Three years into recovery, I will level with you: at times, it is tedious. The repetition of maintaining one’s recovery can zap the serenity, feed resentments, and send you into a spin.
I came across this sentiment while watching “Elementary,” so feeling it comes as little surprise to me.
These feelings are fleeting, to be honest. They dissipate with practicing gratitude.
This week, I read—as I often do—about a man who was missing. The police released an appeal out of concern for his well-being. Sadly, these kinds of posts are common. This guy was similar in age to me, and the ominous update later came that he had been found. The “no suspicious circumstances” statement implied that his demise was self-inflicted.
When I think back to my darkest moments, I felt that option was a solution to the problem that was me. Thankfully, a flicker of hope remained bright enough that I was able to find help and support. My story has been one of rescue; I am one of the lucky ones.
In our meetings, we have a moment of reflection to consider the addict who still suffers. My thoughts were with this poor soul who I never knew, but on some level, I suspect his picture was taken in a clinical booth, implying a legal intervention. I would assume the weight of his reality was too much to bear. I don’t pretend to know this, but that would be true for some of the many who I often see written about.
At times, the routine of meetings is a repetition I wish I could avoid, but these sobering moments—remembering where I could have ended up—provide me with the smelling salts I need.
I was away last week on a business trip. The disrupted routine and alien environment meant I had to be extra vigilant about my feelings, triggers, and working my program.
I would love to report that it all went without a hitch, and in reality, that’s not far from the truth. But the pesky brain of an addict often serves up a few curveballs. In this instance, my intrusive thought was a nostalgic one, reminiscing and rose-tinted thinking. Like the member berries in South Park high on nostalgia.
As I marched back to my hotel, a news agent with an open door showed me the top-shelf magazines. I remembered the adrenal hit of having the guts to buy one. My tech is so locked down that the blind nostalgic thought of “oh, remember magazines, wouldn’t it be good if I just…?”
Control only applies to how we respond. In this case, I dismissed that thought and sent it packing. But my thousand-yard stare to pick out a porn mag at a hundred paces shows just how conditioned my brain can still be, even after all this time.
Here’s what you need to remember: there is always hope. We need connection to others, and there is always help available. The Step Nine promises remind us of the correct lens to view things:
If we are painstaking about this phase of our development, we will be amazed before we are half way through. We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness. We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it. We will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace. No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others. That feeling of uselessness and self pity will disappear. We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows. Self-seeking will slip away. Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change. Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us. We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us. We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves.
Are these extravagant promises? We think not. They are being fulfilled among us—sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. They will always materialize if we work for them.
The primary purpose of the program is to carry the message to those who suffer from addiction. I wish doing so for sex addiction wasn’t such a dark subject matter. The shame and alienation that happen mean suffering people hide in plain sight. Whatever the manifestation of this disease, all deserve a chance to find recovery and redemption.
If you have stumbled upon this post in desperation, know that there is help out there. If you want to be signposted to places to get help, reach out.
https://www.samaritans.org/how-we-can-help/contact-samaritan/chat-online/
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