You wanna know what the hardest part about recovery’s been?
For this chick, it’s not been the desire to use. Not for a while now.
Thankfully.
But long after the cravings for chemicals subsided, the hole that once demanded them remained. It still required some sort’ve answer. Something was needed. And, in recovery, we begin to notice just how quickly other addictive things – like food, sex, sitcom reruns, or actual runs (which I myself do twice a day because: addict) can start to fill up our time and brain space. If you’re lucky, you’ll generate the awareness to notice that. And once you do, you’ll try to manage all of those areas of your life so that they don’t put you back in habit-forming mode. Yet, still, the chasm calls from deep within. Why? Because we need to feel connected. And immediately, we begin thinking of what used to bring us comfort. Our former people, places, and things. While those we meet in recovery are often wonderful, it’s tough to break ties with the comfortable familiarity of the people, places, and things we once kept close. However, they can potentially destroy everything we’ve worked for if we’re not careful. With some old pals, it can be a blissful reunion. With others, it’s more like inviting a mud covered mutt back inside right after you’ve cleaned the carpet.
I myself have made a shiz load of mistakes already in my recovery. None that made me use. But enough to cringe at my own mad actions (which is actually worse when you’re sober – ’cause there’s no excuse now for your behavior). And I think, because of that, I tended to sequester myself away from friends for a good, long time – knowing that if we found ourselves anywhere with drugs or fine wine, it’d make me at the very least uncomfortable. I might relapse. And even if I didn’t, I might feel awkward without something to calm the nerves of life-long social anxiety. And – knowing that my buddies knew all of that – I didn’t want them to have to walk on eggshells around me, either. I hear it all the time: “It’s okay – I don’t even drink much anymore.” And then, the weekend that same someone tells me they can’t meet up, I see ‘em tagged on Facebook with half a cocktail in one hand and half their eyes open.
So, I worked my way up to facing “places”.
After rekindling friendships with “people” from my past.
Following a few benign outings – like coffee, art projects, and outdoor activities – I finally made the move. A karaoke bar seemed ideal. A good place – because while there’d be drinking, there was also this fun, interactive entertainment going on. (Also, doing sober karaoke was on my bucket list for a fear-facing task.) Why not? So, off we went. Singing all the way there to tunes from our younger years was fantastic. We had this fun vibe going, my anxieties were mitigated, and I realized she was (obviously) the same friend I’d always adored. Nothing to fear. This “person” was a safe one for my recovery. But, once we arrived, something fascinating happened. While seeing them drink (the other patrons), didn’t make me want to drink myself, it did make me feel left out – but not in a way that made me want to join in. It made me feel left out in that Platonic-cave-escapee-coming-back-to-free-everyone-else kind of a way. ‘cause it’s not until you’re completely sober around drunk folk that you realize how cruel, thoughtless, and idiotic the sauce can make people (I should know – I used to be one ‘em). Loud. Unreasonable. Nerve-grating. And – at the same time – it was mesmerizing, watching them as an outsider. It felt like being behind the lens of NatGeo meets The Kardashians. I couldn’t judge, though. Mostly because was like holding up this nauseating mirror into my past. Showing me the vexing person I used to be. Most drunk people are bothersome when you’re not imbibing yourself.
But, to be fair, I was on their terf.
So, I’m sure they found sober-me equally annoying.
So, I opted to take the experience like I used to take tequila – with a grain of salt.
(And infrequently.)
Because, as we left, I felt validated with my fear conquered.
But I also realized something.
I’d had more fun singing with my friend in the car than on that stage.
And I guess that’s just what it’s come to be all about for me. Connection. Now that you’ve spent some time elevating your consciousness, evolving as a person, and fortifying your foundation…. do you still connect with the people, places, and things from your past? Does each still jibe with your new life? I myself find that there’s no blanket answer. My friends who I used to drink with don’t have my condition – and they can enjoy sober activities too. I still find connection with them. Being around crowds of intoxicated show offs? Less so. I can tolerate it – but I won’t go out of my way to try to fit back into that world any longer. And I think that’s what the work you do in any decent recovery program will attempt to help you do: find the facets in your life that aren’t worth recidivism and weed ‘em the eff out.
For me, that’s an ongoing Odyssey that demands honesty from myself.
And my clean crew.