I've stopped and restarted, erased and rewritten. I've typed like the crazy-lady I am (my daughter calls it, "angry typing," because these fingers can really get to going), and backspaced just as quickly. I don't know what it is that makes it so difficult for me to write about coping with stress. I suppose I could have come up with another topic, but I have learned that when something is nagging at my subconscious, I should probably take a closer look at it. Maybe peel away a few layers, do some internal investigating, and learn a little more about myself in the process.
This isn't one of those, "Holiday Stress Got You Down? 10 Sure-Fire Ways to Rekindle Your Spirit!" kind of posts. Why should we limit ourselves to only seeking peace from within during a select few weeks throughout the year? It just doesn't make any sense at all. We know that when we continually ignore certain symptoms, or warning signs, things can go from pretty okay to complete chaos in just seconds. Heck, lots of times there aren't even any warning signs; it just hits the fan like, "BAM!!" And you're left wondering what the hell just happened. Personally, I've learned that when I dissect these events, and really strip away all of the layers that surround them, I can usually find that one, ugly little nugget, buried deep in the belly of the problematic beast. The true core of the apple, so to speak. And once I'm able to identify that little nugget, I can begin to re-evaluate it's true impact on my perspectives. Basically, dig deep. And once you've found what it is you're looking for, keep digging. You might have found the core of the issue, but have you figured out what caused the core to overheat in the first place? See, that's where you need to go. Get down and dirty, and be blatantly honest with yourself. And then you have a decision to make: keep it or throw it away. It's that simple. It's hard for us hoarders, because even when something's not working we tend to hang on to it, just because we might need it someday. But I'm telling you, if it's not paying rent, evict it. It's either eviction, or a fresh new coat of paint. You choose. All of that said, I am not so naïve as to believe that bad things don't happen to good people. "Joy Snipers," are lurking around every corner (they are year 'round...we just notice their handiwork a lot more during this time of year). The Snipers do things like flatten your tires, hide your debit card, use the last of the creamer without telling anyone. They gleefully romp through the badlands of your peripheral vision, pouncing upon every opportunity to take a shot at your joy. Do we react stressfully to them? Of course! It's human nature. But what if you've already spent some time peeling layers away on some of those other stressors? Might those unexpected pot-shots seem a little easier to navigate? It's worked pretty well for me so far this season, and believe me, my personal Joy Snipers have been working overtime a lot lately. So, I might have fibbed a bit when I said that there weren't going to be tips in this post. To be fair, the original comment was, "10 Sure-Fire Ways to Rekindle Your Spirit!" Well, there aren't going to be 10 here. But I did ask a few friends what they've found helpful for them when The Snipers have seemingly won the battle. Here are few of their go-tos:
From our hearts to yours, we wish you a joyous and happy Thanksgiving. Relish your memories, and treasure your fellow human beings. Many blessings - Tammi-
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Last week, I was really inspired to write about acknowledging the recovering addict's accomplishments, rather than only remembering them for their failures in addiction. I knew then there would be another post similar to the first, because that's how my mind works. It's a pain in the ass sometimes, because I'll barely get one thought or idea verbalized (most of the time, not even that far) when another one comes crashing in, clamoring for attention. My husband's the same way. He's called me (hands-free, of course) on his drive home from work because he's had a brilliant idea out of nowhere, and he knows that if it isn't written down somewhere, it will be, "Poof!" Gone! Give us both a little caffeine, and we'll go in circles for hours together.
Now where was I? Oh yeah. Addicts. (See what I mean?) As previously mentioned, I'm passionate about supporting those in "recovery." I personally prefer to refer to this particular stage of my disease as "remission." "Recovery," to me, means I'm getting better. While I understand that my body and mind are indeed recuperating from the effects of my "drug of choice (alcohol)," my disease is only in remission. It's always there, just as ugly, and just waiting for the next go-round. It should scare you to know that addiction is considered a progressive and aggressive disease. It doesn't matter how many years of sobriety you have under your belt; all it takes is just one moment of over-confidence, or one case of the, "eff-its," and not only are you in exactly the same shape you were in before you quit, you are quickly on your way to the next circle of hell. (Notice I didn't say, "One moment of weakness?" That's because it's not a weakness. It's a disease. Which brings me to...) Recently, I posted a video on Facebook of a town hall meeting in which Governor Chris Christie delivers a passionate plea to America to rethink views on addiction and treatment. While I do not agree with Mr. Christie's politics, this speech was absolutely spot on. He suggests that we should actually be proactive with regards to helping someone who's struggling with addiction, instead of waiting for them to screw up and then punishing them. Truly a refreshing perspective and approach. But here's why I don't think we're quite ready for it just yet: Anonymity. Alcoholics Anonymous has saved countless lives, and it's basic formula for recovery has spawned dozens of other "Anonymous" support groups. Finding yourself addicted to one or more of the Seven Deadly Sins? Don't worry. There's a support group's shoulder somewhere for you to rest your weary head upon. And while these support groups might not be the answer to every addict's question, they certainly do provide you with a place to begin finding some footing in your new world. It's also a great place to learn that you're really not alone. So, if that's true, and it's really okay to admit I have a problem, why do I have to be so secretive about it? Why are we so ashamed of our disease that we don't even share our last names? Do we feel the same when it's another, more socially accepted, life-threatening illness? Not so much. So how in the hell do I find the courage to admit that I'm all of those things that my culture has defined an addict to be? Much like so many of you, I was raised to believe that addicts are weak, untrustworthy, lying and selfish creatures. The lowest of the low. And when our addictions are in an active phase, that's a very accurate description. But while it's said that the first step is admitting that you have a problem, I'm not sure that's entirely true. Inside my head, I knew for a very long time that I had lost control. Part of the reason it took me so long to seek assistance was the shame. The shame of admitting that I was defeated, again, and no better than any of my pre-conceived notions of an addict. I am that addict. I have hit bottom, and continued to dig, always praying it would be the last, last time. Always hoping for a different outcome, even though I always seemed to do exactly the same thing every time. Not exactly something I want to share at the Thanksgiving table with members of my family who (mostly) know and love me, let alone with a room full of people I don't know who won't even be divulging their last names. I mean, I know why so many people feel that personal anonymity is of utmost priority. And I am completely respectful when it comes to others' privacy as well. I just wish we didn't have to be so very afraid of coming out of the medicine chest to finally seek the help we need. Guys, let's get this figured out! People are dying. For every addict able to "get a bed" in a treatment facility, there are literally thousands more out there dying while they're waiting for a bed of their own. Mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, sisters, brothers. Best friends. Husbands and wives. This disease doesn't discriminate when selecting it's next victim. And sadly, there just aren't enough beds and isn't enough money to help everyone out there. (Don't worry, I didn't hire Sara McLachlin to sing a mournful tune in the background.) What I would like to ask of you, if you've come this far, is to try to think twice before assuming those fighting this fight are simply weak people who've made bad choices. There's so much more to us than that (isn't there with everyone?). A lot of us are just scared to death to be honest not only with ourselves, or with complete strangers, but with the people around us we consider to be our loved ones. What if I throw it all out there on the line, only to have you decide that I'm just not worth the heartache? I can suggest at least something to those of you who live with or are affected personally by someone with an addiction. There are also support groups for folks walking in your moccasins that can help you navigate through this unwelcome territory. I can get you all kinds of information on the subject; just leave me a message, and I can help you find something close to you. Sometimes just knowing you're not alone can actually be an even bigger relief than admitting you have a problem. Personally, I'm no longer concerned about my own anonymity. This doesn't mean I'm going to include the part about being an alcoholic on my resume`. But a really nice guy once told me, "You know you should have been dead at least 100 times!" And he is absolutely correct. I can see that now. I'm one of the lucky ones who's survived. Not everyone makes it out to write a clever blog, and I've known far too many who've either surrendered, or been defeated by this monster. This ravenous, toothy beast with as many different sets of teeth as there are addictions to be had. This is a fight I've fought for many years, and will continue to fight as long as I have breath...my personal monster has some BIG ol' teeth! So, have a good week, friends. Be nice to a stranger, be nice to someone you love, and remember to be nice to yourself, too. Try to remember that everyone walks a different path and wears different moccasins than you. Basically, just be a good human. Much love and Bright Blessings to you! Tammi- Warning:
You might learn more about me than you already know by reading this post. Something's been eating away at me for a few days now, enough so that I don't seem to be able to focus my thoughts specifically on much else. It's actually a two-parter, and I really hope you'll stay long enough to read both pieces when each is complete; I am passionate about this subject and I hope to provide a different viewpoint than what is typically the accepted truth. So, without further ado, here I go. Don't say I didn't warn you. Those of you who know me personally know that I've more than struggled with the disease of alcoholism. It has kicked my ass more than once, and quite frankly, destroyed a lot of very important pieces in my life that I'm still working to rebuild. If you've known me for any length of time, personally, you know that this is not behavior that I would exhibit in my right mind. But if you know anything about addiction, you also know that addicts tend to reorganize their priorities until the only thing that matters is the next high. Most often, there is no malice-aforethought. We don't plan to hurt anyone, but when you feed that monster, there is nearly always collateral damage. It's unavoidable. We're drowning in guilt and shame with our very lives in the balance, and yet we refuse every life preserver thrown our way. Here's what prompted my subconscious to begin examining how we, as a society, view and approach addictions and those afflicted with them. I was enjoying a wonderful conversation just the other day, catching up with a friend I hadn't seen in a few years. She shared that some of her loved ones were battling addiction, and it seemed as though this was a fairly new experience for her. This is a good thing, because it's taken this long for it to finally creep into her life. We talked about one of her friends in particular (not by name, of course) who struggled with addiction. "She's got addiction problems. She's been sober for 2 years now, buuuut..." This was the phrase that struck me, and it also made me a little sad. Sad because rather than using her friend's lengthy sobriety as a point of reference for her, she was initially remembered for her active addiction. I was also saddened that my friend's only real point of reference for this disease was likely learned while growing up in a world that remains largely uneducated on the subject. Medically it's known to be a life-threatening and potentially deadly, incurable (yet manageable) disease. Our bodies simply do not react the same as a normal person's body does once certain chemicals are introduced. It's simple as that, at least scientifically. Now, I get it. I was raised the same way, with the same stereotypical views of addiction. Addicts are weak, selfish, thoughtless, immoral, ignorant asses wasting their lives and ruining everyone else's. Guess what? That's actually a pretty accurate description. But it's not who we started out as or ever wanted to be. Did you know me before this monster began gnawing away at me? I don't think there are many people who did that would choose any of those previously mentioned adjectives to describe me then. At least not all of the time (I am human). If you've only known me in sobriety, hopefully you wouldn't use any of these terms either. (Also, if you've only known me as a drunk, please allow me to reintroduce myself :-).) One of the hardest things for me to negotiate in sobriety has been my perception of others' opinions of me. It pains me deeply when I see others looking at me differently because of my disease. It hurts when someone I respect so openly expects me to fail because of previous history. Are there failures in my history? Several. Could I fail again? That's always a possibility. I'd love nothing better than to say, "I'm cured! I'll never fall into that downward spiral again!" I simply cannot, however, afford to be arrogant (or is it naïve?) any longer. My hope is that maybe the next time you encounter someone in your life who is fighting any stage of this battle that you will remember to think twice before looking down your nose at them, or before immediately assuming you know their story. I promise that you don't. Some of the most caring, gifted and intelligent people I have ever met fight for their lives against this disease every day of their lives; many of them volunteer nearly all their free time educating and encouraging others through their personal experiences. Super scary monsters, right? I've gone on about this enough, I suppose. But I'd like to leave you with this phrase: "There, but for the grace of God, go I." Count your blessings, and remember the things that you're grateful for every day. Because you really never know where life is going to lead you, and you never know (even if you think you do) what life has in store for you. That man or woman, living under that bridge, really could be you, or someone you love. Think about that the next time you're about to assume anything about anyone. |
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