"RELAPSE BEGINS A LONG TIME BEFORE YOU PICK UP THAT FIRST DRINK OR DRUG."

I'm a three meeting minimum a week kind of guy. Anything below that and I begin feeling, well, kind of vulnerable. Oh, not that I'm going to pick up and use, but vulnerable to what my head tells me, and vulnerable to feeling more irritable, restless and discontented. I'm quicker to judge, and I begin storing resentments. 

After a few weeks of that, it begins to get harder to make even two meetings a week. Soon I'm not answering my phone very much and calling my sponsor doesn't even occur to me. Work pressures mount, and on the way home you're not driving fast enough, and the parking lot is full, and Blockbuster doesn't have the movie I want. Suddenly the world is out of whack, and the idea of a drink seems not only natural, but completely reasonable as well.

I can't tell you the number of times I've heard people who relapse tell a story similar to the one above. It always scares the heck out of me because there have been times when I've begun to go down that same path. Thank God for my commitments, a strong support group, regular meetings I look forward to, and sponsees who continue to call me. 



Today I have four meetings a week I go to - whether I need them or not - because I want to keep the distance between me a relapse as far apart as possible.

"THE PROGRAM DOES FOR US SLOWLY WHAT DRUGS AND ALCOHOL DID FOR US QUICKLY."

I can clearly remember what I felt like before recovery. I was anxious, on edge, so uncomfortable with my life that I wanted and needed to escape. I can also remember the immediate sense of ease and comfort that came from the first hit of my drugs or alcohol. Suddenly, everything was OK, and the future actually had some hope in it.

This was my solution for a long time, and when it stopped working, I was truly at a jumping off point. In the beginning of my recovery, meetings and fellowship offered me temporary relief from the near constant dread and anxiety I felt. The problem was how to get by in between meetings, and I'll tell you, it was rough going for quite a while.

And that's when I heard someone share that "we go to meetings for relief, but we work the steps for recovery." As I worked my program, I found this to be true. The relief and sense of ease and comfort I used to get through using now began to be part of my everyday experience. After a while, I actually had peace and serenity and most of the time felt comfortable in my own skin.

One day I realized that the program had done for me slowly what drugs and alcohol had done for me quickly.

"IT'S NOT OLD BEHAVIOR IF I'M STILL DOING IT."

It's easy to let go of things that are causing more pain than pleasure. Like when my drinking and using was killing me, I stopped, and even though it was hard at first, I found that being sober really was the easier, softer way. But I still had a lot of old ideas and behaviors that still worked sometimes, and letting these go was not so easy.

As I sat in meeting after meeting, I would hear that "the result was nil until we let go absolutely", and I never really got it. I mean, I was certainly getting results - I was clean and sober; I got my job back, and I began repairing broken relationships. But there were also times when I was intensely unhappy, irritable, and needed and wanted a drink. It took a long while for me to see that these feelings almost always followed old ways of thinking and behaving.

The longer I'm in recovery, the more I understand the value of steps six and seven. My old behaviors will continue just so long as I remain unwilling to give up the character defects that cause them. But when I do become willing, something wonderful happens - my Higher Power does for me what I can't do for myself - and that is relieve me of my old ways of thinking and acting.

Today I understand when they say, "It's not an old behavior if you're still doing it."

"WITHOUT TOLERANCE FOR ANOTHER, IT'S HARD TO HAVE EMPATHY FOR MYSELF."

Tolerant was one of the last words you would have used to describe me before I entered the program. Instead, I was quick to judge you and could always find fault with what you said, or how you dressed, or what you did. My opinion of myself was so low that I constantly had to rip you down to build myself up. Living this way made me bitter, isolated and resentful.

As I listed my resentments in my fourth step, and more importantly my part, I began to see how much my fear and low self-esteem drove my decisions and actions, hurting both myself and others. But as I listened to others sharing honestly and openly about their struggles and fears, I began to feel a connection, and for the first time an empathy for others.

I once read a description of empathy as being an emotional echo that is sent out to the inner center of another person and that returns with pieces of yourself. And once I began finding pieces of myself in other people's stories, I began to look for the shared humanity in our experiences. And that's when I began to develop tolerance and compassion for others as well as for myself.

Today I understand that without tolerance for another, it's hard to have empathy for myself.

"KEEP THE LESSON, BUT THROW AWAY THE EXPERIENCE."

Boy this quote gave me a jolt when I first heard it. For years I'd been so wrapped up in the drama of my life, I never stopped to look at what I could have learned from it. Events seemed to descend on me, each like the one before it, but because I wasn't learning the lessons, I didn't know I was destined to keep repeating the experiences.

When I was new in recovery, I used to complain to my sponsor all the time. "And then this happened to me, and she didn't do this, and they told me this..." and on and on. He would listen very patiently then ask, "And what is your part again?" After I'd figure out where I was at fault, I'd find the solution - and that always led to the lesson.

Today I don't have to keep reliving experiences, and I don't have to drag the past into the future either. Because of the 10th Step, each night I can review the experiences of the day, look at my part, and discover and grow from the lesson. It's always there if I'm willing to be honest.

Today, I've learned to keep the lesson but throw away the experience.

"THE BOTTOM STARTED FALLING OUT FASTER THAN I COULD LOWER MY STANDARDS."

The last few years of my drinking and using sure were ugly. It had stopped working long before I got sober, but I had failed to realize it. Instead, I obsessively pursued oblivion, and all those things I said I would never do passed by as quickly as do the stories of a building to a man who has just jumped off. Hurtling toward real oblivion, I had lost all self respect, self control, and was about to lose my life.

As I sat in meeting during early recovery, I used to hear people talk about hanging out with their "lower companions." This brought to mind all the 'nowhere' people I had taken to hanging around with, too, and I was disgusted that I had stooped so low. I'll never forget the shock I felt when my sponsor pointed out that I had been their lower companion as well. Boy did that put me in my place.

When I look back on my past, a wave of deep gratitude washes over me. I don't know why I get to be one of the lucky ones, but I do. As I look at my life today, I smile because most people think I'm a pretty OK kind of a guy. And today, not only do I have standards again, but they keep getting higher.

How's that for a true gift of recovery?

"TRYING TO UNDERSTAND GOD JUST MAKES HIS JOB HARDER."

I can't tell you how much time I've spent trying to figure out who or what God is. I've spent years trying to understand the Catholic God I was raised with, and more years trying to define God from a philosophical perspective, then years denying the whole idea of God by becoming an agnostic and even a part time atheist. It seemed the more I tried to understand God, the further away from Him I got.

Even in early recovery I tried to figure God out - this time through the 'open assignment' of defining a God of my own understanding. You can imagine how that went. I thought about, analyzed and tried once again to understand who or what God was. After a while I grew just as despondent and felt just as far away as before. And that's when I finally surrendered.

Once I gave up trying to understand God and instead looked at the evidence of God's presence in my life, I began to develop a knowing that went beyond understanding. Suddenly I just knew that a force was working miracles in my life, that it was always available to me, and that it would never let me down.

This knowing is what I now call faith, and now I understand why trying to figure God out just makes His job harder...