Step One, part two

"We admitted we were powerless over alcohol - that our lives had become unmanageable."

-Alcoholics Anonymous, p 59

One summer afternoon in 1988, I was sitting in a room on 85th Street in Seattle.  The room I'd gone to my first meeting in.  And I heard a phrase that I intuitively understood:  "incomprehensible demoralization".

Although it's written on page 30 of the book, Alcoholics Anonymous to describe the feeling of coming off of yet another spree, it's something that also can apply to having a life that's become unmanageable.  If you didn't know that, you'll just have to trust me here.

There are a lot of ways that unmanageability can show up in my life.  It could be repeatedly failed drug screenings at work, legal problems, health problems, loss of jobs, loss of relationships... the list just keeps going.  A lot of problems like these are easy to directly trace to drug and/or alcohol abuse.  People who don't drink don't get a ticket for drunk driving.  People who don't take illicit drugs don't have to worry about testing positive for 'em.  We all know (or have been) that person who becomes an absolute pain in the ass after a couple drinks.

This kind of unmanageability is easy to see.  And, it takes care of itself once we quit using.  Too bad it isn't always that easy.

Go to enough meetings, you'll hear the phrase "there is such a thing as 'alcoholISm', but no such thing as 'alcoholWASm'."  Or, people may refer to "the 'ism'".

Sorry to say, for addicts of my description, there are problems which don't magically just go away because I've quit using.  God knows, I waited long enough... but no dice.

What was taught to me is that my 'defects of character', to use a common AA phrase, are what not only got me started into drugs and booze - they're what will also eventually take me back.  Oh, and they'll screw up my life while I'm sober, too.  Those first two concepts there have been taught to me in an intellectual fashion; I've heard them in meetings and workshops.  But that third idea was not only told to me; it's something I've learned through empirical evidence.  AKA 'the school of hard knocks'.

So, how do I know if my life's manageable or not?  That's a little tougher once I'm sober, and the immediate repercussions of drugs and alcohol aren't present.

So, let's start with defining "manageable".

Merriam-Webster's online dictionary defines it as "capable of being managed".

Okay... looking up "manage":

  "...to handle or direct with a degree of skill..."

 So, if my life is unmanageable - or not able to be managed - it means that I am not capable of handling or directing it with a degree of skill to make things turn out how I want.  In other words, unmanageability means that some part or parts of my life aren't working how I'd like them to.

Examples:  got twenty pounds I keep wishing to lose?  Unmanageability.  Keep quitting smoking?  Don't want to invite people over, because my house is always messy?  Unmanageability.  Buying stuff, and regretting it later?  Paying bills late, even though the money's in the bank?  Lots of speeding tickets?  Problems with the spouse or 'significant other'?  Showing up to work dead on my feet because I was up all night watching porn?  Hooking up with dysfunctional people for sex, and then having to figure out how the hell to get them out of my life? Unmanageability. But, these are only a few of the possibilities.

Now, if I intended to be an overweight slob, whose house is too messy for actual humans to visit; if I decided to spend money on junk I don't need, and dig spending it on late fees and speeding tickets; if I sat down and thought that I would like to have more angry altercations, feel like hell at work, or deal with a real-life version of 'Fatal Attraction'... then I guess that answering "yes" to all those questions would be managing my life well.  But, since I don't want to live like that, it sure as hell wouldn't!

So, does this mean that I have to accept that even if I get sober, I'm going to be stuck with a craptastic life?  No.  Now that I've conceded to myself that I am not only unable to stay sober; that I will have some other problems (be they few or many) that will plague me.  Unless I get some kind of added power from outside myself.

Step one means: "I can't do it alone."  Luckily, steps two through twelve mean I can quit trying.

-M

The Zoo

Like I have probably written a bunch of times already, I did a fair amount of my initial meetings at the Fremont-Greenwood Fellowship.  Commonly known as "The Zoo".  There was a guy I used to see there.  He had long black hair, rode a black Harley, looked kinda' badass; the first time you heard him talk... he'd catch your attention.

He spoke a mile a minute, and had this litany of witticisms that would get put into what he was saying.  But one of the other things he commonly said was about the mortal gravity of addiction.  It was something that, as I worked the first step, I began to understand and believe about myself.  Eventually, I co-opted his phrase:  "...for me, to drink or to drug is to fucking die!"

(this actually came out as "...to fuuucking dieeeeee!!!")

I would run into this guy at meetings all the time.  When I went to the District AA picnic at Vasa Park, I saw him there.  I remember driving down the street one day, and seeing him out on the side of the road working to remove a broken bolt from the engine case of his bike (I think it was probably a Shovel, but I digress).

This guy, and his sayings, have stuck in my mind for over twenty years.  I saw him a couple years ago; hadn't seen him in almost two decades, but recognized him instantly.

I like to advise all my friends who are new to the program to get some meetings you regularly attend.  Get to know some folks in the fellowship.  You'll be amazed where and when you'll run into 'em.

And, you'll build some good memories.


-M

Step One, part one

"We admitted we were powerless over alcohol - that our lives had become unmanageable."

-Alcoholics Anonymous, p 59

Early on, I was taught is that the first step, as written, means the following:

We admitted we were powerless over alcohol. 

We admitted that our lives had become unmanageable.

Sometimes, I've thought that it might have been easier to understand if it'd been written as two separate sentences.    Let's tackle the first one first.

How do I know if I'm powerless over something?  Here's my 'Readers Digest' set of questions:

Can I (by myself) quit?  Pot?  Alcohol?  Coke?  Speed?  Pills?  Gambling?  Cookies and ice cream?

Can I say quit?  Indefinitely?  Without relapse?  Even if my girlfriend leaves me, my car breaks, and my hamster dies?  Or if I win the lottery?  For the rest of my life?

If I want to control it, can I control when or how much I 'indulge'?  Not just usually; not just most of the time.  Not nine times in a row, ninety-nine, or nine hundred ninety nine... but every time?

And, do I think about it?  If I'm not thinking about smoking weed, am I thinking about not smoking weed?  Drinking?  Coke?  Speed?  Pills?  Gambling?  Food?

Unfortunately, as an addict, I have an inability to tell the truth from the false about myself.  In other words, I can't see things accurately about myself.  Until that's addressed, there's little I can do with any list of questions.

Luckily, what I have been able to do is have my own story demonstrated to me by others.  When I started listening to others talk about their experience with how much they used, it helped me make sense of my own use.

I started out smoking pot, I could get high and be okay for the rest of the day.  Even after I came down, I didn't have any desire for more.  Later, I'd get high, and then smoke more... even though it wasn't going to do much.  I'd know that I only had a bit left, and should ration it out.  But, I'd have to have just one more.  I'd take a toke, and know that I had something to do, but... that old thought would come: "I'm already buzzed - I might as well get really high now and do (whatever) later."

It was explained that this was because of an actual physical change in my brain chemistry.  Once I had some, it'd make me want more.

By the end, my tolerance went away.  It was a long time before I met another pothead who'd had this happen, but I met some skid row drinkers who explained that in late stage addiction, this isn't rare.  In fact, it's pretty common with alcohol.  Anyway, I'd smoke a little nug of weed, and know that if I smoked too much that I'd feel like crap.  And it was often the second or third one; it didn't take a hell of a lot anymore.

But, I'd always - always - take that second one.  And, if I wasn't feeling shaky, sick and weak, then I'd start fiending for another.  I wasn't satisfied until I was over-smoked.  A lot of folks quit smoking pot before they get to this point.

In meetings, I heard physical addiction equated to a physical allergy.  A bodily chemical reaction.  Kinda' like giving a guy with blood sugar issues a candy bar, and he craves more.  When you hear folks talking about "physical craving" at meetings, this is what they're talking about.

It's like the thermostat is wired backwards; instead of turning the heater off when the room warms up, it kicks it into overdrive, until a fuse blows.  Or it bursts into flames and torches the room. Normal people will not understand this.  Addicts will find it explains some things...

Of course, if I didn't smoke weed again, then this would all be pointless and academic.  But, I did, and it wasn't.  Which, I was told, was due to psychological addiction (the "mental obsession" discussed at meetings).

It was told to me that, if I had the mind of an addict, I'd go back to using at some time.  At some point, instead of saying "no" like the last nine hundred ninety-nine times, I'd say "yes".  I'd either just forget that I'd quit, or the thoughts would be kind of vague - like remembering a dream.  Or, I'd be upset and say "what the hell".

At some point, I wouldn't be able to "stop and think through my relapse", like my friends from treatment centers say.  Whatever I'd learned about myself, or about addiction wouldn't matter.  Sooner or later, I was going to come to a spot where self-knowledge wasn't going to cut it.  Threats of jail, losing a job, losing a spouse or kids... at some point, it wouldn't be enough.

Unfortunately, no amount of 'clean time' was going to help, either.  Case in point: I lost a friend about a year ago.  Cirrhosis of the liver after two years of relapse.  Ten years of recovery didn't keep him from going out.

I've come to believe this.  Over the years, I've heard people say that if they smoked weed/drank/did coke/whatever, that they'd lose their kids, house, job, freedom, physical health, or whatever.  And, then they'd go out anyway.  If I had a dollar for every time I'd heard that... we could go out to lunch.  At a pretty nice restaurant.

So, what is going to take care of that mental 'blank spot'?  Spiritual experience.  But, that's skipping ahead - we've still got the second part of step one to tackle, before we get to all that spiritual stuff.

-M

Step one, part zero

One of the things I wanted to write when I first decided to blog, was a compilation of my thoughts on the twelve steps.

Especially the first one.

It's been my experience, both for myself, and working with others, that when there's difficulty moving forward on a certain step, it's a good idea to back up and look to the steps worked earlier.  Oftentimes, there's something that was glossed over.  There is, after all, a reason that the book Alcoholics Anonymous dedicates 43 pages to the first step - and only 121 more on the remaining eleven combined.

When I was fairly new in the program, only a few years in, I had a sponsor who was an alcoholic.  Seeing as I was a pothead first and foremost, a crackhead and tweaker secondarily, and a drunk only as a tertiary issue, he grilled the hell out of me on the first step.


For anybody who is uncomfortable with the AA book, my advice is to perhaps get a copy of the CA book (which I've read, and like), the NA Basic Text (which I know nothing about), or the MA book.  I've always used the AA book.  I got sober before Life With Hope (the Marijuana Anonymous 'big book') was written, and have never really had any desire to quit using the original that's worked for millions.

For myself, I'm not really 'in tune' with the MA book; perhaps it's just from having used the AA book for so long.  However, the Twelve Questions (listed below) are thought-provoking:

1. Has smoking pot stopped being fun?
2. Do you ever get high alone?
3. Is it hard for you to imagine a life without marijuana?
4. Do you find that your friends are determined by your marijuana use?
5. Do you smoke marijuana to avoid dealing with your problems?
6. Do you smoke pot to cope with your feelings?
7. Does your marijuana use let you live in a privately defined world?
8. Have you ever failed to keep promises you made about cutting down or controlling your dope smoking?
9. Has you use of marijuana caused problems with memory, concentration, or motivation?
10. When your stash is nearly empty, do you feel anxious or worried about how to get more?
11. Do you plan your life around your marijuana use?
12. Have friends or relatives ever complained that your pot smoking is damaging your relationship with them?

Useful questions, to be sure.  But, having gone through the steps more than once, I'm sure that a person can answer "yes" to a bunch of the MA questions without being an addict.  Screwed up?  Defenitely.  An addict?  Inconclusive.

I'd contend that a person could get high alone, have people complain about it, smoke weed to deal with feelings, and just associate with people who get high... but still be able to quit without help.  And stay quit.

In fact, I've known people who have.  Don't you just hate people who can simply decide to do something like that, and do it?

That's not my experience as an addict.  I wanted to quit, and couldn't.


Studying the first step explained why.

-M