Helping Men Recover from Addiction by Dan Griffin – Tools for recovery from alcohol & other drugs

One of the chapters of my book that did not make the “final cut” was on The Promises – these golden words of the twelve step community that serve as a beacon to so many coming through the rooms of recovery. In the next twelve (or so) entries to my blog I will be reflecting on the meaning the Promises hold to so many men in recovery. Enjoy! And please comment and share with others. Thanks, Dan

The Promises

The Promises have a special place in my heart simply because of the role that they have played in my life. Yes, it is true these are only some of the many promises in the Big Book; though, it is also true that nowhere else in the Big Book are there twelve promises presented in such a beautiful vision of what is waiting for you in sobriety. The Promises hold such a valuable place for so many men and our recovery in the twelve step community because of the powerful statement of hope that they offer. In the context of the Big Book, The Promises begin to play a role when you are making your Step Nine amends. What is more humbling than the first time you approach those you have harmed and offer yourself in the spirit of peace and personal accountability? For men in our culture, admitting to mistakes seems like admitting that we are “weak.” Our humility, however, is the mark of a real man.

When I was young and just coming into recovery, I read these words on pages 83 and 84 and saw for the first time what my life could be some day. In the midst of my deep insecurity, shame, fear, and hopelessness, these words were a beacon shining through the mist and rain. I took very seriously the fact that they are called the Promises, not the Maybes or the Might Happens. I went to meetings where men and women talked about how The Promises had come true in their life and so I held onto them as a covenant between me and the fellowship. They have come true for me. And, they will come true for you, too – so long as you are willing to do the work.

All of my life I have been a sensitive guy. Most of my life it has felt like a sentence I have carried without knowing my offense. It has been the smiley-toothed hydra in my menagerie of suffering. At the age of 37 and after fifteen years of having done a lot of work on improving how I live in this world as a man, I am just beginning to embrace my authentic sensitivity. What does that mean?

There are different kinds of sensitivity. First, there is the sensitivity that comes out of self-centeredness which is often rooted in the wounds we have yet to heal. The fragile ego. This type of sensitivity leaves us feeling like a turd around which the rest of the world revolves. It is the hyper-sensitivity borne out of addiction, trauma, and growing up in addicted family systems.

Then, there is the sensitivity that has me think that I know how people are feeling and what they need in their lives to be okay. This supposed sensitivity is more arrogance than anything. It has me believe that I can read people’s thoughts, know their motives, and even know what they are going to say (based upon the various conversations I have with them in my head).

Finally, there is the third kind – that which is rooted in balance and emanates from who I am as a human being in connection with others. It is this final form of sensitivity that I am beginning to tap into. I embody this sensitivity as I hold my daughter Grace and gently sway her from side to side as she cries. Or when my anger at us running late melts away as Nancy tells me about trying on seven different outfits, forgoing a nap to comfort Grace, and pumping milk so that Grace has enough to eat while we go out.  This sensitivity has me living in the world. Connected. Breathing into the “We” rather than suffocating in the all-powerful “Me.” As I slowly release the stranglehold my past has on me and see myself as just one of many human beings doing the best we all can, I get to live into the sensitivity that has always been with me. The kind that makes me proud to say: I am a sensitive man.

This past July, in the midst of the completion and release of my first book my wife and I had our first baby – Grace Danielle. Knowing everything that we had been through over the past five years to get to the place where we could hold this incredible being in our arms, Grace was the only name that made sense. Two babies in one year. And with these two incredible blessings also came the intensification of two competing energies that challenge every man: striving for success and yearning for family and connection. Many men of my generation are determined to create a space for both of these, without buying into the lie that says family must be sacrificed on the altar of our (often self-aggrandizing) service to the world.

I have accomplished one of my great dreams: to be a published author. In the depths of my addiction I fantasized about how my suicide in my late 20s would thrust me into the pantheon of great American writers as they discovered the brilliant unpublished texts beside my lifeless body. What a sad, sad dream. My recovery has turned that dream into a life affirming reality – and one where I have the opportunity to make a difference in people’s lives.

The journey is just beginning for me but I know that it will be the most incredible journey of my life. Already, the imprint that this little girl has left upon my soul shall be there forever. And for two months she has nestled into my heart. A heart that continues to crack open. A heart that needs to love as much as my little girl needs me to love her. A heart that needs to know the joys and blessings of family without the chaos and brutality of addiction. A heart that needs to guide the ego and calm the insatiable need for recognition and validation. The superman complex. The egomaniac with the inferiority complex.

And, I pray that when Grace is old enough to read these words she will know a father who did not just write about how wonderful family could be – but she also will experience a father who is creating that reality in her life. The only thing I need to do to be truly successful -  – is listen to my own words and walk my talk. The truth is it all comes down to one thing: asking for help. I have no question about it – if I should succeed it will have been Grace that saved me.

Part of this blog is an opportunity for me to honor the men that have graced my life. I have known so many that I would never have gotten close to had I not been in recovery. They have taught me so much and my life is richer having known them. Charlie was one of those men…

Charlie had been homeless and in and out of recovery for years by the time I got sober. He was well known throughout the small town where I spent my first year of sobriety. But he was staying sober. While living on the street, not having enough to eat, and dealing with failing health he was staying sober. Eventually he found a place to stay. He started picking up odd jobs. He spent a lot of time at the club keeping it clean, welcoming others, or simply staying sober. He even got some work done on the teeth that were rotting right out of his mouth. And, he would smile a beautiful smile showing off the bright red toothless gums. He would give you your very own nickname especially if you were a newcomer. He called me “Young Lion”. I loved it. He would roar my name as I walked into the room or after I had shared in a meeting. I could feel how much respect and love he had for me.

Charlie had a very simple philosophy about sobriety and Step One that sometimes gets lost in all of the intellectual babble in meetings: “Just don’t drink.” he would say, “If your ass falls off – don’t drink – just pick it up, put it in a bag, and bring it to a meeting with you. Because it is a helluva a lot better to be sitting in an AA meeting thinking about a drink than to be sitting in a bar thinking about an AA meeting.” And he lived that philosophy up until his last days when he died several years ago – sober. If you have “conceded to your inner most self” that you are an addict then this simple saying – “Just Don’t Drink” – is the failsafe for sobriety. Charlie taught me that and I have used it many times over the past fourteen years. And every time I think about it or say it in a meeting I see Charlie with his long mane of disheveled hair, flashing that wonderful toothless smile, saying: “You got it, Young Lion! You got it.”

If there were a diagnosable disorder for depression (and other mood disorders) on the holidays I would qualify for it. Get in line, right? Good – then I am not alone and neither are you! You may find it difficult being in recovery and still experiencing such strong emotions on the holidays. You may be confused by the excitement you feel when the holidays are approaching and then the depression, isolation, anger, and all of the other mixed emotions you feel as you attempt to navigate through each moment with your loved ones and all of the expectations for how happy and joyous each day is supposed to be.

I feel as though some parasite inhabits my being about one or two days before Christmas and lasts, at least, until a couple of days later though in the past it would easily last through New Years – sometimes until Spring. First, it is humbling to read the words a little more than a week ago anticipating the coming holiday season, pontificating about gratitude, and realizing the opportunity before me to be of service to my family. We all know that it is easier to write or speak the words than to live them. But, being a grown up man in recovery means looking at the gap between the words and the actions and owning what is missing, if anything. Learning from it. And moving on.

The first important step is for men to give voice to this experience because it impacts a lot of us. The next important step is to not let it control you and your behavior. One saying that I will invoke on this Blog many times is: act differently than you feel. This saying is very common in the rooms of recovery – and rightfully so. As addicts our feelings tend to dominate our lives and very often they control our behavior. When your feelings control your behavior you will continue to feel that way, perhaps even feel worse, and your actions will likely be self-centered and self-serving. I have been a “feelings addict” long into my recovery and the holidays are particularly good at activating that addiction – especially if I am not paying attention. Recovery is the opportunity to grow in awareness and do things differently. When you take different actions – you will feel differently. That is a truism of recovery.

So, how well did I walk my talk this past holiday? Nancy, my wife, gave me a B+. Not bad, and also generous. My Mom? As every good mother is wont to do she read the “Gratitude” Blog and reminded me of my words when I was letting the “teenager” run the show one day. My reaction was the key. First, I felt shame when she pointed it out. Second, she was right and I knew it. Third, I had the opportunity to own my behavior and do something different – I apologized for my behavior. Progress not perfection, right? I could easily have beat myself up for not doing it “perfectly”. I could have slipped into shame feeling like a hypocrite. I did not. I let her know I was doing my best and really did value having her with us for the holidays. I tried to remind myself what it is like for her as a widow whose children live halfway across (Minnesota) and all the way across (California) the country. I reminded myself of my opportunity to be of service. I reminded myself that how I feel is not really important – how I act is and regardless of who I am with and what time of the year it is, I am still the one responsible for taking care of me.

The unfortunate myth of the holidays is that they are supposed to be nothing but happiness. I disagree. I reminded myself that the true spirit of the holidays is not a manufactured good time or some forced and phony codependent joy-fest. No, the holidays are an opportunity to connect in genuine ways with loved ones and to even let those wounds from the past heal a little bit more. That means being honest and even working through conflict, God forbid! The holidays are about honoring our loved ones and looking at what we can give to each situation – not take from it. So, give yourself credit – because you probably did better with this one than you did the last one; and you will probably do better next year. Do I have a Holiday Disorder? Maybe. Maybe you do too. But, at least with this one, you don’t have to worry about it again for another year.

In this holiday season it is easy to forget what all of the commotion is about. We forget that this time – for so many people of the world – is an opportunity to connect to that which is so much bigger than any of us. When you are a man in recovery your memories of past holidays may be clouded by your inability or reluctance to remember what you did, how you behaved, and the wreckage you caused. Now that you are sober, your memories of the holidays may also be full of painful times from childhood, adolescence, and your adult life. You find yourself losing focus. And so we have gratitude to guide us through the potentially rocky terrain of terra holiday.

I will never forget the first time early in my recovery I heard someone talk about gratitude. I sat there thinking, “What a stupid idea! What have I got to be grateful for?” Since that time I have come to understand that no matter what my situation I always have something for which I can be grateful and so gratitude has become an essential part of my daily practice in how I take care of myself. In fact, the practice of gratitude is one of the reasons I am sober today. The following are a few parts of my life today for which I am deeply grateful: I am 36 years old and fourteen years in long-term recovery. I have been given a new life! I am married to a wonderful and incredible woman; my relationships with my family have been restored; I have a challenging job where I get to make a real difference in people’s lives and have been able to keep it for seven years; I am about to publish my first book -a childhood dream of mine, and more importantly, I can live comfortably in my skin on a daily basis and not turn to alcohol or other drugs. I am part of the human community again and am a truly transformed person.

As we approach this holiday season, I feel a pull to get caught up in the drama of past holidays that were full of pain, negativity, isolation, and self-pity. The pull is not just inside of me – it is external. Many people seem to relish the opportunity to bemoan the holidays and the impending disappointment of obligated time with their family. Gratitude pulls me in the opposite direction and reminds me that each moment I have a choice: I can focus on the present moment and what I can contribute to make my family’s holiday a very merry one or I can focus on me. Gratitude reminds me that today I get to be with my family. Last, I am acutely aware every day of the families still being torn apart by addiction. Though we lost my father, I am so grateful that my family has survived the ravages of addiction. The family my wife and I are building together will not know the pain and misery caused by active addiction – a long-standing generational cycle has been broken. Today, I have hope and know that no matter what happens “all is well” and for that I am most grateful.