While certainly a blow for some in the industry, many of us are thrilled by this shocking decision, and here’s why.

The post How Google Is Cleaning Up The Addiction Treatment Industry – And Saving Lives In The Process appeared first on Dan Griffin.

I have come to appreciate the depth of this particularly Promise. A picture that I love shows two scenes: one of Heaven and one of Hell. In Hell, everyone is seated at a table with grossly elongated spoons that they simply cannot fit into their mouths. In Heaven, everyone is seated at a very similar table with the same exact elongated spoons. The only difference? They are feeding one another from across the table. If you see the world as a place in which you never have enough, you will always be trying to meet your needs but without success. Seeking to fulfill only your needs is like digging a bottomless pit. There is no happiness to be found on that path. In reality, you have everything you need right now.

Of course, it is easy to say we have everything we need but truly believing it is another story. We have been programmed to want – more and more. We have been programmed to believe that we are somehow incomplete or less than if we do not have certain things. So long as I am in search of that which will make me happy and fill me up I am seeking on behalf of myself. It is through the program of recovery and learning to be of service that I get to discover the paradox that when I reach out to you, I get connection; when I give to you, I get; and when I seek to be of service to help you in your journey toward happiness, I am filled.

I often lose sight of this Promise because my default so often is to go to scarcity. But it is a truth – a truth that has saved me countless times over the years of my recovery. When I live in this I am much closer to being the person I was put on this earth to be.

The post Promise #8: Self Seeking will Slip Away appeared first on Dan Griffin.

The road to misery begins in the self. The discipline of working the Steps and applying the principles to our lives teach us how to be selfless in our service to others. What does it mean to be of service? Being of service is sacrificing our immediate needs and wants in order to serve a greater purpose. Every time I do this – without exception – I forget about myself and my petty, annoying, and peevish problems. One of the best, and probably hardest, ways to be of service is to go out of our way for others – with no expectation of acknowledgment or reward.  Maybe we even do it anonymously. But in recovery something happens – sometimes in spite of ourselves – and we lose interest in our selfish pursuits and gain interest in our fellows. We realize that the freedom of recovery lies in our commitment to service and that which is bigger than us. We are not saints, however, as they say; it often takes a long time to eliminate all of the cancer of self-centeredness. But we grow and our world expands as we join hands with those around us. We get to be a part of the community once again.

The post Promise #7: We Will Lose Interest in Selfish Things appeared first on Dan Griffin.

In my recovery, music has been equally important to me as a source of healing and comfort.  As I walked my path of recovery I have taken solace in being able to play music and sing, And write songs including one for my father shortly after he died. In recovery, my playing guitar has helped to heal the loneliness and allowed me to embrace aloneness.

Recently, at the Evolutions of Addiction Conference I had the opportunity to play in a band as part of the special gala honoring Veterans and some wonderful leaders in the field of addiction treatment in California. We played an acoustic set and then some plugged in rock’n roll. In the thirty-years I have been playing guitar I have played open-mic a dozen times, did my own little acoustic show at a coffee shop, and I was in a very short-lived band that had one show. But nothing like this. Ever.

Now, I am very clear that this is a band that had I been required to try out for it I would not have made it. The main goal was to have fun but I was plagued by anxiety. There was a specific song that I just couldn’t get as far as the pitch and timing for the singing. I was playing with professional musicians and, quite honestly, I didn’t know the first thing about timing, pitch, harmonizing, etc.

What was the source of the anxiety? I thought it was because I had fear about what people would think. I wouldn’t do it perfectly. I didn’t have any business playing with these guys. It was just me wanting to be the center of attention. There was just a constant background soundtrack of subtle self-judgment. The bottom line is it felt vulnerable. And it was new for me. Put me in front of 900 people to do a keynote – no problem. But 50 people for playing music? Man, the anxiety just grew the closer we got to the date.

I reached out to some friends for support and I maintained my primary purpose: to have fun and help others have fun too. It was a great success even though I was losing my voice by the time we got to that troublesome song so had anyone gotten video it would look like one of those bad American Idol auditions. Seriously. But I was okay with it because I was having fun.

It wasn’t until the day after that the magic happened. I had volunteered to help a friend with her workshop on Internal Family Systems (IFS).

As I sat there in the room she instructed me to think of something that gave me some discomfort. I immediately thought of the anxiety I had been experiencing leading up to the music. I said that I felt embarrassed and she grabbed onto it. “Let’s look at the embarrassment. It seems young to me.”

As she was talking to the audience what became clear to me was that there were two moments that all of that anxiety was encased in; it involved my father. They flashed before my eyes while she was talking with various members of the audience. The first was when I was fifteen or so. We were at the beach – my whole family. My father was drunk. “I have more talent in my pinky than you’ll ever have.” I was crushed. I didn’t know at the time he was drunk. I just knew that his words hurt me. I buried it down like I did with all of the assaults to my spirit that spewed from his alcoholism.

Fast forward to the other moment with my father. It was my 23^rd birthday. My father was sober and I was as well. I had been waiting for this day for  years. I could feel the happy ending on the horizon. All the tripe that Hollywood had been stuffing down my throat was going to actually become real for me too. We went to a recovery meeting together. He took all of my friends out for lunch. He, my mom, and I went back to my crappy little apartment. Something had me play the song I had been writing for them both. I was so nervous. I felt so shy. My hands nervously bounced on the guitar neck and my voice shook subtly throughout the whole song.

What I didn’t know was that would be the last time that I saw my father. Shortly after they drove back to their home in Maryland, my father relapsed and a month later he hemorrhaged to death in our family home.

As those memories came into my mind I began to weep – a gentle river of tears flowed down my face as I forgot about the audience in the workshop and simply looked into the gentle eyes of my friend and leaned into the pain. I felt those memories gently fall into place. You see at the end of day that is all a lot of attachment trauma is: an experience that hasn’t been correctly processed and integrated into our brains the way it should have been. And as men we carry that pain around with us for decades telling ourselves to get over it. Or it was so long ago, we’re adults know. Grown-ass men. But our brain doesn’t know time. And our spirit only knows that it wants us to be free of the pain.

And here is the amazing final piece to all of this that came to me through the clarity of the tears: As I stood there on the stage with the rest of my bandmates my little girl was on the dance floor dancing her a#@ off with her mother at her side. And she was smiling at me. She could have cared less if I was playing the right notes or singing off key. She doesn’t have a lot of baggage around worrying about what other people think. Or not being free to be who you are. All she knew was that her daddy was playing music. Music that he loves.

The post While My Guitar Gently Weeps appeared first on Dan Griffin.

To say that many men who are addicted to alcohol and other drugs suffer from low self-esteem is an understatement. But what does that really mean?

We talk about the egomaniac with the inferiority complex – a term with which many men in recovery seem to identify. This is the idea that at the same time I think I am God’s gift to women I also think I am unattractive and no woman would ever like me. Vacillating from vanity to self-loathing; arrogance to lack of confidence. For men especially, the front that we put on often belies the fear and insecurity hiding underneath. Many of us have a soundtrack running deep inside of us telling us we are useless, unlovable, or some other lie. For me, my perception has always been a bit off. The problem is that I have listened to that soundtrack and even sought it out for far too long.

Nothing positive comes from the times we dance with self-pity much of which is rooted in our excessive focus on ourselves. And it may surprise you to know that one of the most arrogant acts is when you see yourself as useless. When we make ourselves useful, despite any voices telling us that nobody likes us or wants us around, we conquer the feeling of uselessness. When we focus on others’ needs before our own and are grateful for all that we have, especially another day of recovery, we conquer the feeling of self-pity. I can always find something in my life that is missing; someone who has more than I do, seems to be more successful, or who I think is better than I. But, I can only find those deficiencies if I look for them.

Each of us has a purpose in life, but our addiction made it next to impossible to know what it was. When I have gratitude for another day sober and look back at the incredible life that I have been given, there is no way I can feel sorry for myself. When I look at how I can be of service to those in my life and stop worrying about me and my petty annoying peevish problems, I see how those thoughts of uselessness and feelings of self-pity are nothing more than a lie. As you free yourself from your addiction, you have, at last, a chance to find your true purpose in life. When I focus on God’s will for me and how God wants to use me there is no way I can see my life as useless.

The post Promise #6: That feeling of uselessness and self-pity will disappear appeared first on Dan Griffin.

I can’t go a year without watching It’s A Wonderful Life. Just the right touch of darkness with a powerful and indistinguishable glowing light to always carry us through. In many ways it is the perfect recovery movie. My heart goes out to those who are experiencing their first holiday in recovery. I know the families may be breathing a sigh of relief to have your loved one back. But for the person newly in recovery this time of the year can be tough. For some, really tough. What they need the most is some idea that everything will get better. And, that they deserve to have that – no mattter what they have done they have not surrendered their opportunity to be part of the community.

Every year, I take some time to reflect on my first holiday season in recovery. I was young, my father had relapsed with late stage alcoholism, and I was scared of life. I had no real idea of how to live as an adult. I was incredibly immature, riddled with insecurity, and full of anger. I was lost. But I had a resource I had never had before and, quite frankly, a resource I could not have imagined actually existing. A place where people came together for one hour and took the risk to tell the truth as best they could to one another. So incredibly simple, yet so incredibly hard. I was wrapped in the security of people who told me: “It will get better.” For some reason I cannot really take credit for, I believed them. Probably because like so many of the lost souls who wander into those rooms, I had a deep desire for life to be good – we just have no idea how to go about it or how much we are in the way of it happening. In my heart of hearts I really wanted life to be wonderful!

Fast forward and twenty-one years later a lot has changed. In many ways, I have the life I could not have even dreamt of when I first got into recovery: beautiful family, published author, beautiful home, true friends, a sense of purpose, an ever-increasing sense of who I am and an ever-increasing sense of inner peace. I still have that God-sized hole we all talk about in the rooms. I still experience loneliness. I still question myself and decisions I make sometimes. I still feel the tug of other people’s wants and need versus my own. But my life is a gift of Grace and I know that in the core of my being. You can always find something to complain about and you can always find something for which to be grateful – which of the wolves are you going to feed? Which of the wolves am I going to feed? My life is a gift and I am blessed beyond all merit.

It has taken a lot of work to get me where I am. Work that I absolutely never could have done on my own. I have to laugh at the people who think they have really done anything on their own. It simply is not possible. We are so immersed in the web of connection that we very often do not even see it. But the person, who alone, takes credit for their recovery? Beware. Left to my own devices and on my own I would not have near the life I do and more than likely would not be sober or even alive. The sacred gift of the “We” has always been my lifeline no matter how reluctant I may be to use it at any given time. That is the core message of It’s A Wonderful Life: No man is a failure who has friends. Said differently: no man can fail when he is immersed in the “we” of Life.

The acting in It’s a Wonderful Life is far from perfect. It often slips into melodrama with a thick heavy Christian accent and a dash of racist caricatures. But it was the 1940s a very different time from today. The message is solid because it is a very human message. The story transcends the movie’s limitations. George Bailey’s life was far from the life that he expected or even worked hard to create for himself. Twice, as he was getting ready to dive into his destiny as an explorer of faraway lands, Life intervened and pulled him back. The man couldn’t catch a break. He so often gave up his dreams to help others and be of service to the larger community. Some might label him codependent or even worse, a fool. And finally, when he was getting ready to dive off a bridge in a suicidal explosion of the built-up resentment, jealousy, and deep disappointment that had been accumulating for years, Life intervened again. I have heard that same story told by a thousand different strangers a thousand different ways over the years: “…..And then God/Life/The Great Spirit/Higher Consciousness  intervened.”  And then the miracle occurred.

When I first began my recovery journey I didn’t know, let alone believe, that it was a wonderful life. I knew I wasn’t ready to die and I was tired of feeling so alone and lost. The challenge is that addiction is such a black-hole of self-centeredness that it is hard for us to feel any sense of connection to the “We” when we are first coming out of the morass. It is a leap of faith for so many of us.Others, who had also stood at the precipice told me it was a wonderful life. They shared their experience of hopelessness transformed into hope; selfishness and self-centeredness transformed into service; and, pride and insecurity transformed into wisdom and humility. These are the people who helped me build a life brick by brick. They kept telling me over and over again to trust the process and believe that it not only could get better but it would better. And it has. So so much better.

And so I proclaim the same words today to and for others that were sung to me by the choir of angels that God put into my life all of those years ago:  

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. 

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive it to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. 

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.**

**The Desiderata by Max Ehrmann

The post It’s A Wonderful Life appeared first on Dan Griffin.

The hallmark of Twelve-Step recovery is sharing our experience, strength, and hope. This, of course, implies that you have something worth sharing. Regardless of how I acted and how much people complimented me on my talent and skills, I often felt as though I had little to nothing to offer. So, when I found myself at six months sober sitting with Gene, another newcomer, telling him my story I had to quiet the voice inside of me that was constantly diminishing me. Telling me I did not belong and never would. Telling me that I had nothing to offer. I decided to take a risk and open up to him because he was newly sober and he looked lost. Underneath the scowl and the sarcasm, he looked lost.

Gene stood out like a sore thumb in the small Virginia town. He was even younger than I, who until then was the youngest in the club – by far – at the age of 21. He had bleached-blond hair cut in a flat-top style, wore gold chains, listened to gangsta rap, and was from up north (read: A Yankee). The blue-haired teetotalers might as well have been talking to an alien. And then he had the nerve to refer to himself as “cross-addicted” because he had also used pills. But he was still just another suffering addict in need of love and compassion. Despite the fear, I reached out my hand. We began to talk and he opened up as if he had been getting ready to burst for some time.

Later that week I drove him back to his mother and step-father’s home after going out to the local diner with some of our “sober crew” after the meeting. I told him my experience up to that point and how I had gotten into the program. I had no idea what I was doing but I had been told that all I had to do was tell him what it was like for me. Surprisingly, when we were done talking and I was leaving Gene thanked me. I can still remember the visceral reaction of confusion as to why he was thanking me. I had just spent the last two hours thinking of someone other than myself. And, he had listened to me. I should have been thanking him! As I drove away I realized there was value to my story – I had something real to offer another suffering human being. And, it felt good. That is the gift we are given when we take the risk and reach out to another man who is drowning. I have since shared my story – my heart and soul – with many others and it is always the same: they thank me and I thank them for helping me to stay sober one more day. I get far more than I give. Only God could make a business model like that work!

The post Promise #5: We Will See How Our Experience Can Benefit Others appeared first on Dan Griffin.

Dear Reader – In the past months I have been busy working on two my latest books and as a result I neglected to keep up with my blog. Thanks for your interest and for reading!

I was seven years old standing in the basement telling my father I wished I had never been born. What can be going on in a child’s life that these words would come out of his mouth at such a young age? While it took me many more years to name it, growing up in a home affected by alcoholism and abuse takes an immense toll on a child. And so I found myself having lost touch with any sense of serenity and peace. I learned quickly how to hide the pain and despair with a smile.

You can learn how to feel safe enough to give voice to the pain you carry with you. When I have no internal peace it is too easy to project my inner chaos onto the world around me. Peace comes from the inside. A lot of us have likely spent much of our lives dealing with – or not dealing with – conflict and anger. Some of it internal and some of it external. You can learn how, after years of being controlled by your anger, to make it work for you. When you do this, the outside world changes as if it has been magically repainted by an invisible artist’s hand. Suddenly the world that seemed so hostile and scary is a place of wonder and awe.

When we accept ourselves, others, and the world around us as they are, we will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace. When we see ourselves for who we are not for what we have done or what we do, we will know peace. When we stop fighting everything and everyone we will know peace. When we surrender to the mystery of life and live each moment to its fullest we will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace.

This promise says “comprehend” and “know” – it does not say that we will always be serene and peaceful. It simply says that we will, once again, know what it feels like to be at peace with this world and we will learn that it is our decision as to whether the world ever becomes a hostile and scary place again.

The post Promise #4: We will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace appeared first on Dan Griffin.

What man does not want to make peace with his past?

How many of us enter recovery with a deep feeling of shame for how we have lived?

How many of us are confused about what we have done and what that might mean about who we are?

In recovery, you have the incredible opportunity to connect with men through the sharing of your past experiences. This Promise tells us we should not want to shut the door on the past. When we embrace our past and learn how to see it in a new way it opens new doors for the future.

You may have heard the saying, “Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it.” That is one of the main reasons we are told to remember our last time using. This Promise tells us we can face our past, not live in shame about it, and not runaway from or deny it. Our past does not have to define us, who we are, or how we live our lives. We see this Promise come alive every time the haggard newcomer whose soul has been ripped apart stands up with his hand out welcoming another. We see this Promise come alive every time someone from the recovery community tells his story with his head held high.

There is the time-tested saying that we “are as sick as our secrets.” The secrets we carry around with us that weigh us down. The same secrets that we promised we would take with us to our grave. Maybe we can be free, truly free, from the chains of the past that haunt us.

The post Promise #3: We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it appeared first on Dan Griffin.

Promise #2: We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness

As a result of recovery, I am free to live my life the way I see fit and I do not have to let others or society –even my recovery community – tell me what that has to be. I can choose each action I take and I can be responsible for every action and its consequence. And because of thatfreedom I am able to be a part of the human community in a way that I never thought possible. And thatfreedom has been one of the keys to me finding a happiness that is lasting.

The problem is that it seems not a lot of people today know what happiness is. Or perhaps said better – know what will truly make us happy. We feel a fleeting rush and confuse that with happiness. We give others the power to make us happy – and therefore also the power to make us miserable. We believe that satisfying the bottomless desires within us will bring us happiness. We think happiness is something we should just expect and are disappointed, and even resentful, when it does not come to us as a gift from the Heavens. “After all,” we say “I am sober…don’t I deserve happiness?” As if happiness is an entitlement. The founding fathers of American democracy talked about the pursuit of happiness as an inalienable right. But happiness itself? Well, nobody ever promised us rose gardens despite so many of us in recovery seeming to think that. I know I did for the longest time of my recovery. Of course, most of us have one thing going for us when it comes to the proverbial garden – a bounty of fertilizer!

What has been most difficult has been admitting when I am not happy. It almost feels there is this unspoken obligation to be happy in recovery – paint on a happy face. I see it all of the time – as if having problems or being unhappy somehow means you are not doing your recovery “right.” I can’t count how many men I have spoken to with years of recovery who have come to believe that there is something wrong with them talking about their pain because they have 20….30…even 40 years of sobriety. Just the other day I had breakfast with just such a man – with forty years and when he faced incredible adversity at 35 years he had convinced himself that he was supposed to be the elder and being the elder meant he wasn’t only free from problems but superhuman.

I have spoken with others who feel like they are breaking some unwritten rule if they talk about wanting to use or act out with their addiction after they have been sober a certain amount of time. Just another kind of insanity. All of this is ego. And pride. And….BS! There is no freedom when we feel like we have to put on an act in order to fit in the one place that is supposed to be safe enough for us to show up however we need to. There is nothing that is more valuable than us having a place where we can be authentic. When we don’t have that, what have we got? I don’t know about you but painting on that happy face gets me drunk – after I have decimated every relationship that means anything to me. Sad but true.

In my tenth year of sobriety I admitted I was not very happy in most of the areas of my life. As a result I was exposed to the possibility of true happiness. I gave myself permission to stop pretending. Again. When I was desperate in that first year I did not care about fitting in because I was desperate to learn how to live. Plus, I was still convinced deep in my heart that I did not fit in. At ten years it was different and it strengthened my muscles enough so that I was able to do it again at fifteen years and even seventeen years. Today, I do know anew happiness, and that it comes through the “right living” laid out in the Twelve Steps – and that happiness is not an end in itself. That facing my unhappiness creates space for my happiness to deepen and to be longer lasting. The true freedom has come in realizing that I will not always be happy and I do not have to pretend.

There is nothing wrong with being unhappy – it is what makes happiness meaningful. There is something very liberating when you come to realize that you are as free to be unhappy as you are to be happy.

The post Promise #2: A New Freedom and A New Happiness appeared first on Dan Griffin.

When we are painstaking, or careful and diligent in our attempt, it means that through the pain, disappointment, and suffering we experience in the crucible of our recovery, we do not give up. We have some faith that this is not wasted effort – there is a higher purpose to which we are dedicating our efforts. We pick up the phone instead of dancing one more time on the edge with the addiction that was destroying our lives. We ask for help instead of isolating ourselves or pretending we are not in pain. We tell on ourselves to our sponsor or in a meeting, even if it means our voice is shaking and our heart is ready to jump out of our chest. Regardless of how much sobriety we have we tell the truth about ourselves and risk being known. We do this because we have already been amazed. We know that we have been offered a way out that we, alone, could never have found. And cannot keep if we do not give it away. We know that this pain – the pain of redemption and repairing our wounds and the wounds of others got in the middle of our affair with self-destruction – has a purpose.

The Promises are not static they live in the present moment. Whatever phase of growth and development we are in – and if we are painstaking about our efforts – we will be amazed before we are halfway through. There is when we are halfway through with our amends but it does not end there. There is no clear marker telling us when we are halfway but if you believe, as I believe, that the Promises apply to Life then “the halfway point” is constantly moving.

As we set out upon the path and trudge our way to happy destiny, we will be amazed at the vision of the mountaintop from miles away. We rest and take in the beauty of this glorious site of God’s creation. And then, we return to the stony path and continue to trudge, knowing that, as breathtaking as the sight is, it is the journey itself which is the greatest reward. It doesn’t even matter if we make it there. Perhaps, it is another mountain to which we are headed. It simply doesn’t matter because it is the amazement that moves us forward and our ability to drink deeply from the marrow of the present moment. Nothing else matters. Nothing else is necessary. In fact, nothing else is. All we have is Now. It is all amazing if we just pay attention.

The post Promise #1: If we are painstaking about this phase of our development appeared first on Dan Griffin.

My wife, Nancy, and I were talking the other night and she asked me: “Is there anything positive about shame?” I am not sure if there is. Some people say there is a healthy shame that is different from toxic shame. But there is no question that shame destroys men’s lives – piecemeal. We act out of shame, suffer consequences in our relationships, and continue to act out as the shame keeps us isolated, separated and lost in our secrets. And when men’s lives are destroyed women’s and children’s lives are often part of the collateral damage. Every time we share a secret or a part of ourselves we have been hiding, we move further from shame and take one more step into the community.

Stand tall knowing that you have been willing to take responsibility for the pain you have caused in your community. Despite what we have done we belong. There is nothing – absolutely nothing – we can do to lose our divine birthright as God’s children. And so, this prelude to the Promises is what tells us that, despite everything that we have done, we deserve the Promises to come true in our lives as much as anyone. Not only that but they will come true in our lives just as they will come true in anyone’s life. And that is a tough thing for many of us to believe. It is a lot easier to believe that we are irreparably broken as we are hounded by the lies that shame is constantly whispering in our ears – and sometimes even screaming at us underneath the smiling facade we present to the rest of the world. But you belong – and you deserve to be a part of the community. You always have.

The post We Don’t Crawl Before Anyone appeared first on Dan Griffin.

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 your sincere apologies in the spirit of peace and personal accountability? For men in our culture, admitting to mistakes seems like admitting that we are “weak”. The ability to be humble with others, 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 can come true for you, too.

The post The Promises of Recovery appeared first on Dan Griffin.