Relapse: ain’t no shame in starting over
My third month into recovery, an even newer newcomer called Erin, called me up.
“I’ve relapsed. I went on a wine tasting,” she said.
I referred her to a potential sponsor, because I didn’t know what to say.
I was afraid of offering “wrong” advice. Yet, I knew what the rules of the program were. So I knew what my contact was gonna tell her. Basically, you start over at ground zero. You’ve unleashed your chemical kraken, those’re the rules, do not pass go, do not collect anything but a white keytag and keep coming back to meetings. And, as I read a blog article on exactly this topic today, my old friend came to mind. Especially when I kept reading and the author related that her sponsor curtly declared, “You have to start all over.”
Harsh, right?
Now, I wasn’t there for the convo, so maybe I’m getting a telephone game filter version of it. Maybe the sponsor offered a few encouraging words, too. Who knows. But what got to me was when the author talked about how it’s not fair that one mistake negates abstaining for so long. All over a sip of Tecate. The whole thing made her want to leave.
And, honestly? In some ways, I don’t disagree.
But that’s when it comes down to deciding what you need to do.
I knew from the moment I gave a different fellowship than AA a try that there were some ideologies that definitely didn’t resonate. But I also knew that I didn’t have to throw out the baby with the bathwater. There are a handful of great things I glean when I hop on into a meeting. And, when I do actually go, I use it as an opportunity to connect and talk about what other members and I do share in common – and tweak what I hear as needed in application later. Just because I’m mentally revising a few items, doesn’t mean I have to cross my arms and defiantly declare that I disagree with what their book says. What’s the point? No one in that meeting wrote the damned book. They’re just looking for a way to avoid using. And if following the literature verbatim’s the only way they can stay clean, that’s awesome. But I’m not there to share differences. I’m there to relate.
(Even if it’s about our faults. *Especially* if it’s about our faults.
The yes-and being, how we both can fix ’em.)
So, while some of it’s not for me, there’s still a use to these meetings.
I mean, in a way, it’s like free fixation therapy. I don’t hafta sign up for anything online. I don’t hafta give my name or money. Most of what’s in the literature does make sense. There are people who make themselves free to talk to. And – even if their advice sometimes is less than stellar – it’ll at least reframe my brain. Talking to them’ll get me out of my current, cyclical line of thinking and boost my oxytocin (that’s a hormone, not an opiate drug for you skimmers) levels so that I don’t feel so alone.
And as for clean time?
I guesstimate it. Don’t get me wrong – in those first 90 days, I was holding out for each keytag. They were validation milestones for my early recovery that I felt I needed. But, these days, they namely serve as a success symbol – a mental emblem occasionally reminding me of how far I’ve come beyond just staying clean. It’s a positive thing. Not some bookmark in my recovery, meant to taunt me about what I’m not permitted to do. So, I’ll be honest. I don’t use a clean calculator. Counting time can bring addiction to the forefront of my mind when I was having an otherwise successful day. So, I get why the author hates the idea of monitoring exact sobriety time. That said, I think it depends on your reason for avoiding it. For me, it’s that I don’t like to focus on a negative daily (“I didn’t use today”… “Use what?”… “Drugs.”… “Oh, yes. Drugs. Now that I think of them when I wasn’t just a moment ago, a benzo might be nice.”). I’ve already quit. Is the tendency still there? Yes. But that’s why I prefer to swing my focus-scope toward my former fixations’ replacements.
It’s kinda akin to that whole “law of attraction” thing hippies aren’t far off on following; you redirect your brain’s aim toward what you want – not what you don’t want. So, that’d be my new habits. My new routines. My new healthy way of life. (Not the thing I can’t use – which forces me to think about it, which serves in turn as a trigger.) At the same time, I know I can’t shield myself from all triggers. That’s why, if and when the burning desire becomes too strong, I can summon my talisman reminder to get me through. And I can discuss it with members just enough to remind myself why I can’t successfully utilize mind alterers. But it’s not a main theme in my life.
And if – Higher Power forbid – I relapse?
Listen, for any of us, there’s zero shame in “starting over”. The thing is, you’re here, seeking aid. You do realize that everyone, even “old timers” “start over” all the time in the program, right? They start over the second they get to step twelve – and go back to step one to uncover more about themselves. (That’s that whole “keep coming back” bit of it.) Hell, I’ve seen people with 20 years come into meetings and talk about how, sure, they’ve stayed clean but they’re so spiritually off track this week that they feel the need to pick up a white tag anyway. That’s the nice thing about the program. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. No one can make you feel like your sobriety time was a waste just cause there’s now a chemical semicolon in your recovery story. You can either choose to agree with their judgment – or laugh at how preposterous it is. And the second they get saucy with you, guess what else they get? A smile and a pink slip. ’cause it’s time for a new sponsor, clean companion, or whoever’s getting salty with you.
(Everyone can start over at something – every moment.)
And that’s why it’s so important to strengthen those new spiritual principles, healthy habits, and productive routines during your clean time. Because, the more time you spend practicing something, the better you get at it. Your brain’s neural networks rearrange to accommodate your new habit. That means, if your focus is on a drug (even if it’s just to talk about not using it) too much, then you get better at thinking about drugs. (Or, for me, on a dude I spend two years getting over.) That’s not to say we should get out of touch with the reality of our disease or past with using. It’s just to say that, if you’re gonna spend an hour an a half each day talking about how bad using was, you’d better also be spending the rest of your day putting those positive principles to good use. What’s going on at your new job? How did you uplift your friends or family today? What new connections are you making? How are you serving? That’s how you proactively avert relapse. And not because relapse means you’re demoted back down to white belt status in the art of addiction jujitsu. But because of everything else you’ve worked to build in that time. Should you relapse, those new habit connections will be good and strong enough that you can say to yourself, “I was having a moment – but I can quit now and get my shiz together again, just like I have been for the past few months.”
That’s why, next relapse that hopefully doesn’t happen, I encourage any’ve you to pause, mid-sip, sniff, screw, bite, puff, whatever… And as you do, I invite you to do three things. First? Know that you’re okay, safe, and you’ve got a squad of people who want to support you. There’s no shame in resetting your clean time. It’s not a race. No one’s keeping score for you personally. You can say whatever you want about your clean time. Second? Reflect on everything self-validating that abstaining has afforded you thus far. Your new job. Your new friends. Your family. School. Love. All the shiz you couldn’t do while swaddled in the self obsessed fog of chemicals you’re about to ingest again.
And third? Stop.
But, when you do, stop for those aforementioned things. Not for the key rings.
I wish, to this day, I’d just told Erin that.
Maybe then she’d have gotten back on the proverbial horse instead’ve the white one.
