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Post by Covad on Mar 22, 2006 19:28:03 GMT -5
I agree completely BlackSpiral. I have found that writing out an exhaustive list of all the pain I have experienced as a result of acting out has proven very helpful. Listing the negatives on paper has given me a place to go to reinforce the association between pain and porn. It also helps me remember the pain when my list is not with me and the pleasurable memories of my addiction creep in.
Thanks for your thoughts.
Covad
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Post by 1975 on Apr 15, 2006 14:46:17 GMT -5
Hope you're well.
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Post by BlackSpiral on Apr 16, 2006 2:42:47 GMT -5
Indeed I am! Thanks for asking. :-) And then, on to my post...
One more landmark! Yes indeed! As of April 11th, I've passed 30 months sober. So hooray for that. Truth to tell, I barely noticed that it was coming up - my sobriety is important to me, and my sobriety date is less so. That said, I always thought I should post something when I hit my landmarks. So here I am, posting one more time, and looking to see what's crossing my mind at the moment.
I suppose the thing that's most prominent at the moment is the idea of caring. Not so much caring for other people, or being a caring person, but caring about the self; the person you are, or the person you could be. I think it's important to the person trying to recover that they care enough about themselves to be willing to make sacrifices, or to put in effort, for their own sake.
For many, there are people in their lives they would be willing to make sacrifices for. Some would give their lives to protect their children, others might do the same for their partners, parents, siblings or friends. The reason is, we care about them, and we want to protect them. But when we don't care about ourselves, when we only see the negative parts to ourselves, we may not feel the same way about protecting ourself. We may not want to save ourselves from pain; or if we would want to, we may not care enough to be willing to make the sacrifices and put in the effort that it takes.
Against that, related to what I wrote not too long ago, there is a lot of misconception amongst addicts about what their addiction is; what it really represents to them. The first experiences are usually the strongest, and often are full of positives; and because they make such a solid, deep impression, they may heavily outweigh more recent, realistic experiences that highlight the true negatives of the addiction. The fact that the addiction brings with it pain and regret, that it's hollow and unsatisfying, that it can make the person feel unclean, the things it could cost them too, all those are lost in the cloud of the old perceptions, back when the addiction may not even have been an addiction yet. Back when all we were really aware of was the emotional rush we got, back when it still seemed to be without any consequences, back when we still thought it was harmless.
Perception is a big deal, and when our newer perceptions clash with our older perceptions, that creates doubt and conflict. The appeal can come from the old concepts and perceptions; the repulsion from the newer experience and concrete feelings. But when we allow ourselves to get caught up in the older elements, to become lost in the old perceptions and experiences, we can so easily lose our focus. We focus on what we perceive as the pleasant elements, the things that attracted us to it in the first place, and lose sight of the recent realities that caused us to want to recover in the first place; so even if we DID care enough about ourselves to want to do something positive, healing for us, we can find ourselves in a place where giving up seems like that positive, healing action; where returning to the addiction seems like the thing that we should do because we care about ourselves.
Perception is vital; and understanding how our thoughts and recollections can warp and shape our present perceptions, change our focus and belief and, ultimately, change our behaviour, hands us the chance to use one simple tool; the tool of watching how we think, seeing what we're thinking, understanding where it'll end up, and choosing how we want to respond to that.
It'll still be choice; it'll still be down to us. But by knowing and understanding what is going on, what is happening, and how we will begin to be influenced by certain patterns of thought, certain focii, we are able to make an informed choice, rather than walking around blindfold in the pit and hoping against hope that we're walking out, not further in.
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Becomer
New Member
Shaping my soul with every thought and action.
Posts: 44
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Post by Becomer on Apr 16, 2006 23:39:48 GMT -5
BlackSpriral,
Congrats on hitting your 30 month mark! I'm glad you care about yourself; getting better at that is one of my highest priorities.
I just want to say thanks and encourage you to keep sharing your thoughts. I need examples and insights and suggestions. Getting them all in your journal.
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Post by witness on Apr 17, 2006 8:28:42 GMT -5
I enjoyed hearing what you have to say about "perception". In my case always remembering how bad this is and how bad I feel when doing it is a great motivation to never go back to that dark hole again.
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Post by BlackSpiral on May 3, 2006 21:02:12 GMT -5
The Frustration Game One thing that I think many addicts don't, or won't acknowledge is the frustration they feel about giving up some elements of their addiction, especially with the things around it, where it isn't always obvious that it's related to the addiction at all. Although blunt, and not really related to what I'm about to talk about, a clear example of that is looking at a woman as she walks down the street - it's not porn, it's not pornography, it's not explicit in any way. It's the sort of behaviour that many men seem to indulge in, and that most addicts probably did before their addiction ever took root in their lives. But to the addict, it may be too closely linked to their addiction, and the behaviours and substance of their addiction, to be something they can return to - even though once upon a time, while perhaps immoral, this behaviour may have been far from destructive for them.
The problem for the addict is that, often, they feel the desire to deny this side to themselves as they recover - they want to feel positive and enthused by recovery and sobriety, and don't want to admit to any negative feelings they have about it. But denial of the frustrations and negative emotions they feel can be far more dangerous than acknowledgement. A problem acknowledged and accepted can be addressed, while one ignored or denied is given the freedom to fester and grow worse.
I've gone through this only a handful of times, fortunately, but recently, I went through it quite vividly, and felt the need to write out about my experiences here. I think the trigger was actually separate from it - one night, my wife asked me a question while I was falling asleep, and as I wracked my brain to try and find the answer to it, I ended up recalling a large number of old, long ignored images from my memory. By the time I realised they were building up - which took not very long, but longer than I would normally have allowed if I was in a brighter frame of mind - they were swimming around my head, and I ended up having to meditate to cleanse my mind again and fall asleep. The echoes of those images, though, swam through my mind on and off for the next couple of days before they vanished entirely, and I think that unsettled state laid the foundation for what followed. My wife pointed this out to me today; I'd not been able to pick out the trigger for this until she mentioned it, as I had clean forgot about the whole episode.
Anyway...when I'm outside of my emotional centre, when I'm unsettled or no longer within my stable, peaceful comfort zone, I know that I tend to respond less well to outside stimuli than I would otherwise, as well as inside stimuli such as memories (by which, I don't generally mean memories of my addiction). A typical side-effect of that is that I'll end up becoming frustrated by something, or annoyed, or simply saddened. I will do what I should in response, but the fact that I can't "just be" grows frustrating and disappointing. Once I'm in that state of mind, memories of the things I quit - mostly, not things that are really pornographic or even close to - and things I used to do will pile up on top. That doesn't usually frustrate me, but instead, tends to sadden me and leave me feeling down and depressed about the decisions I've made. Some of those are simple and obviously related to the addiction; like wanting to just be able to look at an image that pops up on a screen, rather than avoid it. That's one of those "just be" things, where the need for vigilance can sometimes be frustrating. But far more commonly, the depression is related to other things; films, videogames, TV programmes or other things that I gave up in my life, in order to support my recovery; things that seem independent and clean in many ways, but which have had a history of impacting my addiction in the past.
The poisonous element of this whole cycle, though, is the urge to deny it or hide from it. Because underneath I'm aware of the irrationality and unreasonable nature of these thoughts and feelings, and because I recognise them as potentially destructive, I don't always want to own up to them or give them real air-time in my head; instead, I'll try to resolve them. But inside my head, my thoughts don't always fit together neatly; they move around too much, they seem to exist independently of each other and don't always connect nicely with cause-and-effect. I try to think them through logically and rationally, but the irrational nature of the thoughts just doesn't allow them to mesh; so instead of being really resolved, they get either pushed aside, or sometimes actually strengthened by some other, equally irrational thought that crosses my mind.
As with many of these things, talking or writing about them is the important thing, and because honesty is also vital to my relationship, I will usually choose to talk to my wife about it. On top of this, she has a lot of insight into addiction, and as much useful knowledge about the events within my own addiction as I do; so she can often help me to get things out, put them into context and understand them. And in this case, resolution is as simple as that - the acknowledgement and acceptance of the frustrations and sadness that have accompanied recovery greatly improves my ability to resolve and cope with those feelings.
I don't think that people like to acknowledge the negative feelings they hold about what they have given up. Perhaps they feel that it would make them be less holy somehow. But to me, both being able to acknowledge and accept these feelings is vital to being able to resolve them and come to terms with them; as CV has said, you need to feel it to heal it. But also, you need to admit you heal it. Otherwise, you're trying to deal with a gashed leg that you refuse to acknowledge is even scratched, and you simply can't take the next important steps.
In my case...most of the things that sadden me are related to the addiction, sometimes loosely and sometimes less so, and they are things I have some very positive memories of. But I am no longer the person I was in the memories, and I'm no longer in the same position. I always understood what returning to those things potentially meant for me, even if the elements that threatened me were small; that it was dangerous, and that I had created in myself a toxic response to them. And equally, I understood that it wasn't the existence of them, or encountering them, that was a threat; but rather, accepting them and allowing them to be in my life without any restrictions attached. It's a poisonous mix that, while it seems tempting sometimes, has the potential to ruin my recovery if it is allowed in unfettered. If not right away, then definitely in the long term, through the subtle, small steps that addiction usually takes.
I know this...I've known it since the earliest days of my recovery. It's the reason that I chose to make these sacrifices in the first place. But in a bad place sometimes, I struggle to really connect; and when I begin to bottle up my sadness and frustration, it begins to ferment and become poisonous. Simply opening up that bottle and allowing it all to pour out is the one thing that helps me more than any other.
Anything bottled inside can become poisonous; releasing it is vital. The more poisonous the thing, the more vital it is to get it out, rather than keeping it in. And that is perhaps the hardest part of healing; to acknowledge our worst sicknesses and ailments as a part of ourselves, to expose them to others, in order that we may go on to heal them.
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Post by BlackSpiral on Jun 15, 2006 1:24:34 GMT -5
Baffled Now, I know I have a tendency to be here and there with the board - sometimes I'm more active, sometimes less, sometimes I'm barely here at all for a while. And as a result, often I come back, and I find myself wondering who is who, who all these new names are, and trying to work out who is where in their recovery - did this person manage to stay sober after all? Is that person still sober after all this time, and is this other person still slipping and sliding and failing to get a real grip on things? I often find myself feeling a little out of the loop.
But this is getting ridiculous.
Now, I can't even count on people to be the people that it looks like they are. All of a sudden, Jim is Joe, who was banned from the board, but was actually Billy before that, who was sober for three days before declaring themselves recovered, and who claimed to be married to Angie, who was really Sylvia, who was actually this, that, the other thing, blah blah, I just cannot follow all this craziness. It seems like half the board has suddenly ended up being either Liz, or Deerhunter. Or is Deerhunter Liz? Or maybe they're both Veritas, playing a reverse-psychology game? And who on earth is this tootootootootootootrue? How many toos does one true need? And how many insults could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck had a really bad day?
Argh...
It's madness. The only thing I can think is that, after running out of actual trolls to come and troll their trolliness on the board, we got bored and decided to troll ourselves instead. And the ones who don't want to troll are trying to guess the troll, like some bad game of I've Got A Secret or Through the Keyhole. It's Veritas! No, it's Liz, with Deerhunter, or Veritas! Is it RisingPhoenix? No, no, I have it! It's Curious Voyager, or maybe it could be August Hope, or, hey, wait a minute, could it be me?
Who needs insanity? One day on the board lately, and I feel like a schizophrenic having an out-of-body experience.
Mad, I tell you...
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initiative
New Member
"Wisdom is knowing path to take next; integrity is taking it."
Posts: 8
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Post by initiative on Jul 3, 2006 17:09:04 GMT -5
I've read excerpts from the journal and you've inspired me further.
Thank you for your gift - to yourself and to others.
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Post by BlackSpiral on Oct 31, 2006 4:29:04 GMT -5
A late comment... The fact that I don't post here much will be little surprise to most of the people here by now, I would think. I still read here sometimes, but life has this way of intruding, and for the most part I've been spending my time living it. There's an immense amount of freedom in that, I think; to be able to just live, and not worry about slipping.
Most recently, I hit my three years sober mark (hooray!) and the most recent comment, from an SO, was that I shouldn't get complacent - and I think it'd be easy for people to look at where I am, and how I am, and think "he's gotten complacent, he's done for". But it's not that way at all, and I'm going to spend a little time talking about exactly where I am, what I do, and what I go through.
When I began recovery, it was with a simple vision - being able to live life, without this great lead weight hanging over my head and chained to my ankle, constantly feeling like it was stopping me from going anywhere, or waiting to drop on me any minute. Back then, I was overcome by cravings often; I had spent years struggling to get sober, with stops on the way where I would just throw in the towel and come up with that week's justification for why it was all okay anyway, and why really, using porn was just a normal thing to do, perfectly understandable, and shouldn't hurt anyone anyway, so what was the big deal...blah, blah, and so forth. So to get sober, I needed to attack my recovery with tools, every day, every hour, all the time.
I immersed myself in it, then. But even then, it was with a view to the fact that - eventually - I wouldn't have to. Likening it to a sink, I didn't want to spend my whole life examining every pipe and every seal every single day, just to make sure that there wasn't the faintest beginning of a leak. What I wanted, instead, was to fix the broken plumbing, then remain aware of the fact that it was there, while going about the rest of my life and just living it. If I couldn't do that, then at the core of recovery, there was little purpose. Happiness is the root of life for me, and I can't be happy if I have to spend all my time watching over my shoulder for a big green goblin who's going ooga-booga-booga and trying to mess up my day.
Instead, I live my day normally, and if said goblin shows up, I hit him with a hockey stick for a while, then carry on as normal again.
I think that's where complacency and security differ drastically, and it's a distinction that's important. Complacency is sitting inside a paper house, believing that the goblin won't show up; then when he does, he tears down your house and kicks you in the knackers repeatedly, while you lament the fact that the goblin showed up after all. Security, on the other hand, is living in a house where you feel happy and comfortable, living life in a comfortable and happy way, but knowing exactly where your hockey stick is in case that goblin decides to show up at the door. And knowing, if he does show up, that you're going to bash him over the head with that hockey stick until he leaves.
I don't have perfection in mind; I suppose it would be a lot to ask for, having already thrown it away. After all, I can't erase my past; the best I can do is live the present in the way I would choose to. I sometimes have old memories come back, things long forgotten, that will sometimes come clean out of the blue for no obvious reason at all; but experience has taught me both how to respond well, and what to do if I start to see memories coming back in a pattern. For the most part, I live life without these interruptions; but when they show up, I know what I have to do, and I'm ready and prepared to do it. I don't allow the addiction to regain its foothold. I continue living my life and doing what I want to do, and don't live in fear, because I know now that I'm stronger than it is; but I also respect and recognise it as being strong too, and know that the longer it remains, the stronger it'll get - so I won't allow it to run free. If and when it shows up, I'll give it a black eye and a limp, then send it back on its merry way before it has a chance to grow strong again.
For me, that's what I wanted from my recovery. Not complacency, where I sit and believe in freedom until it is wrenched from me; nor fear, where I walk around every day, trying to second-guess every footstep, avoid every terrible trigger, and dissect every thought to make sure it fits my Criteria for Acceptable Thinking. Instead, I live life; happy, comfortable, and free, but with a sturdy hockey-stick on hand in case I happen to find myself in need of it.
But one more thing... And that's to say this - firstly, I didn't start out here, and if I had tried to begin my recovery like this, I would never have gotten here, either. It's like any other practiced art; the hard work comes first, and needs to be done if it's ever to become natural and familiar. After even a whole year sober, I couldn't have approached my recovery like I do today; it would have been the death of my sobriety. The place I'm in today is, in some ways, a kind of reward for hard work; an achieved goal.
And secondly; while I may not work to avoid every trigger, or second guess every footstep, part of that is because avoiding SOME of the triggers is so second-nature to me that I don't think about it; and the steps I'm taking have been practiced through a lot of time spent, working hard, thinking hard, and concentrating very hard on every single step. I still avoid things; it's just that today, the things I avoid are so well practiced that I'm able to live my life without really having to think about them. The times I DO have to think about them - well, that's when the hockey stick comes out...
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Post by reconstituting on Oct 31, 2006 4:41:03 GMT -5
Thanks Black, It gives me a position to aspire to. Right now I'm here several times a day and spending a lot of time changing my mindset - I hope to a position like yours has become.
Best wishes
Recon
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Post by witness on Oct 31, 2006 6:13:54 GMT -5
I like the hockey stick analogy. As long as you have it handy and are ready to use it, I don't think that is complaciency. Sounds like you are armed and ready to attack when temptations arise.
Blessings!
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Post by sahasnayya on Nov 9, 2006 5:09:38 GMT -5
BlackSpiral, Yours is one of the best journals/writings I have read on this topic. It is really inspiring to read about how you analyzed and systematically followed a plan (the little book, removing triggers that were not so direct, etc.). I hope you will continue to share your thoughts to this board.
Cheers Sahas
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Post by BlackSpiral on Nov 26, 2006 17:59:33 GMT -5
The Sense of Self One of the things that's both vital, and occasionally difficult to do in my recovery, is to be honest about everything that I'm feeling, and to express it. This is aggravated a little bit by the fact that my wife is my sponsor, as if I'm feeling something that I think may hurt her, it makes me hesitant to express it. However, time has taught me that we always do well with this, and that every time we discuss something, we move on further. Most often, I leave having either learned something new, or having been reassured about something I already knew or believed.
The most recent of these happened today, and has to do with the sense of self - not so much in having one, as in terms of exactly what the self is comprised of. I realised that, sometimes - though a good way from often - I was experiencing a kind of emotional conflict; a sort of small war. On the one hand, my beliefs, values, morals and behaviour; on the other, my sense of myself, who I was, what made me up, and what I thought, did, believed and so forth.
The essence of it is this; my recovery has been established for a few years now, and my behaviour - within the line of my morals and values - has become very natural, almost second nature. It's built on top of beliefs that I respect, and that I think are at least relatively admirable - anything less, I suspect, and I would have felt a need to move further on from the very beginning. However, as natural and easy as this way of thinking and behaving is, on some core level, it doesn't really feel like me - there's a slightly alien property to it, as if it comes from outside of me, rather than from within.
Against that, there is the reverse. Not strictly all the worst points of my addiction, but to a great extent, some of the things on the edges, and some of the oldest elements. Parts of my addiction - or at least, of behaviour that is related very closely to the addiction I would develop later on in my life - formed a part of my growing up, an element of myself that is difficult to dismiss. It was a part of my development, and in the early days, reflected more than influenced me. These things are tied to morals that I cannot respect; beliefs I don't hold; behaviours I dislike and despise in the person I became. Yet, at that same fundamental level, it does feel like me; as though this is who I was.
This creates something of an emotional paradox. On the one hand, my current beliefs and values drive where I am today; yet do not feel like me. On the other, my old behaviour feels like me, but is at odds with the morals and values I have developed; neither is an entirely comfortable place. This wouldn't happen all the time, but when it did, it would cause me a significant discomfiture; a belief in and a respect for one side, yet accompanied by a feeling that, despite this, I somehow belonged in the other.
I imagine I'm not the only one that goes through something like this, which is part of why I'm writing about it. Indeed, as talking to my wife today revealed, she experienced much the same thing going through some of her own recoveries in the past. Ultimately, what it boils down to is this sense of past and present- an unclear, incomplete separation of the two, or an incomplete acceptance of the fact that that is who I used to be, but this is who I am.
As with many things, understanding is the key step for me; the one I'm seeking, the one I always try to put first, and move on from. It brings with it acceptance and hope - while the feelings are not understood, they are hard to handle and cope with, hard to accept, hard to move on from, and even hard to acknowledge at times. There was, before this, a sense that the feelings were a blight; a poison or a pestilence infecting the recovery, damaging my movement, hindering my growth. Now, instead of that, they seem like what they are; scars and marks of the past, old chains, the echo of a man who used to be but no longer is. And that knowledge in itself, is power; because now, when those feelings come up, I will see them as this. Not the present impulse, but the past recalled; not what is, but what was.
These feelings for me created a sense of uncertainty and some doubt; a sense that, somehow, perhaps what I was doing - though morally right, and perhaps admirable - was not what I should do, and that who I was becoming was not who I should be, not really me. But from this standpoint, I recognise that as what it is; a product of a dramatic change, made deliberately for perhaps the first time in my life. And for the first time in a very long time, it has meant moving beyond beliefs and behaviours that lie in the roots of the person I had grown into; my passive growth had led me in one direction, and this deliberate choice has broken with it, leaving me - for the first time - feeling at odds with who I used to be.
I think that sense of being isolated from my own self was dangerous, as the sense of distance from me left me with doubts about my path, and I feel that those doubts, left untouched, unopened or unanswered, would have ultimately led to me bringing my recovery and sobriety to an untimely end, simply for the sake of feeling like I was me again. Quite simply, I'm not used to having grown deliberately, or with purpose; and this had left me with a sense of feeling lost, almost feeling cut off from who I was. But what I learned and came to understand this morning, in a more crystal way, allowed me to move beyond; to both understand and accept the new self, and to recognise how he relates to the self who was.
Now, with this, who I am feels natural; a progression of the old self, rather than a complete separation from it. Such a simple understanding; and perhaps it should be obvious. I suppose things like this are, once they've been understood. But yesterday, I did not; and today, I do. And I know, because of where I'm sitting now, just how important a realisation this has been for me.
Not just in terms of being sober, and staying on the path of recovery; but for feeling that this path is the right one, and that at the end of it, I will still be there.
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Post by imtheoneincontrol on Nov 27, 2006 1:16:25 GMT -5
Interesting post. Rather difficult to fathom. I often feel like my old self when I go home for Thanksgiving weekend, say, and hang out with all my old high school friends who tend to talk a lot about certain women's physical attributes. All that joking around and feeling good, making flippant conversation about sex, makes me feel like my old self and so good. Coming back to school reminds me that I'm trying to grow into a responsible, educated man, with a position in society that can be jeopardized by untoward sexual behavior. It's very difficult coming back here to school after a fun weekend with the guys. I'm scared of the new me; I feel that he is an imposition on the old me that doesn't come from myself. He comes from without - from an idea of what a I should be, as imposed by society. I feel it's very important not to repress too much the old me, who never fully goes away, after all. I think sexual jokes can be a very good way to release some of the moral tension that wells up inside of me. I do think that growing into the new self and retaining the old self, as a seed for the new self to grow from, is a healthy part of growing spiritually. Thanks for sharing your thoughts.
itoic
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Post by BlackSpiral on Jan 14, 2007 20:45:28 GMT -5
The Invisible Woman One of the things I've seen expressed more than once here is, simply, the concept that I (myself, me, Mr. BlackSpiral) somehow recovered by myself - that I didn't need a support group, and that I was able to develop an independent, entirely individual recovery.
I think I've been misquoted; and it concerns me deeply that people may be throwing away a potentially very strong source of support to pursue recovery without any support whatsoever.
The fact is, my recovery ISN'T entirely individual, isolated, just by myself, all on my own. It never was; nor did I ever claim it to be. The keystone in my recovery was, and largely has been, my wife; a woman with extensive experience of successful recovery, a great depth of understanding of psychology, and - also critical at some points - a knowledge and experience of the beliefs and applied methods of the 12 step groups. She's my partner and confidante, and my sponsor and counselor.
Now, while I don't agree with all that the 12 step groups hold to be fact, I DO agree with a lot of it - the vast majority, in fact. And many of their methods, techniques and concepts were brought into my own recovery. They weren't alone; I added my own ideas, and the ideas and beliefs of others who weren't walking the 12 step path. But there was one critical concept that I took from the 12 step groups, and which I have carried since.
Recovery is damned hard if you try to go at it all alone.
I've had a sponsor since day one; I wrote about such here, too. My sponsor was knowledgeable and experienced, and able to give to me much of the knowledge and wisdom that I might otherwise not have been able to get. And that's critical. I said myself, here, I tried to work with a sponsor who didn't know or understand these ideas; one who cared about me, who was intelligent, who could logically understand the issues at hand.
But even with all of this, he was unable to fulfil the role of sponsor effectively; and it's because, to my mind, there are three aspects that are absolutely vital to a good sponsor. Firstly, trust in and (ideally) admiration for the sponsor, so that you will listen to them and believe what they tell you; secondly, experience of the struggle so that they can relate to your problems and really allow you to share the problems with someone who doesn't just sympathise, and last, experience of success in overcoming it, so that they can offer both advice, and hope. He had the first of those; and in the second, he could perhaps relate from his own addictions. But in the latter, he had nothing to offer at all; no success, no experience of overcoming. Not for nothing do the twelve step groups talk about sharing Experience, Strength and Hope; because sometimes, without those being shared with you by others, you can find yourself without any of your own.
(As a side note; I also believe that purely-online sponsorship is lacking depth and immediacy, and is a pale shadow of sponsorship either by phone or in person. But I digress.)
It's an important fact about my recovery that there have been times when, quite simply, I would not have recovered without my sponsor. Yes, I could have - but I'm in no illusion about what the reality would have brought me at the time. Without my sponsor there to share her own experience, to help me see past the moment of the struggle, pain and seemingly unending cravings and to realise that there really was a light at the end of the tunnel, I would have caved in - not to any inevitability, or to anything ultimately insurmountable, but instead, to a mounting sense of despair, hopelessness, and a growing belief that it would never end; and the desire to do something - anything to escape from it.
In the end, yes - I do believe that you can recover alone. But I also believe that it's damned hard, and that if you have any option of obtaining support, then throw it away and continue to struggle, then you simply haven't reached the point of being willing to face the discomfort of seeking out that support, and putting your recovery ahead of your personal comfort zone. I reached the point of researching the 12 step groups myself; collecting their literature, reading it, talking to my wife about it. I was seeking any means of support I could find; and although I didn't agree with all that they said, and felt deeply uncomfortable about the very idea of joining a group, I knew I needed help, and was seeking a group to attend. After all, the discomfort I potentially faced there was next to nothing, compared to the discomfort I'd gone through to approach my wife and be open about this whole addiction in the first place.
In the end, I was lucky - without any shadow of doubt - to have someone like my wife in my life instead, and have the luxury of being able to combine much the strength of the 12 step groups with my own, personal beliefs that didn't quite jive with theirs, as well as her beliefs about how life moves on beyond the 12 steps. My recovery, past a certain point, developed quite apart from their methods and beliefs - but in the early months especially, there were a great deal of ideas, exercises and words of comfort and hope that came almost directly from the 12 step groups, directly into my life, to help me stay on my feet and keep believing both in my path, and in my capacity to walk it.
In short; I may not be a 12 step member; but that doesn't mean I recovered alone. I didn't - far from it. And even if you don't agree with all that they say, I honestly believe that seeking out a 12 step group, and looking to find support through them, will make things far, far easier on you than they would be if you tried to recover alone, isolated and independent. Isolation is a strength of the addiction; not of the addict seeking recovery.
Ultimately, recovery is about change and choice; and if you continue to try the same steps, walk the same path, and find yourself going in the same circle, then you need to change - it's been said here more than once that a definition of insanity is repeatedly doing the same thing and expecting different results, but far, far too many end up walking in an endless circle of struggle and failure, stubbornly refusing to make changes that they don't want to make, even if those changes may help them break the cycle. It's a fact of life that change is hard; it's threatening, frightening and unfamiliar, and ultimately, the discomfort and pain of the addiction that you know is a familiar ache. That familiarity will sometimes make it seem preferable to the unfamiliar, the alien, and - just as often - the misunderstood, perceived discomfort, projected onto something that we simply don't know anything about, and have no real experience of beyond our own preconceptions.
So, if you're sticking in one place, going nowhere, trying to recover alone and failing, then I'd ask you to ask yourself a simple question - is the discomfort of seeking out a group for support with your addiction greater, or less than the discomfort of the idea that you will continue to slip and fail as you are right now?
Are you willing to face yourself and take that step?
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