The second problem that addicts and alcoholics face is that they don't stick with the program. One of two things happens here: they relapse and are out drinking and using, or they quit going to meetings, what we call white-knuckling it.
Relapse comes in many forms. I'm fascinated with it. I've seen both newcomers and old timers go out. What makes someone relapse when they have a lot of time in a program? Why isn't the success rate 100%? Seems like somebody would have figured this out by now. If you look at how much the world and technology has changed since the advent of the 12-Step process, it's astounding. Yet we've still not come up with anything better for long-term treatment of addiction.
The relapses that are easy to understand are the ones that come when people are just a few days clean and sober, before a full detox. The physical pull is so strong. All you have to do to make it go away is get your fix, have your drink, whatever it is.
Then there are the social problems people have that make them relapse. If drugs and alcohol are in your house, it's going to be hard to stay away. If your relationships revolve around using, you're going to have trouble. If your lifestyle or your job puts you in front of drugs and alcohol, whether you're a rock star or a drug dealer, it's going to be hard on you.
The relapses that baffle me and scare me the most are the ones people have after a long time in a program. They work the steps, they attend meetings, they change their life, yet one day, they go out.
I can't find a surefire formula to explain why a person with a long time goes out. It's definitely a case by case basis. Sometimes the person can point to an event, and sometimes it just seems to happen without a reason.
After Get Up came out, I received a lot of emails from people who were going back after being away. Some of them were relapsed, and some were disheartened with the program of their choice. I got a lot of questions and was asked for advice on topics I didn't know about. So I, in turn, asked other people.
That's how this book came about. Still Standing covers the rough part of sobriety/recovery: living it. Anyone can get it in a good facility. Living it will take a strong spiritual and emotional core.
CHAPTER 1
GETTING SOBER VERSUS LIVING SOBER
Anyone can get sober. If you have the money or the right insurance, you can go to some really nice detox and rehab facilities. They'll get you sober. They'll clean you out. You'll probably even enjoy it. One of the only consistent complaints I hear from people in such programs is about having to get up early every day. People of all types have this problem: the early rising. Getting sober is not the hard part. Living sober is what's difficult. Getting through each day, getting through the rough moments, the hard patches, the trying times, that's what's hard. We hear and say in the meetings to “practice these principles in all our affairs,” but what does that mean really?
Living sober is against instinct. We've learned to live drunk, high, and wasted. The way you act in a crack house is not the way you act at the DMV. The way you react to a rude asshole in a bar is not the way you react to a rude asshole at work. What we've learned in order to protect ourselves, our possessions, and our stash is not helpful to the rest of our lives; actually, acting in these ways will ruin our lives. I don't think it's the big things in life that are going to take me out. It's the little things that make me feel like I'm losing my mind. I've been through deaths and breakups and job losses sober. Love, death, and money trouble are the big three dramas in our lives. Those things are so obvious to drink over that I never would. It's such an ordinary excuse.
Steps and Anti-Steps
When the big ones happen, that's when I get super into the program stuff. I call people. I have special themed meetings with my sponsor. I go to new meetings. I go to meetings more often. I work the Tenth Step rigorously. I divide all parts of life into two camps based on the Serenity Prayer. When the big things happen, that's when I'm at my best program-wise, which is why I don't think I'll ever relapse over one of those.
It's like having a really sharp knife. You never cut yourself with it, because every time you pick it up, you're super careful with it. You respect the danger of the situation. However, with a dull knife, you cut tomatoes while holding them in your hand, you peel apples while watching television. That's when you cut off a finger.
Love, death, and money trouble are the big three dramas in our lives. Those things are so obvious to drink over that I never would. It's such an ordinary excuse.
The tiny traumas are what we should look out for. It's the little things that get in the way of my life. Things like missing the bus, a coworker sending me a snotty email, or a friend flaking out on me can put me in a bad mindset. A car splashes gutter water on me. My shoelace comes untied in the subway station bathroom and drags through the floor, soaking up the pee of strangers from around the world. The smelly guy sits next to me on the train, then cracks open a can of malt liquor. Nothing huge in the big picture, but in the moment, those are some fucked up situations.
I can easily slip into the mindset that the world is out to get me. Bad things happen to me and no one else. I can feel the world plotting against me. People are trying to get over on me. This mindset can affect how I treat every situation and person I see thereafter. This mindset usually reasons and thinks like I did when I was on a self-righteously indignant bender. It's the drunk me that a lot of people refer to as stinkin' thinkin'. Getting stuck in this headspace is what eventually takes a lot of people out. This is the hard one to shake.
We have to do more than stop drinking; we have to learn how to live sober.
This, in and of itself, is not sober behavior. Acting like a drunk is a good way to start being one again. Take the alcohol out of a drunk asshole and all you have left is an asshole. We have to do more than stop drinking; we have to learn how to live sober. The steps help us with this.
But sometimes we take steps backwards: anti-steps. We return to our defects of character, we gain resentments, we exert our will in the wrong situations, we embrace our insanity, we become unmanageable, and then we go out.
We have to do more than just put down drugs and alcohol. We have to put down the whole lifestyle. It's an interwoven life, and it doesn't work right without each piece in place.
What Now?
There's a What Now? phase with recovery and sobriety. At first, what to do is really simple: go to meetings, work with others, do the steps. But something happens once life balances out, and the waters become calm. Once you've worked the steps, you've had a number of commitments, and you've helped other people through the steps, then what? It's a weird phase in which I've seen a lot of people relapse.
We're creatures of habit. There was some comfort in doing the same things every day or maybe every hour. It's a routine that we were in love with. Every hour is accounted for. We're busy finding the means to get our vice, getting it, using it, coming down or recovering from it, and repeating the process.
It's a routine that we were in love with … we're busy finding the means to get our vice, getting it, using it, coming down or recovering from it, and repeating the process.
In this mindset, the bigger questions of life are all answered. The practicing addict doesn't have to think about what the purpose of life is, about the worth of the moment, or the long term consequences of his actions. But take away the immediate answer of drink or use, and the recovering addict is faced with the existential questions faced by the rest of humanity.
What now? What should I do with my life? Have I wasted my entire life? Is it too late to start over? How am I going to live outside the biodome world of rehab, meetings, and 12-Step coffee?
The Fuck-Its