Self Medication.

There are times in my life where I do not question my decision to be sober. I would say this is about 99% of the time, to be honest. The beauty and decisiveness in my life has become apparent due to the decisions I have made. Overall, I am absolutely in agreement with my heart and intellect.

The 1% of the time, however, can bowl me over like an emotional steamroller. One that generally comes without any kind of warning. I may be sitting at work and suddenly I am besieged by feelings of regret for the decisions I have made, including being sober. There are times the feeling of utter despair accompanies my questions about being sober. Why did I do this? Why did I commit not knowing how much emotional work this was going to be?

I have to take a breathe and take a moment to get over myself. I say to myself that it’s the irresponsibility that comes back to haunt me not so much the actual decision to be in recovery. I truly believe that being an alcoholic is more the result of needing desperately to self medicate, to escape or try to diminish feelings and actions that have proved too painful to deal with.

For me, I have been self medicating almost my entire life. Before alcohol, I made up scenarios and stories to escape the pain I felt. I ran away emotionally.I could pacify myself doing some deeds of self deprecation at a young age. My dreams consisted of more funerals than I will actually have because funerals for myself meant that someone was actually paying attention to me. And these dreams always entailed those people, from a very young age, who had ever abandoned me. I know what I have done to self medicate, but I struggle endlessly with the why and what caused me to do this. And I know this is universal on some level. There are people who feel that the why’s aren’t important. That it is the present that matters. I believe this as well on some level, but the overwhelming need to understand how I got to a place of such desperate measures comes from years of being overly inquisitive and largely ignored. In my own life, I find it’s understanding the past that allows the present and ultimately the future to be shaped.

The entire science of Neurology and addiction, coupled with behavioral psychology on some level fascinate me. Have the feelings and consistent acts of self deprecation come from somewhere environmental? Was it ingrained as early as birth? These intangible answers that I seek cause such conflict between my emotional and rational minds, that it causes regular distress and curiosity mixed together.

For example, as a very young child, I experienced a great deal of domestic instability. As a result of this, I believe I wanted to belong to everyone and anyone who would pay attention to me. I was desperate for a life other than mine because I felt so shattered. I distinctly remember having these feelings at age 5. I was heartbroken that my family was splitting up, as any young child would be. The reality of the situation was that my family could not stay together to salvage any means of normalcy. Damage had been done. And the split divided us considerably.

As a young girl, I clung to people. I acted out in every fashion I knew how. I was just simply emotionally devestated on so many levels. Today, my question here is whether this was a reaction to my environment; abandonment, despair, parents arguing constantly leading to divorce when the definition hadn’t been flushed out yet. Anger. Rage. Pain. Or was it simply my reaction to traumatic events given my propensity for emotionality. It’s these scenarios that I question on a daily basis. And then I question whether I just do not have the ability to see the situation with any objection. That, in my own ability to blame myself, I have missed the real meat of what transpired.

On top of this, add in some head trauma (concussions galore due to little parental guidance at most stages of childhood and a father inflicted car accident), it brings in the neurologic aspect. Did I suffer some kind of frontal lobe damage that caused me to lost the ability to reasonably categorize my emotions? Again, constant state of questions.

A few years later, in the prime of my emotional development, my father died tragically when I was twelve. I had divorce under my belt, but the death of my father was not something I expected...secretly hoped at times in my childhood as any child may imagine when someone causes them any kind of pain, but when I was told of his death, the reality was hard and cold. This was a major catalyst to my drinking career. In my underdeveloped ability to reason, I had been permanently abandoned by the man I adored and hated all at the same time.

Sadly, I still struggle with this on many levels. Being sober has increased the emotional accountability factor, thus making it harder to deny that I am not completely over the death of my father twenty two years ago.

Even now, I sit here and it rattles me. The pain is sometimes like an streak of electricity that runs deep within my core. I am strangely drawn to intensity I feel but instantly repulsed at the devastation that is still very present with my heart. So much so, the prime motivation for my self medication was because I simply did not know how to deal with the inability to control the events in my life. But, I was able to control my out of control behavior (it makes sense). I lived in denial on a daily basis. This became my safe haven from needing to allow myself to grieve immensely.

And today, when I have question regarding where I am in my sober life, the issue always seems to come down to the fact that I am still learning to cope and release myself from the heart wreching guilt I feel for being alive while my father is dead.

Right now, I am on an airplane. I am writing this and looking at a picture of my father while I type. And, as I keep reading the words I have written over, I feel a sense of accomplishment with the slightest twinge of degradation. My self medicating looks more like an antibiotic regimen than a heroin habit. I question, yes, but it is because I can at this point. If you seek answers and you don't ask, even if it's a question to yourself, you'll never find the truth you are searching for.

I sit here at 31,00 ft and I am figuratively the closest to my father than I will ever be, given his propensity for flying and jumping out of planes. True, I miss flying around the sky with him (again, on so many different levels) but today, I'm really glad to be landing on the ground. Passed on the free cocktails, ate the snacks and realize that this whole sobriety thing, after six and a half years and counting, may actually work.

And may actually work really well.

Thank you.

Thank you for all the e-mails, comments and support for the Stigma of Being Sober article and subsequent radio interview.

Here's the link to the interview:

http://www.poughkeepsiejournal.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080509/BLOG/80509034

The Smell of Alcohol

Last night, one of my oldest and dearest friends came to visit from the UK. Right now, he's going through a tough divorce, is in his third year of medical school and came back to the states for a reprieve from his hectic life. Regardless, he was drunk the entire twelve hours we spent together.

What amazed me the most, seeing that I am rarely around people who consume any more than a drink or two, was this retched smell of alcohol/stress/smoke that emanated from him. It broke my heart. Here is a friend that I've had since early high school. A very smart, articulate and seemingly together person who would carry me home in my own stupor in our young adulthood. But, the smell of his entire struggle was so powerful, so familiar from a time ago, I could not believe the power it had over my emotions.

Last night, it was role reversal. I was looking at myself a long time ago. I saw this person desperate and out of control. This morning, I witnessed the shakes once again. To see someone you were so close to, for so long, in the most downward spiral is almost as debilitating as going through it.

And for the first time, in many years, I am at a loss. A loss because I know that people who are going through this have to make the decision to get help. He will have to be the one to decide to change the variables that are causing him such destructive pain. I can only be there, letting him know I care and providing space for him to heal. And it is worse than going through it yourself, in a sense, because you know where it leads and how very hard the journey is to get back to yourself.

So, this morning, I gave him a long squeeze, smell and all. He's a big part of my life, past and present. Letting go felt like I was sending off my former self but I have faith that he'll do the right thing. And today, I am keeping him close in my heart and in my thoughts.

Solitude

Over the few months, I have enjoyed a great deal of solitude in my daily life. This is never something that I have been comfortable with as being alone for any length of time causes anxiety within me. As I sit on the train during my long commute home, I feel trapped within the confines of my own thoughts...not good for someone who dissects every aspect of their existence.

Being in recovery has taught me that being alone is not an emotional jail sentence. I have gotten to know myself pretty well over the last few years and spending time alone is a lot more content without the drama going on inside my head. And spending time with oneself is essential, particularly in recovery. It means making time to nurture and love yourself. This weekend, I painted. I planted tomatoes. I cooked breakfast for myself and read the paper. I wrote a long entry in my journal. And while I had a bit of socializing, I was mainly solo for the entire weekend. And it was blissful.

These are all little things we tend to forget about in the craziness of daily life. Take time for yourself. Five minutes or five hours, it's making a concerted effort to do one thing that involves only you. And it works wonders.

The Stigma of Being Sober.

The following are actual snippets over the last six years from people reacting to the fact that I don't drink:

"Are you boring?"

"When are you due?" (I'm not)

"I can't BELIEVE you don't drink, what's wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry"

"So, when do you think you'll drink again?"

"That sucks....." (said person ignoring me for the rest of the evening)

"Come on, you don't have a problem"

"Wow, you must hate your life"

In the last six and a half years, because of my decision to be sober...and publicly sober, I have had the interesting experience of mentally collecting people's reactions to my recovery. And in doing so, I have become too aware of how people react when I tell them I don't drink.

When I first became sober, I was twenty seven. In the world today, particularly in our society, there are not many twenty seven year old women who can manage sobriety and being social without feeling the wrath of discrimination. Even twenty something starlets have a difficult time in the celebrity obsessed media realm handling their own recovery. At that age, it was difficult. I was newly single after my divorce. I wanted to maintain my social life, but being sober was my first priority. To do this successfully, I cut out many of the old haunts and the majority of my toxic friends. Even still, I found there to be a great stigma suddenly attached to who I was.

People wanted to know what made me like this. What possibly could have happened to me to cause such a drastic change in my life. Had I gotten a disease? There were times I flat out lied....."I'm training for something" or "I am taking a break". It was as if there needed to be a horrible, melodramatic explanation to cause me to cease a life of total irresponsibility.

There were some people, and still are, that would look at me sideways. I have gotten high fives to looks of disgust. I have had to answer questions, tell my life story, dodge out of places and look to other people for conversation. "Oh, you must have had a difficult childhood" or "You graduated from college and are an alcoholic?" I cannot tell you some of the crazy questions and perceptions that I have gathered over the years. It blows my mind.

Six years later, aside from battling the fact that every day of my life I would like to drink, I battle my own insecurities about being sober with the perception that others have of my choice. It's no longer as easy as early sobriety because I am fully integrated back into my life. I work in the advertising industry, with all its bells and whistles. I travel to hotels with mini-bars (I call and have it restocked with Diet Coke). I allow myself to go out where alcohol is served. I date men that drink normally. These are all choices that I have made to allow myself the freedom of living responsibly in the life that I want.

And with this, I live with discrimination every day. There are still parties that I am not invited to for fear that I may relapse (I don't plan on it, but telling that to some bigwig throwing a high end party doesn't work). I find that it has become my task to ensure that other people are comfortable with my decision at times.

In all of this turmoil, however, there is a drive that being sober has instilled within my core being. I am public about being sober and this works for me. I am convinced that I can change the perceptions of the people I meet. And I am determined to exist in this very hyped drinking world and remain a pillar in my own recovery beliefs.

It's not a stigma. If something doesn't work in life, one generally tries to fix it. Same with being an alcoholic. I was a broken, shattered twenty seven year old woman that would have either lost all my marbles or died if I didn't change the variables. So, I became the proverbial tool girl and gave myself the resources and strength I needed to stop.

While I live with all the conversations, perceptions and stigmas, I knowthat I am the only one who is responsible for my happiness. And to be happy, I cannot drink. I believe that being sober is a great existence. The self awareness and love for my life overcome most of the difficulties associated with being sober. The people I've met on my recovery journey are some of the most creative, articulate, passionate and successful people in the world.

And the resources and publicity that surround recovery, if it keeps gaining more respect to be sober, will overcome the negativity that people associate with the choice to be sober. At some point, I am hopeful and optimistic, being sober will be viewed by those people who still drink, as simply a good, healthy choice.

If not, I will personally continue to crusade the fact that recovery is amazing and very very cool. And I will continue to listen to the ridiculous reactions from people in hopes of compiling one of the funniest anecdotal books ever. And when I make my first million off of it, I will laugh.