What Am I Doing?

I’ve started to slow these posts down a bit as I’ve embarked on the larger project of turning them into a book. As such, I wanted to say thank you to those of you who’ve encouraged me to do so. I’m genuinely flattered that you’ve found these posts enjoyable and worthwhile. I will keep posting from time to time, but I’ve taken it under advice to save a lot of the really juicy stuff for another format. And when I say ‘juicy’, I mean ‘harrowing’, ‘illegal’, ‘terrifying’, ‘outrageous’ and just plain awful. Some of these things are just not meant for Facebook. So it’ll take a while, but a book is where I’m headed.

As those of you following will know, I started these posts from a position of outright desperation. Since then, things have changed considerably for the better. The rehab I’m attending is working wonders on my mental and physical well-being. With the support of the wonderful team here, my friends in rehab and yourselves, I’m being restored to something like my previous self – albeit with some necessary changes thrown in. In fact, I haven’t felt this positive or strong for years.

So when I ask myself, as I do every day, ‘What am I doing?’, I’m a little better placed to answer more fully than I did a month ago, or even yesterday – it really is a case of one day at a time. I think it’s important to remind myself daily that what happened in the past can’t be undone or changed in any way (although it can be addressed, see below). I’ve been sober for well over six weeks now, which is a good thing in itself and long may it continue.

I try to see my experiences, however harrowing, with at least some sense of gratitude. Gratitude to be where I am now, gratitude to have learnt to accept help and direction, gratitude to call so many good people my friends, gratitude for my beloved son and family, gratitude to still be breathing, gratitude just for the day that unfolds around me. I start every day with the small ritual of lighting a candle in the morning darkness and saying a prayer, which starts with the words, ‘Lord, thank you for the day…’. Which isn’t to start ‘Jesus smuggling’ on your atheist assess, but does imbue me at least with a great sense of gratitude and calm. I don’t even come close to praying, let alone feeling grateful, when I’ve had a drink. Everyone and everything can go to Hell in a handcart when that happens, and all notions of spiritual kindness and universal gratitude are disassembled quicker than a synagogue in Ramallah. Anyway, I’m learning to be more grateful. So that’s another thing I’m doing.

Of course, I can’t imagine that some of the people who know me have been particularly grateful for some of the things I’ve done whilst inebriated. I’ve exhibited some pretty unpleasant even shocking behaviour, for which I’m not proud and don’t take lightly. In one way or another, alcoholics wind up hurting people and it’s never pretty. So another thing I’m doing is learning to own my shit by starting, somehow, to make amends. In some ways, the best way I can do that is simply by becoming a better, less unhinged, version of myself. When that’s done, the amends tend to follow naturally.

Throughout these posts I’ve maintained an ambivalent view of Alcoholics Anonymous, which I still hold. However, in the spirit of gratitude, I wanted to think well of the fellowship and thank my friends in the organisation for putting up with my endless bullshit and encouraging me to get well. AA is not, I’ve discovered, the ‘only way’ – but they have helped me enormously and for that I am truly grateful. Speaking of AA:

Step 1: We admitted that we were powerless over alcohol, that our lives became unmanageable.

There are two parts to that step, and I’m totally down with the second. If I drink, my life surely becomes unmanageable. But like a lot of us, I struggle to admit that I’m powerless. From the earliest age, we’re ingrained with notions of taking control – of having power – over things. We’re taught to be in the driver’s seat of our lives, guiding ourselves calmly through every bend and bump along a dark and twisting road. AA asks you give up that control, accept that you are powerless and let your higher power, or God, take control for you. ‘How’s Nick’s plans shaping up?’, my sponsor would shout at me down the phone, as I lay blubbing in a pool of my own vomit.

I’m not sure where the notion of powerlessness takes me, but it’s something I consider and work on every day. It’s a conundrum and other recovery techniques advocate the exact opposite approach. However it is, that’s another thing I’m working on.

Finally, I’m doing this and, for me, it’s really important: I’m learning to slow it all down. One day, one hour, one minute, even one second at a time if that’s what it takes. It sounds as if that might be a painful process, to watch every moment, and it is if you’re desperate for a drink and waiting for the bottle shop to open. But in sobriety, you feel it differently. Your foot comes off the pedal, your breathing changes and slows, you start to wait instead of plan, to respond and not react, to find a calm centre amidst the general tumble of things. Meditation, yoga, exercise, a good walk, prayer, a thoughtful exchange with a friend, all these things and more will help. So that’s another thing I’m doing. What we do defines us more than the things we say. So when I ask myself, what am I doing?, I’m starting slowly to come up with an answer that suits me and my recovery from addiction.

On that note, I’ll finish with one of my favourite quotes from the philosopher Epictetus, who had this to say about the moment that rushes by:

‘Caretake this moment. Immerse yourself in its particulars. Respond to this person, this challenge, this deed. Quit evasions. Stop giving yourself needless trouble. It is time to really live; to fully inhabit the situation you happen to be in now.’

One day at a time.