rehab

Rehab with wolves? Alright. I’ll bite.

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When I was first getting clean, I remember hearing this story:

It was one of those things that came parallel to truly understanding, for the first time, that I had to take charge of my own reality. Accept reality on reality’s terms. Foster my positive consciousness. Offer fewer nutriments to the less respectable proclivities festering within me – by redirecting my focus. But – to even make that realization took steps. And, while I eventually began nourishing the right side, I didn’t start feeding the good wolf so easily. For me, it meant keeping a program, a network of other addicts, and getting active. For some, they get there via moderation management or joining an athletic sober community. And, then, for others yet?

They feed actual wolves to stay clean

In fact, they do a lot more with those wolves besides feed them. You see, out in Los Angeles, there’s this program called “Wolf Connection” where emotionally troubled folk (mostly young people – but everyone from recovering addicts to PTSD peeps) can go to do one on one work with a wolf dog. (That’s a wolf who’s been bred with the kinda dog that lives in your house, begs at your dinner table, and leaves you presents on the carpet right after you stood in the cold with her for 45 minutes.) It might seem random or irrelevant to recovery (which is what I first thought the day I saw it in a magazine). However, when you truly think about it, it kinda isn’t. What the program does, is pair you up with one of these intuitive, misunderstood creatures – and then send you out to spend some time hiking with him (or her – to be paw-litically correct). If you’ve ever had a regular dog, you’ve probably recognized how these creatures are like furry aura readers with four legs. Wolf dogs, in all their slightly less domesticated glory, still harbor that primal connection to the earth – while retaining the capacity for a human bond. This allows their new guardian learn those intrinsic lessons from them you can’t get with words. And that’s another helpful bit about this therapy form, too. Because animals don’t have the capacity for language or ego, there’s the ability to offer love and compassion which are crucial to recovery – without stipulations or the possibility of rejection. (Or the chance of thirteenth stepping anyone, for that matter.) Per volunteer, Renee Dutcher, who works there, these animals can tell when people are in need straight away.

“They are so powerful and so gentle and caring,” Dutcher said. “When they work with teens and young adults who feel lost, unloved or like they aren’t worth anything, these animals will go right up to them and let them know they’re just as important as anyone else.”

Not to mention the fact that a lot of them, as mentioned, have also been misunderstood.

They’re surrendered, often times, by folks who don’t grasp the concept that a wolfdog’s not like my shih-tzu (who I have to constantly check for signs of life because she’s so lazy). They’re active. They like playfulness and movement. You can’t keep them cooped up or they get destructive. (Which, as a restless addict, I can totally identify with.)

Then, there’s the nature aspect. Say what you want about hippie tree huggers or preferring to stay inside on your iphone, but there’s something incomparably magical about immersing yourself in the woods for a trail trek. It’s cleansing. Recalibrating. Mind clearing. All the things you want when your brain’s banging on about your latest craving. Add in an animal, and it’s a potential win – ’cause they’re just domesticated enough to form a connection with you, but still connected enough to nature to make you fall in love with it too. Ultimately, the experience – the pairing – has led young addicts to recover and lead the kinda lives where they can cultivate that peace the Cherokee proverb above speaks about.

I’m lucky that I’ve personally found a way to keep my shadowy, rage filled, hateful creature looking like something out of an ASPCA commercial hosted by Sarah Mclachlan. It took a bit. (And the only thing they told us to bond with was a house plant.) But if you or some young reprobate you know could use a literal wolf to turn their joyful, figurative ones obese… then have ’em try these guys.

Help them take charge of their life before it’s too late…

…by being charged with early man’s best friend.

Wanna try a different kinda recovery program?

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Help.

Rehab.

Detox. Addict. Alcoholic. Higher power.

I get it. I won’t even pretend I didn’t feel the same way at one point.

For most chemically dependent folk who wanna get clean…. I imagine it’s these kindsa daunting words that deter them, ultimately, from getting any help. The 12 step jargon. The long road ahead. It’s tough to do the work. To feel like you’ve got to come to meetings and stay clean for the rest of your life. (And, of course, to feel guilty for thinking that thought because it goes against the whole “one day at a time” rule.) Is that all life’s gonna be from now on? Sobriety and isolation? Unless you make friends with your meeting peeps? Now that your social circle (and social activities, for that matter) have changed, that can just make the whole concept of recovery feel foreboding. In fact, when I was first coming to meetings, I saw a lot of “old timers” who lived exactly that way. They’d say all the right things to draw people in. They’d talk about surviving. But I’d rarely hear about thriving. What I want to hear about is all the crazy, mad fun you had after you gave yourself the gift of quitting and tried a new way. Where were these people? At the D.C. meeting? Or were they just having so much fun that they forgot about us?

The truth is… yeah.

Sometimes.


(Worse, actually; I’ve been it.)

See, I’ve been guilty of exactly that for the past year or so. Infrequent meetings. Rarely sharing. Why? Because, while the 12 step program offered a good foundation (even though I often fail to follow its principles too well), it couldn’t tell me everything. It couldn’t tell me what friends to keep. It couldn’t tell me which new replacement activities I needed to do with said friends. My sponsor did her best, but even she could only offer rhetorical inquiries to try and dredge up the best answer for myself. (‘cause she’s only human like I am.) What did sober people do for fun? Was there such a thing? Meditation was nice, but sometimes my brain was too hyperactive. All the meetings and meetups in the world couldn’t save me from thought induced insomnia. What was missing here? Should I go back on valium after all? Should I see a professional?

Then it dawned on me. I needed more movement in my life.

Thus, I spent half a year determined to try yoga and get back into running.

Bad back or not.

It was an amazing change – becoming a runner again.

Life saving, even.

But I slowly realized it wasn’t enough. Thus, I gradually tried new physical things over the next year. Paddleboarding. Kayaking. Something called Pure Barre. All the hard parts of yoga I’d been avoiding. Running in snow and ice storms. Qi gong. And, more recently, kickboxing and tennis. Only after expunging my negative energy through sweat could I cycle back around to less active but mindful things like reading again. And Buddhist mediation. And… you guessed it… delving into my addict mind to address new and old issues alike. (It’s tough to stay productively still when your whole body’s anxious). Having two years under my belt may seem like a lot, but I’m still technically just a newcomer to recovery. Had I not had gained enough of a somatic ear to realize that half the panic I was feeling was my body’s need to move and my brain’s need for newness, I may’ve very well faltered. (I was super lucky; I had a physical therapist who hammered the whole “mind body” thing in for me early on.) And the truth is, that’s what happens to a lotta addicts – the faltering. With the numbing agent eradicated, all negative stimuli just comes in cacophonous and confusing as a fire alarm jarring you awake at 3 A.M. It’s tough to recognize things like, “Ah, yes. This feeling means I should hit the gym.” And, to be fair, I still confuse those stimuli sometimes. Which is why I slowly ingrained fun, physical activity into my daily routine. (Again, I was lucky in that I’d been a runner pre back problems and addiction; so I could recall it.) What about those who can’t, though? What about people too confused coming outta detox to know? What about people for whom a daily meeting falls short? What about that guy sitting next to me at the Friday night 8:30 who’s even worse at sitting still than I am?

Enter: Phoenix multisport sober active community.

When I saw a Ted Talk on this program, I liked it for its refreshing brand of uniqueness. I mean, I’d already come around (slowly) to the fact that recovery doesn’t have to happen the way I was doing it. What mattered was that – whatever kind of a problem you have – that you’re managing it as a functional adult, and causing no one harm with it. That’s why Moderation Management seemed feasible. Or these chat rooms and phone lines. Why not? It works if it works. And, from what I’ve read, it seems like Phoenix works the same way my early recovery’s been working for me: remaining active. Rewiring your brain and body. Finding a new way to have fun. Doing so with others. (Which is what I’d initially missed with my running addiction.)

See, what they do is create a program for sober adults. Some of it includes community outreach and service work. But the big part of it centers on how people can team up and do all the stuff they (probably) didn’t do as junkies or drunkies – like hiking, climbing, yoga, and a plethora of other craziness. The smart thing about this is that it helps build the kinda oxytocin/dopamine/trust bonds with strangers you don’t get so easily sitting in a room divulging your darkness. Mind you, I’m not knocking the latter. It’s fantastic to a point. It saved my arse. But where that leaves off, something like Phoenix is a fantastic yes-and to the application of it. Because for a good time after I started only sporadically attending meetings, I began to feel disconnected again. My sober friends had different schedules than I did. Networking was tough. It wasn’t until I started playing guinea pig with a litany of different interactive physical activities that I realized what’d I’d been missing.

I’m doing alright these days.

Like anyone, I don’t get it right all the time. Today’s a good example. I feel off. And I know I’m just having a “moment” and remain functional cuzza that knowledge. And that’s all part of it. I’ve managed to stitch a workable recovery quilt for myself along the way – each phase of it, like a bead on the Pandora bracelet of my “rebirth”. And for me, that’s meant equal quantities of honest introspection (about how my addict mindset’s trying to sneak up on me) with other sober folk… as well as a buffet full’a fun, interactive, physical stuff with positive people. If you don’t wanna take forever to realize that fact like I did, but you do wanna get clean, mayhaps give Phoenix a try. It might be a bit of a flight if you don’t live in Massachusetts, California, or Colorado… but can you really put a price on putting the pieces of your life back together?

If you answered “Um…Yes” (because I’m sure this thing, however worthwhile, isn’t cheap), then mayhaps try your local AA, NA, CA, or HA (that’s Hashtaggers Anonymous; bear with me – I’m working on making it a thing). They’re free – no dues or fees – and it might serve as a good stepping stone until you either get your financial feet on the ground enough to fund the remainder of your recovery… or end up smorgasbord style selecting a slew of personalized hobbies that make you all jolly inside.

Like I – the “addict” who needed “help” with “detox” did.

Whatever path you choose…. “Higher Power” be with you, friend.