’s not tracking me in the distance.  That’s just creepy.  And alcohol isn’t evil lurking on the shelf of my local HEB, dropping breadcrumbs towards my demise.  It’s just a substance that messes me up and makes me act a fool.  I just think that personifying the disease itself gives it power.  Yes? 

But the main point of the phrase is to say that the disorder usually picks right up where it left off if I drink again.  And if I continue, it will likely progress quickly.  And I DO believe this.  I’ve already seen viable proof in my history.  This means that if I choose to drink again, it’s likely that I’ll “kick it up a notch.”  Slide south faster and go deeper into the disorder. 

So with inspection, I see clear factors that were usually present during relapse.  Or triggers.  And I can identify the symptoms and opportunity created, when I would let my guard down. 

Explanation:  I can only use the word relapse appropriately when referring to times when I was truly trying to be sober in perpetuity.  Meaning, there were plenty of times in London, when I stopped drinking out of fear and remorse, but I wasn’t actually trying to make a lifetime commitment to sobriety.  I was just trying to wipe the look of disappointment and judgement off my partner’s face and to stop confusing the children.  And personally, I was trying to make it through the day without wanting to erase myself from this earth.  Those were reasons to GET sober, not to STAY SOBER.  And I now know that you just don’t have the latter accessible until you are here for a while.  Let me put it this way.  I haven’t been able to identify ALL the reasons to STAY SOBER until I have actually been IN recovery.  Steeped in it a while like a fucking tea bag in my cup of life which will soon runneth over.   

I must look at my history objectively.  And it’s comforting to know that I can see behavior that used to be baffling as “yeah, of course I did that” kind of situations.  Because my thinking and behavior and support didn’t change all that much, even if I wasn’t drinking at that time after returning home.  I was still ruled by emotion and circumstance.  I was still lonely.  I was still dis-empowered.

In this way…

SELF-RELIANCE would be my downfall and ISOLATION AND ALCOHOL would be my whores- where immediate gratification for my carnal need for release could be met.  In the weeks preceding relapse, self-reliance gained strength, usually because I wasn’t sharing my thoughts and pain or seeking appropriate support, therefore creating the growing need for isolation when I could relax without fear and use alcohol as my means. 

An appropriate word for these moments is RELIEF. To notice that once I’ve endured major trauma, I think I can let my guard down in solitude.  And this reward would always come couched in isolation and Chardonnay.

Now back to the timeline.

If you are just now joining this program, we’ve been talking about my period of abstinence, moving back home and the transitional time that would eventually lead to relapse.  I had never sought formal treatment up to this point, but I was relatively successful at abstinence, especially once the plane hit the ground in Austin.  Suffice it say, I should have sought inpatient treatment in London.  Depression co-existed with addiction and that should be qualified as a lethal combination.  I still don’t know how I even achieved any period of abstinence whatsoever.  Dumb luck?

Not surprisingly, there were “come apart” experiences a few times after moving home and before separation negotiations were complete, which took about four months.  These were isolated drinking events that did not continue.  Relapses you could say. 

The important point is that these events would both be taken as COMPLETE failures (by myself and other key people in my life) and as reasons to possibly be punished.  They were not seen as part of the difficult process of striving for sobriety.  I believe the general public does not realize that relapse is a significant part of the process for MOST who attempt sobriety, especially in early recovery.  Around 70-90%  of those in recovery experience at least one relapse, even if mild.  It’s a double-edged sword to accept relapse as part of what occurs realistically.  Is this minimization and permission?  Or is it acceptance of reality and moving on positively?  It should be the latter, but only if additional action is taken. 

The common view from the outsider is to consider one sip of alcohol or 8 glasses of Pinot as equal failures.  Or to consider one night of drinking the same as a 2-week binge.  That’s a mistake.  But the measures adopted to correct the behaviors are likely different in each case.  In either scenario, treatment must be addressed.  This could mean more meetings, counseling, outpatient or inpatient treatment.  Get it?

So what can I learn from these instances?  Regardless of severity, if I were to qualify every failure as starting over from the beginning, that would have been terribly defeating.  The beginning sucked, and remember, I would have done almost anything not to go back there!  Yes, some call them slips or “bumps in the road.” It’s a stupid fucking phrase, I know. And it sounds like minimization.  I don’t like to call them bumps.  They are all out crashes.  When I have relapsed, I didn’t just cruise over a speed bump going 30, I careened into a ditch and banged my head on the steering wheel, leaving a gaping wound.  (It’s a metaphor, ya’ll!  Sobriety is the JOURNEY.)  But I was still in the car.  The car needed help and so did I, but I was alive and lucid enough to figure out what to do next. Well, that’s how I see it NOW.

When we know better, we do better. I think that’s an old Dr. Philism, but not entirely sure.  I know that I’ve been saying it for years now.  I must give credit where credit is due.

Anyway, the question should be how to continue the journey after a “slip,” how to seek treatment for the wounds suffered, recognize how we were driving badly, and turn the engine again.  Every time I relapsed, I would get terribly drunk in one sitting, usually taking up an evening.  That’s why I call mine crashes.  Throughout the years, there would be crashes followed by the right thing, and crashes followed by the wrong.  There were times when I called for roadside assistance, and there were times when I was embarrassed to have looked away from the road and tried to go it alone.  And when I didn’t call for help, I always detoured to a terrible place, and made my home of a seedy hotel room in a dingy town for weeks or months.  Or even years.

Addictionville

Population   1

When I didn’t adjust my recovery and went it alone, I was totalling out the entire recovery experience before a trained mechanic even looked at the car.  No, I didn’t actually reside in seedy hotel rooms.  It’s another metaphor.  (Well, kind of.  Just wait for the rest of the story!)  But the point is that loved ones of the addicted often want to make relapses the be all, end all of success.  To try out tough love and punish the individual.  For me, this was a problem.  It’s not an excuse, it’s just a reality.  To now be 10 months sober, I can say that I’ve taken great truths from looking at my past relapses.  They were not for nothing.  I have made sure of that.

The first real relapse after returning home occurred when the kids were away hiking one day with their father Thanksgiving weekend. This was about 2 months after papers were presented to me.  I remember feeling relieved that I had the whole day to myself.  And I remember thinking that I would just have a little to take the edge off.  Um….yeah.  I took the edge off!  Each drink dulled the pain, until I had whittled my reality into an unidentifiable nub.

An important point:  It took many years to recognize some events as “traumatic.”  But The London Experience and the truths I learned there were most definitely traumatic for me. 

In rehab, my counselor put my name on a list of individuals who were to attend a special weekly session called Trauma Survivors, and I was truly perplexed.  I went to that first session and I thought that I didn’t deserve to be there.  That my pain was silly in nature, and that there’s no way my history should be considered remotely equal to the stories of those around me.  I had never HEARD stories like some of theirs.  Not in person.  I was humbled and felt like a fool to even be sitting in that room.  But pain.  Is pain.  Is pain.  Is pain.  I have learned that if I deny my own feelings and keep them to myself, I do a disservice to my own humanity.  I would begin to learn that when I revert to my inner self and attempt to suffer in solitude, I will always relapse. 

Every time.

So, I speak my truth now.  Even if I decide later that it wasn’t the best thing to do.  And I share discomfort and pain with others (appropriately, of course).  Because why shouldn’t I expect others to sit with me, just as I am willing to sit with them?  And when I do so, I usually feel more connected and present with others, because I’ve been real. 

And most importantly, I never forget that I have a disorder which is dormant, but still present.  Not everyone understands that, and I must seek support from loved ones, but also those who understand its inner workings.  It’s the same as seeking treatment for cancer from an oncologist instead of an orthodontist.  Their different training and knowledge creates appropriate support and treatment.  Yes?

If you are the one struggling or if you are the loved one of someone in the throes of addiction, please step back and take an objective look at the situation.  It is a mistake for us all to let emotions guide our journey through this muck.  Ask a professional.  Ask someone with the same history.  We are here to answer questions and offer love, acceptance and support.

I take each day at a time, because it’s a mistake to get overwhelmed with the future.  This viewpoint is just another tool.  And after months in recovery, my tools get clearer, more distinct and even stronger.  And the result is a composite force of CREATION, not an ARSENAL.

I am not fighting a disease, I am creating a life.