Being an addict can feel, initially, like obligatory reflection. Reflection—one of the things that drives us to drink in the first place. We aren’t good feelers.

As I look back on my early recovery I can see that everything was exacerbated. Good feelings were REALLY good and bad feelings were REALLY bad. I never knew how to stop the pendulum from swinging all the way through to the other side. Honestly, I never even knew you could stop the pendulum from swinging. I thought this was how it was for everyone. It never occurred to me that people who didn’t have alcohol dependence actually felt and functioned differently than me. I thought they just handled life better. I was always trying to handle life better.

It was a while before I realized that my alcoholic brain wasn’t working at full capacity. It didn’t know how to switch gears for the task at hand. It had two modes: great or horrible. Rarely do I remember a time I felt peaceful—genuinely peaceful.  Somewhere in that first year sober I remember, with certainty, having the “peaceful” feeling, but I thought I was just bored. It took me another few years to understand the difference between the two.

Bored = Nothing to do.

Peaceful = It’s ALL good, even the stuff I don’t think is good.

Sometimes it bugs me that it took until I was 40 to get sober. How did I manage all those years? I guess I didn’t.

One of the big lessons (that never gets old in recovery) is the idea that we reflect on past behavior. (It’s a fine line, too. To look without obsessing; to look and grow from knowledge gained.) We are to acknowledge past error without judging self or others. I never met a person who didn’t judge and certainly no addict that didn’t judge themselves or others harshly. So looking and not judging was foreign. It is through repetition, however, that I have learned this tool pays big dividends.

Big Dividends, How?

When I feel that discomfort toward self or another I can be confident I am judging. Judging, no matter how politely I package it, still hurts me inside. I have to get to that place where I can rise above it and look down on it. Look down on all the players (self-included) and acknowledge that everyone was doing the best they could at the time. The best they could at the time—based on the information in their head. It’s not my job to say what is or is not in their head.

When I get here (mentally here) I am free. I can forgive you, forgive me, and move forward without that ache in my heart. It is so nice to wake in the morning without an ache in my heart over little things that happened yesterday. It is so nice to not need to drink because I hate the way I feel inside, I’m not disappointed in what I did or said, or, what you did or said.

Yes, I had to be willing to look at me and work on being a better version of me each day.

And yes, I still have to force myself to look anytime I feel that old familiar ache within. My sobriety depends upon it, but now, so does my peace of mind.

♦

A quick shout out to all my fellow recovery bloggers. I celebrated 12 years clean and sober on March 10. I couldn’t have done it without you. We recover together. Thanks for years and years of loving me as I grew to love me.

And ... in case you didn’t have a chance to listen, I actually like this interview . Go figure? LOL. Thank you Paul for 45 fun minutes of reflection. Listen and discover some of the research on how addicts are different and what you can do about your addiction.