It's been over 100 days now since I had my last cigarette. I've saved approximately $1,000 during that time. A bit less than that because I'm still vaping as a nicotine replacement therapy to aid in this process. With the vaping you can buy the juice in a variety of strengths. I began at 24 mg. I've managed to reduce that to 12 mgs. It's going well.
Probably the most significant development during this time of breaking free is that I'm developing a self image and identity that I am not a smoker. I am moving from a compulsion to always having tobacco at hand to a revulsion at the thought of ever purchasing again. I am confident in saying that I've purchased my last tobacco.
This is major. It's the mindset that I've achieved with respect to alcohol. That's the reason for my optimism regarding smoking. Not one more. Done. Finished.
There remains the issue of vaping. The advantage of using vaping as a stop smoking aid is that it has proven to be a good substitute. I had reached a roadblock in that I just couldn't get through a work day and the breaks without having a smoke. Vaping got me beyond that. The encouraging thing is that I've been able to reduce the nicotine content of the vaping without issue. You can actually get the vapor juice with nicotine levels of 36, 24, 18, 12, 6, and 0. My strategy has been to settle in at one level until I'm very satisfied, and then to reduce to the next level. In the end, it will get to the point at which I'm not getting any nicotine, and then it will be just a matter of finally saying "hey, I don't need this pacifier anymore. Then I'll be done.
This whole issue of chemical addiction is an interesting one to experience. One observation that has come to me is that it is the body's ability to adapt to the presence of chemicals in the system that makes breaking free so difficult. The point being that once the body adapts to a certain chemical, be it alcohol, or nicotine, or other drugs, there is a negative reaction that comes from cessation. Withdrawal. For those of you who have never been addicted, just understand this. The problem is the withdrawal. It's not that a smoker can just put down the tobacco and feel as good as a non-smoker. During withdrawal one feels terrible, quite frankly. That's why we continue.
I'm told that smoking is one of the most difficult addictions to break. I believe that. It's been a greater struggle than drinking, by far. In my case all that was required to stop drinking was a recognition that it had truly become a problem. Well that and the recognition that one more day drinking might have been the end of my life. . . With drinking, once I recognized that I'd hit rock bottom I recognized that this was not something I could wait until 'tomorrow' to address. It had to happen now. Smoking is different. Unless one is diagnosed with lung cancer, for example, one always believes that one doesn't have to stop today, you can always do it tomorrow. And even if one has a diagnosis of lung cancer or other such smoking related diseases there is a sense that the damage has already been done. I can have another cigarette. I'll quit tomorrow.
I grew up in the context of the religious pietism of my scandinavian family. Though some of that pietism was subsiding by that time, there still was a sense that smoking, drinking, gambling, (and dancing!) etc., were sinful. To this day, there is an anti-pietist tendency in the church that scoffs at the old notion of the sinfulness of these things.
I'm either becoming a pietist in my old age, or at least recognizing that those old timers understood something significant. After having fought the battle of addiction I'm more convinced than ever of the sinfulness of these addictions. There is a point at which one crosses the line. One can drink alcohol in a healthy manner and I'm not suggesting such consumption is a sin. But for some of us, addiction happens. Why, I'm not sure we know. But it happens. Same with other drugs like nicotine. I've also been addicted to Ativan.
The thing about addiction is that you can talk all you want about loving the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength, but it is another god that controls one's behaviors. One's entire life is structured around the addictive behavior. Provisions are made to insure that one never faces withdrawal. No sacrifice is too great. Family, jobs, and even one's own life are all sacrificed at the altar of the addiction. If that's not a definition of a god, I don't know what is.
Part of what I'm saying is that I recognize now the importance of a deep repentance in the process of breaking free. This is not just about coughing less. This is about 'having no other gods before me'.
Showing posts with label alcoholism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label alcoholism. Show all posts
Sunday, December 2, 2018
Sunday, November 25, 2018
Toy Trains and healing
It's the second set I've made, the first was for the son of a friend. That first venture into toy making was significant from a therapeutic standpoint. I had just gotten out of chemical dependency treatment, had time on my hands as the church wanted me to take some time off before resuming my duties, and the train set gave me something to do. Choo choo.
Therapeutic it was.
Thinking back, I think one of the most therapeutic things about it is it gave me a vision of life in retirement, and most importantly that I could do meaningful things that were not part of a manic quest to save the world. But as the print from Lutherhaven says, what mattered was that in one small way, I was important in the life of a child.
Grandiose visions. Dreamer of Dreams. One with an insatiable appetite to go where no man has ever gone before (or at least to make the effort! Often I found that my quests to invent the wheel may have been successful, but that others had in fact done it before!) This was the manic side of my life that gave me a purpose and meaning.
Jasper has been good therapy.
That's Jasper signing "I love you." Or if you look closely at the placement of his thumbs "You rock!". I like both. With my work schedule, Jasper is one of my few 'recreational activities' and I'm deeply grateful that each week I get to spend some time with him.
As I look forward to retirement, or at least winding down my professional career and the tempered expectations come from that, it is tempting to think that my greatest contributions to life have already been made. There are no new Luther Parks on the horizon.
But then there is this reminder, a very important reminder. In the years ahead I have the opportunity to make a life transforming difference in the life of Jasper and whatever other grandchildren we might have. One's life is never without a purpose. Not as long as you are capable of loving and caring for those God has placed in your life.
So choo choo. Hard to measure the impact of a toy train versus a senior housing project. One cost 15 million. The other, priceless.
Sunday, October 14, 2018
52,260 Hours
At least then I could sleep (pass out). Were it not for my insomnia, I might never have started drinking heavily. I awake this day, the first time at 9:35 last evening, and then subsequently at about midnight. I'll be up for a while now. Perhaps I'll sleep later.
Overwhelmed with emotion. As I remembered last night the events of six years ago, and the subsequent journey into sobriety I simply started crying. Tears of joy. It been a long journey, trudging every step of the way. But it is simply the way of life, not death.
There was a time when sobriety was indeed an hour by hour challenge. I clung to my Alcoholics Anonymous group as a lifeline. My greatest fear was of relapse. Sobriety was my highest priority. There was/is nothing that I'd place higher on that list. I mean that. It's that important. I would get a divorce if I were unable to remain sober in this relationship. I would abandon my faith in God if that were detrimental to my sobriety. Thankfully my wife and my faith community support my sobriety and I haven't been faced with that choice.
These verses could have been written just for me. And for any person who is an alcoholic.
It hasn't been a bed of roses. Some suggest that if an alcoholic will just stop drinking, then life will be so much better. Actually I faced the biggest challenges of my life in sobriety. I faced them in part because I was not able to hide behind the drinking anymore. Early recovery. Disabling depression and anxiety. Partial complex seizures. Resignation of call. An attempt at a new business. Moving from depression into mania. Then back to depression. Finally a diagnosis of bipolar disorder and appropriate medication. Then, and only then, did life genuinely start to improve.
Inch by inch I was able to re-enter ministry. Going to church initially caused partial complex seizures. The first time I stood before American Lutheran in Newport to simply read the lessons I was terrified. Then, step by step, I crossed one threshold after another. Teaching. Preaching. Leading worship. Supply preaching. An appointment as a transitional minister. And now, just recently a regular call to part time ministry.
I sometimes wonder if I could now drink responsibly. Yet even if I was 'cured' of my alcoholism, sobriety is the only option as all of my psychiatric drugs preclude alcohol use. I think as a whole psychiatrists are just not appreciative of drinking as a way of life. Perhaps because for so many like me, it never can be.
One of the most overwhelming things has been the way that God provided for us during this time. I hesitate to claim that providence because some have not experienced it. But we have. We were able to negotiate disability, The loss of both of our jobs, and an unsuccessful attempt at a business. All this while we adjusted to a mortgage on our new home, purchased just a short while before the collapse. Bottom line: not a payment has been missed. Not a single payment.
One of the issues I must live with now is the necessity to be vigilant regarding my bipolar diagnosis. It is humbling to have to recognize that part of who I am is symptomatic of a disease. My grand plans-- mania. My melancholy, not the creative contemplation of a philosopher, but depression.
Two mantras have come to me during this period of my life. "God flunked chemistry." is one of them. It reflects the frustration with maintaining the appropriate chemical balance within my head. Forgive me, God.
The second is "What I lacked in righteousness, I made up for in timidity." I actually got into enough trouble as it is. Were I bolder I shudder to think of the consequences of either my drinking or my being bipolar.
As I reflect on the role of the Church, I'm drawn back to an earlier crisis in my life and a conviction that arose there. "The calling of the Church is to believe on behalf of the besieged, for that is their only lifeline to faith." Sometimes it is not possible for us to have faith in and of ourselves. Others need to carry us faithfully through the void. And one day faith will return.
And finally, my prayer during these last few years:
Overwhelmed with emotion. As I remembered last night the events of six years ago, and the subsequent journey into sobriety I simply started crying. Tears of joy. It been a long journey, trudging every step of the way. But it is simply the way of life, not death.
There was a time when sobriety was indeed an hour by hour challenge. I clung to my Alcoholics Anonymous group as a lifeline. My greatest fear was of relapse. Sobriety was my highest priority. There was/is nothing that I'd place higher on that list. I mean that. It's that important. I would get a divorce if I were unable to remain sober in this relationship. I would abandon my faith in God if that were detrimental to my sobriety. Thankfully my wife and my faith community support my sobriety and I haven't been faced with that choice.
I call heaven and
earth to witness against you today that I have set before you life and death,
blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live,
loving the Lord your God, obeying him, and holding fast to him; for that means
life to you and length of days, so that you may live in the land that the Lord
swore to give to your ancestors, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob. (Deuteronomy 30:19-20)
These verses could have been written just for me. And for any person who is an alcoholic.
It hasn't been a bed of roses. Some suggest that if an alcoholic will just stop drinking, then life will be so much better. Actually I faced the biggest challenges of my life in sobriety. I faced them in part because I was not able to hide behind the drinking anymore. Early recovery. Disabling depression and anxiety. Partial complex seizures. Resignation of call. An attempt at a new business. Moving from depression into mania. Then back to depression. Finally a diagnosis of bipolar disorder and appropriate medication. Then, and only then, did life genuinely start to improve.
Inch by inch I was able to re-enter ministry. Going to church initially caused partial complex seizures. The first time I stood before American Lutheran in Newport to simply read the lessons I was terrified. Then, step by step, I crossed one threshold after another. Teaching. Preaching. Leading worship. Supply preaching. An appointment as a transitional minister. And now, just recently a regular call to part time ministry.
I sometimes wonder if I could now drink responsibly. Yet even if I was 'cured' of my alcoholism, sobriety is the only option as all of my psychiatric drugs preclude alcohol use. I think as a whole psychiatrists are just not appreciative of drinking as a way of life. Perhaps because for so many like me, it never can be.
One of the most overwhelming things has been the way that God provided for us during this time. I hesitate to claim that providence because some have not experienced it. But we have. We were able to negotiate disability, The loss of both of our jobs, and an unsuccessful attempt at a business. All this while we adjusted to a mortgage on our new home, purchased just a short while before the collapse. Bottom line: not a payment has been missed. Not a single payment.
One of the issues I must live with now is the necessity to be vigilant regarding my bipolar diagnosis. It is humbling to have to recognize that part of who I am is symptomatic of a disease. My grand plans-- mania. My melancholy, not the creative contemplation of a philosopher, but depression.
Two mantras have come to me during this period of my life. "God flunked chemistry." is one of them. It reflects the frustration with maintaining the appropriate chemical balance within my head. Forgive me, God.
The second is "What I lacked in righteousness, I made up for in timidity." I actually got into enough trouble as it is. Were I bolder I shudder to think of the consequences of either my drinking or my being bipolar.
As I reflect on the role of the Church, I'm drawn back to an earlier crisis in my life and a conviction that arose there. "The calling of the Church is to believe on behalf of the besieged, for that is their only lifeline to faith." Sometimes it is not possible for us to have faith in and of ourselves. Others need to carry us faithfully through the void. And one day faith will return.
And finally, my prayer during these last few years:
Hold me tight, most precious Lord,
That I may follow you.
Grant me grace to live each day,
May I be born anew.
Lift me up whene'er I fall
And never let me fade
from the grace filled light
Of your own sight
That turns the night to day.
Sunday, September 30, 2018
Kavanaugh & Ford, et. al.
Kavanaugh & Ford, et. al.
First of all, as a liberal Democrat one thing I realize is that a conservative will be appointed to the Supreme Court regardless of the outcome of this hearing. President Trump is not going to appoint a liberal judge. Earl Warren is not waiting in the wings.
Truth matters to me. I do not desire an injustice to be done, neither to Brett Kavanaugh, or to Christine Blasey Ford. And I don't know what actually happened. My own experience is that I have been a victim of abuse during my adolescent years. I also am a pastor, and as such, subject to discipline, termination, and defrocking in the case of sexual misconduct. I know the damage mere allegations can have. In our mobility papers we are asked if we have ever been accused of and investigated for sexual misconduct. To acknowledge that you have been accused and investigated, even if cleared, is to jeopardize a potential call. That's difficult.
Who to believe? I'll give both parties the benefit of the doubt here. My understanding is that Dr. Ford voluntarily submitted to a lie detector test prior to testifying. Gutsy move. It adds a lot of credibility. She certainly wouldn't have to have done that. As for Judge Kavanaugh, everyone seems to agree that drinking was involved. My own experience of drinking to excess is that I would deny ever having blacked out and not being able to remember what I did. But the thing is, you often don't remember that you don't remember. Karla would tell you that there were times that I didn't remember. But I have no recollection of those things that I couldn't recall. It's very possible that Judge Kavanaugh genuinely cannot recall those events, if they occurred.
That said, a powerful, angry, and intimidating response to the charges wasn't helpful for me. The reason being that power, anger, and intimidation are the tools of an abuser. If you've been accused of being a raging bully, don't defend yourself by being a raging bully.
The culture. Here I'll share my experience of the eighties. As a young adult I was the president of my congregation when my pastor confessed to sexual misconduct. I was the one who reported it to the bishop. My involvement became a red flag for my subsequent candidacy for ordination. My candidacy committee grilled me at length about my roll. They demanded I go immediately to Clinical Pastoral Education, where I was to deal with my issues.
During CPE we went on a retreat to the north shore of Lake Superior for evaluations. Prior to departure we were informed of the sauna. It was traditional during the retreat to have a clothing optional sauna with the group. Our group consisted of five men and four women. We were told very specifically that "if we had hangups about our own nudity, wear a swimsuit; if we had hangups about other people's nudity, wear blinders; but if we didn't have any hangups (and were truly well adjusted healthy individuals) come nude." I was relieved that the sauna didn't work that weekend.
Three things did happen. I was propositioned by two of my colleagues. And, in a fitting end to it all, we got caught in a lake effect snowstorm and I, together with my four female colleagues who all chose to ride with me because I was the 'safe' one, got snowbound at Lutzen resort, where we spent the night in one room, the only room available. An aside, one of the individuals who propositioned me went on to be convicted of multiple sex crimes and sentenced to what will amount to life in prison.
Bottom line-- there was a lot happening at that time that was inappropriate.
Having said all that, my experience of drinking, and what was made very clear during my chemical dependency treatment, is that drinking, even in moderation, affects memory. Drinking to excess can entirely wipe out all memory. It's like the consciousness sedation I received during a medical procedure. I was awake the whole time but could recall none of it.
If I were to counsel Judge Kavanaugh in this matter (he hasn't called and asked for my advice) I would suggest the following. First that he acknowledge his drinking patterns. Secondly, that he would acknowledge that while drunk, he may have behaved in inappropriate ways, some of which he recalls, but some of which he may have no recollection of whatsoever. And that finally, he respond to Dr. Ford's accusations by saying that "I have no recollection of that, but if I did do anything to harm you during that time, I deeply regret it and ask your forgiveness. I take full responsibility for my drinking, and accept the fact that I am also responsible for my behaviors, whether I remember them or not."
Of course, there is another possibility. That either Dr. Ford, or Judge Kavanaugh are blatantly lying. In that case, I would wonder what in the world Dr. Ford has to gain by lying. Judge Kavanaugh, on the other hand, is seeking to win approproval for a life time appointment to the highest court in the land and has a motive.
One final, personal note. Accountability is an interesting thing. Both as a bipolar person, and as an alcoholic, there are things that I have done that are symptomatic of these diseases. To what extent am I accountable? And to what extent was I 'out of control' because of the diseases. With respect to alcoholism, we hold alcoholics responsible for their actions, as they chose to get drunk. But what about being bipolar. Is a bipolar person fully responsible for actions taken while in a manic phase? Especially prior to diagnosis and treatment? The latter is harder. An alcoholic knows when he/she is drunk. A bipolar person, especially prior to diagnosis and treatment, is less likely to be able to monitor and curb the actions that arise during a manic phase. Their reality is just different.
First of all, as a liberal Democrat one thing I realize is that a conservative will be appointed to the Supreme Court regardless of the outcome of this hearing. President Trump is not going to appoint a liberal judge. Earl Warren is not waiting in the wings.
Truth matters to me. I do not desire an injustice to be done, neither to Brett Kavanaugh, or to Christine Blasey Ford. And I don't know what actually happened. My own experience is that I have been a victim of abuse during my adolescent years. I also am a pastor, and as such, subject to discipline, termination, and defrocking in the case of sexual misconduct. I know the damage mere allegations can have. In our mobility papers we are asked if we have ever been accused of and investigated for sexual misconduct. To acknowledge that you have been accused and investigated, even if cleared, is to jeopardize a potential call. That's difficult.
Who to believe? I'll give both parties the benefit of the doubt here. My understanding is that Dr. Ford voluntarily submitted to a lie detector test prior to testifying. Gutsy move. It adds a lot of credibility. She certainly wouldn't have to have done that. As for Judge Kavanaugh, everyone seems to agree that drinking was involved. My own experience of drinking to excess is that I would deny ever having blacked out and not being able to remember what I did. But the thing is, you often don't remember that you don't remember. Karla would tell you that there were times that I didn't remember. But I have no recollection of those things that I couldn't recall. It's very possible that Judge Kavanaugh genuinely cannot recall those events, if they occurred.
That said, a powerful, angry, and intimidating response to the charges wasn't helpful for me. The reason being that power, anger, and intimidation are the tools of an abuser. If you've been accused of being a raging bully, don't defend yourself by being a raging bully.
The culture. Here I'll share my experience of the eighties. As a young adult I was the president of my congregation when my pastor confessed to sexual misconduct. I was the one who reported it to the bishop. My involvement became a red flag for my subsequent candidacy for ordination. My candidacy committee grilled me at length about my roll. They demanded I go immediately to Clinical Pastoral Education, where I was to deal with my issues.
During CPE we went on a retreat to the north shore of Lake Superior for evaluations. Prior to departure we were informed of the sauna. It was traditional during the retreat to have a clothing optional sauna with the group. Our group consisted of five men and four women. We were told very specifically that "if we had hangups about our own nudity, wear a swimsuit; if we had hangups about other people's nudity, wear blinders; but if we didn't have any hangups (and were truly well adjusted healthy individuals) come nude." I was relieved that the sauna didn't work that weekend.
Three things did happen. I was propositioned by two of my colleagues. And, in a fitting end to it all, we got caught in a lake effect snowstorm and I, together with my four female colleagues who all chose to ride with me because I was the 'safe' one, got snowbound at Lutzen resort, where we spent the night in one room, the only room available. An aside, one of the individuals who propositioned me went on to be convicted of multiple sex crimes and sentenced to what will amount to life in prison.
Bottom line-- there was a lot happening at that time that was inappropriate.
Having said all that, my experience of drinking, and what was made very clear during my chemical dependency treatment, is that drinking, even in moderation, affects memory. Drinking to excess can entirely wipe out all memory. It's like the consciousness sedation I received during a medical procedure. I was awake the whole time but could recall none of it.
If I were to counsel Judge Kavanaugh in this matter (he hasn't called and asked for my advice) I would suggest the following. First that he acknowledge his drinking patterns. Secondly, that he would acknowledge that while drunk, he may have behaved in inappropriate ways, some of which he recalls, but some of which he may have no recollection of whatsoever. And that finally, he respond to Dr. Ford's accusations by saying that "I have no recollection of that, but if I did do anything to harm you during that time, I deeply regret it and ask your forgiveness. I take full responsibility for my drinking, and accept the fact that I am also responsible for my behaviors, whether I remember them or not."
Of course, there is another possibility. That either Dr. Ford, or Judge Kavanaugh are blatantly lying. In that case, I would wonder what in the world Dr. Ford has to gain by lying. Judge Kavanaugh, on the other hand, is seeking to win approproval for a life time appointment to the highest court in the land and has a motive.
One final, personal note. Accountability is an interesting thing. Both as a bipolar person, and as an alcoholic, there are things that I have done that are symptomatic of these diseases. To what extent am I accountable? And to what extent was I 'out of control' because of the diseases. With respect to alcoholism, we hold alcoholics responsible for their actions, as they chose to get drunk. But what about being bipolar. Is a bipolar person fully responsible for actions taken while in a manic phase? Especially prior to diagnosis and treatment? The latter is harder. An alcoholic knows when he/she is drunk. A bipolar person, especially prior to diagnosis and treatment, is less likely to be able to monitor and curb the actions that arise during a manic phase. Their reality is just different.
Sunday, August 26, 2018
Resolving Anger
Thankfully, negative emotions like anger do not last forever, or at least should not last forever. We can dwell on them, perpetuate them, and allow them to simmer. Anger can turn inward. It can also transform into a hatred.
A friend responded to last week's blog by asking how we deal with those negative emotions that often lead us to overeat, smoke, drink and otherwise engage in self destructive behaviors. In addition such emotions also can lead to harmful actions against our neighbor that destroy relationships and in the worst cases, are harmful to others.
I've stewed about it. I've smoked, and drank till I could do so no more. And then I've stewed some more, ruminating into the wee hours of the morning for days on end. Thankfully, I think that I've learned something through many years of therapy, through Alcoholics Anonymous, and simply through self reflection.
Here are my thoughts:
Name it. One of the least helpful ways to deal with anger is to not deal with it, to deny it exists, and to internalize it all with the hopes that it will just go away. I was not given permission to be angry when I was growing up. In general, emotions were considered weakness. One of the most difficult things for me to distinguish early in my therapy was the difference between emotions and thoughts, and to name the emotions. "I think" was often followed with an emotional outburst. "I feel" often led into a thought or a judgment. Getting those straight is part of naming. I think that our immigration policy is unjust and cruel. I am angry that children are taken from their parents and that we still are unable to reunite them. My thoughts and my anger are two separate things.
Own it. One of the most important lessons I learned in Alcoholics Anonymous is that my emotions are mine, and mine alone. They originate within me. I am never a victim to my emotions. Others don't "make" me mad. I experience emotions because I am who I am. I may resent others or their actions, but the resentment is mine. I react in this way, for example, because of a disparity between personal convictions about how things should be, and the reality of how they are. Injustice shouldn't be, but it is, and so I react. But the reaction is mine. I am not an emotional victim.
Discern. There is a difference between righteous anger and unrighteous. I get angry when innocent people are hurt. Child abuse, for example, results in my being angry. I also get angry when I don't get my own way. The first is an example of righteous anger, the latter of unrighteous. If I discern that my anger is just because I don't get my own way, perhaps I can let it go and experience a more appropriate emotion, such as disappointment. Also, righteous anger more appropriately has as its object actions, not people. When we focus on the people, we risk emotions becoming more intense. Anger becomes hatred, and hatred endures. For example, I am angry that a teacher abused me during my adolescence, but if I allow that anger to become a hatred toward him, it will consume ME.
Act appropriately. Regarding my history of being a victim of abuse: I remember that it wasn't until my own children approached the age that I was when I was abused that I was able to recognize and name my own abuse for what it was. I became angry. I imagined killing anyone who did that to one of my children. Not appropriate. To work at freeing victims from abuse, protecting children from abuse, punishing the perpetrators of abuse appropriately through legal means-- these are appropriate actions. I believe that righteous anger's appropriate role is to motivate action. But not just any action will do. "Appropriate" is the key qualifier here.
Let it go. My memory is one of my curses. I can name something my wife did within the first twenty four hours of our marriage that I got angry about. We've been married over forty years. If I dwell on it, I can resurrect that anger. Not good or helpful. When I forgive someone, I become free. The greatest impact of forgiveness is on the one doing the forgiving. By the time I recognized that I was a victim of abuse, the abuser was dead. Eventually, I was able to forgive him, or at the very least, I'm working on it. But that forgiveness is important for me-- he's dead and quite unaffected by it.
In all of this, a good friend, a spiritual guide, a confessor helps. In A.A. we have sponsors. For some people it will be a pastor. I've used a therapist extensively. The primary purpose is to have someone who can help who is not blinded by an emotional fog.
Related to this is prayer, at least for people of faith. Prayer, when offered for the one whose actions have resulted in our being angry, can help. It can change our attitude and our emotions.
Self destructive behaviors do not help.
This became clearest for me my last night drinking. No matter how much I drank, the rage I was experiencing did not go away. It was persistent. My "solution" nearly killed me. I hope that I'm in a better place now and more capable of dealing with those emotions.
A friend responded to last week's blog by asking how we deal with those negative emotions that often lead us to overeat, smoke, drink and otherwise engage in self destructive behaviors. In addition such emotions also can lead to harmful actions against our neighbor that destroy relationships and in the worst cases, are harmful to others.
I've stewed about it. I've smoked, and drank till I could do so no more. And then I've stewed some more, ruminating into the wee hours of the morning for days on end. Thankfully, I think that I've learned something through many years of therapy, through Alcoholics Anonymous, and simply through self reflection.
Here are my thoughts:
Name it. One of the least helpful ways to deal with anger is to not deal with it, to deny it exists, and to internalize it all with the hopes that it will just go away. I was not given permission to be angry when I was growing up. In general, emotions were considered weakness. One of the most difficult things for me to distinguish early in my therapy was the difference between emotions and thoughts, and to name the emotions. "I think" was often followed with an emotional outburst. "I feel" often led into a thought or a judgment. Getting those straight is part of naming. I think that our immigration policy is unjust and cruel. I am angry that children are taken from their parents and that we still are unable to reunite them. My thoughts and my anger are two separate things.
Own it. One of the most important lessons I learned in Alcoholics Anonymous is that my emotions are mine, and mine alone. They originate within me. I am never a victim to my emotions. Others don't "make" me mad. I experience emotions because I am who I am. I may resent others or their actions, but the resentment is mine. I react in this way, for example, because of a disparity between personal convictions about how things should be, and the reality of how they are. Injustice shouldn't be, but it is, and so I react. But the reaction is mine. I am not an emotional victim.
Discern. There is a difference between righteous anger and unrighteous. I get angry when innocent people are hurt. Child abuse, for example, results in my being angry. I also get angry when I don't get my own way. The first is an example of righteous anger, the latter of unrighteous. If I discern that my anger is just because I don't get my own way, perhaps I can let it go and experience a more appropriate emotion, such as disappointment. Also, righteous anger more appropriately has as its object actions, not people. When we focus on the people, we risk emotions becoming more intense. Anger becomes hatred, and hatred endures. For example, I am angry that a teacher abused me during my adolescence, but if I allow that anger to become a hatred toward him, it will consume ME.
Act appropriately. Regarding my history of being a victim of abuse: I remember that it wasn't until my own children approached the age that I was when I was abused that I was able to recognize and name my own abuse for what it was. I became angry. I imagined killing anyone who did that to one of my children. Not appropriate. To work at freeing victims from abuse, protecting children from abuse, punishing the perpetrators of abuse appropriately through legal means-- these are appropriate actions. I believe that righteous anger's appropriate role is to motivate action. But not just any action will do. "Appropriate" is the key qualifier here.
Let it go. My memory is one of my curses. I can name something my wife did within the first twenty four hours of our marriage that I got angry about. We've been married over forty years. If I dwell on it, I can resurrect that anger. Not good or helpful. When I forgive someone, I become free. The greatest impact of forgiveness is on the one doing the forgiving. By the time I recognized that I was a victim of abuse, the abuser was dead. Eventually, I was able to forgive him, or at the very least, I'm working on it. But that forgiveness is important for me-- he's dead and quite unaffected by it.
In all of this, a good friend, a spiritual guide, a confessor helps. In A.A. we have sponsors. For some people it will be a pastor. I've used a therapist extensively. The primary purpose is to have someone who can help who is not blinded by an emotional fog.
Related to this is prayer, at least for people of faith. Prayer, when offered for the one whose actions have resulted in our being angry, can help. It can change our attitude and our emotions.
Self destructive behaviors do not help.
This became clearest for me my last night drinking. No matter how much I drank, the rage I was experiencing did not go away. It was persistent. My "solution" nearly killed me. I hope that I'm in a better place now and more capable of dealing with those emotions.
Monday, August 20, 2018
Anger and Righteousness
Anger is a powerful emotion.
Be angry but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger,
One of the things we learn in A.A. is to beware of H.A.L.T.. That is to be cautious whenever you are hungry, angry, lonely, tired. Such experiences are potentially devastating to one who is seeking to remain sober, or in my case, at this time, to quit smoking.
Paul writes that we will experience anger, perhaps even that we should experience anger at certain things, but that we should neither sin, nor let the sun set on our anger. There is a righteous purpose for anger, and that is to motivate us to oppose and resist unrighteousness, injustice, cruelty, etc. Anger's righteous purpose is to motivate us to act now, before the sun sets.
And yet too often we fall prey to emotions such as anger and rather than deal forthrightly with the object of our anger in a positive way we seek other outlets to dissipate the anger, such as drinking or smoking. Worse, sometimes that anger gets turned inward, or toward others such as our spouses who are in no way deserving of being the object of our anger.
I got angry this last week. There's no purpose served in detailing that in this blog out of deference to those involved. But the simple fact is that anger was felt by me.
Powerful emotion.
Part of the dilema for a chemically addicted person is that our most natural response to anger is to turn to that substance, be it drink or smoke, as a means of dissipating the anger. We are angry and so we are then tempted to do that which is destructive to ourselves. My last episode drinking, now nearly 6 years ago was the result of a deep rage that had gotten a grip on me and which boiled over. Alcohol was not adequate to calm the raging beast, but was very much adequate to killing me. I'm lucky to have survived.
When I'm angry at the world, or any significant part of it, the temptation is to take a "fuck it all" attitude. (Sorry to be so blunt, but what's the purpose of disguising a word with ***'s) All of a sudden a Scotch in hand and a big cigar seems to be a perfect solution.
Sobriety is about learning more positive responses to life. Being angry at someone else and then engaging is self destructive behavior is not appropriate.
"See, now I'm angry, and so it's alright to smoke." I can't tell you how many attempts to quit smoking were foiled by anger. Quitting smoking itself, often results in anger, so it's an easy out to quit quitting whenever one experiences anger. I probably would have quit decades ago if I'd been able to handle anger. Most often the anger I experienced when trying to quit was focused inappropriately on my wife, as she, more than anyone, wanted me to quit.
And so the effort is to find more positive ways to confront the anger within us and realize that emotions are only emotions. Yes, in certain situations such emotions call for an immediate response to a bad situation. But a lot of times emotions such as anger need to be understood, dealt with, and let go of ASAP.
I'm reminded of God's dialogue with Jonah.
"But God said to Jonah, "Is it right for you to be angry about the bush?" And he said, "Yes, angry enough to die."
First of all, many times anger is not warranted. Secondly, self destructive behavior, or "being angry enough to die" is no solution.
Life is too precious to allow others, and emotions, to have that kind of control over us and our behavior.
Be angry but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger,
One of the things we learn in A.A. is to beware of H.A.L.T.. That is to be cautious whenever you are hungry, angry, lonely, tired. Such experiences are potentially devastating to one who is seeking to remain sober, or in my case, at this time, to quit smoking.
Paul writes that we will experience anger, perhaps even that we should experience anger at certain things, but that we should neither sin, nor let the sun set on our anger. There is a righteous purpose for anger, and that is to motivate us to oppose and resist unrighteousness, injustice, cruelty, etc. Anger's righteous purpose is to motivate us to act now, before the sun sets.
And yet too often we fall prey to emotions such as anger and rather than deal forthrightly with the object of our anger in a positive way we seek other outlets to dissipate the anger, such as drinking or smoking. Worse, sometimes that anger gets turned inward, or toward others such as our spouses who are in no way deserving of being the object of our anger.
I got angry this last week. There's no purpose served in detailing that in this blog out of deference to those involved. But the simple fact is that anger was felt by me.
Powerful emotion.
Part of the dilema for a chemically addicted person is that our most natural response to anger is to turn to that substance, be it drink or smoke, as a means of dissipating the anger. We are angry and so we are then tempted to do that which is destructive to ourselves. My last episode drinking, now nearly 6 years ago was the result of a deep rage that had gotten a grip on me and which boiled over. Alcohol was not adequate to calm the raging beast, but was very much adequate to killing me. I'm lucky to have survived.
When I'm angry at the world, or any significant part of it, the temptation is to take a "fuck it all" attitude. (Sorry to be so blunt, but what's the purpose of disguising a word with ***'s) All of a sudden a Scotch in hand and a big cigar seems to be a perfect solution.
Sobriety is about learning more positive responses to life. Being angry at someone else and then engaging is self destructive behavior is not appropriate.
"See, now I'm angry, and so it's alright to smoke." I can't tell you how many attempts to quit smoking were foiled by anger. Quitting smoking itself, often results in anger, so it's an easy out to quit quitting whenever one experiences anger. I probably would have quit decades ago if I'd been able to handle anger. Most often the anger I experienced when trying to quit was focused inappropriately on my wife, as she, more than anyone, wanted me to quit.
And so the effort is to find more positive ways to confront the anger within us and realize that emotions are only emotions. Yes, in certain situations such emotions call for an immediate response to a bad situation. But a lot of times emotions such as anger need to be understood, dealt with, and let go of ASAP.
I'm reminded of God's dialogue with Jonah.
"But God said to Jonah, "Is it right for you to be angry about the bush?" And he said, "Yes, angry enough to die."
First of all, many times anger is not warranted. Secondly, self destructive behavior, or "being angry enough to die" is no solution.
Life is too precious to allow others, and emotions, to have that kind of control over us and our behavior.
Sunday, June 24, 2018
Addiction
Simply put, the ultimate sign one is addicted is when one is using to avoid withdrawal.
But before I review again, a disclaimer regarding alcoholics. One size doesn't fit all. Drinking patterns vary. Some are binge drinkers who did not drink daily but when they did drink it was to extremes. They may remain sober during the work week, but keep quite swashbuckling drunk over the weekend. This was not my experience.
Other drinkers, more like myself, maintained a consistent daily pattern of drinking to achieve the desired effect, but remained largely "in control". Personally, I believe this is a more troubling pattern of drinking in that it is easier to deny you have a problem. "Out of control" is one thing non-alcoholics believe about alcoholics. For this second type of drinker, it is a misnomer. When I was drinking I was very intentional about making sure that I got the 'prescribed dosage' to achieve the necessary effect. Now it is true, on some occasions I would drink more. Weekends when my wife was gone were an opportunity to drink to excess, for sure. A fifth of whiskey during an afternoon/evening of drinking was not unusual on such occasions. But on a daily basis I simply maintained a sufficient level of intoxication to get by.
Habituation is the issue here. One's body adapts to a certain level of alcohol in the system. When alcohol is not present at the level the body has become accustomed to one experiences withdrawal. The unpleasantness of withdrawal is such that there is an incredible compulsion to maintain at least the necessary amount of intoxication. So, for example, I used to joke that I needed two Scotch doubles to feel sober. The truth behind that was that I needed a minimum of about five or six ounces of Scotch daily to avoid the symptoms of withdrawal. That amount of alcohol was only sufficient to make me feel 'normal'. I did not achieve the 'buzz' at that level. In fact, as my drinking progressed I never achieved a buzz at all. I was so habituated to alcohol that I would drink myself into a stupor without ever having experienced the buzz, or the high, of intoxication. Drinking had ceased to be fun. It was about avoiding the pain of withdrawal.
And others just don't understand.
In my case, addiction began with Ativan, which I had been prescribed for sleep. Ativan works on the same receptors in the brain as alcohol, and so "cross addiction" is a risk. When I ceased taking Ativan I replaced it with alcohol. Prior to that time my alcohol consumption had been very moderate. For decades, very moderate and sometimes months without a drink. Then, immediately upon quitting the Ativan, I was drinking on average, 6 to 7 ounces a day, which remained my preferred dose until the last year, when it went up to about 10 ounces a day. In my mind, the 6 to 7 ounces only constituted a 'couple of drinks' and so I didn't have a problem.
But without those drinks, I experienced withdrawal symptoms. Among other things, I would shake uncontrollably. I would not drink on Saturday nights, so as not to smell of alcohol at worship Sunday morning, but instead would shake to the point I could not serve communion. Withdrawal.
In order for an alcoholic to want to stop, you have to get to the point where you realize what is happening and are willing to endure the pain of withdrawal in order to be free from it. It will get worse before it gets better. When I checked into treatment I was offended that they started medicating me against all sorts of potential withdrawal symptoms, including seizures, as I had never experienced that in my mind. The truth was I'd never allowed myself to go through withdrawal. When I did, I experienced partial complex seizures for months following. I do not know if these were directly related to withdrawal or not. But after a while, they went away. I remain suspicious.
I continue to fight addiction as I struggle with smoking. During my chemical dependency treatment I had quit for awhile using the patch. Last night I bought the patch again and am going to give it a try. One thing that is very similar between alcohol and smoking is that there comes a time when you are smoking just to avoid withdrawal, even if it gives you no other pleasure. I've been putting off quiting since my treatment for alcoholism in part because my doctors emphasized that my number one priority needed to be staying sober. Drinking could kill me in a night. Smoking was more of a long term health hazard. Stay on top of the one, and the day will come to address the other.
I'm planning for retirement. Two things: I want to be alive for retirement, and I'd rather not have to account for the $250 a month of additional income to support this habit. Freedom from it would be nice as well.
Anxiousness is one of the primary symptoms of withdrawal, coupled with an extreme irritability. But there are other issues beyond just the physical withdrawal. What do you do, for pete's sake? What do you do? I've spent a life time structured around having a smoke. Now what do I do? I'm an introvert and introverts need space, a time to regroup and recharge before re-engaging with others. Smoking was my excuse to step back from social interaction and recharge. What will I do?
Can I think and write without my pauses to reflect over coffee and a smoke?
Can I tolerate the feeling of nakedness that comes with a pocket empty of a pack and a lighter?
One of the struggles is determining whether to go 'cold turkey' or to do a more measured decrease and withdrawal over time. The patch is intended to maintain the nicotine level as one deals first with the behavioral issues of smoking, and then, over a period of months a gradual reduction of the level of nicotine until total cessation maybe three to four months down the line. I have had others suggest that this is like cutting a puppy's tail off a little bit at a time. It just prolongs the withdrawal.
Whatever works.
"Opa, (cough, cough)." To one extent, Jasper's mimicking of me is cute. To another extent, his identifying me with a cough is not. I never wanted to be a role model of smoking for my children, but that was not enough to convince me to stop. I don't want to model smoking for Jasper either, but the truth is that alone won't be sufficient.
I'd like to live long enough to enjoy being a grandfather, and enjoy retirement. $3,000 a year would be a nice budget for entertainment, a boat, or golfing, or travel. Or it could just go up in smoke.
One of the hardest things to deal with, other than the long term health effects of addiction, is the cost. My smoking cost me, in today's currency, $2,500 to $3,000 a year over a life-time. Add to that the cost of my drinking and we're talking real money. Deposit $250 a month at 3% interest over 43 years and you have over a quarter million dollars. We could use that money now. We don't have it. Actually, I might not have saved it anyway, but still. And I tell myself that when I started, a pack of cigarettes did not cost over $5. Actually, when I started, 50 cents would buy a pack from a vending machine. But however you cut it, a lifetime of smoking represents a lot of dough.
Social pressures to quit smoking have not been helpful to me as I'm a rebel at heart. From the first day of our marriage, Karla's made it clear that she doesn't like my smoking. Actually, it wasn't until I quit drinking that she became 'tolerant' of my smoking. When I'd try to quit, I'd get angry at her for her insistence that it be good for me to do so. For a period of years I hid my smoking from her. Dishonesty is a element of addiction.
My father also tried to get me to stop. Didn't work. It just compromised our relationship for years.
If others could quit for you, if their will power were enough to achieve success, every smoker would quit. But they don't feel the pain.
In the dark of the night, as I lay back down, hopeful to get some more sleep, I am conscious of the sound of my breathing. I hear the air in my bronchial tubes. It's just short of a wheezing. Sometimes a cough clears the airway and the sound stops. Other times it doesn't. At this point in time the effects of my smoking are complicated by the effects of my inhaling far too much sawdust as well. I sometimes tell myself that it is the hearing aids that I wear that makes the sound of my breathing so pronounced. Of course, I know better. Clear airways would help.
Finally, identity is an issue. As a drinker, I prided myself on being a "Scotch drinker". Over a life time one builds up and identity as a "smoker". One needs to adopt a new self image and identity. That is easier said than done.
And so the battle begins. Can someone like myself, who has battled addiction throughout my adult life, be free? Can I do so without complicating other areas of my life, such as my mental health and tendency toward depression?
And so I offer a prayer. And I remember the Psalm for this Sunday: "Then in their trouble they cried to the LORD, and you delivered them from their distress."
But before I review again, a disclaimer regarding alcoholics. One size doesn't fit all. Drinking patterns vary. Some are binge drinkers who did not drink daily but when they did drink it was to extremes. They may remain sober during the work week, but keep quite swashbuckling drunk over the weekend. This was not my experience.
Other drinkers, more like myself, maintained a consistent daily pattern of drinking to achieve the desired effect, but remained largely "in control". Personally, I believe this is a more troubling pattern of drinking in that it is easier to deny you have a problem. "Out of control" is one thing non-alcoholics believe about alcoholics. For this second type of drinker, it is a misnomer. When I was drinking I was very intentional about making sure that I got the 'prescribed dosage' to achieve the necessary effect. Now it is true, on some occasions I would drink more. Weekends when my wife was gone were an opportunity to drink to excess, for sure. A fifth of whiskey during an afternoon/evening of drinking was not unusual on such occasions. But on a daily basis I simply maintained a sufficient level of intoxication to get by.
Habituation is the issue here. One's body adapts to a certain level of alcohol in the system. When alcohol is not present at the level the body has become accustomed to one experiences withdrawal. The unpleasantness of withdrawal is such that there is an incredible compulsion to maintain at least the necessary amount of intoxication. So, for example, I used to joke that I needed two Scotch doubles to feel sober. The truth behind that was that I needed a minimum of about five or six ounces of Scotch daily to avoid the symptoms of withdrawal. That amount of alcohol was only sufficient to make me feel 'normal'. I did not achieve the 'buzz' at that level. In fact, as my drinking progressed I never achieved a buzz at all. I was so habituated to alcohol that I would drink myself into a stupor without ever having experienced the buzz, or the high, of intoxication. Drinking had ceased to be fun. It was about avoiding the pain of withdrawal.
And others just don't understand.
In my case, addiction began with Ativan, which I had been prescribed for sleep. Ativan works on the same receptors in the brain as alcohol, and so "cross addiction" is a risk. When I ceased taking Ativan I replaced it with alcohol. Prior to that time my alcohol consumption had been very moderate. For decades, very moderate and sometimes months without a drink. Then, immediately upon quitting the Ativan, I was drinking on average, 6 to 7 ounces a day, which remained my preferred dose until the last year, when it went up to about 10 ounces a day. In my mind, the 6 to 7 ounces only constituted a 'couple of drinks' and so I didn't have a problem.
But without those drinks, I experienced withdrawal symptoms. Among other things, I would shake uncontrollably. I would not drink on Saturday nights, so as not to smell of alcohol at worship Sunday morning, but instead would shake to the point I could not serve communion. Withdrawal.
In order for an alcoholic to want to stop, you have to get to the point where you realize what is happening and are willing to endure the pain of withdrawal in order to be free from it. It will get worse before it gets better. When I checked into treatment I was offended that they started medicating me against all sorts of potential withdrawal symptoms, including seizures, as I had never experienced that in my mind. The truth was I'd never allowed myself to go through withdrawal. When I did, I experienced partial complex seizures for months following. I do not know if these were directly related to withdrawal or not. But after a while, they went away. I remain suspicious.
I continue to fight addiction as I struggle with smoking. During my chemical dependency treatment I had quit for awhile using the patch. Last night I bought the patch again and am going to give it a try. One thing that is very similar between alcohol and smoking is that there comes a time when you are smoking just to avoid withdrawal, even if it gives you no other pleasure. I've been putting off quiting since my treatment for alcoholism in part because my doctors emphasized that my number one priority needed to be staying sober. Drinking could kill me in a night. Smoking was more of a long term health hazard. Stay on top of the one, and the day will come to address the other.
I'm planning for retirement. Two things: I want to be alive for retirement, and I'd rather not have to account for the $250 a month of additional income to support this habit. Freedom from it would be nice as well.
Anxiousness is one of the primary symptoms of withdrawal, coupled with an extreme irritability. But there are other issues beyond just the physical withdrawal. What do you do, for pete's sake? What do you do? I've spent a life time structured around having a smoke. Now what do I do? I'm an introvert and introverts need space, a time to regroup and recharge before re-engaging with others. Smoking was my excuse to step back from social interaction and recharge. What will I do?
Can I think and write without my pauses to reflect over coffee and a smoke?
Can I tolerate the feeling of nakedness that comes with a pocket empty of a pack and a lighter?
One of the struggles is determining whether to go 'cold turkey' or to do a more measured decrease and withdrawal over time. The patch is intended to maintain the nicotine level as one deals first with the behavioral issues of smoking, and then, over a period of months a gradual reduction of the level of nicotine until total cessation maybe three to four months down the line. I have had others suggest that this is like cutting a puppy's tail off a little bit at a time. It just prolongs the withdrawal.
Whatever works.
"Opa, (cough, cough)." To one extent, Jasper's mimicking of me is cute. To another extent, his identifying me with a cough is not. I never wanted to be a role model of smoking for my children, but that was not enough to convince me to stop. I don't want to model smoking for Jasper either, but the truth is that alone won't be sufficient.
I'd like to live long enough to enjoy being a grandfather, and enjoy retirement. $3,000 a year would be a nice budget for entertainment, a boat, or golfing, or travel. Or it could just go up in smoke.
One of the hardest things to deal with, other than the long term health effects of addiction, is the cost. My smoking cost me, in today's currency, $2,500 to $3,000 a year over a life-time. Add to that the cost of my drinking and we're talking real money. Deposit $250 a month at 3% interest over 43 years and you have over a quarter million dollars. We could use that money now. We don't have it. Actually, I might not have saved it anyway, but still. And I tell myself that when I started, a pack of cigarettes did not cost over $5. Actually, when I started, 50 cents would buy a pack from a vending machine. But however you cut it, a lifetime of smoking represents a lot of dough.
Social pressures to quit smoking have not been helpful to me as I'm a rebel at heart. From the first day of our marriage, Karla's made it clear that she doesn't like my smoking. Actually, it wasn't until I quit drinking that she became 'tolerant' of my smoking. When I'd try to quit, I'd get angry at her for her insistence that it be good for me to do so. For a period of years I hid my smoking from her. Dishonesty is a element of addiction.
My father also tried to get me to stop. Didn't work. It just compromised our relationship for years.
If others could quit for you, if their will power were enough to achieve success, every smoker would quit. But they don't feel the pain.
In the dark of the night, as I lay back down, hopeful to get some more sleep, I am conscious of the sound of my breathing. I hear the air in my bronchial tubes. It's just short of a wheezing. Sometimes a cough clears the airway and the sound stops. Other times it doesn't. At this point in time the effects of my smoking are complicated by the effects of my inhaling far too much sawdust as well. I sometimes tell myself that it is the hearing aids that I wear that makes the sound of my breathing so pronounced. Of course, I know better. Clear airways would help.
Finally, identity is an issue. As a drinker, I prided myself on being a "Scotch drinker". Over a life time one builds up and identity as a "smoker". One needs to adopt a new self image and identity. That is easier said than done.
And so the battle begins. Can someone like myself, who has battled addiction throughout my adult life, be free? Can I do so without complicating other areas of my life, such as my mental health and tendency toward depression?
And so I offer a prayer. And I remember the Psalm for this Sunday: "Then in their trouble they cried to the LORD, and you delivered them from their distress."
Sunday, March 25, 2018
One Day at a Time
One day at a time sweet Jesus that's all I'm asking from you
Give me the strength to do everyday what I have to do
Yesterday's gone sweet Jesus and tomorrow may never be mine
So for my sake teach me to take one day at a time.
Give me the strength to do everyday what I have to do
Yesterday's gone sweet Jesus and tomorrow may never be mine
So for my sake teach me to take one day at a time.
In twelve days I will have 2,000 days of sobriety. I remember that first day. Not a good day. My friends who had helped Karla take care of me the night before had also cleaned out the house of all alcohol. And there was a flurry of activity, calls to the bishop, consultation with my psychiatrist, arrangements made for inpatient treatment. Then the long drive down to Kootenai Medical Center. I took a deep breath. "I guess I'll not have a drink tonight." Day one.
The staff in the psych ward mentioned that I was headed to the chemical dependency unit. This was news to me. I had consented to inpatient treatment because I was concerned about my depression and wanted to be treated for that. Now it felt like a 'bait and switch' situation. I was angry. The rage I had been consumed with during my last night of drinking now had a new focus. I called my psychiatrist and complained. They were doing nothing about my depression. I was being forced to play board games with the other patients. And what about this whole chemical dependency thing.
"They have to sober you up before they can treat your depression, Dave." To my way of thinking, I hadn't had a drink in over a day, now, by this time two days. "I'm sober!" "It takes longer than that." was the response. The next day I met with the doctor. "You are an alcoholic." These were the words of my new psychiatrist. Hard to take. Day three.
Then my family came to visit. And my dear Bishop Martin. Somehow I managed to say the words for the first time. "I am an alcoholic." But I wanted out. I'll attend a few AA meetings. Maybe. I can't stay here. I have a job. I have responsibilities. The Bishop was ready to leave. "I'll let you be alone with your family, you've decisions to make." I wanted his advice, which initially he was hesitant to offer. "Dave, you've come so far, don't turn back now." Day four. I think.
I told the Bishop that First Lutheran was now his responsibility. He accepted. The psych ward staff recorded a 180 degree turn around in my attitude. There was hope. A transfer to the chem dep unit. Day five.
I would spend 21 days in the Chemical Dependency Unit. Twenty six days of sobriety seemed like forever. There was a big change. I was committed to returning home and not having a drink. There were things I would have to do though.
It was hard. When I returned home I was ready to jump right back into my responsibilities at the Church. "I'm back!" My council president and vice-president said "No." They demanded I take more time. Another month off.
During that time there was a negotiation about accommodations. I would no longer set up communion or buy the wine. I requested that only grape juice be on the altar, and that I not have to handle the wine, at all. Numerous bottles of wine were stored at church, I asked that they be locked up to remove the temptation. My psychiatrist wrote a letter to the bishop. In the end, the arrangements for these accommodations were made.
I had gone into the hospital on October 15th. Following the congregation's annual meeting in January I reentered the psych ward for another week. Turns out alcoholism wasn't the only problem, and sobriety alone was not the cure. Two years on disability followed. When I attended church, I would have seizures, partial complex seizures. By Easter I resigned my call. And decided to spend a whole lot of money on woodworking equipment. Olson's WoodWorks was born again. This was my last manic episode, prior to the diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder.
So, I'm approaching 2,000 days now. Life has changed.
I'm serving a congregation again. A small church. A part time call. And I work at a cabinet shop in Hayden. We're getting by. There have been financial challenges, but every bill has been paid.
The biggest issue remains the vocational question. Part of me, now sober, wants some new great challenge so that I can finish off my career with a bang. I'm far more qualified now that I'm clean and sober than I ever was before. And yet. And yet. There's something to be said for self care.
I'm coming to a resolution. If my congregation is willing, I have resolved that the best option for me is to commit to serving where I am at, and being at peace, at Peace. Part of that resolution is to to think just 'one day at a time'. It's hard to imagine ten years of leaving for work at 4:45 am and sometimes not returning home until nearly 10 pm. But on a given day, I can do that. One day. That's all I'm asking from you, sweet Jesus. One day.
I realize that grand aspirations regarding the rest of my career may not be realistic. Just be a faithful pastor today. Do your best cabinet work, today. Let tomorrow take care of itself.
And then there is retirement to plan for. Some of the pressure I've been feeling has been alleviated somewhat by the realization that next year we can begin moving into retirement. The first step may be Karla receiving her Social Security benefits. It will also be an option for me to start receiving my pension, even if I wait till seventy to go on Social Security. With some additional income, we'll be fine.
But there is a catch. An asterisk marking it. All these plans are subject to review by a qualified professional. For some reason Karla is not comfortable with my making grand plans anymore. It's a problem for one who is bipolar. So we'll check with a financial planner. We'll be careful.
Day 2,000 is coming. And after that, maybe 10,000 more. God willing.
Sunday, December 31, 2017
Graceful Communion and the Alcoholic
A friend posted an article on Facebook yesterday on the history of using individual glasses for communion as opposed to all drinking from the common chalice. The essence of the article was that concerns regarding the transmission of disease were one reason, and another reason was racism, that is not wanting to drink from the same chalice as black people. The latter reason is certainly plausible, especially in places such as the deep South where separate water fountains, etc., were common place. It would not have been the reason, though, in the many of the Lutheran congregations that adopted the practice for the simple reason that out on the prairies of the Dakotas and Minnesota the congregations were simply not in any way multiracial. Simply a fact of history and immigration.
What it raised for me, however, is the issue of communion practices as it relates to people such as me who are alcoholics. I wonder time and time again if people understand.
Zero is zero. That's the first thing one should know about alcoholics and communion. There is not one chemical dependency professional, not one, who would suggest that consuming small amounts of alcohol is OK for an alcoholic in recovery. Read the entire big book of Alcoholics Anonymous line by line and you will never find even a hint that would suggest that small amounts can be consumed without consequences. Even non-alcoholic wines contain some alcohol. Not good. Zero is zero.
The issue is NOT that we can't tolerate alcohol. Trust me, my tolerance for alcohol is sky high. I built up a tolerance for alcohol over years of heavy drinking. I could consume the entire amount of wine served on a typical Sunday morning without feeling a buzz. Tolerance? Hell, there is not a non-alcoholic out there that I couldn't drink under the table. Tolerance we have.
And the issue isn't even withdrawal. The amount of alcohol consumed in communion is not likely to produce in me withdrawal symptoms. I may be wrong as I 've never tested this proposition. But my gut says no, I wouldn't experience withdrawal after drinking such a small amount. No shakes. None of the other deeply troubling symptoms associated with detoxification.
Well what is the issue then? It is relapse. You see, this is the way an alcoholic's mind works. If I can drink a sip of wine at communion without feeling any effect, if I can do so and not experience any withdrawal symptoms afterward then I will convince myself to seek the limit. Maybe consuming non-alcoholic wines and beers is OK even though they contain up to 1% alcohol. And then, the next step is wondering if I can consume a beer or a glass of wine. Hey, when I was drinking heavily beer and wine did nothing for me. If it had no effect on me while I was drinking, would it harm me now?
The problem then becomes life threatening. You see, alcoholism doesn't go away with sobriety. It continues to progress. If an alcoholic resumes drinking, even after years of sobriety, they do not revert to a time when they could drink moderately. They will seek the buzz. But the toleration is so high that a prodigious amount of alcohol is necessary to produce the feeling. And even the smallest amount of alcohol can awaken the craving.
During my treatment they related the story of a woman in Coeur d'Alene who successfully went through treatment in her early twenties and went on to have a great career in business. With 42 years of sobriety behind her she decided that having half a glass of wine with dinner would not harm her. Eight weeks later she woke up from an alcoholic blackout in an Italian hospital unaware of how she got there. She had been found, literally in the gutter, licking up the wine she had spilled when she opened a bottle by breaking off the top, and with significant lacerations in her mouth from drinking out of the broken bottle. Point being, even after decades of sobriety even a small amount of alcohol can indeed hurt you.
Back to communion. I can't drink any alcohol. Some would say that I should be content with just the bread then. That may work for some people, but for me, it just doesn't feel right. I feel excluded. It feels incomplete. Our church has a historic tradition that says withholding the wine from the communicants is not OK, unlike the Roman Catholic tradition. But most of all, when a church offers only wine and disregards the needs of the alcoholic, what it says to me is that I'm not welcomed and cared for in that place. I will not return. I get the message. And if every Christian congregation had that practice I would simply not be Christian. I will not compromise my life for the sake of insidious piety.
I don't mind that alcohol is offered at communion as long as there's a non-alcoholic option for me. Ironically, I've found bars to be far more accommodating of my need for non-alcoholic options that some churches are. But my alcoholism is no reason for others who are not alcoholic to refrain from responsible drinking. I have the problem. All I ask is that you understand that.
What can you do to gracefully welcome the alcoholic at the communion table? Here is what has been helpful to me.
When I am offered grape juice, I experience forgiveness. When I am offered grape juice, I choose life over the death that alcohol threatens me with. To receive the grape juice as opposed to wine, is salvation for me.
When an alcoholic is welcomed at the table, it is priceless for them. We are as a whole well aware of the sinfulness that dominated our lives during our drinking days. Guilt is part of that, and our journey toward health requires that this guilt be dealt with. We do it through the fourth and fifth steps. The Confession of Sins and the Sacrament of Holy Communion offer to us the promise of God that goes beyond what the fourth and fifth steps offer. This is pure grace.
What it raised for me, however, is the issue of communion practices as it relates to people such as me who are alcoholics. I wonder time and time again if people understand.
Zero is zero. That's the first thing one should know about alcoholics and communion. There is not one chemical dependency professional, not one, who would suggest that consuming small amounts of alcohol is OK for an alcoholic in recovery. Read the entire big book of Alcoholics Anonymous line by line and you will never find even a hint that would suggest that small amounts can be consumed without consequences. Even non-alcoholic wines contain some alcohol. Not good. Zero is zero.
The issue is NOT that we can't tolerate alcohol. Trust me, my tolerance for alcohol is sky high. I built up a tolerance for alcohol over years of heavy drinking. I could consume the entire amount of wine served on a typical Sunday morning without feeling a buzz. Tolerance? Hell, there is not a non-alcoholic out there that I couldn't drink under the table. Tolerance we have.
And the issue isn't even withdrawal. The amount of alcohol consumed in communion is not likely to produce in me withdrawal symptoms. I may be wrong as I 've never tested this proposition. But my gut says no, I wouldn't experience withdrawal after drinking such a small amount. No shakes. None of the other deeply troubling symptoms associated with detoxification.
Well what is the issue then? It is relapse. You see, this is the way an alcoholic's mind works. If I can drink a sip of wine at communion without feeling any effect, if I can do so and not experience any withdrawal symptoms afterward then I will convince myself to seek the limit. Maybe consuming non-alcoholic wines and beers is OK even though they contain up to 1% alcohol. And then, the next step is wondering if I can consume a beer or a glass of wine. Hey, when I was drinking heavily beer and wine did nothing for me. If it had no effect on me while I was drinking, would it harm me now?
The problem then becomes life threatening. You see, alcoholism doesn't go away with sobriety. It continues to progress. If an alcoholic resumes drinking, even after years of sobriety, they do not revert to a time when they could drink moderately. They will seek the buzz. But the toleration is so high that a prodigious amount of alcohol is necessary to produce the feeling. And even the smallest amount of alcohol can awaken the craving.
During my treatment they related the story of a woman in Coeur d'Alene who successfully went through treatment in her early twenties and went on to have a great career in business. With 42 years of sobriety behind her she decided that having half a glass of wine with dinner would not harm her. Eight weeks later she woke up from an alcoholic blackout in an Italian hospital unaware of how she got there. She had been found, literally in the gutter, licking up the wine she had spilled when she opened a bottle by breaking off the top, and with significant lacerations in her mouth from drinking out of the broken bottle. Point being, even after decades of sobriety even a small amount of alcohol can indeed hurt you.
Back to communion. I can't drink any alcohol. Some would say that I should be content with just the bread then. That may work for some people, but for me, it just doesn't feel right. I feel excluded. It feels incomplete. Our church has a historic tradition that says withholding the wine from the communicants is not OK, unlike the Roman Catholic tradition. But most of all, when a church offers only wine and disregards the needs of the alcoholic, what it says to me is that I'm not welcomed and cared for in that place. I will not return. I get the message. And if every Christian congregation had that practice I would simply not be Christian. I will not compromise my life for the sake of insidious piety.
I don't mind that alcohol is offered at communion as long as there's a non-alcoholic option for me. Ironically, I've found bars to be far more accommodating of my need for non-alcoholic options that some churches are. But my alcoholism is no reason for others who are not alcoholic to refrain from responsible drinking. I have the problem. All I ask is that you understand that.
What can you do to gracefully welcome the alcoholic at the communion table? Here is what has been helpful to me.
- Offer the wine and grape juice in such a manner that I don't have to tell my life story to opt for the grape juice. It doesn't matter if I'm pregnant (not likely in my case), or on medication, or alcoholic. Just offer the wine and grape juice and let me make a choice.
- Don't make me decline one to choose the other. One server at my home church is so intentional in offering the wine, that he holds it out to me and has already started saying "the blood of Christ shed for you" before I have the chance to say "No" and move on to the grape juice.
- If you serve wine and grape juice in the individual glasses in trays, rather than the server taking the glass out of the tray and handing it to me, just let me (and all communicants) take the glass they prefer. This avoids being offered the wine and having to say no, give me the other.
- My Synod has started offering grape juice at a separate location. That helps in that I don't even have to smell the wine. Not necessary, but helpful. I will also note that many use this station even though they don't need the grape juice. I don't feel singled out by the practice.
- Make sure it is clear which is the wine and which is the grape juice. If you are communing with red wine, offer white grape juice. If you commune with white wine, offer red grape juice, and make it clear in announcements which is which.
- Welcome the stranger. I may be visiting in your congregation. You don't know what I need. In my current congregation our communion preparer has the tendency to set out grape juice for the specific number of people that normally use it. Add plenty extra for the visitor. Please.
- And finally, glutton free bread should be offered for those who need it. See all of the above.
- There are some churches that offer only grape juice. This certainly makes it easier for the alcoholic, but in keeping with the tenants of Alcoholics Anonymous, I do not suggest it. Normal people shouldn't have to alter their life because of my problem. Just allow for me.
When I am offered grape juice, I experience forgiveness. When I am offered grape juice, I choose life over the death that alcohol threatens me with. To receive the grape juice as opposed to wine, is salvation for me.
When an alcoholic is welcomed at the table, it is priceless for them. We are as a whole well aware of the sinfulness that dominated our lives during our drinking days. Guilt is part of that, and our journey toward health requires that this guilt be dealt with. We do it through the fourth and fifth steps. The Confession of Sins and the Sacrament of Holy Communion offer to us the promise of God that goes beyond what the fourth and fifth steps offer. This is pure grace.
Sunday, December 24, 2017
Sobriety, Solitude, and the Holidays
I drank alone, alot. Two major reasons for this were that I didn't frequent the bar scene, and my wife hardly drank at all. Add to that the fact that I was drinking myself to sleep at night, and you end up with a lot of solitary time with a bottle.
And yet there were also those social occasions for drinking with some of my closest friends and colleagues. A friend and I would get together once a week for a couple of Scotches and dessert. And gatherings with my ministerial colleagues would almost always involve some down time, often in a hotel room, with an abundance of alcohol to fuel the conversation.
For an introvert like me, such occasions were deeply appreciated.
One of the things I looked forward to was having adult children who would drink with me. This was, I suppose, a reaction to having a wife that never would.
There were some opportunities to have my sons in particular as 'drinking buddies'. A six pack on the golf course. And then one infamous night at a hotel room somewhere in the middle of North Dakota when my son decided he'd match me drink for drink. Ha! He was drinking whiskey sours, I was drinking straight Scotch, and in short order he realized that he was blitzed and I was still going strong. You'd think that perhaps I'd built up a significant tolerance. . .
When I went through treatment my family supported my sobriety by never drinking in my presence. And to the best of my knowledge there has not been any alcohol in my house since that time. I appreciate that.
In recent years, I have found that I don't mind being around people who are drinking beer or wine. It's only whiskey's pungent odor that I react to. I call it a "cravulsion", a simultaneous craving for and repulsion to the smell.
Last night, as we are all gathered for the holidays, a second gathering took place at my son's house. No big deal and to be expected, afterall, there are now two Olson households in town. My assumption is that a bottle of wine or a beer or two were shared. Earlier we had enjoyed a prime rib dinner at our house. There's part of me that wishes that they would feel comfortable now having a glass of wine with such a meal. They chose to share one later. That's alright. And truth be told, I'm such an early to bed person and an early riser that I'm not interested in much socializing late at night. That said, it brings up an issue in our society for people such as myself who live in sobriety.
So much of our social interaction takes place around alcohol that it can be difficult to stay connected in sobriety. Not impossible, just difficult. I cannot imagine gathering together with colleagues in a hotel room while they drank heavily and I sipped on a juice or soda. One thing is the reaction to the smell. Another is that the company of those who are inebriated is just not enjoyable anymore. Let's just say that contrary to a drinker's self perception, drunks are not nearly as profound as they believe themselves to be. I speak from my own experience.
Yet there was an intimacy to those gatherings. I do miss that.
Now, when I have gone to meetings of my colleagues in ministry I spend much time alone, either in my room, or in the lobby, waiting for someone sober to talk to. There are not always a lot of options.
In our society a lot of social interaction takes place around alcohol. Alcoholics in recovery are faced with choices. Either they learn to interact with those who are drinking without compromising their own sobriety, or they gravitate toward a new group of friends who don't drink. With family its a different matter. Except for whiskey, I'm OK with moderate drinking in my presence. What I'm aware of is that others are more uncomfortable drinking in my presence than I am having them drink in my presence.
The bottom line is that it is a balancing act. On the one hand, no one else is responsible for my sobriety. That is my responsibility alone. I am the one who can no longer drink. Yet those who have been considerate of my condition are greatly appreciated. The only thing that is not appreciated is the solitude that comes as an inevitable result.
And yet there is a more positive side. I no longer sleep alone.
And yet there were also those social occasions for drinking with some of my closest friends and colleagues. A friend and I would get together once a week for a couple of Scotches and dessert. And gatherings with my ministerial colleagues would almost always involve some down time, often in a hotel room, with an abundance of alcohol to fuel the conversation.
For an introvert like me, such occasions were deeply appreciated.
One of the things I looked forward to was having adult children who would drink with me. This was, I suppose, a reaction to having a wife that never would.
There were some opportunities to have my sons in particular as 'drinking buddies'. A six pack on the golf course. And then one infamous night at a hotel room somewhere in the middle of North Dakota when my son decided he'd match me drink for drink. Ha! He was drinking whiskey sours, I was drinking straight Scotch, and in short order he realized that he was blitzed and I was still going strong. You'd think that perhaps I'd built up a significant tolerance. . .
When I went through treatment my family supported my sobriety by never drinking in my presence. And to the best of my knowledge there has not been any alcohol in my house since that time. I appreciate that.
In recent years, I have found that I don't mind being around people who are drinking beer or wine. It's only whiskey's pungent odor that I react to. I call it a "cravulsion", a simultaneous craving for and repulsion to the smell.
Last night, as we are all gathered for the holidays, a second gathering took place at my son's house. No big deal and to be expected, afterall, there are now two Olson households in town. My assumption is that a bottle of wine or a beer or two were shared. Earlier we had enjoyed a prime rib dinner at our house. There's part of me that wishes that they would feel comfortable now having a glass of wine with such a meal. They chose to share one later. That's alright. And truth be told, I'm such an early to bed person and an early riser that I'm not interested in much socializing late at night. That said, it brings up an issue in our society for people such as myself who live in sobriety.
So much of our social interaction takes place around alcohol that it can be difficult to stay connected in sobriety. Not impossible, just difficult. I cannot imagine gathering together with colleagues in a hotel room while they drank heavily and I sipped on a juice or soda. One thing is the reaction to the smell. Another is that the company of those who are inebriated is just not enjoyable anymore. Let's just say that contrary to a drinker's self perception, drunks are not nearly as profound as they believe themselves to be. I speak from my own experience.
Yet there was an intimacy to those gatherings. I do miss that.
Now, when I have gone to meetings of my colleagues in ministry I spend much time alone, either in my room, or in the lobby, waiting for someone sober to talk to. There are not always a lot of options.
In our society a lot of social interaction takes place around alcohol. Alcoholics in recovery are faced with choices. Either they learn to interact with those who are drinking without compromising their own sobriety, or they gravitate toward a new group of friends who don't drink. With family its a different matter. Except for whiskey, I'm OK with moderate drinking in my presence. What I'm aware of is that others are more uncomfortable drinking in my presence than I am having them drink in my presence.
The bottom line is that it is a balancing act. On the one hand, no one else is responsible for my sobriety. That is my responsibility alone. I am the one who can no longer drink. Yet those who have been considerate of my condition are greatly appreciated. The only thing that is not appreciated is the solitude that comes as an inevitable result.
And yet there is a more positive side. I no longer sleep alone.
Saturday, November 25, 2017
Then, now, and always an alcoholic
It's been over five years now, since I had my last drink. Time to remember, reflect, and share.
Some people I know were out of control with their drinking from day one. Not me. It was probably harder for me to admit I was an alcoholic because I had thirty years or so of normal drinking patterns that seemed like evidence to the contrary. For most of my adult life I drank an occasional beer, mostly during the summer months, during football season, and with certain meals such as pizza. There were some occasions where I drank heavily, such as at the pastor's conference. But most the time I drank no more than a beer or two. And only occasionally.
Then life happened.
First I was prescribed Ativan for depression, insomnia, and anxiety. It is a drug that works on the same receptors in the brain as alcohol, with effects so similar that it is also used to manage alcohol withdrawal symptoms in treatment. I was told point blank at the time that I had to quit drinking. My psychiatrist put it this way: "I can't effectively treat your depression if you continue taking a depressant (alcohol). No problem. I just didn't drink.
What the doctor didn't tell me is that long-term usage of Ativan can produce "tolerance, dependence, addiction, benzodiazepine withdrawal syndrome, cognitive impairments, etc., which is why it is generally not recommended for use treatment beyond two to four weeks." However, it is often prescribed for long term use.
After a number of years, a change of employment, a new home, I felt great and decided to cease treatment for depression. My doctor, Brad, recommended I reduce the dose of Ativan prior to ceasing completely, and also warned that some people develop a drinking problem after going off of Ativan. I was unphased because I had never had a drinking problem, and was quite confident I never would have.
Prior to ceasing medication I had begun to drink moderately, as in 6 to 7 fluid ounces of Scotch per week. A couple of Scotch doubles, usually on the night a friend came over for dessert. In spite of my doctor's warning, that drinking became a nightly affair immediately upon quitting Ativan. My financial records of purchases confirm that I was now drinking 6 to 7 fluid ounces a day, not a week.
This is what I believe happens in the development of alcoholism.
First of all, a normal person has an adverse reaction to alcohol as a toxin in their body. That's why it's called 'intoxication'. Some people such as my wife so dislike this feeling that they will not drink enough to even begin to feel the effect. Many people like the feeling of early intoxication. That' why they drink.
When a consistent pattern of drinking develops, the body adapts to the presence of alcohol in the system, called 'habituation', and no longer has as strong a reaction against the alcohol as before. The drinker who once got a buzz with the first drink now must drink more to feel the same effect. Which if you are drinking for the effect means you will drink more.
The next stage is that as one drinks more and more to achieve the effect of intoxication the body adapts to the presence of alcohol to the extent that it now has an adverse reaction to the lack of alcohol in the system, that is withdrawal symptoms, not to the presence of alcohol in the system. During a particularly stressful time in my life I stated to a friend that "It takes two drinks for me to feel sober." I thought it was a joke but it was actually true. I had to drink to feel normal. At that point I had become an alcoholic, beyond a doubt.
Though an alcoholic probably doesn't realize this. Toward the end, I was concerned that my congregation might smell alcohol on my breath Sunday morning, so I quit drinking Saturday night. I got the shakes Sunday mornings as a result, though I didn't understand it to have anything to do with my drinking. I couldn't pour the wine from the pouring chalice. I didn't know what was happening but blamed it on stress, or something. Only after treatment did I recognize I was going through detoxification.
If an alcoholic could simply manage by maintaining a base level of alcohol in their system at all times they would. Anything to avoid withdrawal. But the problem is with the habituating properties of alcohol. It takes more and more to achieve the same effect. But there is only so much of this toxin that the body can tolerate-- before it simply shuts down. That shut down comes first as 'passing out'. And then, the body's systems get so depressed they shut down entirely--that's called dying, by the way.
My rock bottom came in part because a doctor had prescribed Ativan again for me. Circumstances at work sent my into a rage one afternoon, and after consuming a fifth of Scotch that afternoon and evening, I still felt I needed something and so I took Ativan. The combination of the two almost killed me.
Why does an alcoholic allow this to happen? One of the reasons is that to the alcoholic it appears that they are in control. I used alcohol to 'control' my moods, or so I thought. This is one of the reasons people with mood disorders such as Bipolar Disorder often become addicted. Alcohol gives them some control. One drink, two drinks, three drinks, four, I knew what I was drinking for. "I'm in control" means "I don't need help". Do you have a drinking problem? No, I have no problem drinking.
I avoided some of the pitfalls of drinking. I sat out on my deck, drinking myself to sleep at night, but rarely drank out on the town, and did not drive drunk (well, not very often). My heaviest consumption was when I was alone. Most of the time I convinced myself that I was only having a couple of drinks, a nightcap, and that was not a problem. At the end those couple of drinks averaged 9 to 10 fluid ounces a day of Scotch. Bigger glasses, less ice, kept the 'drink' total at two. The truth is that 9 to 10 fluid ounces is consider at the minimum, 7 drinks, some would consider it 10. That sounds like heavy drinking. And it was an average.
Now I'm free. I've gone through detoxification, dealt with many of the issues that contributed to the drinking, and no longer experience cravings. The smell of Scotch is repulsive to me, now. I can be around people drinking wine or beer, just not Scotch.
I share my story hoping that it will not be your story. Even a lifetime of drinking normally is no guarantee against developing alcoholism. Some people are more prone than others, but it is possible, I am convinced, for anyone to become alcoholic. No one is immune. Especially vulnerable are those with other issues like bipolar disorder, depression, or other mental illnesses. Genetics can also play a role.
I don't have a problem with normal people drinking normally. Some people drink for the taste, not the effect. Some people drink occasionally, not consistently. Some people will enjoy their last drink like they enjoyed their first. But not all. Remember that.
Thursday, March 30, 2017
Being Me, And Only Me
Having gone through as much psychotherapy as I have, I'd like to think that I've established better personal boundaries. I am growing in my understanding about who I am and who I am not. Even more so, I like to believe that I've become much more comfortable just being me, and only me.
Over the years I've spent in ministry I've struggled with being torn between simply being me, and attempting to be that which will please others, specifically my parishioners who often seemed to have some quite explicit expectations about who I should be. For better or for worse, I am who I am and there is little to be gained and much to be lost in trying to be anything else.
Case in point. Throughout much of my career I kept my political inclinations strictly to myself, and with the exception of those who worked at the polling places, no one knew whether I was a registered Democrat or Republican. Living in Idaho, a very Republican part of the country, populated with some very conservative, right wing Republicans, I often felt it was a matter of professional survival to keep my Democratic inclinations under wrap.
And then there was the day that I shared with a trusted parishioner, "Gee, I wonder how they would react if they knew I was a Democrat?" The response was straight forward. "Oh, we've all figured that out long ago."
One encounters some risks with being honest about one's identity. Especially in this highly polarized climate that we live in. "I've never understood how one can be both a Christian and a Democrat, especially a pastor." Actual quote from a parishioner. Part of my mission, I've decided is to challenge such presumptions.
Other areas of my life also have found me drawn to being very open and forthright about who I am. I write this blog about being Bipolar. There is a lot of stigma about being mentally ill, even when one is well treated. And yet if people like me are not open about our struggles how will other people ever come to appreciate that mental illness is not some grave condition that is to be feared. I live a quite normal life now. I'm bipolar but functioning. Its good for people to know that.
Neither am I ashamed to admit I'm a recovering alcoholic. I should have been ashamed, perhaps, when I was drinking like a fish. But, I wasn't. I'll always remember the words of an alcoholic that led an AA Meeting in my congregation in Baker. I was expressing my concern about maintaining their privacy and anonymity as they met, and he responded, "The whole world saw me when I was drunk, why would I care if they see me now that I'm sober."
There is a risk about being honest about who you are. You might experience rejection. But if people never know who you are you will never experience true acceptance either. Perhaps you will be able to create a public image of yourself that is 'acceptable', but to the extent that image is not who you really are, they are not accepting the real you.
And so I've resolved to rise or fall on the basis of who I am, and only who I am. People who have read this blog over the years have a pretty good idea of who I am. Although there is a lot I have not included here just because its not part of the focus of the blog. But of that material that is included, know this, that I've sought to be as honest as I can be.
In the end, we only have one life to live. Given that one shot at life, I believe it is better to live our own life, than pretending to be someone other than who we are. That would be a waste of everything.
Over the years I've spent in ministry I've struggled with being torn between simply being me, and attempting to be that which will please others, specifically my parishioners who often seemed to have some quite explicit expectations about who I should be. For better or for worse, I am who I am and there is little to be gained and much to be lost in trying to be anything else.
Case in point. Throughout much of my career I kept my political inclinations strictly to myself, and with the exception of those who worked at the polling places, no one knew whether I was a registered Democrat or Republican. Living in Idaho, a very Republican part of the country, populated with some very conservative, right wing Republicans, I often felt it was a matter of professional survival to keep my Democratic inclinations under wrap.
And then there was the day that I shared with a trusted parishioner, "Gee, I wonder how they would react if they knew I was a Democrat?" The response was straight forward. "Oh, we've all figured that out long ago."
One encounters some risks with being honest about one's identity. Especially in this highly polarized climate that we live in. "I've never understood how one can be both a Christian and a Democrat, especially a pastor." Actual quote from a parishioner. Part of my mission, I've decided is to challenge such presumptions.
Other areas of my life also have found me drawn to being very open and forthright about who I am. I write this blog about being Bipolar. There is a lot of stigma about being mentally ill, even when one is well treated. And yet if people like me are not open about our struggles how will other people ever come to appreciate that mental illness is not some grave condition that is to be feared. I live a quite normal life now. I'm bipolar but functioning. Its good for people to know that.
Neither am I ashamed to admit I'm a recovering alcoholic. I should have been ashamed, perhaps, when I was drinking like a fish. But, I wasn't. I'll always remember the words of an alcoholic that led an AA Meeting in my congregation in Baker. I was expressing my concern about maintaining their privacy and anonymity as they met, and he responded, "The whole world saw me when I was drunk, why would I care if they see me now that I'm sober."
There is a risk about being honest about who you are. You might experience rejection. But if people never know who you are you will never experience true acceptance either. Perhaps you will be able to create a public image of yourself that is 'acceptable', but to the extent that image is not who you really are, they are not accepting the real you.
And so I've resolved to rise or fall on the basis of who I am, and only who I am. People who have read this blog over the years have a pretty good idea of who I am. Although there is a lot I have not included here just because its not part of the focus of the blog. But of that material that is included, know this, that I've sought to be as honest as I can be.
In the end, we only have one life to live. Given that one shot at life, I believe it is better to live our own life, than pretending to be someone other than who we are. That would be a waste of everything.
Friday, November 25, 2016
Meeting my "John"
It was four years ago that I was in treatment for depression and alcoholism. I was able to resume my ministry for a while, beginning with the third Sunday in Advent. This is the sermon I preached on my first Sunday back.
This was preached prior to my diagnosis as being bipolar. I find it interesting that within the sermon I speak about my experiences that would later be diagnosed as manic and depressive, though I didn't recognize them as such at the time.
Advent 3, 2012
This was preached prior to my diagnosis as being bipolar. I find it interesting that within the sermon I speak about my experiences that would later be diagnosed as manic and depressive, though I didn't recognize them as such at the time.
Advent 3, 2012
Luke 3:7-18
Grace to you and Peace from God our Father and our Lord and
Savior, Jesus the Christ. Amen
“Come, Lord Jesus!”
Come, Lord Jesus! We
pray.
But first, it is John that we must see.
First it is the Baptizing firebrand of a preacher,
Calling
the nation of Israel,
That
enters into our life.
And so it must be.
You see the Messiah cannot come,
Until
the prophet prepares the way.
John calls us to repentance.
His is a ministry of truth telling.
The truth telling that is repentance is not
The
harsh words of a wild haired preacher
Declaring
“you brood of vipers.”
The truth telling of repentance is what happens
In that
moment when we look into the mirror
And we
can no longer pretend.
It is that moment when we see ourselves
For who
we actually are,
Not
for who we wish we might be.
Such truth telling is painful and frightening.
So much so that many of us spend our entire lives
Running
from the truth,
And
creating a virtual palace of lies
Within
which we live,
And
with which we will die.
Unless we come to meet, John.
I have been gone for awhile, now.
Perhaps
a few of you noticed!
My first reaction, coming back to preach today, and seeing
that the Gospel lesson began with John’s exhortation “You brood of vipers!” was
that there was no way in the world that I would return to preach on this text.
But then, on Friday I realized that there was no more
appropriate text for me to wrestle with.
For me, these last two months were a wilderness experience.
Like the Jewish people in John’s day, I was led into the
wilderness to encounter John,
But
more importantly to come face to face
With
myself and with the truth.
I have struggled with depression since my youth. The one symptom that has been continuous
since my adolescence was insomnia.
15 years ago I was first diagnosed and entered into
treatment. I went through about four
years of counseling, detailing about every experience of my life.
And yet, I realize that in a very profound way, none of that
truth telling was in fact the truth telling that really makes a difference.
During that time we explored:
·
My childhood and the lack of affection shown by
my parents;
·
A relationship with my band director and the
affection that was abusive
·
The deep hurt experienced when a pastor and
father figure was involved in sexual misconduct;
·
The feeling of betrayal and abuse that I have
experienced from the Church itself;
·
And many other issues.
There was a lot of truth in all of that.
But John was not there.
There is no value whatsoever in confessing other people’s
sins. No redemptive value whatsoever.
It’s not that those things didn’t impact my life, they
clearly did. And, the truth is that
·
Children need to know they are loved
·
Young boys should never be abused
·
Pastor’s should not engage in sexual misconduct
·
The Church should be a place of love and
forgiveness, not betrayal and abuse
These things, are in fact, all true.
True, but irrelevant.
Recognizing past wrongs,
Confessing
other people’s sins,
Only creates a sense of being helpless victims
Or a
false sense of self righteousness.
And when we do that, we are merely adding to that palace of
lies in which we live and with which we will die.
But then there is John,
Calling
us to a rigorous honesty,
Calling
us to repentance,
Calling
us to lives changed, and renewed.
These last few months I have been in conversation with John.
My John the Baptist was not a first century prophet,
But a twenty first century Psychiatrist.
What they have in common though, is that sitting face to
face with them, one can simply no longer lie.
One must finally, face the truth, not about others,
But
about ourselves.
The truth is not easy to acknowledge.
The hardest words that I have ever heard were:
“Dave, you are an alcoholic.”
And a thousand times harder than hearing those words, were
saying to my wife, “I am an alcoholic.”
Back in ’97, when I began treatment for depression,
In addition to an anti-depressant, I was prescribed Ativan,
an anti-anxiety medication that also helps one sleep. And sleep I did. For the first time since adolescence I was
able to lie down, go to sleep, and remain asleep for 7 to 8 hours.
What I didn’t know then, was that Ativan is highly addictive
and habituating; AND it works in the brain very similar to alcohol.
In 2003, I was feeling so good that I decided to go off all
of my medications, including Ativan.
What happened was that those receptors in my brain that had
become addicted to Ativan sent off an alarm, which basically said:
“If
you’re not going to give us Ativan, you better come up with another
alternative.”
Al most immediately I went from an occasional drink to
needing two Scotch doubles a night just to sleep.
Throughout the first twenty five years of our marriage I had
drank alcohol only occasionally. Most of
the time we didn’t have any at all in our house. I would have beer in the heat of the summer,
and perhaps into the football season. I
never consumed hard alcohol.
This last spring as my depression worsened, a new
psychiatrist changed the antidepresent and put me back on Ativan, despite
knowing that I was still regularly consuming alcohol. That is a potentially lethal combination and
could have cost me my life on October 14th.
The time had come and I had to face the truth.
I am an alcoholic. I
am powerless over alcohol and my life had become unmanageable.
John the Baptist calls us to such repentance.
And my John the Baptist is known as “Dr. C.”
Would that that truth was the only truth I had to
acknowledge. It has taken a life time to
build a palace of lies, and such self deception doesn’t go away over night.
One of the reasons my depression has been worsening relates
to my hopes, dreams, and sense of calling in ministry.
When I entered ministry, it was with the most deep seated
hope and conviction that if I were a faithful pastor, hard working, creative
and caring, and one with a heart for mission and ministry—then the Church would
thrive and nothing would be impossible.
When I came to First Lutheran I shared with the council that
though the worship attendance had been on the decline since 1986, I was
absolutely committed to changing that, especially because Sandpoint was a
growing community.
Growing it was, but not in worship attendance or Church
membership.
That decline in worship attendance that I noted in 2000 has
continued. And the only thing that has
changed is the color of our hair, or how much hair is left on some of our
heads.
And so I found myself being quite jealous of my father’s
generation of pastors. Pastors such as
Bob Nale who entered ministry after WWII and saw the Church thriving and
growing during the post war years of the fifties, sixties, and seventies.
And the more I thought about it, the more depressed I got.
The truth that I must now face, is that my own grandiose
thoughts about how far my faithfulness and hard work could take the Church were
really delusional.
And my depression is the dark side of that delusion. To allow myself to feel responsible for the
decline of the entirety of Christianity in our country, and to beat myself up
for my failures, is in the end, to fanaticize that if I had just tried harder,
I could have accomplished what in fact only God can accomplish.
In this John the Baptist gives us an example for living.
“I am not the Messiah,”
he says, “but there is one who is coming.”
And so we pray “Come, Lord Jesus!”
And Jesus will come.
But first we need to have a frank, honest, conversation with
John the Baptist.
We need to acknowledge that we are powerless and in bondage.
Our confession of sin says it this way:
“I am in bondage to sin and cannot free myself.”
In Alcoholics Anonimous this truth is reflected on page 60
of the big book, words that are read at the beginning of each meeting:
(a)
That we were alcoholic and could not manage our
own lives.
(b)
That probably no human power could have relieved
our alcoholism.
And then, comes the promise:
(c)
That God could and would if He were sought.
Personally, I wish John the Baptist were not part of the
picture.
I would prefer to simply have Jesus, a child lying in a
manger, and one to save me from my sins without having to face the demands of
John the Baptist for repentance.
I would prefer not to have to face the truth about myself.
But it is only in truth, rigorous, painful, truth, that we
are prepared to receive the Messiah.
If we confess our sins, God who is faithful and just will
forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.
God could and would if he were sought.
The bad news none of us wants to admit is that we need a
savior.
The good news is that he was, he is, and he is to come.
And so with the Church of every time and every place we pray
Come, Lord Jesus.
Come.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)