I learned that I limit my growth by the way I define normal. Some I met early in recovery seemed to me to view so-called “normal people” as though they were greater or better than themselves. It seemed to me that some people I met in early recovery thought that those who could drink or use socially—nonaddicts, in other words—had some kind of mystical power that elevated them above those who cannot do these things. They had a word for them: “normies.” These normies seemed to me to occupy an imaginary pedestal in the minds of others in recovery. They certainly occupied a special place in my thinking early on. But I came to realize that if I put these people on a higher plane than my fellows in recovery, I’d place serious limitations on how far I could grow. If I told myself that no matter how much I grow I will never become normal, I would simply add to this desire to become normal a measure of fear that says if I should somehow reach that pedestal I would most certainly fall off, or at least be in danger of doing so. Over time I have learned to discard these thoughts and feelings, because they are self-defeating.
This understanding helps me to see that my program allows me to live life without destroying myself with mind-and mood-altering substances. This gives me a shot at becoming normal (whatever that is). I am neither better nor worse than any other person; I am equal to others. This newfound equality gives me the freedom to grow and to reach my full potential. By removing these self-imposed limits, caused by my distorted thinking about myself and about others, I gain the ability to become so much more than I am today. In every area of my life, I can make remarkable progress. Through this progress, I come closer to normal—whatever that is, anyway!
Recovery helped me to redefine my understanding of normal.
IT SEEMS THAT LIKE MOST
PEOPLE, I HAVE A BUILT-IN
NEED TO FEEL THAT I AM PART
OF THE WORLD AND PART OF
SOCIETY. THIS NEED DRIVES
MY DESIRE TO UNDERSTAND
WHAT IT IS TO BE NORMAL
AND HAS PROMPTED ME TO
SPEND TIME LEARNING HOW
TO FIT INTO SOCIETY.
2 FITTING IN— IS THAT WHAT IT MEANS TO BE NORMAL?
I have heard many people in recovery say that they never felt like they fit in anywhere. They always felt different from the people with whom they grew up. This is a common sentiment among members of recovery groups. For the most part, I could identify. I had few friends, and the ones I did have always seemed to be getting into trouble of some kind, and I was right there with them: lying, stealing, cheating, and carousing. These things were all part of life as far as we were concerned. These feelings set us apart from the majority, we thought. We were selfish and self-centered, and sought instant gratification. My friends and I thought we were tough and cool, but in reality we were nothing more than public nuisances, disturbing the peace and doing whatever we felt like, whenever we felt like it, without regard for anyone else’s property or peace of mind. Acting in this way alienated others, who found our actions irritating, annoying, and even crazy. It is no wonder I felt as though I did not fit in, so after a while I did not even try. If you’d asked me then, I would have denied it, but today I know that fitting in was exactly what I wanted.
The truth is that I have always wanted to fit in, and today I do, because I am in recovery. It seems that like most people, I have a built-in need to feel that I am part of the world and part of society. This need drives my desire to understand what it is to be normal and has prompted me to spend time learning how to fit into society. Today, I am learning to smooth off my rough spots so I can fit better into life as it is really is, not as I’d like it to be. In order to do this, obviously, I had to quit drinking, but that was only one step. I had previously, and more easily, set aside marijuana and cocaine. However, for me, quitting drinking was the most important step toward a new way of life. This manifestation of my addiction was my greatest challenge, and I needed to meet it head-on and with all the courage I could summon.
One of the reasons quitting drinking and drugging was so difficult for me was that in the beginning, using had helped me to feel as though I fit in, as it does for so many others. The illusion or delusion of fitting in while I was drunk was a tough one to break. I did not have any desire to break away from the thought or the substance until it became clear that the reason I gave myself for using was not, in fact, true. Only after it became painfully clear, through time spent in jail and the insistence of friends and family members, that I had a problem, as well as the realization that my using really wasn’t helping me fit in anymore, was I able to begin to change.
Once I decided to make the change from active addict to person in recovery, my desire to become normal seemed to grow. I had never liked feeling like an outsider, but now I felt like more of one! While I was using, I had seemed to fit in with the other addicts, but I had never tried fitting in while in recovery. Still, I wanted to fit in more than ever.
What does “fitting in” mean, and why was it so important to me? To “fit in” means to me that I will be more loved, more cared for, and more needed. I longed for these feelings. I yearned for these feelings. I spent my entire life seeking real love, true caring, and a greater feeling of being needed. Yet I had always come up short. If only I could be normal, I thought; then I would fit in the way I’ve always wanted to.
I know I’m not unique in this regard: It seems that we all want to fit in somewhere. But the thing I thought was helping me fit in was having the opposite effect. I spent too much of my life far from normal, getting loaded, acting in ways that even I didn’t accept as proper. Once I stopped drinking and using other mood-altering substances, I began to have a shot at becoming normal and fitting in with the rest of society. This idea was so novel, so untried, that at times it seemed impossible. However, I know that it is possible, and I’m giving it a shot.
When I arrived in my twelve-step fellowship, I found something I had been yearning for my entire life. I discovered there were many people just like me, and I easily fit in. We understood each other; we spoke the same language. We laughed at the crazy things we used to do and cried over the traumas we had caused. We “got” each other; we knew where each other had been. Why shouldn’t we? We had all been through very similar wringers. We shared the same delusions, illusions, hopes, and dreams. What a wonderful feeling to find people I could relate to without being drunk. What a joyous thing to have people who understood me, who shared my feelings, my fears, and my longing to be cared for, to be needed, and to be loved. My fellowship saved my life, and I will be forever grateful. Of course, as we say in my fellowship, “you can’t keep it unless you give it away,” and that’s what I practice now, and hope to for the rest of my life.
One of the great things about my fellowship is the inclusiveness. As I see it, my fellowship keeps the doors open to a wide range of thinking and ways of dealing with problems. In fact, the door is always open and anyone can get in. To join, all I needed was a problem and a desire to stop. The first thing my fellowship and program did for me was to help me stop. The second thing the program gave me was a set of tools with which I could begin to grow. I was never told that I could only use program resources in order to grow. My fellowship knows they are not the be-all-and-end-all. They encourage people to do or to be as much as they want to.
The first step of my program talks about powerlessness. Step One requires the admission of powerlessness, while the remaining steps help me to live a better life—a life without active addiction. Step One is the only step that mentions a substance. The remaining steps exist to deal with personal growth—spiritual, physical, mental,