Entries Tagged 'General' ↓

Or 91 days to be exact. Finally. God damn finally.

Frankly, I don’t feel like this achievement tastes like I dreamed it would. But at the very least the trying over again and again paid off. It stuck!

Though it does feel different this time (as if living in an SLE for the first time wasn’t big enough), I know I’m not on a completely solid foundation. I have yet to complete my steps, finish my Big Book reading, and other areas need improvement. I know I have a big ego and I have yet to develop a spiritual path that satisfies my own experience. The cravings hit, and due to my housing hanging in the balance, I am not motivated to act on my obsession. I hope this will change as I do the work.

Perhaps the biggest wrench in the relapse pattern was admitting that I needed help in the form of an SLE program. This single but impactful decision threw me forward into a frame of mind that I needed to be in. It gave me the accountability I was desperate for – and everything else was just a plus. Somehow, I’ve been able to make good friends here. Though there is an amount of roommate drama, and the occasional discomfort with others’ views or habit, I would rather deal with that than the misery and the guilt regarding relapse or use. It’s petty compared than the past.

I hope that I can keep moving forward. I hope that these days can become years.

Hello to anyone that is reading this. It’s been a while. And a lot has changed.

Believe it or not, I relapsed (again). But this time, I decided to do something about it.

From the last time, I was in a dark place, as I usually am after a slip-up in the substances abuse category. I knew something had to give. My suicidal ideation again was re-instilled, and it was pretty convincing. I’ve had had it. When I talked to my psychiatrist, he said something though. He said, “Guy, I don’t think you truly want to kill yourself. I think your mind frames this issue as life or death, because that is what is at stake.” The problem was that I was actually considering it.

Now mind you, I had thought about moving to an SLE earlier last year. It was a just a thought. I went around poking at Pura Vida, Liferock and other places. I’m not going to say what place I ended up choosing, in case of any of you investigators you want to find me.

After that session, I was deep in thought. Something had to give, my mind told me. Something. I realized then and there that I needed to move. I lived in rural Sonoma County, a place so isolated and so hidden from close friends and family that it was easy to talk myself into anything. I felt alone and lonely because I was quite literally alone and lonely. Literally. It was at that moment I realized that whatever cause or source of sobriety was going to come from, it wasn’t going to come from me. Turns out, that was Step 2.

So I moved. I gave up my nice comfortable place, my nice (unused) grill, books, clothes. I gave up my stuff because I knew it was tethering me. If I had to clean up, it had to be a total change. It had to mean sacrificing my commodities for something greater. Not going to lie. It hurt. It hurt leaving home, it hurt giving up years of accumulated stuff. But in the end, stuff can come back. Stuff without being sober just isn’t worth the torment or the guilt or the ptsd episodes.

I’ve been clean starting this year. At this point, I’ve tried using in every which combination possible. It doesn’t work. I also now truly understand and know the 2nd step in recovery. I’ve been journaling weekly since my arrival at the SLE, which, all things considered, has been a pleasant surprise (I know!). I hope that in the weeks to come, I truly achieve what I set out to do when I requested this virtual space.

I hope that, at the very least, this site can open up some sympathy for us addicts. It. Is. Hard. But for those of us nutzos, ignoring the statistics and going against better judgement on all sides of the aisle, we try again, until it sticks. I have another month and my ninety in ninety, after years, will finally be complete.

It showed up at around midnight, yesterday. And when it did, goodbye to proper sleep and serene mind. All of a sudden, it was as if my addict self was “awake” – like a watchtower, shining the light to look for an excuse, or a way too use.

I had changed my number prior a while back, expecting that perhaps, old “friends” would try to get in touch with me. I didn’t want to put myself at risk, but as luck would have it, being out and relapsing sabotaged the point of the new number. Soon, I got texts and phone calls, from several “friends”, who wanted to hang. As soon as the possibility showed up, that’s when it all began.

So today I went to two meetings, I told on myself, and I even gave my phone to my sponsor. I feel particularly weak. I had a resistance to prayer but that’s I’ve been doing tonight, in addition to meditation, tai chi and now writing. I know my sponsor is disappointed, and I honestly can’t blame him. Why the heck am I selfish? What the heck is wrong with me? Why am I willing to put everything on the line to get loaded? I don’t understand myself.

I want to get to the root of it.

For the first time ever, I’m at a crossroads –  the good kind. I’ve been working and repairing the relationship with my mom, for the first time in roughly a decade. I just got my standing at my job back. I’m about to pay a debt, I’ve made a decision to actively start being more spiritual. So, what gives?

I’m thinking, closing my eyes, trying to find the root cause. I think its just this… loneliness.

At meetings, sometimes I just wanna beg my sponsor to take me with him. I hate being alone. I hate remembering my mistakes, I hate the reminder of not having family, and I hate if I go a single day without my medication, I’m a walking mess. I’d like to go out – not at a meeting, but as a normal person to the mall or movies. I just want to chill with someone. I want to be a human with someone. I want intimacy. I’m pretty sure that my using friends reach out in the same vein. And cutting this connection that I think I have is harder than anything. I feel like if I do, I’m ensuring my loneliness this much more.

I suppose that’s where the need to use comes from. It’s this belief and feeling that no matter how much I repair everything else – my job, my family, etc. – I am always alone. Always. By myself, literally, with no one around me. I swear to Dao that if I just had anyone in my vicinity, maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. I think I’m tired of being alone. If I die from an OD now versus just naturally – it wouldn’t matter. Because I’m going to be alone either way. And the world is ending in a few decades anyway. So what?

It’s the nihilist inside me I have to tackle, and overcome. I think I’ve managed today. I hope I can tomorrow.

Yea I know. You can probably track my progress through the frequency of the blog upkeep. One thing I’m understanding is that when it comes to the mind, improvement and progress isn’t a straight line. A person’s strength comes and goes – and it takes failure to fully comprehend what’s at stake.

As of today, I’m back at 27 days. I hope this is the last time, I truly am.

Anyhow, now this is out the way, I go back to writing and posting. What can I say? I keep making mistakes, but with each slip, comes a lesson. I hope that I can make only enough mistakes to make sure I can finally win this battle. All I can do is pick. Myself. Up. Again.

Sometimes, we do things we don’t we do until we say them. It helps in therapy, and recovery.

This comes to mind today because today I realized I had actually forgiven my mom.

Around 8 years ago, I left home. Being gay meant I didn’t have a place in my religion nor family. My mom took it surprisingly harder than my father. I remember how harsh she was. I remember once, as my mom hurled insults and names, I stood steadfast (well, tried too), washing the dishes and just hoping it would all blow over. A few minutes, realizing what she had done, she came in. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “Those things I said”… That was all she could mutter before breaking down into tears. I hugged her. And we both cried.

But there were times she never apologized. By 19, after saving some money and networking, I headed to the Bay Area and tried to begin a new life, as muddled in addiction as it went. Years went by, and it wasn’t until a family tragedy that my mom realized that blood nor religion isn’t an indicator of how “good” a person can be. And that she had pushed away someone who truly wanted to be loved by her, but was no longer there. I think it caused a panic attack in her. Hearing her say “sorry” was honestly so relieving. It wasn’t enough for years of distance and isolation, but it was start.

We’ve kept in touch. Surprisingly, she took therapy at my suggestion, and started helping the victims of the family tragedy. But the money ran out, and without a means to keep therapy, she panicked.

Today, we talked on the phone. I tried to help in every which way I can, providing different opinions and angles to the issue. And it was in that conversation that I saw my mom for the complicated being she was. That every move she made was her best effort of doing the right thing – in her worldview. How can I be enraged at that? How could that be her fault? And what good was carrying that rage anyway?

Today I was able to do that because I’m clean. I was able to make my sponsor proud, be there for my mom, and actually get a feeling that recovery is making a difference in my life. I’ve relapsed many times in the past, but I hope that I’m done with that. I wanna focus on my recovery and I continue to grow in ways I just didn’t believe was possible.

Sober Day 22.

A few days ago, I heard someone in AA about how many of us in recovery will never hit the “white light” moment. You know, that experience that others say that in a blinding flash of white light, they knew in their hearts that there was a higher power, a God even, and it kept them clean ever since.

Good for them, I say.

What the lady said in that moment was exactly what I needed to hear. I know myself, and I know that even the most enlightening flashes of light that come across for me will never be met with a due “AHA!” moment. That is just not me. For many of us, the process to believing in something is gradual – a slow momentous process that takes time and patience. Who would have thought? From the most unexpected person (a white lady in her 60s), the twist came at me: that my higher power was never a being, but a process.

That I’ve never been really true to myself, and if I was to survive and keep in recovery, I’d have to be utterly honest. I needed to accept my sexuality, my position in society – not because I had a misplaced sense of pride in my predicament, but because acceptance is the first step in changing anything. And so, in that moment, I’ve realized that the process of decolonization was my higher power. Ironic eh? Here I am going about I never had a blinding moment, a blinding flash of light, and yet, here I am.

Addiction has been a pivotal force that came about with the expansion of capitalism, and hence, colonization. That “God” was mentioned in recovery was really a major turn off for me. God was the driving force in the expansion of Europe, and its consequence was the robbing of life and ways of life for millions of people. When I first entered, it was hard to not see the irony. That the ideology behind much of addiction was present in recovery. It kept me out.

But now it is different. The last several weeks, I’ve been looking for non-Christian, even anti-colonial methods of spirituality. It’s been a refreshing endeavor, except I don’t have time with work and all. But when I do, I try my best to make my research as best as I can. I suppose I will keep this site updated on what comes of this.

The last relapse was pretty harsh. It was just having to stop that was really hard – it was getting over the now massive hump of shame, and stopping the racing mind, who now just wanted the fix. My sponsor was, of course, worried (if not panicked). He called almost everyday. Of course he knew where my head was. For a week or so, I did not go to meetings, didn’t pray, didn’t reach out. And though I stopped use in a few days, the scorched earth remains of those few days reverberated in my life across the board.

The new jobs I was considering as options? Well, in order to keep one, I gave one up. If I were even more reckless, all options would be out the window. The new job change and better pay would not be a reality anymore. It barely is, though I’m happy to say I’ve not messed up the interview process. It will only be possible if I keep clean.

Friends in recovery knew something was wrong. They called, and tried to get in touch. Frankly, it was effort to avoid their support. As I did that, I felt a massive source of shame. Shame that they’ll see my face, of their reaction of either disappointment or rage would leave me in hole of more desperation. Because you see, they would never, EVER judge me like that. I was. The judgement I thought they would pour on me, was really my own.

Finally coming to a meeting was just utterly reliving. My sponsor immediately hugged me, sat next me, and was there. It would be later that I learned that my relapse, and my very close call to quit recovery, hit him hard. I’m just happy I didn’t let those thoughts over-take me. I love my sponsor, and I could not bear hurting yet another caring person because of my use.

Today marks day two of the ninety meetings in ninety days “challenge.” I have to start over yet again. I just hope that following the fire of a relapse that’s left behind scorched earth, all that can happen are for the seeds of those events to grow. Hopefully, a tree of wisdom can show up once again. I really really really hope that this will be the last time. I just don’t think I can handle another failure. I’ve run out of recovery chances. This is the last one, and I don’t intend to waste it.

June 9th, 2022

I relapsed.

Unlike other previous times, overcoming the guilt and shame was very, very VERY difficult. I didn’t wanna show my face to meetings. I didn’t want to write. My sponsor called and called, and I am positive I made him feel bad by ignoring each and every time.

The pressure of leaving my old job and delving into a new one, the stress of possibly seeing family in a cousin’s graduation (we’re not all on speaking terms), the possibility of moving, just to name a few things, were all triggers. In the end its on me of course. But I’ve realized I still have some underlying emotional problems and baggage that I’ve put under the rug. Things that I thought weren’t issues all of a sudden, are.

Materially and career wise, I know have everything I want. I changed to job that is much more my skill set, with better pay, and with room for growth. I even got a side writing job. It’s pretty amazing, and I have recovery to thank for.

But seeing family has me mixed up on my own identity. There’s a new reservation… An overwhelming shame not that I am an addict, but one that is fearful to show that I’m queer. The fact that I’m typing this. I don’t know. I’m ashamed that I’m ashamed. Before the relapse, I had made a calculation: that the shame of using again was worth it rather than the shame of being judged by my hetero-normative family. Frankly, it’s still there. Knowing that this is a factor, and putting it out there, helps me think of counter-plan. I plan to overcome this too.

For now, I have to start all over again.

The sabotage trigger happens when, under a desired, even beneficial endeavor is in the horizon, the addict feels compelled to use, causing the sight of a better life to crumble away. The relief trigger, on the other hand, is the active use after the desired outcome is achieved. Both types of triggers were really strong today, but I did not use. For once.

Today, we will focus on the sabotage trigger. I think by itself, the sabotage trigger really ruins a lot of folks, and its here where the compulsion is really obvious. Many people have ruined second chances, career options, and just overall a better life because from a relapse a day, even hours, before the hurdle is overcome! Not sure why this happens, but if I had to guess, it most likely has to do with the feelings of unworthiness. The stress of a job interview might be too much. Add to that the sense of worthlessness, the addict is not compelled nor willing to move forward on their lives. They may think that they do not deserve an improvement, and would rather just avoid the stressors. Drugs and alcohol, of course, are some of the ultimate avoidance strategies.

I’ve done this myself. It was in the middle of the preparation of the interview that the feelings of cravings began to rear its ugly and crippling head. There was more though.

The job interview was farther than the place where I’d actually be hired to work (their main offices were about 50-60 miles away). And it was near this location where my use was active. The memories, locations and familiar places was a looming presence. If it weren’t for the support I have now, I definitely would have used before even making it to the interview.

But I didn’t.

And as the interview came to a close, I was hoping to wait around for old friends. Unfortunately, it was a weekday, and everyone was going to be open in three to four hours. Knowing that my cravings were just feeding off from the bodily compulsion of desire, I removed myself of the situation. I went home.

Though I wished I could have stayed, I had to do what I had to do in a weak moment. Else I wouldn’t be typing this at this very moment. I hope that one day, I can go into a familiar location and simply enjoy the community there than engage in use. I guess this will take time.

During my active addiction, my mental health was delayed and unkempt, and my attendance showed. Overtaken by emotions, memories and rage, my job suffered. I remember that despite these traits, when a higher position of my skill-set opened up, I was still encouraged to apply. It was difficult to overcome feeling of worthlessness and low self-esteem that delayed my application.

Flash forward over a half year into active recovery, and boy, what a different situation. My performance has improved. The paralyzing anxiety caused by different aspects of my job has become manageable. During my hospitalization, I thought… well. What am I doing? Do I really want to keep working at the office, dealing with the stress of customer service? And deep down, I knew the answer – No.

So I did what I could do with months of being clean. I started to apply to jobs that were in line with my ambitions, skills and passions. Lo and behold, I now have several options to choose from! Who. Would. Have. Thought! I can’t underestimate how this was possible by being clean. Before, I couldn’t even fathom that I deserved a better paying position. Now, I am not comfortable with the sameness and lack of growth and better pay that I am confident I deserve.

List of what I’m grateful for:

1. I’m grateful for the pure and loving moments I had with my ex-partner. He may be a jerk sometimes but I cherish when we were together.

2. I’m appreciative that my brothers can come to me with questions on education and career decisions, because I’m clear-headed to be present.

3. I’m extremely grateful for a 4 work-week!! WOOT WOOT!

4. I’m grateful of the upcoming job opportunities.

5. I’m grateful for the patience and love of my current job, despite my need to outgrow it.

6. I’m grateful for someone who’s become closer in the past few weeks.