It was a quiet weekend for the addict and his family. It was not a "circus" weekend and there was not much planned on the calendar. Instead of being packed with family responsibilities and time commitments, the weekend was dominated by an eerie calm.
Why is this calm "eerie"? Simply because the addict walks on shaky ground at home and is not sure of his current "standing" in the household.
A little over two weeks ago, the addict "re-disclosed" to his Beloved. He again acknowledged that he is an addict and gave her the full truth on his recovery -- or lack thereof. While the addict has been in recovery for over three years, he still acts out regularly. This was the kernel of re-disclosure -- the addict is still acting out.
After disclosure, the addict made certain promises to his Beloved. Promises to be more open and honest -- to not hide the truth about progress in recovery. But also promises about other aspects of life: follow-through on certain financial issues, commitment to seek resources, and more involvement in general household issues.
These fresh commitments relate not only to recovery from addiction, but to general challenges in the addict's life. They push the addict to be more proactive with recovery and also with addressing issues stemming from depression and A.D.D.
So far the recovery related commitments have gone well. I have experienced bottom-line sobriety as well as serenity since re-disclosure took place. The non-recovery issues, however, have been more of a challenge. I have taken some steps towards following through on these copmmitments, but not as many as I could or should. This is frustrating both to me and to my Beloved.
So the weekend was quiet and calm. The weekend was a celebration of new progress in recovering from addiction. But the weekend also seemed to stand as a quiet condemnation of failure to meet other commitments.
Life is so complex. If one area is going strong, something else will be lacking. At least that is the way it has always felt to me. Can one ever celebrate accomplishments when there is always something else that has been left undone?
The Calm yields no answer.
This has been a good week for the addict. I feel as if I have received the gift of sobriety. I feel at peace with myself and my heart feels softened. I am a grateful recovering addict.
Two weeks ago I spoiled my wedding anniversary by selfishly acting out in my addiction. When I came home, I disclosed all. I disclosed not only that I had acted out that day, but that I had been acting out regularly, that I was not as far down the road to recovery as my wife hoped.
My wife challenged me. She asked where the accountability was in my program. I couldn't give her a good answer.
I took these concerns to my recovery group. We all agreed that we had not pushed each other enough on accountability. We decided to make a change. We agreed to be more proactive in the recovery of other members of the group. We acknowledged that each of our own conditions of sobriety had an impact on the recovery of others. There is a lot at stake.
Since then I have experienced sobriety as a gift. It does not feel as if I have acquired or earned it. Sobriety has been freely granted to me. How can this be?
LOOK AT THE TURTLE
I have called myself a turtle since I am so wont to withdraw at the slightest hint of controversy or confrontation. When the going gets tough, I hide in my shell. So I have been looking at the positive and negatives of turtles as a metaphor for recovery.
One thing I have learned about turtles is that they are ectothermic. That is, turtles are cold-blooded; they rely on their environment to regulate body temperature. Heat for their body must come from an outside source.
My hopes for healing from addiction must, in a sense, also be ectothermic. I have admitted that I am powerless over my addictive behavior and that my life is unmanageable when I try to control it. In order to heal, I must look outside of myself.
The turtle looks first to its immediate environment, and ultimately to the sun for sources of body heat. I must look first to my immediate environment and ultimately to the Son -- my higher power -- for sources of healing and recovery.
When I disclosed to my wife two weeks ago, my environment changed. I took down walls that kept me emotionally isolated from her. I turned to my brothers in recovery for more strength and accountability. And I prayed, prayed, prayed. I surrendered to my Higher Power for help.
And, at least for now, the gift of sobriety is here. It comes not from within, but from without. I am the addict and I am the turtle. The good things in life come ectothermically!
Last night I attended a Twins game with my father. This was my birthday present to him -- a night out at the teflon-covered Metrodome to watch a sub-500 baseball team. Obviously the Twins were just the background to the true gift: a father-son outing.
Despite the Twins slumping record and often lackluster play, the game featured a number of memorable moments:
+ Twins rookie pitcher Kevin Slowey struck out 7 batters.
+ The Twins scored their first run on a perfectly executed double-steal by Torii Hunter and Michael Cuddyer followed by a wild throw by the Rangers' rookie catcher.
+ Joe Mauer, the uber-catcher and local-boy, hit a home run.
+ Torii Hunter stole a base while the pitcher stood on the mound because nobody bothered to cover second.
+ The Twins came-from-behind to win the game with two runs in the bottom of the ninth.
But none of these memorable items compared to my Dad's question and our ensuing conversation.
Some time around the third inning my Dad asked me: "How's life?"
As an addict, such a question is always pregnant with meaning. What is he really asking? Is he wondering how work is? How's the family? Is he just making conversation? Or does he want to know about my recovery and whether I'm making any progress. I decided that he meant the latter and, for some inexplicable reason, I also decided to answer honestly.
"Up and down," I said. "I'm not really making the progress I had hoped too. Things seem the same as they did about a year ago. I act out once or twice a week. But I think I am finally ready for a change."
All of these words were true and I uttered them sincerely. I am ready for a change. My heart has been humbled and I am ready to surrender control. I am ready to give up the pleasures and imperfect control that comes with acting out. I have, in fact, been sober for 12 days now and it feels good.
Dad and I talked about other things, too. Family, financial obligations, time commitments, daily prayer. It was a good, deep, and meaningful conversation.
A meaningful conversation with my Dad.
Priceless!
As an addict, I don't feel like I am making choices. I feel trapped. Yet at the same time, if recovery is possible, there must be a point at which this behavior does become a choice. I will keep trying to reach this point. I would never choose anything over you. But my behavior says something else. The best I can offer is to keep trying. I can't make promises, because I keep breaking them. They are meaningless coming from me.
These words were penned by the Addict on September 7th, 2007. Let's hope they are not empty words.
What a difference a day makes.
Yesterday:
The addict was working towards recovery, but still acting out once to twice a week.
The addict was getting ready to celebrate his fifth wedding anniversary.
The addict was looking forward to a night out and an upcoming weekend.
Today:
The addict is sad, fearful, and lonely.
The addict is till on the road to recovery, but that's not enough.
The addict is worried about his marriage and in remorse over all of the hurt he has caused his Beloved.
So What Happened?
The addict acted out yesterday. Acted out before returning home to celebrate the anniversary of his marriage. The addict was late in returning home. And before he got home, the addict knew that he could no longer hide the truth. Wedding anniversaries cannot be celebrated under a cloud of secrets.
When the addict returned home he disclosed that he had acted out. He also disclosed his regular cycle of acting out once to twice a week. The addict's Beloved knew he had acted out, but had not known the frequency of his behavior.
No anniversary celebration. Instead, a long, painful heart-to-heart conversation in which the Beloved mostly spoke and the addict mostly listened. Things need to change. This can't go on. It is time for the addict to start making better choices. Every incident of acting out demonstrates that the addict is choosing his addiction over his Beloved.
Response #1 - Is it a Choice?
The addict wants to cry out that he is not choosing addiction over his Beloved. He is not choosing to act out.
At the same time the addict still holds out hope of recovery. Recovery must include a cessation to acting out. Doesn't this involve choice?
So the addict feels trapped in a painful conundrum: Either he IS choosing to act out and is responsible for all of the hurt he has caused his Beloved, or the addict has NO CHOICE and also must acknowledge that any hope of recovery is an illusion. Despair.
IT'S NOT THAT EASY!
Response #2 - Empty Promises
The addict makes the same promises he has before. I will change. I will work my program. I will communicate better. I will contribute more to the household.
But what will make these promises different now? How can one make the same promises he has broken repeatedly in the past? At this point in the game, words mean nothing.
Response #3 - What a Blessing!
It is true that the addict is experiencing pain and sadness today. But it is also true that the addict has broken out of his shell. For the past few years the addict has hid almost everything from those around him. He has withdrawn emotionally and tried to manage recovery on his own.
All the while the addict has been telling himself that he will disclose everything once he has started to recover. As soon as I have a month of sobriety, then I will let her know how things are really going. And slowly the addict built up walls around himself so thick that he couldn't even imagine how he might bring them back down.
Today the addict is in pain, but he is also out of the shadows.
The addict spent a lot of time reading over the Labor Day Weekend. Despite the incredible weather and the extra day off, the addict selfishly hoarded as much time as possible to read. You might even say that the addict "turtled."The addict is currently re-reading a series of books he has read several times before: The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever. This is a fantasy epic that has always had a strong pull on the addict's heart.
The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant are an epic tale in the genre of Lord of the Rings. The difference is that the main charcter -- the hero or protagonist -- is a person from our world and is very unlikeable. He suffers from leprosy and all of the isolation and abuse that go with it. He is hard for the Reader to support because he insists on not believing in the very beautiful world that is the substsance of the novel. He hates the world and he hates himself. But in the end, he finds redemption. Any addict would crawl on his knees for such redemption. This character of self-hatred and redemption provides a crucible for the reader to purge his own doubts and fears.But even as the addict spent time withdrawn to read over the weekend, he was aware of family and the needs of others. He knew, for example, that his youngest -- the Chatty Chatty Princess -- was looking to him for some play time and entertainment."Daddy, can you play outside?""Daddy, let's race!""How about a treasure hunt, Daddy?"So what to do?Turtle?Or not turtle?Turtles have protective shells that can provide safety from enemies and other threats. Addicts have protective shells that shield them from threats which may or may not exist.
Turtles do not spend time with their young. They lay eggs and leave. Parenthood is not in the nature of a turtle.Addicts have a choice: Turtle or not turtle. While the addict spent most of the weekend as a reclusive, in the end he stuck his head out of his shell and realized that being a parent could be fun and rewarding. So this weekend the addict swam, played tag, went on a treasure hunt, looked for clues in a mystery, and played hide-and-seek. 
And you know what?The addict was just fine without his shell!
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