A Story of Recovery from Our Founder
To our readers. I was asked to speak at a particularly large meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. And while I have 16 years of sobriety, I’m still anxious speaking to hundreds of people.
I felt like I had an obligation to say something important and meaningful. Something that would impact people, those in early recovery to those with more time that me. That’s a daunting ask and turned out to be an unrealistic way to look at the exercise.
So here is what I ended up saying (well this was my pre-written speech, but I winged it on the podium. I’ve also attached the audio recording of that talk so you can here how awry I actually went lol.
Wow. This is kinda a big deal. I really never thought I would speak at a meeting like this. I guess I never imagined a life with 16 years of consecutive non-drinking or using. Frankly I didn’t really know what I was signing up for all those years ago.
Well, I guess I’ll follow the standard ‘what it was like, what happened and what it’s like now’. But dang, I’ve got 45 minutes so I guess I can go all the way back to the beginning.
I was born in a crossfire hurricane. Ok, no, that’s not actually true. I wish Jagger wrote those lyrics for me because it would explain a lot of things. But the truth is my childhood was pretty great. I can’t recall anything bad happening through my early teens. I don’t think I felt different or alone or not part of or not accepted. My parents weren’t alcoholics, didn’t hurt me, gave me tons of love and I had some great friends. I did struggle in school but I don’t remember it making me feel one way or another. Or maybe I just haven’t done enough therapy to remember it all. No, that’s not true either, shinks love me and I’ve seen a ton of em, and I don’t mind it that much either.
So WTF happened? I guess I’ve learned that it doesn’t really matter if we’re born with this disease, it’s a disease of circumstance, or if I just simply like getting high. But I think it’s a combination of all those things and more. Maybe that desire, or need, to isolate and escape was always there. And maybe, as life went on for me, some circumstances did encourage me to feed that need. So I’ll share a little bit about that because I think it’s important in this program to share things, even if I think they aren’t important. Or even if I can’t make the connection for myself. See because that’s what’s so special about Alcoholics Anonymous. For me, it’s not a place just to talk about my problems in hopes that I can fix them. For me its a place to share my problems and my circumstances and my decisions and actions and all that so that I can help fix someone else problems. And If I do that, then there’s a good chance that someone else will share something; something they think is pointless or meaningless, but in fact it helps fix my problems, or helps me get out of my circumstances. This is a we program. It’s not about me helping me. It’s about me helping you helping me. And like the text says “alcoholism is a subtle foe”. Well I like to take that statement a little further and say that recovery is equally subtle. And for me, that’s why there are so many facets to this program. There’s meetings. There the Big Book. There a ton of official and unofficial literature. There are speakers. There are sponsors and sponsees. There is fellowship. And there is history. And each one of those things are complex and by no means binary.
So as I grew up some things started happening in my family that were impacting me in certain ways. I actually don’t think I realized the impact at the time and my parents did a pretty good job shielding that stuff from me, for better or worse. My dad was a workaholic and was not at home too much between ages 12 and 17. My mom struggled with depression and substance abuse (prescribed not recreation). With my dad out and my mom having good days and bad, and being an only child, I found myself taking care of myself a lot. And often I was taking care of my mom. Most of the time it seemed normal, but in hindsight I don’t think it was. I developed that double edged sword of self-sufficiency. On the one hand being independent, self-sufficient and non-reliant was a skill that has served me beyond words. I can “do” just about anything, I’m responsible and reliable. I get stuff done. I come through. I make it happen. But on the other hand that leaves me lonely, tired, frustrated and sometimes downright angry. But up until the point that I got sober, I only saw the one side. The positive side. But all the while the feelings of loneliness, frustration and anger were brewing inside, with no outlet and no relief. It wasn’t until college that I started to act on those feelings. Still in my subconscious but not willing to stay in anymore.
Now some people have no love for their using and drinking days. Some people hate the path they had to take to get here. And that’s totally fine. However you get here and however you feel about how you got here, that’s fine. You got here. For me, I know I would not have gotten here, certainly not in my late 20’s, had I not had the experiences I had. And so I don’t regret them. I embrace them. And you’ve probably heard like I have many times in meetings “the drugs and alcohol were not the problem.” In fact, for many of us it was the solution. But then the solution stopped working. Oh man, when I heard that for the first time I was like, they get me, I’m in the right place. I didn’t feel ashamed of my path and hearing that helped me embrace the path. When I finally left home and arrived at college I was given a level of freedom I’d never experienced before. I could do what I wanted, when I wanted and I didn’t have to take care of anyone but myself. And take care of myself I did. I quickly fell in love with drinking and soon fell in love with using. It was such an effective escape. It was a way for me to connect with people. It was a way for me to express myself. It was a way for me to let out those feelings of loneliness, frustration and anger in a reasonably healthy way. Seriously, it wasn’t out of control at first and it really worked for me. And I don’t feel guilty when I say that I really needed it.
The problem was that I was really just shifting focus from one place to another but not really looking at what was really going on for me. It’s kinda like a “geographic” we hear in meetings. You go from one place to another in hopes that you’ll leave all your baggage in the old place but then you wake up in the new place and all your bags are just sitting there at the edge of your bed just where you left them. The common denominator is me. I bring me wherever I go. And when I started using alcohol and drugs to “feel” better I was really just covering up one feeling to feel another way. I guess the technical term for that is avoidance or denial. But again, for me, that’s all I was capable of at that time. That’s what I needed at that time. What I didn’t know was that at some point I would be presented with an opportunity to stop avoiding and start accepting. Acceptance is the key to all my problems today. We’ve all read that. Well that was the key, I just wasn’t ready.
I think I had moments where my drinking and using caused me to ask that question. I’d wake up somewhere I hadn’t planned. I’d make a decision I later regretted. I’d forget to do something really important. And I’d think, hmmm, maybe this life isn’t working. Or maybe, one day, this life won’t work quite as well as it did before. That was an important observation at that time for me. I certainly wasn’t ready to stop. But I did have these moments where I thought, I might need to stop at some point.
Life after college was similar for several years. Mostly I enjoyed life. Mostly my using and drinking didn’t interfere that much. But as time went on, I’d find myself asking that important question again and again and more often. Hmmm. Does this still work for me? By this time I had done, and would do just about anything I could find. I liked cocaine, but didn’t love the few days after a bender. I liked ecstasy but didn’t like the next day. And I liked to drink but didn’t love the hangover. But one thing I really liked, that didn’t seem to have much of a downside, was painkillers. I could function so well. I could work. I could play. I could sleep. I could get up the next day. Well, as long as I had more painkillers. And here is where I believe that God stepped in. Getting addicted to painkillers was in some ways the best thing for me to finally ask that nagging question “is this working for me” and answer honestly “nope, it’s not”. When I would wake up at 5AM, dopesick, crawling out of bed, and all I could do was take a pill and wash it down with some whisky, it quickly became all too obvious that I couldn’t stop and that it wasn’t working for me.
And I could spend time telling the intimate details of the last year culminating in a 30 day stay in rehab, but that part isn’t so important. You can read my 4th step. What I will say is that one day I just woke up and confidently said, no, this isn’t working and I can’t stop on my own. That was God talking to me. And I got into action. Did the only thing I could think of. And went to see my doctor to tell him, the first person I’d ever told, that I’m addicted to painkillers and I can’t stop. I didn’t know anything really about Alcoholics Anonymous. I knew it existed, but I never thought it had anything to do with my problems. That’s one of the things that makes recovery challenging. I don’t think everyone knows and appreciates the breath of recovery and the breadth of Alcoholics Anonymous. For me, I tend to break my own anonymity and share my story with people outside the program. And if people outside the program want to know more about the program, I share my experience with them.
With the help of that doctor. Some footwork on my part. And a lot of guidance from a power greater than myself, although I certainly didn’t know that at the time, I found a 12-step rehab and dove into recovery.
The first day at rehab, well maybe the 3rd day because I was in detox for the first 2, I felt exactly like I did the first month of college. Like this huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I remember saying to my primary therapist “I don’t know what to do, just tell me what to do and I’ll do that.” That one little, seemingly insignificant comment, that was probably spoken through me by a higher power, was the cornerstone of my early recovery. The weight off my shoulders was simply me accepting steps 1 and 2. That I was powerless and that something bigger than me could help. And man that felt good.
For the first week it was all relief. Not drinking or using was not a problem. But that soon changed when all those feelings, remember those from back when I was a teenager, started coming up. You see I gave up my tool. Drugs and alcohol had been hiding those feelings and giving me other feelings to cover up. When that went away I was left with me and my feelings, and many of them ran pretty deep. I had big emotional swings. Big highs, big lows and lots of in-between. And I think maybe this is the design of a 30 day recovery program. People that have done this work before me know that it takes time and there is a process we must go through before we can really begin a consistent and healthy program of recovery. Staying in that place for 30 days gave me a foundation to work from. And most importantly introduced me to the program of Alcoholics Anonymous. By the time I got out I had been to 20+ meetings. I had heard and seen things that resonated with me. I saw other people with little time and lots of time working a program and it working in their lives. And so like that 3rd day in rehab, I just did what they did.
I remember going to a meeting the day I landed back in Los Angeles after having been away for a month. I literally drove to this hidden little meeting in the back of this guys house with 15-20 other sober men. And it was there, and from those guys, that I truly began my path to recovery. I did 90 in 90. I got a sponsor. I read the book. I worked the steps. I fellowshipped with others. I took commitments. I helped newcomers when I could. And things started getting better quickly.
At some point I came to the conclusion that this program works and who was I to think there was another option that would work for me. There probably is. And certainly this program isn’t the only want to have a happy, joyous and free life. But it’s one way. And it was working for me. So I decided then I would just keep doing it.
I remember hearing, really hearing in some of my earliest meetings, someone say “take what works and leave the rest”. Somehow that really resonated with me. That really made sense and I took that idea to hear. To me it means listen to everything. Expose myself to everything. Give everything in this program a chance. But then pick and choose the things that work for me and keep doing those things. For me, meetings were a big part. I’ve been consistently going to meetings for 16 years. Not every meeting is transformative. And some meetings are downright boring. But going to meetings for me keeps me connected. Gives me purpose. Gives me an opportunity to listen and hear those subtle cues that point me down the right path. Having a sponsor is equally important for me. I’ve had 3 sponsors in 16 years and if I’m not actively working steps, I’m in regular communication with them. I’ve gone through the steps 3 times and each has been meaningful. Each time different steps represented the core of where I was in recovery. The first time it was all about steps 1-3, just giving it up and asking for help. The second time was about steps 4-9. Looking at my shortcomings, my part and cleaning that up. But it wasn’t really wasn’t until the 3rd time, maybe 8 years into my sobriety, that I came to appreciate steps 10, 11 and 12. And for years after that it was really about step 10. Getting better and better at observing myself and keeping my side of the street clean. And honestly, its only in the last 3 years that I began to really practice steps 11 and 12.
Think about that. It took 13 years to get to step 11. Well, it takes what it takes and honestly I think it makes sense. It took me 29 years to get to step 1, it seems completely reasonable that I would need to spend 13 years on the first 10 steps. And by the way, those steps are still important. They come into play on a daily basis. But I think it took 13 years to become somewhat proficient at those steps.
So steps 11 and 12. I guess it’s fitting that I’m up here speaking at this meeting in front of over a hundred people right now. This is practicing steps 11 and 12. This is the work that I can now do because of the 16 years of recovery work I’ve done. But I wouldn’t say I’m proficient just yet at these last 2 steps. In fact I was quite anxious coming here. And if this pitch sucked, well now you know why.
I mediate. But I fall off. I pray, but I forget. I hear His will for me, but then I don’t carry it out. But not always. Sometimes I do. And I have had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps. And I do carry this message to other alcoholics. And I do practice these principles in all my affairs.
How do I do it? I don’t give up. I keep coming back. I continue to listen to people, whether they have more time or less, and try to pick out the things that resonate. I try to listen to the similarities and not the differences. And little by little I get better and better. That’s the definition of recovery for me.
Sometimes when I’m stuck or when I don’t know what to do, I ask my sponsor. To my chagrin he often says, do nothing. He says why don’t you just sit with the feelings and wait for the answer to come. Of course I don’t like that. As someone who still has that highly sharpened skill of self-sufficiency I want to solve my problems now, not later. My default is still “how do I avoid this feeling or situation and replace with something better.” And sometimes I do just that. I avoid those feelings and make a decision that will give me other feelings and quick. And for a moment that works. But these days it doesn’t work that well and it doesn’t last that long. My feelings aren’t victims anymore and they won’t stay buried for quite so long. They pop up and I don’t have any option but to feel them when they do.
Sponsorship and meetings have been a big part of my recovery. But sponsoring has not. Over the years I’ve sponsored a handful of guys but not a lot. For some time I’d really felt guilty about that. Why do some parts of the program happen naturally while others don’t. Well I think part of it has to do with me not being entirely ready and God tends to put things in my life at the right time and place. I also have an incredibly full life. My career has been phenomenal. I’ve built an amazing and beautiful family. I wildly pursue my many hobbies and interests. But the magic of Alcoholics Anonymous is that there is always more to uncover. So whatever that is, I’m up for it. Unfortunately whatever that is is not always what I want. It might be what I need, but wants and needs are not always aligned. And that’s ok. I have to be willing to go down a path that doesn’t feel quite right or downright uncomfortable. Hey, I can always go back and pick another path. But if I don’t have that willingness, the same willingness I had all those years ago in that little detox room, in that little rehab in Arizona, there is a good chance I’m going to miss out on something great. And there is always the chance that I go back to where I came from. And for that reason, I keep doing this thing. I keep learning and listening, take the ups and downs with poise and be there for another alcoholic when they ask.
Recovery is like a box of chocolates. Well, you know the rest.