recovery

How do you deal with your triggers? (Part 2 of 2)

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In the previous article, we covered the importance of identifying triggers.

(Well, not “we”. Me really. I assume you all nodded in solemn agreement, however.)

And after the season finale of Edie Falco’s “Nurse Jackie” (yes, a T.V. show of all things), I found my own triggers bubbling to the surface as the character relapsed again and again. Hollwood poppycock or not, it was a fantastic reminder of where I’ve been. And what could still bring me down even now. Having made it to two years clean yesterday, that reaction made me want to look a li’l bit deeper at the reality of my disease. To be prepared for the enemy. And the first step to conquering daunting foes of any kind?

Knowing the enemy (or enemies, in this case).

And the antidotes against their toxic attempts to annihilate us.

So, what are the main triggers… and fixes?

Let’s start with just a few:

1.) Stress

Sensory overload and overstimulation.

Too long hours and too little income.

Fatigue from minimal sleep. The commute to work. Time – and how there’s not enough of it.

Stress can come from innumerable places. Jackie Peyton had a full time gig in a high anxiety environment, a deteriorating marriage, and at least one kinda snotty kid (from what I recall). The perfect ingredients for relapse. The thing about stress is that as your brain’s momentum builds, you stamp it down with Starbucks and try to match it with matcha lattes. Then, eventually, you blow up at someone. Might be your innocent children coming to give you a hug after your shift ends. Might be the family dog. Or the cashier at the grocery store. And it doesn’t feel good. I’ve tried to tell myself I didn’t care, they deserved it, or it didn’t matter. But deep down it always turns me into more of that kinda person I don’t like – the same one that made me need to use back in the old days in order to tolerate sharing a carnal residence with my ego’s antics. If I’m making myself miserable because of how I’m handling life and interactions with others, my tendency toward recidivism increases ridiculously. Stress may happen to us all, but if the glistening prize at the conclusion of letting it best us is potential relapse, then mayhaps it’s time to revisit our part in it. And that’s the antidote to our stress trigger: asking ourselves what exactly is stressing me out? Have I taken on too many tasks? Am I planning my days in the best way possible? Am I honestly allocating my funds in the most optimal possible way? Am I being curt with others unnecessarily? (May seem irrelevant, but whatever manner you practice in your interactions habitually gets ingrained into your self-talk later when you’re solo.) Or how about this: am I doing the natural things to cure stress that professionals suggest? Cardio? Meditation? Yoga? Bill Burr’s standup comedy routine?

(When all the others fail, laughter usually helps.)

2.) People Places and Things

In Nurse Jackie, the places (a hospital) and people (her pharmacist drug dealer) were crucial in keeping her addicted. But sometimes it spans beyond the drugs themselves long after we’ve been relieved of our chemical dependencies.

In fact, I still deal with this one. Though it’s no longer (usually) substance related, it’s still that very familiar sentiment I’d get back in addiction. That feeling where I’m on top of the world, my own woman, self-validated after beating my fastest running time, and driving home from the park I train at. Then, suddenly, he drives by. And suddenly that whole, whirling chi I’ve just spent all day fortifying, drops like a sack of turds out of a trotting horse. My vision moves from panorama to tunnel. The whole filter of my world is suddenly seen through the goggles of our history together – however brief and punctuated. What should have happened. What could’ve happened. And then, more than anything, anger at myself for still thinking about it when it’s been over for so long. (And rightfully so.) It’s the same thing I feel when I have a really bad day and think, “a green benzo waifer melting away on my tongue’d sure be nice.”

And if there was any doubt in my mind that the two are tied, the fact that that former non-drug fixation often leads to the latter desire for copious chemicals is a pretty good indicator in itself. They’re definitely linked. They travel the same brain loop. So, what’s the answer? Well, the same we were told to do after active addiction ended. Except with a new application. Your sponsor said you’d probably wanna compassionately cut the folks you used with outta your life. Along with the pipes. Or pill bottle paraphernalia. And maybe avoid that comfortably familiar little crackhouse down the street. The tough part is, however, that because it’s an ongoing thing – we have to be ready to recognize when it’s happening with non-drug stuff. And this one snuck up on me. Realizing that I was turning a person into an idea that’s imaginary, unreal, and cognitively constructed made me realize I was doing the same thing I’d done with drugs. Denial based on a fantastical idea that I could keep repeating the same behavior. The more I fueled the thought-fire of this person, the more I kept wanting to go back to them – when I’d made the decision to end the unhealthy dynamic in the first place. And much like I couldn’t successfully use drugs or alcohol – I knew I couldn’t connect with this person – even think of them – without using them to try and address some lacking in myself. (This is where I’d normally say I needed to tweak my outlook instead of cutting off innocent people; but the truth’s that they were using me too.) Thus, I have to avoid the thought. How? By remaining occupied with business that concerns my future as a self-actualized human. (And consciously trying to avoid situations where I might see said person.)

It’s so easy to lie to ourselves about people, places, and things. And the fix isn’t easy – but it’s simple – and in the form of a question: what am I fixating on lately? What have I been obsessing about? What cyclic loops is my brain leading me around in like a leather clad dungeon mistress? Shining a little awareness on that is half the battle. And when that – and redirecting my focus – fails at being sufficient, I can always hit up a meeting or call someone from the one I went to last time. Just to get it off my chest.

3.) Negative Feelings

This one’s a biggie.

Sometimes it’ll be an event. Sometimes it’ll just be (if you’re bipolar like me) that wave of hopelessness that clobbers you on the back’a your cranium, totally unprecedented. Whereas stress can turn me into a monster toward others, bad feelings from external happenstances or physiological issues (things beyond my control) can make me implode instead of explode. Or, as some call it, an anxiety attack. The best way I can describe an anxiety attack is like a black hole sounds. A solar plexus whirlpool of doom with a tornado’s rotation, and an inescapably malevolent magnetism. Once you’ve passed its event horizon, there’s no use trying to fight it. It’s a force. A demonic possession. And, once it passes, sometimes I’m fine – like the subsiding of a storm. Others, there’s still a blanket of grey with ominous rumbling overhead, threatening for more.

In the times either preceding the worst of these excursions into hell – or following them, even – I try this one tactic that I learned in early recovery when I was trying my hand at yoga and introspection and all that. And I’ll try my best to illustrate it for you, too. So, you know how when life’s shizzing on you and someone pats you on the back and says “This too shall pass”…? And how much it pisses you off? Yes. It pisses me off too. But one day, when I was in one of my deepest holes of the soul, the line kept resonating in my head. And, ever the improv artist, I tried my best to yes-and it. What I came up with, initially, was just another useless, thoughtless suggestion I always hear: “Try to think of something nice – the last time you were really, really happy.” And you’d think that’d just piss me off. Remembering all this trite advice. But then something occurred to me. If I can recall the last time I had an epic day – transcendent in it’s near-surreal is-this-even-real-life perfection – then maybe I could rewind just a bit more… and also recall a day before that ideal day… that I had a day just like this terrible one I’m having now. The idea, I suppose, is that if I can recall another awful day just like this one – and then remember that a fantastic one followed chronologically – then doesn’t it make sense that yet another amazing day awaits me? If I can just trudge through this? Remembering that this moment isn’t forever is key. Actively recalling not just that I’ve survived worse – but the cavalcade of negative episodes from which I’ve emerged – is a helpful exercise to educe that as an actual feeling you can know versus some empty affirmation. Plus, ya know, it’s a good way to pass the time when you’re paralytically crippled on the floor in the throes of a panic spasm.

In the end of “Nurse Jackie” *spoiler alert*, our anti-heroine relapses on heroin.


(I said spoiler even though someone didn’t do me the same courtesy before I had a chance to see it.)

But more than I’m upset for an imaginary character (or the d-bag who ruined my viewing experience for that matter), I’m more inwardly disturbed by how deeply the message resonates. You can have a successful job (just like I did), be admired for your hard work (like I was), and even keep an attractive facade (like I painted on each day). There is such thing as a totally functional junkie. What “Nurse Jackie”, good though it is, cannot communicate, however, is the deep emptiness of addiction. That first overdose where you wake up gagging on your own vomit – presumably having been out for hours considering the fact it’s thickly crusted into your hair. The disarray of your home – like a hoarder’s – while you keep your workspace neat. The lost hours, days, and years you’ll never get back with the people you love most. The relationships you could’ve had – but gave up for that which could only ever ephemerally elevate you on a chemical cloud. (And only ever to dissolve it once you were at a nosebleed – literally, sometimes – height). Sure, Nurse Jackie was a fantastic show and I identified with the lead in a great deal of ways. But that can be dangerous. Especially for anyone even slightly outta touch with the reality of their disease. Why? ‘cause Hollywood’s not a good recovery source. Sure, it was realistic to have an ending like it did. Death, prisons, or institutions are generally where addicts who don’t quit find themselves. But Hollywood only enjoys the utterly IRL grotesqueness when it can be made sexy. Not when it gets too real.

For the sake of your recovery… I hope this little post has been the antidote to that.

Best of luck, friends.

“Surrender” to what? And why?

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Surrender was something I heard early on when I attended program meetings.

I didn’t understand. It was one of those terminologies that made the program sound more like a cult than anything else. The second I heard it, I started to wonder if those warnings not to hang around these folk might’ve been right. Who was I surrendering my power to? The people at the meeting? That dude twitching and drooling next to me from years of chemically induced neurological damage? Wait – was there some L Ron Hubbardian weirdo sitting at HQ somewhere with Orwellian cameras capturing us all so that the evidence could be held against us at some point? Well, we can never be sure. But it does sound like a lot of effort for a bunch of ex-junkbags just trying their hardest to clean up their lives.

Plus, most cult leaders are too narcissistic to remain “anonymous”.

Besides that – what I am sure of is that I totally misunderstood this term in those early days.

And apparently I’m not alone there. It would take me a while to realize what the true concept of surrender meant. And while I still clearly need daily reminders, the best explanache I can offer is this: surrender is not about surrendering to people; it’s about surrendering to reality …exactly as it is. That may sound obvious, but how many times have your actions shown that you clearly were adhering to some contrary belief? How often have you resisted reality by compulsively using consciousness-alterers instead of taking a breakup head on? Or a job loss? Or the fact that you woke up alive again? I know that sure as shiz was the case for me. Even now I start thinking about my current addiction – running – whenever life starts heaving circumstantial feces at me rapid-fire style. “Where’s the nearest running trail? Jeeves! Ready my kicks! I need a fix!” (That should be a bumper sticker. Or a graphic tee. Moving on.)

Obviously, that doesn’t mean that if the zombie apocalypse hits, you sit on your thumb and do nothing.

Otherwise, it’ll be the only part left of you once the undead get you in their clutches. What it does mean is that – when things are going badly – you recognize the nature of it fully versus resisting reality as it unfolds by crying, wasting all of your bullets on one cadaver ambulating toward you, or polishing off your group’s snack supply because: comfort eating. These are all emotionally reactive responses that get you nowhere. When you surrender to the concept of “Corpses now roam the globe. That’s a thing now,” then you can collect yourself. And collect the facts. And prioritize your problems in order of importance for addressing so that you and your tribe can survive.

On a comparatively smaller scale, that might start with “I didn’t get a raise. That’s a fact.” And, instead of getting angry at the person you pays you the money you use to support yourself and letting it manifest as passive aggression, you can stop and internally come to the inquiry this entire article’s about. The crucial question that’s the whole point of surrendering to reality:

“What’s the solution, here?”

If you’re angry enough at your boss for not giving you a raise, is the solution to keep staying in a toxic work environment? Or is it to do the temporarily inconvenient thing of seeking new employment? Going to a few interviews? Maybe finding a new career path that doesn’t make you have to hypnotize yourself (either literally like Office Space dude or with drugs like you or me used to) into caring less.

Surrendering – to reality – is the only way that creative solutions can come to you. And creative solutions are vital in actually resolving the issue you wanna resist in the first place. Wallowing is not a solution. Taking out anger on others is not a solution (though, to my shame, I am a sucker for spontaneously catapulting a casserole dish every now ‘n then). And, obviously, taking drugs to numb cold circumstances is not a solution. These are all definitely signs you’re not accepting actuality. That you’re not surrendering to what’s real. Once you come to terms what is actually happening, then you can effing fix it, instead of getting effed up on a fix. If nada else, remember that today. The reality is that you ‘n me aren’t able to use drugs or firewater successfully – assuming you’re an addict, too. We must accept the fact that we’re among the 10% of people who can’t have a leisurely drink because of where it leads. When we truly accept that (and our brain stops holding us hostage and shutting down because it doesn’t want to believe this information that doesn’t jibe with egg nog holidays and selfies taken in the Bahamas with fruit cocktails in hand) once that happens, then the answers to the underlying issues happening in reality (making us wanna use in the first place) can arise.

So, what’s the solution?

It’s not easy, but it is simple. We need first surrender to the fact that we cannot use.

That means, when the craving demon screams from the cellar below, our higher selves interrupt them:


“Dude… you’re the one offering me pills ‘n stuff. Hypocrite.”

Seriously, though: “Not an option” single-handedly got me through those preliminary detox cravings and withdrawal symptoms. And I can’t help but believe it might work for you too. Not because I told you to. Not because someone in a meeting told you to. But because all of us have taken a look at our lives and know where the alternative to addressing reality leads. After that, there’s a new solution for every barrier dumped in front’a me each day. And none of them can be addressed without addressing the one just mentioned – about staying clean. (Otherwise your problem-priority list on the kitchen fridge’ll always only be 1.) Get turnt 2.) Get more 3.) Repeat. As your house and life melt around you like a Salvador Dali piece). So, for me, it’s meant that at the foundation of my life, I stay clean one day at a time, keep around a tribe of like-minded sickos dedicated to their recovery, and help other people if they ask for it. That way, they can receive the same insight that was gifted me. And pass it on. ’cause surrendering isn’t giving up anything of worth. It’s only giving up the internal inferno that’s only ever let you down.

So, lemme ask you, friend: what’re you resisting today? What’s the reality of the sitch?

More importantly, what’s the solution?

People, places, ‘n things (Oh my!)

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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.