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Christmas + Recovery

December 4, 2018 By mary Leave a Comment

As the holidays rolled around last year, Chris was baby-stepping the first days of sobriety. He had completed treatment and was living in a halfway house with limited time at home. When Thanksgiving rolled around, he was allowed–for the first time–to spend the night at our house. Before that, he had only been granted an eight hour visit one day a week.

He was easing back into the real world with all the freedoms that entailed but with better boundaries and different eyes.

The holiday season is overflowing with parties, dinners, dates with out-of-town friends, and family gatherings that center around alcohol. Even if you’re not one to drink or you come from a family of non-drinkers, everyone is around more alcohol this time of year.

And that means the holidays are really hard and really dangerous for a lot of people, especially those in early sobriety. Family dynamics, social settings, stress, and peer pressure are ever-present triggers exacerbated in December.

So what do we do? What do we do if we’re in early sobriety and gearing up for the season? What do we do if we’re trying to support those in early sobriety? What do we do if we will be around a loved one who struggles with alcohol?

First of all, thanks for asking. Pretending this doesn’t exist only hurts ourselves and the people we love; talking about situations before they become a reality sets everyone up for success.

You might have to skip some events.
You know which events I’m talking about. I don’t even need to point this one out. Christmas party with the open bar? Might be too tempting. Night at the bar with college friends? Might not be a good time. Listen, I get that it’s hard to miss fun things, and that sounds like the opposite of fun, but this isn’t forever. The more sobriety you have under your belt, the better you’ll be in situations with alcohol, but for now, it might be a bad choice. It’s important to remember that whatever is happening right now in this moment doesn’t mean it’s forever. But if there’s a chance you might slip up, why risk it?

Sometimes a place just isn’t safe. If you’re in early sobriety, the list of places you shouldn’t go might be really long. It won’t always be like this, but for the time being, there is no guilt in skipping something for the sake of sobriety. If you’re the loved one whose party or gathering is being skipped, please chill on the feelings of abandonment and insult. This isn’t forever. Your party probably isn’t even that good. (Just kidding. Maybe.) But if someone is vulnerable and shares they’re not attending something because everything feels too fragile–it’s not about you, so get over yourself.

You might have to ask for new traditions.
Alcoholics love a routine: get home from work, crack up a beer; survive a busy week, drinks on Friday; watching a movie, cold drink in hand. Addict brains thrive on ritual and when you try to do one of your normal habits without the drink, your brain fights against your choice. Fighting against your own brain is hard and, especially in the beginning, you might not win. So don’t tempt yourself with the same places and the same people and the same celebrations you spent years drinking at. People who want you healthy will eagerly change things up and those who don’t eagerly change might not be safe for you anyway.

You might have to let go of some relationships.
Healthy people don’t become alcoholics. Healthy people don’t become addicts. And depending on when these behaviors started, it might be time to remove some family or friends from the inner circle. I know that’s hard and it sounds painful, but some triggers and wounds can’t be handled or healed with a little sobriety. Chris has chosen to remove himself from unhealthy family relationships because they’re too dangerous. This wasn’t easy, but it was also necessary. Through rehab and therapy, it became apparent that some relationships were just too damaged and unsafe. This isn’t a decision he made lightly, and it was met with a lot of uninformed people trying to shame him into changing his mind. People in recovery don’t have to explain their decisions on their way to sobriety. You don’t either.

You might have to make an event alcohol-free.
If you’re trying to love and support someone who struggles with alcohol, someone who is trying to make better choices, please consider making an event alcohol-free. Arguments like “but we always have wine with dinner!” or “he just doesn’t have to drink!” aren’t helpful. If you can’t celebrate a holiday or hold an event without alcohol, maybe spend some time figuring out why that is. I’m not talking about making the company Christmas party dry, but if it’s Christmas Eve and your immediate family can’t gather without everyone drinking, maybe have some honest conversations about what that says about your interactions and level of health. (Remember this post is about helping alcoholics or supporting people who are working on sobriety; this is not a general conversation about healthy, non-alcoholics having a drink with the Christmas ham or while playing games with the grandkids.) If you’ve got tons of excuses as to why this won’t work for the short-term while someone needs extra encouragement to get healthy, I’d look closely at the definition of enabler and see if you can connect some dots.

You might have to take breaks.
Even the healthiest person can’t always tolerate all the cheer and relatives and noise at the holidays. Add in a newly-sober person whose nerve-endings and emotions are frazzled and you’ve got an anxiety party for one. Before you head to the event (or before you host the event), figure out some breaks. Where can you go to get a minute? Who can you be around that won’t ask stupid questions or make awkward small talk? Need a code word or secret handshake to signal it’s time to go? (I’m sorry, that’s not really a legit thing, but if you could create a secret handshake before your next Christmas party and then let me know you did it, I would die of laughter and joy.) But seriously, you know your triggers, you know who gets on your nerves, and you know who’s going to say something dumb you’ll want to punch. Prepare yourself ahead of time so you’re not left with drinking as your only coping strategy.

You might need to find a safe person to be your wingman (wingwoman).
Addictions of every kind thrive in secret shame. If you or someone you know has made shaky first steps to get rid of the shame and share their struggles honestly, they’re telling you they want your support and they trust you. Take this responsibility serious. You’re not in charge of their sobriety. But you can encourage them in places or at times they feel less than confident. It’s an honor to stand by someone who wants better.

You might have to speak up.
Once again for the people in the back: alcoholism loves shame and secrets and guilt, but you get to refuse those things and tell people what’s happening. Not everyone. We all know people who aren’t safe, who could help you justify your behaviors, who enable instead of help. But you don’t have to keep it to yourself either. Let a few co-workers know you’re trying a sober holiday. Tell your cousins you’re working on yourself and want to do it sober. You can say lots of 2018 fluffy things to ward off some pressure and weird looks. You might not have a lot of confidence in yourself, but pretending you got this is half the battle.

If you’re doing this holiday season sober for the first time: I’m so proud of you, and I know you can do it. One moment at a time, one day at a time. Go to meetings every day if you need to. The holidays will be done before you know it and the pride you’ll have from surviving this season is inexplicable. You’ve got this.

If you’re willing to be a safe person for someone in recovery this holiday season: Remember, this is not about you. This isn’t the time to have deep, hard conversations with someone in recovery. Give them space to breathe; changes you make this year aren’t forever, but could help a recovering person feel loved and supported. Don’t make a big deal, don’t put on a show of how great you are. Just do it and move on. Again, it’s not about you.

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Thanks for asking, lemme tell you.

October 23, 2018 By mary 4 Comments

I turned thirty seven last week. We celebrated by going to Disney World like any adult would do.

Actually, the truth is more like it was fall break and we were traveling and it just happened to be my birthday, but pretending it was on purpose sounds fun.

When it’s your birthday and you’re at a Disney park, they give you a pin that announces to everyone it’s your birthday. I lost count of the crew members who wished me a happy birthday, but I would say it was at least thirty of them.

Happy Birthday, Mary!

Happy Birthday!

As someone who enjoys not always being seen, it was a little overwhelming. Especially when half the time, my family doesn’t even get me birthday cards and, more than likely, I have bought my own birthday present (a new green jacket, thanks for asking). I like celebrating others’ birthdays but don’t really care too much to get a lot of attention on my own.

My kid self would be so disappointed in my adult self.

But then my adult self would tell my kid self sometimes I eat candy for dinner, and we’d be cool.

At what point do we as adults get to give up the charade that it was a hard year and instead admit being an adult IN GENERAL is really hard?

Is it thirty seven?

I think it’s thirty seven.

Not that the past year was all bad. There was a lot of magical, beautiful, wonderful things that happened on my last trip around the sun. If I want the good, I have to accept the bad too.

Give and take.

Learn and grow.

Break and heal.

What did I learn this past year? Thanks for asking, lemme tell you.

-I learned that sometimes all you need is a drink of water and a walk around the block to get out of a funk. I learned that sometimes medicine is necessary to shake the funk and that neither of those are bad.

-I learned it’s good to keep a standing appointment with your therapist because just when you think things are calm, just when things feel manageable, BOOM, life says not so fast.

-I saw what happens when your kids get older and they develop personalities and sense of humors independent of you, and it’s just the most enjoyable thing to experience and witness.

-I remembered there’s nothing wrong with mindless, frivolous stories that keep you up all night reading just because they can. Sleep is important, but skipping it occasionally is too.

-I learned that friendships can end and you can grieve them without wanting them back. The end can make you sad but also really, really peaceful.

-I was taught again and again I’m not in charge, I control very little, and I am going to be okay without either of those things.

-I was reminded that my home filled with people I love is still the best place to be.

-I learned forgiving others is right but sometimes it’s about my freedom too.

-I learned that unbalanced relationships–with one person always taking and one person always giving–will eventually topple.

-I’m (still) learning that maybe you can have too many books. Maybe. Check back at thirty eight.

-I learned that boundaries are hard but good. How others react to boundaries tells you how healthy or unhealthy they are; this isn’t yours to change, but you can take note.

-I learned if you don’t know the answer, grace is a good place to start.

-I’m learning that character counts, and it doesn’t lie. We don’t need to fight what others think or say about us because actions always speak louder than words.

-I learned that God is close to the brokenhearted, and His comfort is better than anything else I can find.

-I realized this world is more painful and more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.

-I learned the more grateful you are, the more you have to be grateful for. Gratitude gives you new, better eyes.

-I remembered what deep, peaceful, safe sleep feels like. I didn’t realize it was missing, but I’m glad it’s returned.

-I learned when friends let you in on their healing and hurting, it is the most sacred gift. I was taught how to do this well by others and getting to be on the other side feels holy.

-I learned that to-do lists are comforting, but so is ignoring them.

-I realized a queen-size bed can hold two adults, a seven year old, a nine year old, and a medium-sized dog even though it feels impossible.

September was hard in unexpected ways so as October slowly made its way here, I anticipated it more than normal. Let the leaves turn colors. Bring on the cooler temperature. Usher in the shorter days. Something about the slow dying, the scheduled end to summer and growing felt right to my soul.

I’m walking away from a lot as I begin another year: jobs, security, relationships, routines, answers, comfort for the sake of comfort. I’m excited and expectant of thirty seven. It will be hard and good, sad and beautiful. I hope it includes traveling, writing, my family, new and old friends, lots of laughter, really good food, piles of books, less stuff, and more experiences. I pray it is wrapped in obedience, humility, patience, love, grace, and mercy.

For myself.

For my family.

For you.

Photography by Huff Photography

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They’re going to hate me as much as I hate me.

October 9, 2018 By mary 1 Comment

It’s October again, and I found myself sitting in southern Indiana in the wood-paneled building surrounded by addicts and alcoholics just like last year.

This time I was there for an AA meeting and not weekly visitation for my husband. We had the girls in tow. The four of us walked in together, and we would be leaving together as well.

The old timers hugged Chris, checked in on him, teased him. A friend admitted he’d slipped and was starting the sobriety count again. People grabbed waters and coffees, and as the meeting began, the girls put their headphones on and turned up their tablets.

AA meetings aren’t for little girls.

There’s a rhythm to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, just like any other meeting you’d attend. There’s an opening script, a call for restarts, a time for sharing milestones. They begin with 24 hours. Anyone starting over? Anyone been sober for 24 hours? And they work their way up.

Chris stood up at the one year call-out and declared his one year of sobriety. His sponsor said some words, and Chris got his one-year coin.

I thought I would cry when this happened, but I didn’t.

The moment passed, and the meeting opened to comments and questions. As the conversation warmed up, a guy spoke up about his fears as he begins to work through step four.

In AA, step four is when the alcoholic makes “a searching and fearless moral inventory of” themselves. This normally involves a lot of time and paper: the recovering alcoholic writes out all his or her moral failings, all the decisions alcohol played a part in, and all the areas of his or her life affected by alcohol.

For an alcoholic, this step is long, exhausting, hard, and painful. Alcohol helped them forget things, but there are still millions of things they can’t forget and until they confess them, they’ll continue to be weighed down by them.

And so the alcoholic writes them down. All of them. As many as he or she can remember.

When you’re done with step four, you move to step five which is “admit to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.”

You have to confess all the shit you’ve done. The shit no one else knows about. The secret shit you’d like to forget. The lies. The stealing. The hurting of others. The deceit. The cheating. The wrecks. The manipulation. The destruction. The things you swore you wouldn’t tell anyone. The things you only did because you thought no one would ever know.

Everything.

Now you can see why someone was anxious and worried about step four. Not drinking is hard. Not drinking while you write down and then say out loud all the very worst things–pages and pages–that you’ve done is hard multiplied by one hundred.

Alcoholics who are trying to do the work know you can’t skim or gloss over this part, because it comes back up and you drink again. You have to get it all out, get it all on paper, and then say it all out loud to move on.

You don’t get the benefits of hard work (in this case: sobriety) unless you actually do the hard work.

Here’s why I’m telling you this: because we’re all carrying things that are destroying us. We might not be driven to drink or to numb with drugs, but we’re all weighed down with secrets and regret and shame and it is one-hundred percent impacting our actions, relationships, families, and conversations.

We don’t get the benefits of hard work (in this case: intimacy, healthy marriages, wisdom, authentic friendship, peace, joy, contentment) unless we do the hard work.

Everybody wants the results but nobody wants to do the work.

One guy joined the conversation to encourage the speaker through his step four wrestling, and then he said when he was working on steps four and five, it destroyed him because he just knew when he said his stuff out loud that “they’re going to hate me as much as I hate me.”

They’re going to hate me as much as I hate me.

If that’s not the most honest and truthful reason people lie, I don’t know what is.

They’re going to hate me as much as I hate me.

I can’t get that out of my head. I can’t get that out of my heart. I can’t make it stop echoing in my ears.

They’re going to hate me as much as I hate me.

That’s it, friends. That’s why we lie and hide and deceive and manipulate and cover up and scheme and destroy. Because if people knew the real us, they’d hate us just as much as we hate ourselves. So we keep digging bigger holes and we keep creating more faces for more people. We keep doing things we would never own up to because we hate who we are and we for sure don’t need other people to hate us too.

But the secret is when alcoholics confess to their sponsors, no one hates them. No one is shocked. No one is even impressed. Because sponsors are alcoholics too. Because sponsors have done their own horrible things. Because sponsors have already done their own hard work. Because sponsors understand the power of saying it out loud and then letting it go.

AA isn’t a religious organization, but if you’re not seeing Jesus in this madness, you’re not paying attention.

AA demands community, honesty, confession, grace, forgiveness, and a changed life. Sometimes the alcoholic has to start over fifty times before he or she gets it right, but each time, AA is there with open arms and a bunch of broken, beautiful people who want to walk with you.

Jesus demands community, honesty, confession, grace, forgiveness, and a changed life. Sometimes Jesus followers have to start over fifty times a day before he or she gets it right, but each time, Jesus is there with open arms and a bunch of other broken, beautiful people who want to walk with you.

The truth is we’re all weighed down by something. We get to wake up every day and continue to carry it which we know will lead to our self-destruction, or we can start the hard work of admitting, asking for forgiveness, and living a better life.

They say after recovering alcoholics complete step five, you can see them almost float out of the room. I don’t think humans can fly, but I think the closest we’ve ever come is when an addict stops carrying the traumas and scars and shame that has controlled them for so long. You can’t describe or imagine that first feeling of freedom after being in bondage for so, so long.

They just float out of the room.

We can do that too. We can float–unashamed and untethered–all we have to do is start the work.

Love podcasts? May I suggest you listen to the Not Terrible Podcast? My friend Jess and I co-host a weekly show where we discuss hard stories with hope and humor. I’d love for you to listen and subscribe.