Early Recovery From Crystal Meth Addiction

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Unmixed Attention

January 3, 2010 in Early Recovery From Crystal Meth Addiction, Spirituality by Chris | 3 comments

“Absolute unmixed attention is prayer.” -Simone Weil, Gravity and Grace

I realized a long time ago that I can trace the decline of my spiritual health, and a decline in the quality and quantity of my writing, to the date I got a television.  For a good year and a half, writing was a form of prayer to me.   In writing I set aside time to examine myself and my experience closely and to open myself up to learn.

Television kind of shuts that down for me.  It is much like a drug in that way.  Television makes me a little bit numb.

I think it’s time to turn the TV off; time to read more and time to write more.

The Age of Epiphany

July 23, 2009 in Brotherly Love, Early Recovery From Crystal Meth Addiction, Gratitude, promises by Chris | 6 comments

I have grown to really love reading Last Chance on the Stairway, a recovery blog written by a cat who’s “experience closely mirrors” my own; not just his experience in his addiction, but especially his experiences in the first part of recovery.  Every new experience is so amazing, and experiencing living again is so clear and so bright.  Over each obstacle lies a new epiphany – the sudden revelation of the Great Reality.  I really loved that time in my recovery, and I really love seeing others go through a similar experience.

“It gets more difficult every day to remember the feeling of how much pain I was in then. I remember the insanity of the actions I was taking at that time—how reclusive I had become, how sad, my fits of rage, crying on the interstate—but it gets more difficult to recall the feelings.,” he writes on the occasion of his 9 month milestone.  He’s right.  With effort, I can still recall the events, but the feelings are much dimmer.  I feel them again when I look back at posts from the first year, so I’m really, really grateful that I had the intuitive thought that I should spill my guts the way I did.  Without having done that I might easily lose many of the most valuable lessons I learned in that time.

In my first year sober I was hardly employable.  I had a really hard time keeping track of time.  To some extent I still do, but having my schedule as clear as it was in those months I had the chance to go to tons of meetings.  Tons of them.  I had the chance to see my sponsor virtually every day.  I had time to read the book and do step work and I was motivated to do this thing and as a result I felt connected to the program and to my HP in a profound way.

As I became able to take care of myself again, as I lost that time to a job and school, that ardent feeling of connection subsided somewhat.  We always say to each other when trouble comes, “this too shall pass.”  The truth is that even the good things pass, too.  The more I’ve missed it and tried to grab on to it again, the more I’ve tried to pull it tightly around me, the more elusive it has become.

Today I find I feel closer to it when I let it go somewhat; when I wear it “like a loose garment.”  I sense it’s power when I feel it brush my skin, and I feel it slip through my fingers when I try to grab onto it.  My sponsor is fond of saying that this isn’t a program of make-make-make, it’s a program of let-let-let.  I stand a better chance of letting myself experience serenity when I let myself shut off the television, let myself breathe, let myself have time, let myself be present.  I’ve realized that I can be as connected as I let myself be.

Today I let myself observe the journey of another addict, much like myself, and it brought me great joy.

Namaste

Time takes time . . .

April 1, 2009 in Early Recovery From Crystal Meth Addiction, early recovery from smoking, Perseverance by Chris | 9 comments

Probably one of the most important things I learned in early recovery; time takes time.  I was always looking for and expecting to see big changes, and I wouldn’t see any change or sometimes only little ones.  My sponsor would tell me that time takes time.

There is no balm for grief like time.  Even a little time has helped; a little time and beiing a little bit nice to myself.  I wore a shirt with french cuffs today, because I like cuff links.  Men in cuff links make me forget my name. (William Finn’s line.  Not mine.)  I checked QuitNet a bunch of times over the last couple of days to watch the money I’m saving by not smoking add up and watch days be added to my life expectancy.  I even figured out how many hours of life I’ve already gotten to experience by multiplying 5 minutes by the number of cigarettes I haven’t smoked.  Twenty-five hours.  I’ve lived twenty-five hours of my life instead of smoking them.

So I’ve gotten to be more present in my present, even if it’s been sad.  And time is helping.

I remember several occasions when I had significant loss while I was still using crystal meth.  Those feelings of grief never went away; they never resolved till I got sober.  Sure, I could push the pain away while I was high with varying degrees of success, but I never came out the other side.  The grief was always frozen in place, waiting to be reactivated.

It’s easy to think that drinking or using, or even smoking for that matter, would help me cope, but it never helped me cope.  It just kept me frozen in time.

I’m grateful today to be sober, and clean, and smoke free and I’m grateful that time heals.

Day 83 – Think of it as personality dialysis

April 7, 2007 in Early Recovery From Crystal Meth Addiction by Chris | 1 comment

Things are improving. For me. But last night I received an e-mail regarding one of the guys that I was in treatment with that broke my heart. I could fall off the planet and the world would end for no one. But this guy has two young kids. He is an amazingly kind man and was a great friend to me in treatment. I’m getting employable and gaining a roof – in a cool house – on a cool street. Someone gave me a CAR today. Not a great one, but a CAR. And what have I done to deserve it?

Nothing.

All I’ve done is show up, stay sober, help others and talk to God. Someone suggested to me today that I write this for myself, that it is written TO others but FOR myself. I imagine that she is partially right. I do feel some pressure to find the lesson in the day and communicate that. But I also look back and see what my writing was like before, to see what was going on. She may be right that this is not a place where I can be completely myself or completely honest and that it shouldn’t be. But I try to be as open as I can without, I don’t know, figuratively dumping all the baggage on the front lawn. It may have been better for me to do this anonymously so that I could be more open. Smart people don’t just go out on the internet and say “Hey, look at me. I’m a huge drug addict! Yippie!” But the idea of reaching out for help is scary, too. Obviously it’s too scary for my friend from treatment to do because he’s not the one reaching out. He hasn’t picked up the phone or punched a keyboard to ask me for help, though he knows I would be there for him. I wasn’t really the kind of guy who would ask for help either, untill it became too, too much to bear. And somehow I swallowed my pride.

I think in a way every day when I sit down and write something here I’m asking for help. I’m inviting feedback and comments. I’m sharing a part of what’s going on on my path partly in hopes that it gives someone some hope and strength to continue on their own path, but also so that I can garner an occasional “Atta’boy” from out in the ether. Perhaps that is my primary motivation. Perhaps that makes me feel less alone.

What I hope is that I can maintain some kind of healthy boundary with regard to what I put out here, that I can rely on my creator to help me grow in wisdom in that regard and that I will really consider my motivations for sharing. Fortunately it’s a process. I see this differently than I did three months ago. But my desire that we, the gay community in particular, do something about this problem is as strong as it was before. We rallied around HIV and we’re largely ignoring crystal meth, and damn it that’s three decades of men lost. I want my community fixed for the very reason that I want me fixed. I’m lonely and afraid and I grew up really believing that someday . . .

I haven’t done my part to allow that to happen. I haven’t. But I don’t want to stand by the wayside as another generation of men slips into oblivion. I just want to be better. And I don’t want to do it alone.

Day 82 – I wish I could share all the love that’s in my heart

April 6, 2007 in Early Recovery From Crystal Meth Addiction by Chris | 2 comments

remove every doubt that keeps us apart
I wish you could know what it means to be me
Then you’d see and agree
that every man should be free.

I Wish I Knew How it Feels to Be Free, Jay Haggard

It’s funny how a few days of Lexapro and a little crush can lift one’s spirits. Despite the bump on my head (well, gash really) and the pressing need to see a chiropractor about my neck I feel more optimistic than I’ve felt in several days. I am grateful that the depression is lifting. The down side of type 2 bipolar disorder has led me to relapse more than once. I much prefer the mania. Mania is what I get from crystal meth. After being sober this long though even the mania seems scary. My grandfather used to say “look for the golden mean.” I’m closer to that today and it feels good.

One of the things that happens to lots of us in early recovery is that, when things start getting better, we find we’re interested in things again. We discover a whole wide world of joy and opportunity out there that we’ve been depriving ourselves of. At least that is true for me. The fog lifts and I can see everything I’ve been keeping myself from. And rather than stay on task something in my head says, “you’ve got to reach for the ring while you’re still on the ride. How long can the ride go on?” What I haven’t been willing to see in the past is that this feeling is not my recovery talking. It’s my disease. Cunning. Baffeling. Powerful. It’s my disease trying to take my focus off of recovery and place it somewhere else because then it might have a chance of taking hold of me again. In my case, my disease knows that it can get me by dangling the thing I value most in front of me. And that thing is love.

So about that crush . . .

He’s fortunately in recovery. Even more fortunately he’s 900 miles away. I’ve never been sure which is true, ‘out of sight, out of mind’ or ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder.’ I do know that unavailability, either by virtue of their sexual orientation or location, makes them more attractive. So since I beleive that strategy equals liberty I need a strategy. At the moment I think I’ll be friendly but reevaluate things in six months. See if he’s still shiny. He’s a great guy. Anyone would be lucky to be his friend.

There is a writer whom I admire above all other gay writers named Paul Monette. The thing I love about Paul is that throughout his writing he affirms over and over that gay or straight, all there is is love. And that is really the crux of my own spirituality. All there is is love. I’m just learning to love myself enough now. Taking the focus off of that would only impoverish the love I have to give. So that’s my plan. When the lover is ready, the love will appear. Right, Grasshopper?

Day 81 – Its the bitch of living

April 5, 2007 in Early Recovery From Crystal Meth Addiction by Chris | No comments

And trying to get ahead
It’s the bitch of living
Just getting out of bed
It’s the bitch of living
And getting what you get
It’s the bitch of living
And knowing this is it
God, is this it?
This can’t be it
Oh God, what a bitch!
Bitch of Living, Spring Awakening

Woke up this morning. Stumbled out of bed. Got vertigo and hit my head on the stairs. A small part of me is aparantly made from retard. I’m not at all well today so I’m doing butt therapy. That’s where you sit on your butt and wait for time to pass.

I’m told it gets better.

I’ll let you know.

Day 80 – Something has changed within me. Something is not the same.

April 4, 2007 in Early Recovery From Crystal Meth Addiction by Chris | 1 comment

I’m through with playing by the rules
Of someone else’s game
Too late for second-guessing
Too late to go back to sleep
It’s time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes: and leap!

It’s time to try
Defying gravity

Defying Gravity from Wicked


Last night, as I was walking to my aftercare group, I happened to pass an old ‘friend’ on the street. “So what? Are you just going to walk by me?” she called after me. I turned back and said hello. I asked how she’d been. I didn’t mention that she stole a bluetooth headset from me the last time I saw her.

“Wow, you’ve put on some weight. I have, too. Look.” she said, pulling up her shirt. “I’ve been clean twelve days now. I put on twelve pounds. Except the pain pills for my neck. Hey, I picked up a posession charge. I told the cops they were pain pills. They said why are they all crushed up like that. Hopefully they don’t find out it was meth.”

“Yeah, well. Good luck. Good to see you.” I said as I turned to leave.

“Hey, are you driving? Can you drive me to the grocery store?” she called after me.

I turned around. “Nope. Sorry. I’ve got my own shit to take care of. I’ve surrendered. I’ve joined the winning side.”

“There’s a winning side?”

“Yeah, look around. They’re the ones that have jobs and own these houses. I’ll see you.”

I hope I don’t.

Day 78 – We’re one but we’re not the same

April 2, 2007 in Early Recovery From Crystal Meth Addiction by Chris | 2 comments

We get to carry each other, carry each other
U2, One


One of the things I started thinking about yesterday afternoon as I dragged myself out of bed for a cigarette was wether or not by allowing myself to be overcome by depression I wasn’t actually choosing depression as my Higher Power. That was a pretty terrifying thought. I decided to make a more conscious effort to move beyond the depression for the sake of my sobriety.

As I was making my way up the stairs I received a call from my Dad. I wished that I could tell him that I’m doing great and everything is fine. I know he’s worried. But I would have been lying if I did so I let him know as plainly as I could that I was struggling. I didn’t really say how or how much because there is really nothing that he can do about it. He did try to encourage me but words are occasionally irritating, even when we’re grateful for them. He didn’t mention that it was nearly 6pm and that our family prays together, wherever we are at that time. I remembered, though, so the phone call was enough and so at 6 I joined my family in prayer.

And afterword I felt a little bit better.

Today I went to a meeting at lunch time. And afterword I felt a little bit better.

And as I was walking back to the home of the friend who’s putting me up (putting up with me?) at the moment I happened to glance at the Bishop Treinen House of Discernment and Formation just as the porch light turned on. What a cool metaphore, I thought, to have the light come on in the house of discernment. Wouldn’t it be cool if God just said, “I’ll turn the light on for you. Just keep showing up. You’ll get through this. Just keep showing up.” I glanced back, amused by the thought, but believing that I must have imagined it.

And it happened again! No. That can’t be true. It did NOT just turn on and of and on again. But wouldn’t it be funny if it did? As I kept walking I wondered if God really does have a sense of humor. If He really will speak to me like that. “OK God,” I thought, “if you’re really listening let’s do this again.” I turned around and confirmed that the porch light was indeed off.

And then it turned on again.

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