sobriety

Keeping Clean In Quarantine For The Isolated Addict

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It was tough enough pre-pandemic.

The slightest of inconveniences could feel like a trigger. The rainy weather. A long day of work. The dog taking too long to drop a deuce. Staying sober or clean was sufficiently difficulty at the best of times. But, back then, we all had outlets. For those managing their obsessions independent of a substance related group, there were gyms and coffeehouses to visit. We could punch and run our problems out. Or we could talk them to death over coffee. What’s more, the familiarity of that routine is so very comforting for the recovering addict. We love our routines. Our rituals. They bring us great comfort. My Fridays out with friends and my regular sweaty sessions at the dojo filled a void. They were hydration to my desiccated soul. I’d had a tough day or week. But I always knew I had something to anticipate. A reward.


(“Good thing I have Muay Thai to replace mai tai’s now….”)

Now, nothing.

Even if I still resonated with the anony-meetings, meetups are cancelled.

Along with the rest of the world.

As an essential worker, I know I should feel grateful to still have an income. And I do. But it’s taxing. Physically and psychologically. I spend my days using my body to heal other bodies. I spend my days using my brain to figure out how I can do that while managing a busy schedule. And I spend my days draining my empathy reserves on non-compliant patients. I’m spent by the end. And, with none of my usual outlets to fill myself back up, I go from one draining day, week, and now month, into the next. What’s more – I live alone. So, unlike my colleagues who go home to a significant other they can Netflix or hike with, it’s just me.

It’s been seven years since I’ve craved the object of my addiction: pills.

Once I had my new life in place, I didn’t miss them.

But recently, I nearly caved.

My savior? A porn star. No, I don’t mean that a stint of self love kept me clean. (Although, if that’s what you need to do, more power to you, friend.) Rather, it was a buddy I have on social media who happens to star in adult films. He had just posted about sobriety. For me, alcohol was never the issue. Pills were. But it was the same concept. So, I asked him what he was doing to stay clean in quarantine while isolated. And what he said kinda gave me a case of the duh’s: meditate. Cultivate a gratitude list. Take stock of what is going well right now. Find a new routine. Automatically, I was retro jet propelled back into my early days of clean time in my life after meds. I recall having none of the stuff I have now and managing to remain pill free. I read. I worked out on my elliptical. I cleaned. I did some art. I watched some contemplative documentaries instead of scrolling through dopamine depleting Insta posts. And, just like my friend, Seth, I meditated.

In a way, getting clean that first time was a lot like this pandemic has been.


(It used to be “you’re not alone” because there were other addicts. But *this* experience is universal.)

You step into the unknown and it feels like a kind of death.

It’s terrifying. And you know that it’s going to be hard. That it won’t feel good. That you’ll take a few L’s. But, somehow, you have the faith to believe that your hardship and sacrifice is going to yield something better. In the case of early recovery, you know that withdrawal will end within a few weeks tops and that (provided that you’re doing the work) you’ll retrain your brain toward a new normal. They talk a lot about “bucking the system” in the rooms of NA. But, now, is the ultimate test. Instead of avoiding step work or gratitude lists, now it’s about “bucking reality”. We’re all going through this. It’s a shared experience. The only question is – how will we choose to deal with it? Because, in the end, it is very much a choice. Maybe the world will go back to the way it was. But maybe another wave of illness will send us back into quarantine. The best we can do is to be prepared and have a system – just like we implemented during early clean time.

So, for my fellow friends attempting to remain unsullied in isolation: consider doing what I’m begrudgingly attempting myself today. Generate a list of what is going well. If you can’t think of anything, think of someone you love who’s still alive. And start there. Is your dog cuddled up next to you? Do you have an income? Is there still central heating keeping you warm (which we still need in mid spring for some reason)? How about your limbs? Are they all still attached to your torso? Can you hear your favorite playlist with two functional ears? Watch your favorite movie with two operating eyes? The list goes on when you actually redirect your focus. (No pun intended there.)


(“I only have a roof over my head, my health, my job, my family, internet access and plenty of food. I’m dyingggg…”)

After that, in the spirit of lists, keep going. And make a daily routine, hour by hour. Following this each day, even loosely, will help hold you accountable to a schedule and keep you out of your head. Wake at eight and eat breakfast. Work remotely after. Run at noon. Clean at one. Meditate at four. Dinner at five. Whatever seems doable, make that your new plan. I’m not saying don’t have any stretches of freedom. But hours upon hours of idle time is the enemy of sobriety.

Also, it might sound odd, but I’m gonna say it: foster a dog. The single thing getting me through isolation right now is my furry companion. With her classic Pekingese bug eyes and rock star personality, I am constantly being brought out of bad thought cycles. Animals pick up on tension. And, like clockwork, when I’m letting my head get away from me, she’s there. Sat on my lap. Paw on my wrist. It’s as if to say, “Pet me instead of picking up.” (Also, I think she’s psychic because she’s making her way toward me now that we’re talking about her…)

Then, finally, for those of you who depended on the meetings, I feel you. Even as an introvert, I know for a fact that there’s something I get out of eye contact, hugs, and unspoken microexpressions or body language that I can’t get from a text message. In person, you can gaze at eachother. In person, you share energy. In isolation, you sit there, looking at your phone and hoping the red “one” appears before you start taking desperate measures. Fortunately for us, however, “Zoom” is now a thing. And, as I’ve perused a few online blogs about the digital anony-meetings, this seems to be the best bet. Having just done a family zoom last weekend, I can safely say this is a lot more enjoyable than it sounds. I hadn’t wanted to hop on a facetime conference call to talk. It seemed so distant and cold compared to actual gatherings. But, within a few minutes, it was just like the real thing. Mom and dad were confused and turning up their hearing aids. Brother was bantering with sister. Sister and I were making stupid faces and pretending to be descending imaginary stairs in the frame while everyone else ignored us and talked about Covid. So, if you’re not up for a typical meeting and hearing addicts regurgitate idioms or unoriginal dogma from the last one they went to across town, then facetime a friend. Anything to re-frame your brain and get you back on track.

And if you’re feeling quite alone right now, just know that you’re not special.

But what you are is newly equipped – with some adequate coping tools.

More tips for getting and staying clean this holiday

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As mentioned in the last article, a host of natural remedies helped me get clean.

Exercise. Yoga. Meditation.

But when that wasn’t enough to help me calm down at night, I started trolling the holistic aisle at my local grocer. And I wasn’t disappointed. From Tulsi rose tea with holy basil to magnesium citrate supplements, I found there was a whole world of non habit forming, feel-better stuff I could use to counter the icky feelings making me crave the wrong thing in the first place. Also, I’d started my vegan journey pretty soon into recovery as well. Now, I’m def not saying that you need to be vegan. (I know; that runs counter to what you’d hear most vegans say.) But what I am saying is this: whatever it is you eat, make sure you’re eating clean and non-processed. Because I can’t tell you how many’ve my mood swings and depressive episodes resolved by finally getting a healthy balance of the foods I’d been missing out on – and finally annihilating the high sugar body holocaust that was my diet before. Sometimes (often, actually) it’s not about adding a drug of any kind; it’s about subtracting something bad we don’t need.


(Sometimes just the warmth from a cup of tea’s all the comfort you need.)

And then, once I took care of myself, I could finally do it. I could finally go out and connect with others. My relationships improved infinite-fold once my “me” was sorted out. And I can’t tell you enough how much we need this. Phone a friend. Grab coffee. Serve the homeless. Do something that gets you back in touch with your fellow species members – just make sure none’ve ‘em are the ones you used to get lit with. ‘cause if you do, that’s a slope you’d better have your X-mas sled ready to ride into relapse on.

And what about when you’re all alone? Stay engaged. For me, evenings alone are when I’d find something belly burning-ly funny. Russell Brand (the man who personally urged me into recovery) is one’ve the funniest dudes I know. Try his “Messiah Complex” standup on for size.

Or, better yet, slay two avians with one stone to keep from getting stoned; you can get your laughs and sober inspiration in one place with his new book, “Recovery”. Not into Russ? That’s okay. (I’ll try to forgive you.) Just find something that’s sure to make you lose yourself in levity. From Louis C.K. to old school George Carlin, something’s bound to un-frown your brain.


(Just remember to moderate any and all the things you do. ’cause new fixations can easily lead into older ones.)

So, if you’re set on giving yourself the gift of sobriety this holiday, try out these tips.

And if you’ve been clean for a while, give us a gift too – and comment your own below.

Tips for getting and staying clean this holiday

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Trying to stay sober this holiday?

If your family’s anything like mine, that might be tough.

Ah, yes. The ol’ holiday triggers. Now, some might say I’m still a baby with my sobriety. Sure, I’ve only got four years under my belt. But I’d say I’m doing pretty well for someone who used to look at Valium as not just a crutch – but a social organ she vitally required to survive any sort’ve interaction with fellow species members. And how’d I do it? Just like they say – one second, one breath, one day, one craving, and one calamity – at a time. I listened to people smarter than I am. I did what they did. And, seeing as I did all of that (and got – and stayed – sober) right around the holiday time frame, I’m perfectly equipped to offer a few tips on what got me through during my first clean holiday. And those things’ve continued to serve me to this day.

The first thing I did?

Exercise. When? When I didn’t wanna go to meetings. When my skin felt like it was falling off. When every muscle felt agitated. When the “kicky legs” set in. During any and all’ve that, the elliptical became my best friend. Because I was suffering from a bad back I’d done nothing to help improve (save for popping pharmaceuticals), this low impact cardio was all I could tolerate. But it was perfect. Being able to sweat out the toxins was one reason. The endorphins were another. But, also, I on a psychological level, it also allowed me to feel in control of something when I felt like I’d lost the oars in my life canoe.


(Speaking of oars, rowing’s a great exercise too… Find the right workout for *you*)

And when my head was restless, but my body – not?

That’s when I found yoga and meditation.

Yoga came first. If you’re new to getting clean, you might be able to appreciate why. Ever notice how much simpler it is to move around… than to sit in silence with a not so silent mind? Trying to delve straight away into meditation was downright painful. I’d fidget at the slightest uncomfortable thought, memory, or sensation. That’s why yoga became an ideal segue into it. I’d formerly thought the whole thing was B.S. But, once I gave it a solid try, I came to realize something pretty awesome about my obstinate thoughts – I could make peace with each when they’d arise – in a very physical way. It’s like what that cognitive shaman, Tony Robbins, always says – about how motion generates emotion. The thing is, unlike other forms of activity, yoga helps you focus on facing ‘em down like a warrior – versus running like a li’l bish from them.

So, I did that.

And then, when I’d made peace with them enough to sit with my silent mind, I started doing exactly that. On the regular. Whether it was 5 minutes or 20, I’d take some time each day to just focus, with closed eyes, on nada but my breath. Sounds dumb and easy, right? Right. I thought so, too. But guess what? We’re both wrong. Because evidence based, peer reviewed research shows that both your brain and body can undergo physical (not just woo-woo in-your-belief-system) changes from a simple meditative practice done daily. That’s half of how my back pain began to improve. And it’s 100% of how I came to be able to deal with people and life triggers alike without reminiscing about my pill caddy.

That said, when I did reach for something external, it was in the holistic tea aisle.

Click here to read more….

Are you judging others’ recovery? Why?

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Only recently have I begun discussing addiction on online message boards.

And, not to be judgmental, but… everyone judges.

Hardcore.


“Your recovery’s a bit pitchy for me. Keep coming back, dawg.”
“Um…I like that you’re trying! Pick up a white keytag on your way out!”
“Not in a step program? Dreadful. It’s a no for me. NEXT.”

But, of all the stuff they judge, judging others’ recovery – might just take the sober-anniversary cake. Especially when it comes to AA or the other step programs. I’m not sure why, but people love to hate on the program. It’s free. It helps people. And for those it doesn’t, you can leave and find another way. After saying (repeatedly) that I dug some of the step program stuff, but not all of it, I was immediately attacked. And, almost never, it seemed like people could never give me either A.) their personal story about failure with AA or B.) what has worked for them. All I hear is this fabricated stat about “zero percent efficacy”.


(Seriously. At least make up a fail or success recovery story if you’re gonna lie.)

And – don’t get me wrong – the born again AA vultures on there started nipping at my comment carcass too. “Why you be cherry pickin’? It works if you work it!” And you know what? Everyone’s right. If it was a giant fail for the anti-anonymouser attacking me, then – yep – it doesn’t work. For him. And, if working the steps exactly worked for homegirl with an anime avatar (who was at a worrying level of worried about some stranger’s recovery), then it does work. For her.

Confused?

Don’t be. It’s simple. Addicts, while we have heaps in common, handle recovery differently. And that loaded term – “recovery” – is something whose success relies on your definition of it. Is staying clean crucial and does that come before everything else? Yes. But is that all there is to it? No. And that’s where you might differ with a given program. For me, personally, I’m not indefinitely disallowing myself contact with people, places, and things of my past. For the most part? Yes. That’s an optimal idea. But what I am also doing, is getting honest with myself. I go to those AA or NA rooms (because: free) to hear some free ideas that might resonate with me. But, instead of relying on that external voice solely to dictate my recovery, I supplement it with some meditation. Just to see how it settles. Because, once you let the noise of others’ advice and your own inner thought reel subside, something happens.

You hear the truth.

You glean what you need.

Example? Per my former sponsor’s suggestion, I shouldn’t’ve gone to a family gathering that had alcohol. Per my meditation session, however, I came to realize I could have the best of both worlds. It didn’t need to be a me-centric issue. All I had to do was tell my family my concerns, let them know I was amped to see them all, but also warned that if I needed to leave, it’s just ’cause the drinking was wearing on my “feelz”.


(Or, ya know, witnessing the typical emo-allergic runs-in-the-family reaction to too much wine, for that matter…)

All joking aside, that gave me a chance to do two things. First, it let me reinforce the importance of my recovery to both myself and them by saying it out loud. Second, it also gave me a chance to clear the air for both of us and be honest – instead of trying to pretend I was “fine” around wine the whole time.

Being humble enough to accept where you’re at’s a biggie in recovery.

Trying to explain this to either extreme, however, is tantamount to brick wall banter. And I’m just now becoming more understanding as to why. People want something black and white they can follow every day. They want it laid out for them by others. They don’t want to make the effort of letting go of thought and simmering in their inner wisdom for a while. Why? Because there are demons to be dealt with down there, too, sometimes. But those poor bastards don’t know what they’re missing, though. Because, if they did – if they just met those demons head on – they’d also understand that what they need may vary from day to day. Change is the nature of reality. And for me, that means that relying on a static system that never makes concessions (except with using, obviously) could make my success in recovery difficult.


(But, again, if it works for you – I’m not knocking it.)

And, deep down, I think people who pretend a system’s working when it isn’t know that’s true. And they hate accepting that fact. (Cognitive dissonance, I think they call that.) So, what do they do? They yell at you. They yell whether they like the program or loathe it. Why? Because people are desperate not only to have their values be accepted – but to push their value system on others – if and when they don’t have full faith in what they’re doing.

That’s just a telltale sign of their own failure. When something’s not enough for you – just you, you start trying to impose it. Because if you can make someone else believe it, then maybe – just maybe – that makes your belief more true to you. And that goes for whether you’re pro or con’ing a program. All I know is that people who believe something deeply, don’t need to get defensive on its behalf. And those who’ve found success another way? Well, they would be talking about their success with that – not focusing on how much they hate another program they didn’t like. Those whose faith is ultimate, don’t need to convince anyone because we’re convinced. And that’s sufficient. That’s where that meditation thing came in so handy for me. I know that when I sit in silence and sift out the bullshiz, calm will come. Sometimes immediate answers do, too. But even if they don’t, I’m relieved of that stressed state from which I typically end up making addict-brained decisions.


(Protip, you don’t need an ashram, special garb, oceanfront, or yoga mat to do it, either.)

It’s a bummer that something like AA doesn’t work for many. (Wouldn’t a blanket solution be great?) But, again, it’s awesome for the innumerable others it does help. If I’m being honest, I’ve seen both sides’ve the sober coin sitting in the rooms. So, so long as you’re focused on getting or staying clean and recovering – don’t beat yourself up for giving something an open-minded chance (I stuck it out 90 days) and still voting no on the program. You don’t have to let the pushy opinions of others affect yours. They’re just people. And if they’re imposing something on you (especially in AA or NA), then they’re failing at their own program by missing one of the main themes: attraction, not promotion. There are other options, my friend. Actively seek them out if you’ve got doubts after 90 days. The only thing I will say is this: I just wish people in any program were first and foremost taught the self – and situational – awarenes to think outside the box when what they’re doing isn’t working. And to ask themselves, “What can I change? What else do I need to do? Just because AA doesn’t feel like the right fit for me – does that mean nothing will?” And then seek out an appropriate alternative – versus returning to the chemical problem as a solution.

In sum?

I encourage meditation paired with giving a recovery program a solid try for 90 days.

And then? Regroup, see how it’s working for you, adjust as needed, and keep moving.

Best of luck, my aspiring reformed fiends.

Recovery versus relapse: is there any in between?

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“If you are not working on recovery you are working on a relapse.”

Is it true?

It’s a phrase many reformed fiends and drinkers in the step programs employ as a reminder of the daunting relapse monster. And for many -A (AA, NA, OA…) haters, it’s met with a bit of resistance. Why? Well, after chomping on this cognitive wad of gum for a bit, I suppose, in a way, I do kinda get why some reject it. I mean, there’s no statistical evidence. I don’t ever remember partaking in the annual lush or junkie census regarding the authenticity of this motto.

Yet, on the other hand, I suppose it all depends on how you define “recovery”.

Taking the phrase at face value, it’s meant to simply be one of those typical motivational idioms. Nothing more. Just a recovery revised version of that whole “if you fail to plan, you plan to fail” sayings I always see in inspographic form on my LinkedIn feed. (Don’t pretend you haven’t seen ’em too.) That said, that recovery doesn’t have to happen in a specific program. Even the one you picked it up from – when you picked up a white keytag or newcomer coin. Whether you find the first steps of your recovery in a step program or somewhere totally different is irrelevant; the point is that an addict, suddenly stripped of his or her chemical comfort, needs some sort of behavioral modification plan on board after getting clean. Something to replace those old habits, ya know?

If you’re overweight, you don’t lose weight and keep it off by just quitting eating, do you? Not so much. You’ve got to sub in healthy diet, exercise, and learn some self love if you want to slim down in a healthy, functional, and sustainable way. Otherwise, you’re just sitting around thinking, “This is normally when I’d be enjoying my third helping of my signature butter, cheese, grease, meat casserole – and breaking into a light sweat…” Some mods to your physical and mental regimens are required to arrive at lasting change.

Likewise, healthy new routines, after exiting addiction, interrupt that daily mind cycle of “when’s drink or fix number next?” And an appropriate support or an expert assistance system (even if it’s not 12 step based) to whom you can vent, helps you dredge up those demons that got you using in the first place. Once you can exorcise those emotional gargoyles squatting in your subconscious, you’re a lot less likely to use. For me, sometimes just being around addicts or alcoholics willing to get honest about their own defects or horror stories helps do exactly that, I think. (Yes, even now, after years clean.) For others, calling in the paid pros is the only way. For others who can afford overpriced rehab resorts – hey – whatever floats your yacht that brought you to seaside detox.


Chaise chair chick: “Hey, it’s pretty easy to stay clean with this view and without douchebag bosses or obligations.”
Flexing dude in hat: “I’ll drink to that. Probably within a week of leaving here, lol!”

So long as the new tips stick when you reintegrate into real life, I ain’t judging.

Whatever you do, if you work on making it work, I totally respect that.

Either way, that’s the takeaway I get when I hear that old adage about “working on recovery versus relapse”. It’s not necessarily, scientifically, statistically accurate for all. But for hardcore addicts aware that the desired fix equals prison, six feet beneath, or Arkham – they also often realize that marinating in their old ways is a voluntary venture into Russian Roulette. And that has them rushing back to recovery.

In a nutshell: it’s very, very easy to resume old, bad habits.

It’s less easy if you’ve got healthy inner and outer ones to replace them.

Where you get them’s ultimately up to you.

Why your worst day clean still beats your best day getting effed up.

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“My worst day sober is still better than my best day using.”

This sobriety idom’s become the recovery equivalent to that archaic meme: “Still a better love story than Twilight…” You hear it all the time in the twelve step rooms. But what does it mean? You got fired. Your car’s on the fritz. Your wife left you. How in “Higher Power”‘s name is this a better day than the numb bliss I still miss after two and a half years clean? I was just reading a thread debate about exactly this (between a few sober folks) the other day, when it dawned on me. Duh. Because it’s not about the day. It’s about us. Any one of us.

See, the big “aha” came one day when I lost my top outside.

Wait, lemme backtrack a second. I’d had a terrible month. My foot was effed up, so I couldn’t run for a while – my newfound addiction. My car had been having issues. My heart had relationship issues. (*Insert a bunch of other irrelevant boring, first world problems you don’t care about – and honestly shouldn’t – here… and then skip to now*)… where I’d hung my tee shirt for Muay Thai out to dry on the balcony after washing it. And it fell. Down into the bushes below. And I was late for class.

At first I was pissed off, but then I realized something.

Three years ago, my back was so bad that I could barely walk – much less run. Now I run so much, that I got a tarsal injury, which needed a little break. Three years ago, I was such a child woman and so helpless and so afraid of doing business with people, that I’d pawn off getting my car fixed onto my mom. (Yep, not my most proud admission. Sadly, also not even close to my most un-proud admission.) Now, I just take it in. And pretend like I shouldn’t get a gold start for handling my biz. Three years ago, I was in so much pain, the mere notion of doing martial arts would have made me audibly guffaw. And last night (after finally retrieving my uniform from the shrubbery), I got my green belt.


“I lost my top in public today because it wasn’t dry.
I lost my top in public in the old days because *I* wasn’t.”
#perspective

But that’s not all. Sure, my problems today pale in comparison because many of them come from all the stuff I never would or could have done during active addiction – that are just routine now. But they also pale in comparison because I actually handle them. Why? Because I’ve learned how to, by attending enough meetings and seeking enough supplemental spiritual tutelage to know how. I seek it out actively and drill it into my head the way I drill Muay Thai and Jeet Kune Do combos during class.

And that’s the whole point.

As popular as that “worst day/best day” idiom is, there’s a more popular one. In fact, it’s so catchy (and factual), that one girl from my old home group would say it at the end of every meeting I’ve attended. And that’s this: “It works if you work it!” Your worst day in recovery is better than your best day using not because’ve some sorcery they dole out along with keytags. Nay, sir. It’s ’cause you’ve been on the spiritual grind. And, as a result, you’ve gained that brand of awareness you need to order to recognize which life-elements you can modify, and which you’ve gotta simply surf through serenely. Yeah, my foot was injured. Yeah, I got rejected from the program I wanted to get into. Yeah, my car started having problems.

But you know what makes that day better than my best day using?

Beyond perspective?

That I’m not running on said effed up foot away from problem-fixing and toward pill-fixes. That’s what serenity is. It’s not sitting on a tranquil lake in a canoe and enjoying the sonorous chorus of late summer crickets and toads (lovely though that is). No. It’s the capacity to look at life’s arising issues – each of ’em – like video game demons you slay one at a time. And each one of those is a win, because A.) It’s daily self-validation that nothing’s a match for the bad-assery baton my clean club’s passed on to me. And B.) Procrastination is like problem fertilizer. The more I put off solving the problems (which is what I’d do if I were using), the more they transmogrify into leviathan nightmares, waiting for me when I next exit my haze and have to face reality. Spraying resolution napalm on problems now, rather, prevents that amplification of catastrophes from coming at me later.


(Well, until tomorrow’s next set’ve probs, at least.)

That, my dears, is why a horrible sober day beats a seemingly ideal one while using.

But for those of you vexed by the use of “we” or “our”, I say “our” because I’m referring to those’ve us who do the work, implement the principles, and thus reap the rewards. (Which you’re totally invited to be a part of. #youcanSOsitwithus.) Because it’s not about the day being bad or good at all. It’s about you, me, “us” – and our respective efforts. It’s about the proactive brain-training you put in at the sobriety dojo. It’s about your sudden Chuck Norris level capacity to handle bad shiz with the fierce grace. The ability to pummel the onslaught of obstacles with serenity fists. And, above all, it’s how you can now remain cool, calm, collected, and (obviously) clean even as SHTF – without having to fake it or layer life with a chemical glaze.

That’s why it’s better. Because we are.

Best of luck getting struck with this epiphany, my ex-chemical comrades.

It’ll come… if you keeping coming back.

Buzz-free bars are all the rage. (And so are sober raves.)

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Not long ago, I think I told y’all about a sober networking app.


(Yep, that’s the one.)

But whether you’ve accrued pals in rehab, the rooms of recovery, or just the checkout line of your local Whole Foods – what happens when you and your newfound, fellow, chemical-free companion finally hang out? Do you just sit around in awkward silence at the local cafe? Go sit in a darkened theater where you don’t even interact? Turn the whole thing into a sober Tinder affair that fizzles by sunrise? Ghost on eachother if there’s zero friend chemistry? It could be difficult, stoking the fires of a new dynamic – especially if you’re nervous about meeting new peeps. Because, when you’re worried, the last thing that comes easily is trying to creatively generate recreational activities that don’t entail libations.

Lucky for some younger drug-free folk, a whole juice-crawl culture is evolving.

That’s right. It’s not about grog or rum they’re after, but swilling chlorophyll. The interesting thing? Not all of them are recovering addicts, either. Sure, some are in their 30’s. But some are also just millennials (reluctant to bear that label) who simply want to join what’s now the counter-culture antithesis of Miley and her Mollies. The new rebellion is sobriety. Why? Because more kids are seeing the unproductive, depressing stupor and stupidity suffered by their parents and cohort group alike. Seeing how opposite-of-cute that is, they’ve come to value mindfulness, spirituality, and – ya know – actually having their faculties instead. (Who’d’ve thunk it?) It may sound basic, but it’s anything but that. It takes some next level self-awareness to realize that numbing the pain induced by a confused culture and society is not the answer.

And that’s why they’re going against the “grain” – to see things ever clearer.

Enter sober bars and raves.


(*Obviously* I’mma rock my onesie too for sunrise clubbing. Duh.)

There’s a place called “The Other Side” in Chicago, for instance. It’s not like an A.A. meeting with disco lights or anything. It’s your regular venue style club – but just sans the spirits at the bar. (And the age min is 17.)

Even “day raves” are a thing now, too.

Daybreaker’s is this buzz-free pre-meridian party that happens in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, for example. It kicks off just after the crack of dawn (er… 7:00 A.M.) and parties til nine-ish (again – in the A.M.). It’s fantastic because, for those who loathe rising early to hit the human hamster wheel for fitness (but wanna keep a pre-work cardio routine), you get epic exercise dancing to EDM amongst randos. What’s more, they’ve got a bar full’ve coffee and fruity water to replenish you and enjoy the sole legal high you permit yourself: caffeine. (Do they serve Starbucks? ’cause if so, I’m there yestermorning.) The nice thing? They move from place to place. And since they initiated a couple’ve years ago, I wouldn’t be surprised if they haven’t branched out by now. Google sober raves in your area to see what pops up, if that’s something that “resonates” with you.

Or mayhaps you’re one of those mature millennials.

Bars and clubs are dumb to you whether or not they come with drinkable drugs.

In which case, I say forget the above… and click here now.

Sober Grid: you don’t have to be alone. Even when you are.

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Find yourself isolating a bit lately?

Avoiding others? Hiding away?

Making up excuses not to keep your disease in check?


“TF you talking about? I’m fine…What day is it?”

It’s okay. We all feel that urge to hole away sometimes and avoid interaction. The thing is, though, we need to be able to talk with someone other than our own inimical monkey-mind about life’s arising issues. From our cravings to the unrelated daily vexations that make us have them in the first place, reality’s excellent at pitching shiz at us. And it’s always nice to have someone at the ready to arm us with a relatability bat for a home run. But if running to your home is literally all you ever wanna do, that can be hard. That unique clean guru you acquired is great ‘n all. But what do you do when your sponsor’s at work? In a movie? Having an issue of his own? And can’t be reached?

Why, use our other collective cultural addiction to fix it, obviously..

Our phones.

’cause, lucky for us, there’s an app called Sober Grid – which proves solitude doesn’t have to mean isolation anymore:


(I had no idea most addicts were white, 20 year old, American Apparel models. But we’ll go with it.)

Think of it as kind of a sober-focused Facebook. People log onto Sober Grid to share, listen, get inspired, and get talked down from cravings. Much like it is in ZuckerLand, you’ll see a feed of updates when you log in where you can sobrie-tweet whatevz going on in your life. Also, you can always widen your network. And if you need help ASAP? There’s this “burning desire” button – which is basically a Bat Signal for your pals to help hamper your hankerings before they can turn into using. Think: “Field of Fiends”. If you click it, they will come. And they will relate. And they will help you remember why it’s a terrible idea.

Named the best sober app on either Apple or Android devices, the thing’s already helped a shiz ton of ex-junkies ‘n drinkers. And for good reason too. Because, testimonials plastered onto the website aside, it’s actually helped people I personally know. Example? A buddy’ve mine, Kyle, who’s coming up on his nine year anniversary this May:

Another fun feature on this thing is their geo-locator.

While I generally loathe the notion of being “tracked” by anything, there is something to be said about finding local folk who share your desire to eschew extracurriculars of the mind altering variety. I say this because, as someone who doesn’t exactly live in a metropolis, the meetings are sometimes kinda sparse. Don’t get me wrong – I’ve met some stellar souls up in there. But, the thing is, not all of them are necessarily people I’d hang out with to grab a coffee or dinner with. In the initial stages of recovery, I’d find myself compartmentalizing. Socializing at the meetings – but then only talking recovery when I’d grab a latte with a fellow clean companion. It felt like all we had in common was this one malevolent force we actively had to keep in check everyday. I wanted something more in common than an invisible enemy, you know? Sure, it’s crucial to keep clean at our foundation, but I wanna connect on a higher level too – what do you do for fun, now that you’re a few years clean? What are your passion projects? How was your kid’s dance recital? All that kinda stuff. You don’t exactly get to choose who’s going to be at your meetings. And sometimes that’s great (because it opens you up to seeing A.) different viewpoints and B.) how we’re all essentially the same, at our core). But, other times, it’s less good. People won’t follow the meeting rules or they’ll get off track, deterring you from returning. With a browse-able local sober network, you can customize your recovery by locating peeps in your proximity who you might better connect with in the flesh.

So, friends, I’d highly suggest downloading this app now and taking an eyeball tour of it. That way, next time you find yourself going all Gollum in the hovel you call home, you’ll have some sober associates to virtually invite into your clean quarantine. It’s a way of connecting without doing all the stuff you don’t wanna do when you’re in isolation mode (like: leave the house, speak, wear anything but underpants…) The upside? Between the inspirational interaction and that geo-locator, all that apathy might just change.

You might even find some local sober-ians you’re willing to conclude your seclusion for.

Why should I bother being a sponsor?

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Congratulations.

You’ve made it through the twelve steps. That means two things.

The first? That you start over again at step one.

And the second? That you pass it along.


“What? No prize? Where’s the streamers and giant check?”

I know. I know. I too felt like a trophy should’ve come with getting clean. But, in a way, your award’s found when you start over and start out someone else who needs help on the path. Why? Well, the thing about this serenity ladder is that it’s not linear. It’s a circle. A sober samsara. You keep going because, well, life keeps going – and so does the addictive facet of your personality. (Can’t erase it, but you can totally manage it.) It endures so long as you do. It manifests in any malicious, tricky, didn’t-see-that-shiz-coming number of ways. And, in that way, continuing on with the steps isn’t some negative laborious thing. It’s a code you’ve luckily encountered to living a more tranquil life. A gift. Many people (non-addicts, with their own plethora of unresolved issues) will go their whole lives not having the kinda guide this program offers. (which is not just about staying sober, but staying sane.) Thus, the silver lining to addiction’s that – if you come to recovery and do the work – you’re not just covering the recovery bit of your life-issues. You’re also addressing any of the daily demons gnawing at your noggin that’ve got nothing to do with drugs before they can drive you to some sort’ve destructive behavior. Like they say in the rooms, “More will always be revealed.”

So, no, you’ve never ended your journey.


(Great. Now lower the ladder, bish and help your homies below.)

And that’s why we start back at step one – to keep the disease in check.

But this is also why – when we do – we also begin looking to newcomers who need help hopping on that wheel of wellness. Becoming a sponsor. In a way, it’s like having a little sister or bro in your clean fraternity. (At least, I’m assuming they still do that; I never got into Greek life myself in college.) You’re their serenity mentor. A sober sensei. You help other people mount the self-awareness wheel, start ’em at step one, and guide them along as you continue your own self work. And, in return for paying it backward, you pay it forward to your future self. How? ’cause it’s successful in the same way the old adage about training recruits on the job is: “See one. Do one. Teach one.” Ever heard that? When you come to a meeting, you read the lit and see in person how it’s serving other long time sober folk. Then, you do it for yourself, and realize they weren’t just effing with you. They’re on some Harry Potter shiz ’cause the “big book” truly works in application.


“What sorcery is this? Witchcraft? I knew it…”

Then, after that, you demonstrate that fact one day to someone coming in and picking up a white keytag.

They hear about how three years ago your were railing mystery powder off some carnival oddity’s genetalia and dining in dumpsters. Then, in the next breath, they hear how your present problems comprise deciding whether to give up your Malibu mansion or your one in Florida and who’s going to get the private plane in the divorce. (Granted, becoming a billionaire isn’t the common recovery story. But A.) it happens and B.) the transformative 180 that happens, 100% is.) Naturally, we know those problems comparatively aren’t real problems. And, naturally, these newbie’s are drawn to the genuine joy you’re vomiting all over the meeting. Thus, they come to you saying “I wanna have what you have. How’d you get it?” And that’s when you take ’em under your clean wing and show them the ropes. Just like someone did for you when you worked the steps.

And, that’s when future you can potentially benefit.

Remember when we said you start over after step twelve? Because more will be revealed? More is always gonna be revealed. And you know what helps you do the deepest digging? Other people. This thing I’m about to say goes for any self-betterment quest, and recovery’s no different: everyone is your teacher. Sure, your sponsor and the kindly man who sponsors her. But so is that drama-mongering dry drunk who mean mugs all the way through the meeting. And so is the newcomer. Some show you what you want to be. Some show you which facets of yourself are less admirable and to avoid embodying. And some – green to being clean – just remind you of how crucial it is to keep an open mind in recovery in order to keep uncovering more about ourselves. That we all have more to learn, no matter how far we’ve come.

And that’s part of the work of sponsorship that makes it so symbiotic.

First, there’s the feel goodery that comes with an act of compassion. It says a lot about who you are if you’re willing to sacrifice your natural-high days to come down and empathize with someone on a low level. You run the risk of your good example falling flat, which can either make you feel bad – or make you hafta to work hard to remember that you can’t control other people and need to detach emotionally from the choices they ultimately make. Then again, you might have an amazing impact on them. Either way, though, you can rest assured that acting out of compassion has a resonant effect within you. Knowing, deep down, that you made an effort – at your own expense – to better someone’s situation is validating, confidence instilling, and reinforces self worth.


(It also boosts those feel-good bonding hormones.)

And when it does work – it’s mindblowing how much it can change both’a your lives.

Sure, they’re gaining indispensable insight. But so are you. By helping someone else, you’re helping yourself via reinforcing the principles that’re so easy to lose in the midst of daily, societal distractions. You can learn anything you want to – all the program literature in the world. But if you don’t apply it, you lose it. And if you don’t have reminders, you won’t apply it. And the biggest reminder is seeing the effects of the program in others. Seeing how it works in other people, helps us remember our ongoing goal. Feeling connected to that experience, however, is next level fuel for our carry-on campfire burning inside’ve us. This is why aiding a sponsee on their newfound path is especially invaluable. It’s also why they say “we keep what we have only by giving it away”. Seeing the program work in someone new is a beautiful reminder of how far you’ve come when you start to fall prey to diseased thinking again. Seeing the program work in someone because you’ve helped them, though? As a writer, I can’t aptly capture with words the feeling you get when you realize you’ve altered someone else’s life for the better. It’s a reminder that you’re a role model. (Egoic as that sounds, even the ego serves its purposes. Besides, you learn real quick that you only maintain this relevance via humility.) You’ve offered the partial seed in someone’s recovery, inseminated them with the ingredients for sobriety, and watched them grow. And that means you have a responsibility now to lead a life worth emulating. For them, and for those like them. In that way, you’re just as indebted to them as they are to you. Because they’re keeping you on track, too.

And that kinda connection’s one of the most unique things you’ll ever experience.

10 tips that landed me the right sponsor.

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“HERE,” Paul said, shoving a young woman resembling a prettier version of Amy Farrah Fowler in front of me.


(Dead.F’ing.Ringer. Same looks. Same voice. Same smarter-than-me-ness. )

Paul meant well when he forcibly suggested I accept Amy (we’ll just call her that for now) as my sponsor.

But, really, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was ’cause she had over a year of clean time… or just ‘cause we were the only two white girls in the Tuesday night meeting. Not one to ignore my own paranoia, I was mildly suspicious of this quasi thoughtless, semi racist pairing. But, to be honest, it was more so because the past two sponsors I’d eyed in the rooms just didn’t click with me. Hope was waning. What was it I was looking for anyway? Was I really turned off by the others because they were smokers and I wasn’t? Or was it actually the fact that they were no shiz bishes – and I was afraid of being tough loved? Maybe it was that I wanted someone like the person who attracted me to the program in the first place – successful and joyful, with a tranquil manner. Not “struggling” through recovery – but gleaning the good from life as best they could because of their new program of living. Someone who tended to share some’a that “strength and hope” stuff on the heels of their more painful sharings.

Unfortunately, within the rooms, I was getting more of the pessimism.

Any “hope” was non-authentic, delivered in a coat of platitudes and regurgitated idioms so perfunctorily that they might’s well’ve been sighing as they said it. Even from the potential sponsors, I noticed this. Maybe I was being picky. I was definitely doing the whole “seeing differences versus similarities”. But, to my credit, if this was meant to be an “attraction not promotion” program, shouldn’t I gravitate toward a human I’d wanna emulate at least a little bit? Especially with respect to whoever’d be dishing out pearls of prudence to chuck at me – seeing as I’d be spending lotsa one on one time with them (and I turn into an energy-matching chameleon double fast). Admittedly, with Amy, her energy didn’t seem like a quality at the start. I immediately noticed how anxious she was. And I judged. Mostly because… I was the same damned way. And witnessing her nervousness was like observing some sorta parody of my own. Which made me feel self conscious. I didn’t like it. Then, by some cosmic grace, a few things dawned on me: 1.) I was stalling on finding the “right” sponsor ‘cause I didn’t want to start the step work. 2.) I was hesitating with Amy ‘cause she told it like it was. And 3.) As someone who’s spastic and manic half the time, myself, it suddenly became clear that mayhaps being around someone so painfully similar… might just help me get self-conscious enough to calm the fluff down. Hard as it is to allow yourself to be uncomfortable as you induce change, I’d exhausted all other options. The fact was: I sick enough of myself to change. By any means. Even shame.

But was Amy really right for me?

To confirm, I referred to the same search engine I used to use for my less admirable hobbies.

(Alright, dammit. Sometimes I still do.)

This time, however, it’d be the Do’s and Don’ts of recruiting a good guru for drugless living. And what I came to learn is that it’s a lot easier than I was making it out to be. It’s not exactly like hiring on an employee. No one’s signing a contract in blood to recovery coach you for the next decade. If half a step in, you wonder whether someone who still keeps around their old smack memorabilia mightn’t be best for you, then guess what? You can fire your sponsor. Divorced. 86’d. Splitsies. And then… you can find a new one. No one will begrudge you this because everyone knows that – when it comes to recovery – it’s alright to be a bit selfish. Because if we relapse, we’re likely to lose it all.Our loved ones. Our minds. Our lives. The stakes are too high and too wide to afford any room for butthurt.

With that in mind, I was able to sponsor audition a few peeps fearlessly and move on before determining that, yes, Paul’s intuition was mayhaps founded on more than some racial basis. Amy did seem the most appropriate candidate to shepherd me as we ascended the twelve tiered staircase (which I was told only culminates in returning to the first; a bit Escher-esque if you ask me, but as I said – I was open to anything at this point).

And how’d she fit the bill?

Well, among the Do’s and Don’ts I encountered, Amy checked out on the biggies:

1. DO choose someone with over a year of clean time.

(I didn’t get this at first until I started reading some Sci Am articles on how retraining the brain after drug-taking can be a lengthy process. Clean thinking, much less clean teaching, takes some time. It’s pretty tough to instruct sobriety how-to’s when your own feet are still draggin’ from the wagon you only just recently rejoined). Plus – someone not far enough away from active addiction could easily relapse – and take my arse down with ’em. It can happen to any of us addicts – no matter how many degrees we have or how much Sci Am we read.

2. DO choose someone you respect enough to follow their direction.

(Remembering, as I failed to initially do, that you’re probably not gonna find Eckhart Tolle sat there leading meetings. If you do, A.) send me your group’s time and address. And B.) he probably already has more sponsees than an NFL star’s got unknown children. So, instead’a looking for a human god, maybe settle for someone good.)

3. DO choose someone in an active relache with their sponsor

Your sponsor needs to have someone to go to too.

Espesh when you wear them down with your madness.

The way I did to poor Amy.

4. DO choose someone who goes to meetings frequently.

Why? ’cause it’s like an interactive church for ex-junkies. It reminds us not to be douchey. Which I inevitably turn into when I adhere to my own brain’s advice versus the stuff I get in a room where telling the truth is crucial. My sponsor always asked me during those first weeks, “Which meeting are you going to tonight?” If I hadn’t been planning on it – thinking I could wing a day on my own – the open ended inquiry helped me reconsider. Granted, part of me knew what she was doing and half wanted to reply “the chatroom one” or “none”. But then I remembered why I was here in the first place. Plus, I like to think it gave her a reason to keep going too – the fact that I did. Example setting is a powerful motivator – if a bit egoic.

5. DO choose someone with a working knowledge of the steps.

That just means they actually do their step work. If they don’t then they aren’t living up to the whole “choose someone you respect and will be willing to follow” thing. Amy’d already gone through hers once or twice by the time we met.

6. DO choose someone who makes themselves available.

That’s not to say they drop everything for you when you rapidfire text them from your hovel of early recovery. We’ve gotta be realistic. People with time under their belt’ll be back in the real world and busy. But, if they’re worth their weight as a sponsor, they’ll make time to talk through issues with you and set aside time for step work.

7. DO be open to criticism – but not abuse.

What Amy always did was start out by naming some of her own defects. It opened the door for me to expound on some of my own that maybe I was conveniently forgetting, had suppressed, or was just unwilling to utter out loud. We’re here to change. So why hide our defect corpses in our cognitive car trunks only to rot and putrefy and carry on (carrion?) with ruining our lives? A little openness to suggestion and willingness to relinquish the self-important ego was key for me in those starting stages. A painful, cringe educing effort – but worth it. And, if you’re not the type to open up easily, then at least don’t give up easily… when they’re honest with you and call you on your shiz.

8. DO keep the advice recovery specif.

Try to remember this is a spiritual program meant to keep you clean. Sure, you can discuss how issues of work or money are affecting your recovery (i.e. – by diminishing your practicing of the principles or making you wanna use) but a sponsor’s the 100% wrong source for advice on financial or employment matters themselves.

9. DO boundary set.

Anyone see that last season of Nurse Jackie? Where her sponsor went nutso on her and showed up at her job? Had I seen that episode before attending a f’real meeting, it might have just put me off going at all. Much less adopting one-on-one help. You see, a sponsor being honest with you about your shortcomings face to face is one thing. But if they begin infringing on your personal life, then it’s time to politely issue the pink slip and re-cast that role, my dear.



10. DO choose someone of a gender you’re least attracted to.

Difficult if you’re bi; but this is where we get honest with ourselves and say “Okay. I have zero sexual arousal around this human.” And then, if that changes? You do what I did with the ones that weren’t working out for other reasons. Dismiss ‘em. Kindly, preferably. Otherwise, that whole “13th step” thing’s bound to happen – which compromises recovery in the worst kinda way.

In the end, Amy ended up being a great sponsor.

She followed all’a that above etiquette, never infringed on my life, and was always there when I needed her.

And – as for her anxiousness? Well, the moment I showed up for step work (when I actually did it), it was like an aura of calm came over her. She was transformed. The shallow breathing and darting eyes disappeared, only to be supplanted by a sort of serenity I’ve felt myself after a good meeting, share, or passage digested from “Living Clean” (best of the NA books, IMHO). And that moment – when she knew she was out of her own tortured mind, helping another’s heal – made me realize a couple things. The first is how important compassionate, selfless service toward another can be in restoring our own sanity. And the other? That maybe all of those other sponsors I passed up without even “interviewing” may’ve have been great after all. Because if I’d dismissed Amy (the way I did the others) on the basis of how she was (almost) more antsy than I am… then I’d have missed out on a bomb azz recovery Yoda.

And, Amy, if you ever encounter this article… I hope you take the comparison as a compliment.

’cause I totes would.