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By the time a person has been sober six years, they have gotten pretty good at navigating the day-to-day demands of a life in recovery.  In six years time they have also likely been through a major life event, or two, or three; a marriage or divorce, a death, a job change, a move, the loss of a friendship and the establishment of new ones.  In fact, at six years, finding new experiences that relate directly to the acquisition of the skills necessary to stay sober, becomes rare.  The skills are in place.  Recovery is secure.  All that is left is to remain diligent and willing to use those skills.

My writing here is an honest reflection of what it was like for me to recover from a profound addiction to crystal meth.  I won’t minimize the process.  It was difficult.  It was painful.

It is also the most worthwhile thing I ever did.  If you are new to recovery or if you are looking for experience and hope that recovery from crystal meth addiction is possible, I encourage you to read this blog from the beginning.  I have no doubt that you will recognize something of yourself and of your own experience on these pages.

My life is very different now.  I have what the book Alcoholics Anonymous refers to as “the promises.”  I know new freedom and happiness.  I don’t regret the past and I don’t feel the need to hide from it.  I know what it is like to have my life work, without the intentional creation of chaos.  My attitude about life and the way I see the world are very different from they were before my recovery.  The things that hold my attention and that I wish to devote myself to are different, and it would be disingenuous for me to continue to try to force myself to write on something when I have had nothing new to contribute in such a long time.  But I do want to take the opportunity to thank those of you who read and commented and encouraged me along the way.  Writing made my recovery possible and your support gave me the strength to do it.

May God bless you and keep you.

6 Years Sober

Not clinical separation anxiety, obviously, but anxiety just the same, and one facet of it seems to be separation from external control.  I’ve been on supervised probation for something like 19 years, and it is just about to be over. I’ve been completely sober for nearly 6 of those years and the training wheels are about to come off, and I hear… I hear that people in my circumstance frequently feel anxiety; frequently have thoughts of drinking.  Drinking wasn’t my thing, after all.  It seems like I should be able to do it.  That’s the “great obsession of every alcoholic,” right?  That “somehow, some day, he will control and enjoy his drinking.Read the rest of this entry »

 

Co-creating this event was the coolest thing that has ever happened in my life. I’m so happy with how it turned out and with what we accomplished. There are lots of news articles about it from around the world, and there is always current info on our webpage, millionpuppetmarch.com.

“It was like the Y2K of sobriety! We blinked, nothing dramatic happened, and then it was gone!”  - Seth R.

I missed it.  I’m such a fan of counting days and even more of a fan of big, round numbers, and I missed it.  I’ve been sober for more that 2000 days!  That’s huge!  And the fact that day in and day out I stay sober, one day at a time, was just more important than watching for the day to pass.  I celebrate my recovery every day, not just the big, round ones.

Even so.  I have been free of crystal methamphetamine, alcohol, pot, ecstasy, LSD, mushrooms, cocaine, and whatever else I used to pollute myself with, for more than 2000 days now, and I am grateful and happy.

If you’ve read my story you already know that I grew up Mormon.  My parents were Mormons.  My dad’s parents were Mormons.  Their parents before them were Mormons.  As a matter of fact, my family are Mormons since 1836.  The community I grew up in was, per capita, more Mormon than Salt Lake City.  Oh, there were a couple of Catholic churches in town, and a Baptist church.  I even knew a couple of kids in my school that attended them.  But they were part of a different and scary world.  The way I was raised seemed like the most normal, natural thing in the world. Read the rest of this entry »

I am pretty depressed about life right now.  I must be depressed.  I’m sitting home on Friday night listening to Peter Allen music and dreading tomorrow.  And I can’t write about it for fear of creating wreckage.  I don’t feel especially well equipped to make very adult decisions, but those close to me tell me this situation would be tricky for even the most well equipped adult.  I just want to do what is best for everyone.  I want to make sure that the best possible outcome is reached.

Sharps

At one point in treatment my counselor had me walk around with a syringe in my pocket.  I carried it around for 5 days.  I wasn’t really much of an IV drug user, not that I wouldn’t have become one.  I tried it a couple of times.  It was great, but it was kind of complicated.  And honestly I got into treatment right after those first experiences with needles.  I never disclosed it to my counselor.  I was, after all, allowed to go to treatment on the State’s dime because I was an “IV drug user”, or so I told them so I could get in.

I find myself thinking about that experience every day now, at least 5 times a day, when I go to the cupboard and pull out a new syringe.  ”These are a tool for delivering medicine to get well, not for using drugs to get high.”

For some reason all of a sudden I am dependent on insulin.  I use a new syringe 4 – 6 times a day.  And every single time I think its weird.

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