Hal Ward

Guest post: Grace within

My name is Michael. My last drink came on November 22, 1988. I am honored to be asked to contribute some thoughts about my experiences as a sober individual to this website.

I think I will pick a few themes and write down my impressions for a while. With a little luck, they may seem cogent and linear. If not, you will get a front row seat into what it is like to live inside my head 24 hours a day. Either way, a helmet is strongly suggested. (You are on your own for snacks.)

Are You Done Yet?

Whether or not you drink is none of my business. I know that seems to fly in the face of recovery “common sense,” but that is the truth. That is how I was raised in recovery.

My sponsors were unafraid of my drinking or my dying. That is not to say they did not care. They cared deeply. They spent countless hours with me explaining and re-explaining. But they also understood their role in my recovery. They could only point the way. They knew that my recovery was beyond their power and that I had to learn how to be responsible for it.

I know that word can be scary. I hated it. “Responsible” (Response – Able) simply means the ability to respond appropriately to a situation. You are not done drinking until you are done drinking. For some it happens all at once, for others it takes multiple tries. Most die. That is not a typo. MOST DIE. Most people get dead from alcoholism.

Why not me? I don’t really know. I can tell you that I put my entire being into my recovery to the best of my ability. At the end of the 12 Step process, I had no more secrets and I had discussed myself entirely with another human being.

About one month after that the pain inside me, the one that was causing me to pray to die everyday and had been a constant travel companion for several years had gone away. I looked at my self in the mirror and what I saw in that moment was OK. I think I even said it to myself out loud.

I was dumbfounded. Something had changed in me and I didn’t do it. If I could have done it, I would have done so long ago, just for the sheer embarrassment that my life was. That sucking void of pain was gone.

They say 10 – 12% of the population has trouble with drugs or alcohol. So conservatively, out of every 1000 people, 100 are addicted. Of those 100, 10-15 make to treatment. Of those 10-15, 5 have long term sobriety. Five people out of every 1000 recover. That is less the 1%, one-half of one percent to be precise.

If you are sober, you are a walking, talking miracle because most don’t make it. If I were you, I would stay in the life boat…but your mileage may vary.

It’s none of my business.

Grace

If you asked me today if I believed in God, my knee-jerk answer would be “no.” After another moment, my curiosity would kick in and the “clarifying questions” would start. My sponsors were — and are — cut from the same cloth: details matter, words means things, the Steps are about specifics and the more specific the information provided, the clearer an answer can be provided.

So my next question may be “What God are you talking about?” If you mean “God as a guy?” No. That is not to say I am an Atheist or Agnostic. So what do I believe in? Grace.

What is that you say?

Grace is the idea that the healing is already done and all we are waiting for is your awareness. Grace is the idea that there is a “Force” of some sort that is present and that can account for circumstances occurring that no reasonable explanation of science or medicine can cover.

Grace is the atmosphere that Recovery breathes when the miraculous happens. Grace means the field is tilted towards healing — which seems strange when you think of the vast numbers of alcoholics who get dead.

What if I told you that most don’t recover because deep down they don’t feel worthy of their own recovery? That belief takes more people out than anything else. Unlovable, unforgivable, unworthy, broken, not worth the effort…and many more negative beliefs. People wear these things like a lead coat that shields them from harm. I know. I’m a 40 Long.

Grace has the ability to find you in places you least expect it. That is its nature – its natural state. Grace is not something you receive, it is something you already are. Grace is not something you earn. Grace is not an unmerited gift or favor. It is something you already are.

Truth never hurts. Resistance to the truth can be painful – even deadly. You can deny it, you can try to hide from it, run away from it….but its presence is constant.

Wende F. would say, “You’re God’s Grace walking around on two legs…get used it.” I don’t know about the God part, but at least I have a word to loosely hang on the Higher Power

Grace and Cause and Effect

I recently read Zen Spot #36 – Mindfulness, Mediation, Autopilot and the Internal Gyroscope on this website. If you have not, I highly recommend it. Why? Because it is description of the practical application Twelve Steps used in everyday life covered, in a five minute read.

What makes the essay all the more wonderful is that it is applied at a time when its use is most difficult — when the person was ashamed and afraid. I know the writer has had a personal transformation through the Steps.

How? One sentence: “I chose to sit.” In the face of an urge to run or avoid, he chose to sit and face the fear. It was not just heroic—for an alcoholic, it is miraculous! It brought tears to my eyes because I have had similar experiences happen in my life. This is how Grace has worked in my life. I did not know it at the time. I was too busy living in that moment of tension and indecision.

We think that we “work” the Twelve Steps, but that is not accurate. We surrender to the Twelve Steps and those principles slowly heal and transform us in ways we can see and ways we cannot. What we “think” is happening, and what is actually happening can be two very different things.

My sponsor would smile and say, “See, Mike! Just like a told you. God’s workin’ even when we don’t know He is. That’s what Grace is! The healing is already done—always has been done. All we are waiting for is your awareness.” The sitting was not the cause of the awareness, it was the effect.

Your Answers Are Seeking You

Try not to limit where your sources of truth come from. Sometimes they will appear when you least expect it and have, seemingly, stopped looking.

I will give you an example. I personally think that the 12 and 12 of AA is some of Bill Wilson’s most inspired writing. In this context, during my first year I went to an AA meeting on the last day of the month, which meant it was a Tradition Meeting. There was a soft groan in the room when the group realized Tradition four was to be discussed. My thoughts were far more profane.

On the first page, Bill reeled me in, though: “Children of Chaos, we have defiantly played with every brand of fire, only to emerge unharmed and, we think, wiser. These very deviations created a vast process of trial and error, which, under the Grace of God has brought us the very place we stand today…We saw that the group, like the individual must eventually conform to whatever principles would guarantee survival. We had discovered that there was perfect safety of trail and error.” (12 and 12 pg. 146)

Seems contradictory to what I was writing about people getting dead, right?

That’s what I said. Isn’t drinking trial and error? Yes, but there is a major distinction.

As it says in the Big Book, AA is assuming the reader wants to stop – i.e., stay sober, stay in the lifeboat. The Big Book talks about the thought that we are like normal people (non-alcoholics) has to be smashed. (BB, pg.30) We had to concede to our innermost selves that we were alcoholic. THIS IS THE FIRST STEP IN RECOVERY.

Either you are done or you are not. From the stand point of recovery, if you stay in the lifeboat – all else will eventually, usually through pain, frustration and futility, lead us to surrender to the relief Step Work can provide.

Bill’s larger point is that it is practice not perfection. Errors are built in. We are human. We must test our skills and limits. The Steps allow us to grow spiritually and allow others to see that growth. In the lifeboat is one life, back in the water with the sharks is another. They are not even remotely similar. Not even close.

Normie’s vs Alcoholics

“Normal” drinkers are a different class, order, genus, species and family from Alcoholics. The most important difference is this: For normal drinkers, the decision to ingest alcohol is an act — an act no more important than having fish or beef or which shirt to wear to work.

For alcoholics, drinking is a Consciousness – not an act. With that consciousness comes a unique set of beliefs, behaviors and rituals. The ingestion of alcohol is embedded in the very ether of that consciousness. We are creatures and servants to it. And if one is not actually drinking, there usually is some sort of fixation on the moment of its return into the system. There is no making one of the other. Not possible. Once you have the alcoholic consciousness, the only solution is total abstinence or death.

I am not the same man I was November 22, 1988. That man no longer exists. That man will always suffer. That man will always be afraid. That is the mystery of it for me. One day I was drinking, the next day I was not. I don’t know why. Why that day? There was no shining light or voice of God, only the thought that I was going to have to go through life without medication. The trudge had begun.

Respect Others and their Path

I can remember a night when I had attended a meeting in my sponsor’s truck. I do not remember the details of the meeting other than the beautiful newcomer who sat directly in my sight line. My sponsor was sitting about ten people to my left. After the meeting, when we got to the truck, I jumped in the back. He stepped into the driver’s seat, smoking his Lucky Strike No Filter, then he stepped back out, looked at me and said, “Not until she has completed all 12 Steps, Mike.” With that the truck started and he drove away.

When we reached a coffee shop, I pressed him further on this “rule.” (This was important – I was in lust!) After a few minutes of this, it was obvious that Steve had grown tired and I was not getting his point. Finally, much too loudly for my comfort, Steve said to me, “Mike, am I understanding you correctly? Are you trying to explain to me why your PENIS is more important than her sobriety?” Sponsorial Five-Finger-Death Punch applied to my ego, I understood.

People get dead from this disease.

Meditation

I am a busy guy, mentally and physically. It is very difficult to sit and quiet my “mind.” It is still difficult now. It was damn near impossible in early sobriety. I had so much energy running through me that to try and “sit” would cause great anxiety. I would fail miserably and feel like I was doing it wrong.

Fortunately, my sponsor asked me some very important questions: When does your brain shut off? What brings you joy? What are you doing when “time flies?” I wasn’t sure what that had to do with my problem, but I told him – running, hitting golf balls, hockey, putting my earphones and playing the guitar, going for a long drive in the car, even cleaning the bathroom. “That’s meditation. Meditation is not a place to go to, it is a state where you can exist in this moment without your self-critic doing play-by-play. Find out what shuts your brain off and go there.”

Stay In the Lifeboat

If you do not ingest alcohol, you cannot get drunk. Simple. Maybe too simple.

Drunks like to complicate things to the point of ridiculousness. Do not drink under any and all conditions. That’s what I mean by “Stay In the Lifeboat.” Sobriety brings with it an infinite number of ways to get help. Once we drink, those options begin to vanish. Not because they are unavailable, but because the shame of “failing” makes people run. Some don’t make it back.

My sponsor used to call me a rock head. I was stubborn, obstinate and refused to concede points I did not agree with. Although I frustrated him, my sponsor respected that part of me. He once told me, “Mike, once God turns that same rock-headedness of yours toward sobriety, you could stay sober a really long time.” He was right. No drinks or drugs under any and all conditions. We face what we face in the lifeboat. We fear what we fear in the lifeboat.

It will be 30 years in November. If I can do it, anyone can do it. I’m not that smart and not that brave and don’t have that much heart. But, unlike the cowardly lion who turns and dives out the window, I have learned to stand and wait for the smoke and scary voice to pass. I cannot take credit for that. I was taught how to do that. I stood shaking, staring at the Wizard while my sponsor was talking about fear and the compulsion that would “make you set yourself on fire”. Not that day. The Wizard could never produce on his threats. He was relying on me to carry that out on myself. It was never the same again after that day. Never had the same intensity because it had a name and a face now. It was me. This gives you a little context now of why I found Zen Spot #36 so interesting. He didn’t stand and face it, he sat. Strong spiritual work, anchored in the Steps and a faith in the process. The result was the same. The smoke vanished and there we were – In the lifeboat.

Gratitude

In closing, I would like to thank my brothers and sisters in recovery for being the walking, talking miracles they are. People who shared their raw selves with me and, in doing so, gave me hope. Your not supposed to be here. The fact that you still are must mean that you are here for a reason. You may want to find out exactly what that is. Until then, I will be here in the lifeboat listening to this new song a heard about 57 times in a row. Suck the nectar out of life and share your new found loves with others. They will share theirs with you. Oh, and one more thing…Everything I just wrote down could be wrong.

Blessings!

This has been a guest post by Michael M.

With Love,
The Recovering Urchin

Guest post: My ugly, unvarnished truth

The Urchin and I had a discussion this week about the nature of the essays presented herein. It should be noted, before I present my topic, that The Urchin and I are very different people. I’m big, loud, a bit flaky and very creative. The Urchin is quiet, methodical, organized, accomplished and brilliant. Without providing more detail, suffice it to say that we couldn’t be more different.

Having known The Urchin for twenty-four years, we’ve always had a curiosity about each other, looking at one another with the desire to have more of the best qualities of the other. Too, it is important to mention that The Urchin is the person who pulled me into the boat when I was drowning.

Over the course of the ensuing eighteen years (he didn’t pull me into the boat until we’d known each of for six years, after he became aware of my alcoholism), I’ve attended thousands of AA meetings and come to have a very different perspective on the program than The Urchin, with an emphasis on how I view sharing at meetings.

I hear and see a lot of lying in meetings. With the benefit of thousands of hours sitting in churches and clubhouses, I can tell when people aren’t being honest or are being lazy or haven’t done the work necessary to recover—the white knucklers, the mimics, the legally required, the social butterflies, the narcissists, the arrogant chronics, the conversion therapists, the traffic cops, the bullies. I could go on forever.

I love the truth—and I know it when I hear it. The truth requires courage and it helps everybody. The truth connects people to themselves and to everybody else. The truth can be ugly. The truth sometimes involves the description of families lost, arrests, blackouts, promiscuity, car accidents, broken bones, careers damaged, hookers, hooking, bankruptcy and death.

I never pissed the bed. I never threw up and continued drinking. I never was arrested. My truth is the loss of a family. I am a blackout drinker who knows he broke laws but doesn’t remember which laws. I connect with people who tell the truth about the effect of their alcoholism on the their families. I connect with blackout drinkers. When I hear people describe waking up in a pool of urine, I feel lucky and scared and grateful.

The quote above was shared in a meeting I attended in my first year. It’s ugly—just like alcoholism. I never learned anything from someone parroting their gratitude for the program while ignoring the ugliness of the disease because, as far as I’m concerned, if someone sharing in a meeting can’t share something ugly followed by a message of hope and progress, they’re stealing time from those who have hope and ugliness to share—and who can help a lot more people.

I will write more about my ugly truths.

This has been a guest post by Michael D.

With Love,
The Recovering Urchin

Staying Sober in Dark Times

Have you ever found it more difficult to go to an AA meeting? Have you ever found it more difficult to go to the gym, or stick to a diet, or do anything else that you know is good for you?

So have I. In fact, I am going through one of those times right now.

I have an internal messaging machine that says “I don’t wanna”. It goes off any time I have to go to the dentist, or take my dog out for a walk when it is raining, or put on a suit and a tie.

Usually I don’t have that experience when it comes to going to AA meetings. I normally run to meetings. But right now, my energy is lower, I am kind of cranky, and I think “I don’t wanna go to a meeting”.

I should mention that I have this experience once in a while. Maybe it is the change of seasons, it is getting dark a little bit earlier in the evening, and there is less sunshine.

Whatever the reason, I feel an inner heaviness right now. Work seems more difficult, exercise seems more difficult, going to meetings seems more difficult.

It feels like gravity is 1.3x stronger right now than it normally is.

So what am I going to do about it?

I mentioned in the last section that I have this experience sometimes. Periodically I have an internal heaviness. What I do about it is that I ignore the messaging. I ignore the things that I tell myself, especially the negative stuff.

I put one foot in front of the other. Literally.

I map out my day, with a list of tasks that I am going to accomplish. Then I do those tasks.

I remember what I have heard so many times in meetings: “This too shall pass”. I know from experience that my inner darkness is a temporary things. It is just visiting, and it will get bored and go away.

Until then, I am going to a meeting tomorrow morning. I am going to exercise right after the meeting. Then I am going to take my dog to the park.

I will do the same thing the next day, too.

Rinse, lather, repeat.

Whether I want to or not.

Because I will be a lot happier if I do.

With Love,
The Recovering Urchin

I Am Responsible

I do a lot of driving. 40,000 miles a year or so. So I get to watch a lot of things on the road. One of the things that I see is a lot of trash. Our trash. I know it is our trash, because I see us throwing it out of our car windows.

Why does anyone think that it is ok to do that?

And it isn’t just in cars, either. I walk my dog a lot, too. Not 40,000 miles a year, but a lot of miles. And the cigarette smokers on my street don’t seem to mind leaving their cigarette butts on the street.

I don’t care whether something is biodegradable or not. Here is my rule of thumb- if I won’t throw it on my kitchen floor, I won’t throw it on the street.

What’s so difficult to understand about that?

I am reading a lot right now about the Bill of Rights. People are complaining about Their Rights. I don’t hear people talking so much about their responsibilities.

So let me talk about my responsibilities.

I am a husband. I married my best friend. When we got married, my wife and I took a set of vows. Those vows included statements like “til death do us part”, and “in sickness and in health”. I learned that she meant those vows when she took them. She still means them.

So do I.

I read someplace that the sign of a really good marriage is when both partners feel like they got the better end of the deal. Trust me, I got the better end of the deal. If you know both of us, you know that to be true.

That means if she asks me to do something, I do it. We try to divide all of the chores and tasks. She takes care of food shopping and bills, so I take care of the cars and trash. It’s mundane stuff, but we take care of it, so that we can take care of each other, and ourselves.

My hope is that we get to spend the rest of our lives together, hopefully in good health. It means forever. And it also means a lot of Golden Rule stuff at home.

I am a father of two beautiful young women. Very expensive, but very beautiful.

I made a couple of promises when they were born. Something along the lines of “God, if you just get us through this delivery safe and sound, I promise I will take care of this little urchin the best that I can, for as long as I can”.

So my end of the bargain is that I think I am supposed to take care of these little urchins. That means I deal with iPhones dropped in the toilet, and iPhones dropped off of third story ledges. It means volleyball tuition and college tuition. It means that one bathroom looks like a cosmetics factory. It means 6000 diapers apiece, and all the Father-Daughter Dances I can attend.

It means that if either of them is so motivated to have a dog that they create a Powerpoint presentation entitled “Why We Should Have A Dog”, then……

I have a dog. Although it would be more accurate to say that our dog has a family. That means hundreds of night-time walks in the snow and the cold, when I don’t want to go outside. It means cleaning up dog poop, and licenses, and vaccinations, and all of the responsibilities I would want someone else to take care of, if I was him. It means baths and brushing and toys and playtime and all of the stuff he needs us to do.

I am a family member. That means that I am supposed to participate in my family. I am supposed to show up, anytime, anywhere that I am asked. It means weddings, Bar/Bat Mitzvahs, Communions and Baptisms, Passovers and Christmas Eve’s (it’s complicated). It means birthday parties and wakes and funerals and all of the stuff that goes on with people that I love and care about.

It means that not only do I show up….it means that I try to show up with a smile.

And maybe even shave.

I am an employee. I have a job. A company pays me to work. That means that I am supposed to work. If possible, I am supposed to do such good work, that my company thinks that they got the better end of the deal.

I should show up every day. Every day. No “calling out sick”.

I should remember how insanely lucky I am to have this gig, or any gig at all. I am insanely lucky that I get paid to do interesting, important work, with interesting and incredibly intelligent people. There are some days I can’t believe that anyone pays me to do this. I need to act that way every day.

I work with other people. Really nice people, by the way. That means I am supposed to work well with them. I should try to treat them with dignity and respect, the same way that they treat me.

I should ask about their families, and their dogs and cats. I should ask about their vacations, and their holidays, and their traditions.

I am a taxpayer. You may not like what I have to say here.

I pay a lot of taxes. My wife and I make a lot of money, so we pay a lot of taxes. More than six figures a year. By the end of our working lives, we will pay millions of dollars in taxes.

And I would be glad to pay even more.

You know why I would be glad to pay more? Because I live in a time and a place where a poor kid from Philadelphia can receive a great education (both the kind you get in school, and the kind you get at the kitchen table), and grow up to be incredibly lucky. I am safe and well fed and educated and gainfully employed.

I use public roads, public water, public sewer, public electricity, public telephone systems, public gas works. I am the beneficiary of a lot of infrastructure that is freely, or inexpensively, available to me.

My children attend(ed) public schools. Great schools. The best schools in the nation. The real estate taxes that we pay to support those schools is a bargain. If you doubled my real estate taxes to pay for these schools, I would not complain. It’s a bargain.

In a time and a place where it is fashionable to complain about high taxes, let me be provocative.

I’m willing to pay more.

I am a citizen. That means that I should participate. I vote, every time. I try to stay informed. When I know someone who is running for office, I support them. I read. I communicate with like-minded citizens.

The people in my community who hold elected office do so out of their love for their community. Some of the jobs are totally volunteer. I applaud them for that. Our lives are better for their service.

I have the opportunity to leave this country 5-10 times a year, for work and for pleasure. Every time I leave, I learn a little bit more how lucky I am to live here. I may complain a lot- but I am lucky to be here.

I am a homeowner and a community member. That means that I should take care of my home, and my community. My lawn should be mowed, my snow should be shoveled. My trash should go into the special trash cans that we are supposed to use. I apply for permits for the work that I am supposed to apply for.

When someone organizes something in our community, I try to participate. That means candy on Halloween, and putting up luminaries on Christmas Eve.

I am a member of several service organizations. That means that I should help. When someone reaches out for help, I do my best to do what is needed. That involves attending meetings, and taking notes, and making telephone calls, and serving meals, and donating money.

These are organizations that helped me, helped my profession and my community, and helped people I know. It is the least that I can do to repay the favor.

I have a body. That means that I should try to take care of it. That means eating right, and lots of exercise, and plenty of rest. I’m a vegetarian, and I exercise rigorously at least 4 times a week. No less than 6 hours of sleep a night, and a couple of times a week I need 8 hours of sleep. I don’t apologize for that.

I need to take care of my body if I am going to be responsible for all of the other responsibilities I have.

We have an expression in our culture, “What’s In It For Me?” In short, “WIIFM”. I’ve used it.

As I grow older, I’ve started asking a different question: What Is Expected Of Me? Or “WIEOM”.

It’s the difference between the Bill of Rights and The Bill of Responsibilities.

It’s the difference between selfishness and selflessness.

What is expected of me? A couple of quotes provide good answers. In Luke 12:48: “For unto whoever much is given, of him shall be much required.” Much has been given to me, and I think it is time that much should be required of me. As someone I know used to say, “I am reporting for duty!”

I have a responsibility to provide for my family, my community, my country and my workplace. I am grateful for that responsibility. I know people who don’t have those responsibilities, and they wish that they did.

What is expected of me?

With Love,
The Recovering Urchin

The Opioid Epidemic

I wrote this essay about the opioid epidemic in 2017. It is as true now as when I wrote it

A month ago, my father texted me and asked “what is an opioid?” I don’t usually pick up the phone when he texts me, but this time I did. He said that he was watching a documentary on the opioid epidemic, and the documentary never defined what an opioid is.

You probably know this, but just in case — “opioid” and “opiate” are used interchangeably, and describe a class of drugs that were originally derived from opium, which is extracted from the poppy plant. Examples of drugs in this class include opium, morphine, codeine, heroin, fentanyl, carfentanil, hydrocodone and oxycodone.

Opioids are very potent pain relievers. Unfortunately, they are highly addictive, because they can also be enormously pleasurable when first taken.

The New York Times published an article recently on drug overdose deaths. Check it out at this link:

Drug Deaths in America Are Rising Faster Than Ever

The New York Times estimated that 59,000-65,000 Americans died of overdose deaths in 2016. In one chart, they compare that rate to the peak fatality rates for car accidents, shootings and deaths from HIV. All of those rates are lower than the current rate of overdose deaths.

If an airliner with 180 people crashed today, killing everyone on board, within an hour every network would have special programming about it. You would know the name of the airline, the flight number, and details about all of the passengers.

An airliner full of Americans dies every day from drug overdoses, and no network is breaking into their regular programming about it.

There are a many reasons for the increase in overdose deaths in America. One is that prescription pain medication has become much more potent, and much more available. Several years ago, a new oral agent (oxycodone, marketed as Oxycontin), was approved for marketing. This drug has become widely available not only for prescription use, but also for abuse.

At the same time, the supply of heroin has increased and the cost has decreased. Heroin is now much more available, much more widely used, and less expensive than when I was growing up. Supposedly, the cost of a dose of heroin is now less than the cost of a bottle of beer. When I was in high school, the “gateway drugs” were marijuana and alcohol. Not now.

One other reason is that other very potent drugs (fentanyl and carfentanil) are being sold as heroin. Fentanyl is more potent than heroin, and carfentanil is said to be 1000-5000 times more potent than heroin.

If someone thinks that they are injecting heroin, but receives either fentanyl or carfentanil, they are going to die.

The opioid epidemic is not some far-away problem that only happens in a newspaper. It is a local problem that is killing people who live near me. Drug overdoses now look like this in my area:

Last week, two men died of heroin overdoses not too far from where I live. What made their overdoses even more remarkable was that they were house managers in a local halfway house. They were the ones in charge of oversight at their facility.

The same week, 8 addicts died of overdoses in another small town not too far from where I live.

A recent local high school graduate died of an opiate overdose a few weeks ago.

A Philadelphia Inquirer article noted that Philadelphia had 900 fatal overdoses in 2016. Bucks County had 185. The same article included an old estimate of 10 fatal overdoses a day in Pennsylvania- and then noted that that estimate might be low now.

10 people lose their lives every day in my state from a preventable problem. And either we have become used to it, or we don’t know about it.

This is a complicated problem with no easy answers. It would be intellectually lazy to say “just cut off the supply”. The supply is not just illegal drugs like heroin. It also includes prescription drugs that are diverted. The problem is not just at our borders — it is also in our doctor’s offices and our pharmacies and our own medicine cabinets.

I read that the United States consumes 80% of the world supply of opiates. We have 4% of the world population. There is something wrong with that.

Fortunately there is hope. Treatment exists. I know two young men who recently were in treatment for opioid addiction, and both are now in recovery. But every day that they remain in recovery, almost 200 Americans are going to die from drug overdoses.

And I don’t know what to do about that.

With Love,
The Recovering Urchin

The Challenge of Being an Introvert in Alcoholics Anonymous

Have you ever taken one of the “personality type” profiles at work? There is a popular one called the Myers-Briggs Indicator. You answer approximately 60 questions, and you receive feedback about four different indicators. One of them is whether or not you are an introvert or an extrovert.

I have taken this test four different times (it was popular for a while in my industry). Every time I took it, I received the same feedback: I am really organized about my time (that’s good), and I am almost painfully introverted (not so good).

In my alcoholism, I never really liked to go to bars or clubs. There were drunk people there, and drunk people annoyed me. I didn’t like hanging out with other people who were drinking. I preferred drinking by myself.

The good news is that I wasn’t doing a lot of drinking and driving, because I was doing my drinking alone by myself. The bad news was that I was home alone, doing my drinking by myself. And almost no one knew.

I was lucky enough (blessed?) to get sober in 1990. One of the things that I was told was that I should go to an AA meeting every day, for at least 90 days. (My sponsor said “120 meetings wouldn’t hurt!”). So I went to a lot of meetings. I still do.

The challenge for me has been that I am still the same introvert that I have always been. And my meetings are full of bright-eyed, bushy-tailed people who are on fire with the idea of interacting with other people.

In AA, we talk about Unity (through the Traditions), Recovery (through the Steps), and Fellowship. I struggle with the Fellowship part. I struggle when people invite me out for coffee. “Struggle” means I don’t want to. I do not want to go out to a diner with people I don’t know that well, and try to make small talk.

If you are an extrovert, you might be thinking “that sounds like a really good time!” For me, that sounds like torture. I get very anxious when I have to talk to several people at the same time. I am much more comfortable in intimate 1-1 conversations.

I do understand the importance of making connections with other people. I have been sober for 28 year, I’ve been married for 25 years, I have worked in my chosen field for 30+ years.

I understand how important my relationship with other people is. I know that I cannot do this alone. I need help (see my essay “I Need Help” for more about this….).

I do participate in the fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous. But instead of having 100 close friends (I don’t even know if that is possible), I have a handful of people that I consider very close friends. They are friends for life. They know everything about me, and I know everything about them.

If you are an introvert, and you are new to AA (or any other twelve step fellowship), please know that you can recover every bit as much as the extroverted people.

Find one or two people that you really trust, and get close to them. Sit next to them at meetings. Call them, and try to get to know them. Just as importantly, let them get to know you.

If you are like me, you also need help getting sober and staying sober. You may not wind up with hundreds of friends in recovery, but you might wind up with a few very close friends for life, as well as a wonderful life in sobriety.

With Love,
The Recovering Urchin

Physical Pain And Spiritual Pain

Sometimes I make a sound when I’m surprised, that sounds like “huh”.

I passed a billboard on the Pennsylvania Turnpike recently. “152 Montgomery County residents died of drug overdoses last year.

I made a sound of “huh”.

More Americans died of drug overdoses in 2015 than from car accidents. And a lot of Americans died in car accidents last year.

While I didn’t know any of the 152 people who overdosed and died last year in Montgomery County, I know several people who have died as a result of overdoses in Chester County, and Philadelphia County.

Pharmacists. Professional people. Family people. People like you and me.

Opiates are a class of pain medication that includes morphine, codeine, oxycodone, hydrocodone, and others. Some are available by prescription, and some (like heroin) are available illegally. They are very effective, and very potent, relievers of physical pain.

If I remember my pharmacy school classes well (there is no guarantee of that…), opiates bind at the mu receptor in the central nervous system to create the effect of analgesia. In other words, they block pain by interacting at a cellular level. The effect is so pleasurable that some users want to re-create the experience over and over again.

Opiates can be very addictive.

I just finished reading an article about an epidemic of fentanyl use in Canada.

According to the article, fentanyl (an opiate 100x more potent than morphine) is widely available, and can be ordered online. It is being mass-produced overseas, and shipped directly to the homes of Canadian addicts.

In the United States, we have the same problem with oxycodone. American users purchase prescription opiates online (or on the street, or with a physician’s prescription).

Some municipalities have taken to providing an opiate antidote, naloxone, to those who request it. The antidote is highly effective if it is administered quickly to someone who is experiencing an opiate overdose.

While I support this measure, it really only scratches the surface of the problem.

Providing naloxone to those who are overdosing will save some people from overdosing. But it won’t decrease the supply of opiates, and it won’t decrease the demand for them, either.

The “war on drugs” didn’t decrease the demand for drugs, and it didn’t decrease the supply of drugs, either. It just created a much larger prison system. We have way more people imprisoned in 2016 for drug offenses than we did in 1980, and more drug use too.

The supply of drugs isn’t going to go away. In the article I read about Canada’s

fentanyl problem, the authors described the economics of drug distribution. A user can purchase $10,000 worth of raw fentanyl powder, tablet filling supplies, and a tablet press, and sell the end product for as much as $2,000,000 worth of fentanyl tablets.

That is a 200x profit. As long as 200-fold profits are available, someone will be willing to sell drugs, regardless of the consequences.

The drug epidemic is a problem that doesn’t have an easy answer. I wish it did. So what follows are not suggested solutions. They are some of my thoughts about the problem:

What if the problem isn’t about drugs? The kinds of drugs we are dealing with existed 50 years ago. Some of the drugs are new, but they are really new variations of older drugs. What if the drug epidemic is a symptom of something else?

What if the problem is with us? What if we changed? Suppose the problem is that we seek temporary comfort from permanent problems?

What if the type of pain that we are trying to medicate isn’t physical pain? What if the type of pain our society is trying to medicate is spiritual pain? What if opiates can’t scratch the kind of itch that we have?

I don’t like to ask these questions. I would much rather stick my head in the sand and hope that the problem goes away.

But no matter how much I stick my fingers in my ears and say “na na na na I can’t hear you!”, the reality is still there. Right in front of me on a billboard on the Pennsylvania Turnpike.

With Love,
The Recovering Urchin

My 38th Street Bridge Blackout

My friend Michael suggested that I write about a couple of my blackouts. He thought it would be helpful for some of the newcomers visiting this site. Here is one of them.

So let me set the scene…..it was 1979, I was going to school in West Philadelphia. I was 17 years old, and I was working in a bar call Doc Watson’s. (Go back and read that again-I was 17, and working in a bar).

Doc Watson’s was a dive bar. College students could get a cheap pitcher of beer and a pizza for about $5. From Thursday night through Sunday night, the place was always packed. I waited tables, delivered pizza and beer to my classmates, and made at least $100 in tips every night. One hundred dollars a night was a lot of money forty years ago.

My shift was from 4pm until 2 am, two to three nights a week. The hours from 4pm until 9pm were kind quiet, with the pizza-eaters. At about 9pm, the beer drinkers came in, and the bartenders filled pitchers of beer as fast as they could.

Doc Watsons was where I learned to drink hard. Up until then, I had a casual approach to my drinking. But at this bar, we had 15 minutes (from 2 am until 2:15 am) to clean up, and drink as much as we wanted for free. Since there was only 15 minutes between 2 am and 2:15, I spent less time on “cleaning up”, and more time on “drinking as much as I wanted for free”.

Over the course of several weeks, I learned how to drink at least a pitcher of beer in that 15 minute period. I learned to drink fast. That didn’t seem to be a problem for me. I lived about 4 blocks from the bar. I would get drunk, and glide back to my dormitory with a buzz and a hundred dollars in my pocket.

One night I lost track of how much I had to drink. (Everything I am about to share with you has been told to me by other people). I probably had at least 1 1/2 pitchers of beer in 15 minutes. I walked out of the bar, and headed for the 38th Street Bridge, which was a pedestrian bridge along my route back to my dormitory.

The route that I was SUPPOSED to take was:

1) leave the bar, walk one block

2) turn left, cross the bridge, walk two blocks

3) turn right, go one block to my dorm

Two turns, four blocks. I had done this walk a hundred times. I still have the map imprinted in my brain.

But on this night in 1979, I made it to the bridge, and I got lost. I crossed over the bridge three or four times. A campus police officer approached me, and asked me if I was lost. I don’t know what I said to the police officer, but if I had been honest, I would have sung from Blind Faith’s song and sung “I am wasted, and I can’t find my way home”.

Looking back at that evening, there are several things that seem remarkable to me now:

I was four blocks from my dorm, I had walked that route a hundred times, and I was so blindly drunk that I got lost.

A police officer escorted me back to my dorm, and delivered me to my roommate.

I did not freeze to death. I did not fall off the bridge and die. I did not get arrested.

I saw nothing wrong with what had happened. Neither did anyone else. Not my school, not my roommate, not my co-workers. But especially not me.

I repeated most of that evening many more times while I worked at that bar.

Why do I write this for you?

If you are a newcomer, you should know that blackouts happen to alcoholics. Blackouts are memory losses that happen when we have way too much to drink. Normal drinkers don’t have blackouts, because normal drinkers don’t drink that much.

I didn’t know that. I didn’t realize that I had blackouts until I went to rehab and someone explained to me what was happening.

I haven’t had a blackout like that since I got sober.

If you get sober, you won’t have any more blackouts either.

With Love,
The Recovering Urchin

Who are you?

Who Are You?

Where Are You?

How Are You?

Those words were printed on the inner liner notes of the Grateful Dead’s 1971 album of the same name.

They added a mailing address, and asked their fans, known as DeadHeads, to write to them. The Grateful Dead opened a line of communication with those three questions. No band had ever tried to do that before. It was revolutionary.

Thousands of DeadHeads responded. The Grateful Dead took those names, and created a mailing list. The band used that list for 50 years as a way of staying in touch with its fans.

Please allow me to ask you the same three questions:

Who Are You?

Where Are You?

How Are You?

And in addition, I have a few more questions for you:

Do you like what we are doing here at The Recovering Urchin?

What should I be writing about?

What can I do to help support your recovery?

With Love,
The Recovering Urchin

Guest post: Zen Spot #155 — Mindfulness, meditation and letting sleeping dogs lie

Hammurabi

Apologies can have an almost otherworldly power. To reach out, after having committed an error, recognizing that your behavior caused pain, can bring about a rare intimacy. Too, reaching out can result in Hammurabi chewing off an equal portion of whatever. The unpredictability is excruciating. Walk into an apology with your face or loins covered and your sincerity can be questioned. Arrive defenseless and the bleeding could be profuse and extended.

Nine

Among the rationale for making amends during AA’s ninth step, as far as I am concerned, is the humbling pain one must endure as forgiveness is requested. If done correctly and thoughtfully, with the desire to do whatever is necessary to make amends at the forefront, the executor’s desire to never repeat the process can be a resource from which to pull the strength not to indulge when the opportunity presents itself.

That said, every person whose forgiveness I requested acted with an astonishing grace. My loins were sincerely exposed. None punted.

Abscesses and my memory

I’ve written of blackouts. Weeks of blackouts. Time given away, and taken back spontaneously, years after, when a memory flashes back, bringing with it remorse that I thought was gone.

Flashbacks bring reflexive facial contortions. The taste of an abscess bubble bursting on my gums is less bitter. Sometimes my head shakes back and forth spontaneously and automatically even before the memory arrives.

Abscesses and other people’s memories

The problem with a fearless and thorough accounting of one’s behavior is that many of the aggrieved don’t remember the grievance and, when approached, offer only a quizzical look. That said, in my case, almost everybody possessed a memory deserving of an apology for which I had no corresponding flashback. No matter.

The dogs

The latest boomerang to fly out of the dark and land at my feet concerned a client from twenty years ago. The indiscretion will go unnamed, but the compulsion to appropriately debit and credit the metaphysical balance sheet became overwhelming. An email was drafted. A phone call was pondered. Neither was executed.

I knew he wouldn’t remember and I knew he would forgive me. Of these two facts, I am absolutely sure.

Forgiveness for the things I can’t remember found at the heart of the things I can remember. As the boomerangs continue to land at my feet, with this man in particular, my certainty in his grace allows me to forgive myself.

This has been a guest post by DharmaMechanic.

With Love,
The Recovering Urchin