Is this a Vulnerability Hangover?

I’d like for you to try a little hat on for a moment.  I’d like for you to consider being in a social setting and announcing yourself as an alcoholic.  No, not in an AA meeting, but just somewhere out in public.  Maybe a company or staff meeting, Sunday school class, coffee talk with other moms…even a dinner with friends or family.  Whether you are or not, just think about it awhile.

What body language and vocal inflection would you bring to that presentation?  Would you avoid eye contact?   

Would that be terrifying?  Shameful and embarrassing?  Are there specific people that you think would treat you differently after this admission?  Do you REALLY think you would be rolling the dice with what kind of reaction you might get from others?

Kind of like “coming out,” yes? 

And if you are regular reader, do you think this is the risk I’ve assumed by starting this blog?

I first wrote Gray Matters for myself and my children.  And yep, I put it on Facebook, which is ironic, because before that, I hadn’t posted anything in over two years…and that particular post two years earlier was merely to change my status after Mike and I got married. 

But alas, I was really inspired three months ago on my birthday.  I had been in recovery for about eight months at that point, and I had spent many early mornings contemplating various emotional, mental and spiritual concepts. Those mornings had encompassed reading and listening to various trusted speakers and authors…taking in their words in meaningful ways…and jotting things down on a large legal pad.  I eventually just started leaving the pad out in the open on the coffee table all day, because I found that I would have other thoughts throughout the day that I didn’t want to forget.  Jesus…I even made a list for recovery, right?  At least I’m thorough.  And an unapologetic suburban-mom-Paula-Planner-type at that.

I like inspiration and view it as a gift from the Divine, so I posted after writing that morning.  It was the first extensive writing I had done since college.

Why?

My personal opinion is that if I treat this as something embarrassing, then my children will as well.  AND if they ever find themselves struggling in a similar way down the road, they could hide it, if I do that now.  And I don’t want that for them.  That’s why I educate them, talk openly, and acknowledge my alcoholic past with acceptance, not shame and embarrassment.  Notice that I did not say that I acknowledge it with pride.  That takes it a little far.  And I feel that by leading in this way, I change their vulnerability to the disorder itself.

But yes, I will happily admit that I’m in recovery with pride.  Recovery is about growth and connection for me.  There are many life changing aspects of the last eleven months, and that’s one reason for writing, to share what this looks like (in a sense).  Having an alcoholic past was just my impetus for this work. I truly hope that the reader can see this…can see how we connect, and not how we differ.  I realize that when I write specifics about the drinking behavior, it may be off-putting.  I truly apologize for that, but I see it as a necessity.  Sometimes we just got to tell it like it is, folks.  Those details are for other people struggling to see themselves….and they are also for non-strugglers to see the reality of addiction (without preconceived “theatrical” ideas in their heads).  AND to notice how they FEEL about it all.  That’s where my sentence ends…and you take it forward, however you so choose.  Yes?

If we only see our differences, then we shut down opportunities for this growth and connection.  And for me, this is the point of being human.  Of evolution in spiritual form.  Recovery has been like seeing a scantily clad cave-woman make her way toward walking upright, and then watching her dance around, arms a-wavin’ above her head, with a gospel choir singing in the background. (Damn, I wish I could a create a visual of that for you.)

I’ve been writing now for three months, and yes…fortunately and unfortunately, it has turned into a little bit of a social experiment.  That’s not what I intended, but that’s what has transpired. 

I’ve never wanted to be a guinea pig for anything.  Truly.  Can’t I just let someone else go first, see what happens, and decide if I’d like to follow in their footsteps?  Maybe that would have been wise.  Maybe it would have been smart to gauge reactions in a private setting first, and then decide if I wanted to move forward in this way. 

I must be honest.  If I would have done THAT and gotten the SAME balance of reactions that I have, I doubt that I ever would have started writing.  Truly.  Wouldn’t have happened.  By the time that I interpreted how people react to this, I was already in it, frankly.  So, at some point, I just said “fuck it.” 

“We’re here for a while, so let’s just see what happens.”

Because over the past year, I’ve had plenty of people tell me personally that “it’s a disease.”  And they are just overwhelmed with pride that I got “help” and that I’m in a different place now.  Hmmmm…but they must have many other thoughts than that.  I know they do.  Again, fortunately and sometimes unfortunately, their actions say more than those words ever did.  I know that there are plenty who read these words, maybe each and every post, that never say a word to me…or have decided that they don’t want to be associated with the writing itself.  Or with me. 

It’s very, very interesting.  I can see when someone pores over the blog site.  It’s only noticeable when it occurs at odd hours…like 30 hits at 2:00 am.  And I wonder who that is, why they read it ALL…if it helps them. 

Or of course, it COULD be someone just very curious about what they will find.  Ha!  “Hello to you!” 

I would assume some of you reading this think it would just be best if I kept some of these thoughts to myself…went to a meeting and shared both that admission and my digressions.  If you think that, then I wonder why you are reading.

I can do this.  I have.

That’s really easy, frankly.  At least after all this time.  I don't go to them on a regular basis, but I always find acceptance and support in those meetings.  I find help and camaraderie. 

My particular thoughts around writing like this, is that it’s been transformative in a way that I couldn’t necessarily have predicted.  Sure, there was an alcoholic in me for many years.  She drank when she was lonely or fearful or wanted to keep BOTH of those feelings at bay.  But she evidently had a lot to say.  Who knows?  Sometimes I wonder if I ever would have become an alcoholic if I started writing like this years ago.  If I knew that there was some “place” to put this deeper part of myself. 

But I didn’t.  I never presumed that it would be helpful or that I wanted to read my own words, much less ever assume that any other human being wanted to read them as well.  So that’s what “she” does now.  She writes.  She posts.

She puts herself out there, because she believes in what she’s doing.  And she trusts herself to be able to deal with the rejection of others.  It’s okay.  She’s pretty fucking strong now.

I guess that’s why I sometimes feel like I want to let new acquaintances know that I do this.  You know, just get to it, because I can deal with whatever their reaction is, really.  I already have.  I already know that there is a strong possibility that they will LIKE baby videos on Facebook, but they don’t want to openly support someone writing about recovery.  Even if they are reading this entire post.  At this very moment.

Perhaps they have friends that will think differently of them.  Perhaps they have co-workers that will notice.  Perhaps they are very private people.  Perhaps they just don’t like me.  Oh man, I don’t think I’ve ever been openly rude to anyone, but if I have, please unfriend me.  I promise I won’t be offended.

I don’t need or want to talk about recovery all the time.  That would be terribly annoying.  I only delve into conversations like that if I’m invited by someone else.  My goal is always to just live a life inspired by the principals themselves.  Words don’t mean shit anyhow, unless they are followed by action.

And in truth, I don’t really have much tolerance for posing or hiding how I really feel anymore.  Or who I am.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m never rude.  That’s never been part of my makeup ever, but being this forthcoming is liberating as well.  I don’t feel quite as proper now.  I just feel real.

I suppose that’s the freedom in being where I am today.  Not just the freedom to be open, but the freedom to connect to people that I never thought possible.  And to connect in WAYS that I never thought possible. 

About ten months ago, I stopped for lunch at a Whataburger, got out of my car and was approached by a young man selling blueberry cakes.  He politely introduced himself to me, explained that his group made them from scratch and sold them to raise money for their Addiction Recovery Center.  I waited patiently for him to finish the pitch and loved that he finally told me a little about his own personal story of recovery.  And then I shared a little of mine.  He seemed a little stunned…told me that I didn’t look like an alcoholic, and that he was happy to meet me.  Um…I was only out of rehab a few weeks when I had this encounter.  Man, you just don’t know what people are going through by sight.  That’s only one meager sense to engage, when we have a plethora of others at our disposal.  More than the well-known five, if we have the openness to go deeper…if we just listen.

I spoke earlier about the balance of reactions from writing this blog.  This is very relevant for me.  I can’t say that I’ve ever been a person to endure pain voluntarily, unless I know that there will eventually be relief.  Nope, I ain’t a saint.  So, yes, there is balance.  It’s just natural that there is both negative and positive feedback for admitting my past, and for writing like this specifically.  People are polite, so they don’t openly send me negativity.  Most of the time, I interpret neutrality or silence for negativity…but I’m working on that.  That’s my issue, not theirs.  So the scale between negative and positive tips this way and that, but I must take an overall view of it, really.  I am propelled by some of those who are open with their feedback and support.  And I am humbled and moved when someone contacts me directly, shares personal insights, and tells me that the writing is helping them.  There is nothing better than that.  No, I don’t assume they are an addict.  I just assume they are open...and human.  I love that it's sometimes private, because that connection is different.  Their intention is unique, and I appreciate it as such.

I see beauty and pain in everyone I meet, because I know that we all have both.  I suppose admitting my alcoholic past liberated me to see that I don’t want to be alone…and I don’t want that for anyone else.  That’s not my responsibility as a person in recovery, that’s my responsibility as a human being. 

I loved meeting that young man at Whataburger that day.  I loved speaking my truth.  And I remember being cognizant of others walking by at that moment, wondering if they were overhearing our conversation as we talked in the parking lot.  I could FEEL myself saying “fuck it” inside, as I spoke aloud to him, and it felt amazing.  A life-changing realization. 

I drove up to Whataburger.  Encountered another human being.  We shared together.  And I left a better person.  

Whatamoment.

*I'm writing this a couple of hours after first posting the above writing.  I don't like to do this often, because I feel like doing so has the possibility of compromising the integrity of the writing...since it usually stems from inspiration.  But I was overwhelmed with the thought that I owe people thanks.  Sometimes huge thanks- for being supportive and dealing with any vulnerability hangovers and emotions that result from creating this blog.  Mike bears the brunt of it.  My parents and close friends.  I am a big girl, and I can deal with a lot.  That's why I try to keep my own reactions in check, and not let any disappointments affect others.

I doubt that Mike ever thought that I'd be doing this, two and a half years ago when we married.  But I also think that I always knew he could handle it, because that's who he is.  I am encouraged and bolstered by his love each and every day.  The concept of not drinking is really quite easy at this point.  It's all the other parts of me that still get drunk every so often.  Thanks for holding my hair back, Mike.  I wouldn't have it any other way.