Little Bits of Progress at 20 Months Sober

A young colleague blurted out to me decades ago, as if astonished, “You’re the loneliest person in the world.”

I have had a longing within from the beginning. It’s as if a freezing wind blows through an unfilled opening near my heart. While I was growing up, I knew it was all going to be all right because I was going to get married and have a husband. He would fill the hole. When he didn’t, I expected it to be filled by our child. When I was unable to conceive, I tried work. I divorced and tried different men. I tried a return to my family of origin. I tried a second husband.

When I adopted a cat, I did feel a cat-shaped puzzle piece blocked much of the wind. When my cat became ill unexpectedly, I felt as if I had to kill my own child to put her out of her misery. And other things happened. The wind howled.

Kindness

To not feel as if what I was feeling was going to kill me from within, I tried relationships, I tried work, I tried exercise, I tried eating, I tried cats, I tried drinking wine. Wine produced quiet from the wind most consistently for the greatest number of hours. I repeated.

And then, because I cherish being able to choose my path, however lonely it might be, I chose to take a break from drinking wine. I was flabbergasted to learn I could not. No matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried, no matter what I told myself, I could not stop drinking.

. . . . .

On August 28, 2014, I was 20 months abstinent from alcohol.

I have shared that I have only been able to get sober and stay sober with the help of, and in the company of, others.

As a teacher, I stated often that I was seeking “the truth and the light,” and “the one true thing.” In every bit of life, I sought whole meaning or sought to synthesize that small piece into a meaningful whole. In retrospect, I think I was seeking one perfect shape, exactly the size of the lonely opening within me, to ease my terrible longing.

What seems to be happening is that the hole is filling, not with one true love or one perfect child or one best friend, but with the presence of many people who are kind to me. And who let me be kind to them. And we rotate in and out through the days so that the filling isn’t dependent on one single person, or even on a specific group of people – only Betty, Bob, Jimmy, for example – but on many people.

And the people are human and they make mistakes and over-do and under-do. But because my days are spent with many, one person’s cruelty doesn’t have the power to destroy me, nor does one person’s kindness have the power to complete me.

I’m not sure how lonely I am today. Sweetness and gentleness and contentment are coming to my days. In little bits.

Writing Now

“…before everything got written so far wrong.”

– from “Liquid Paper” in Liquid Paper: New and Selected Poems by Peter Meinke

Over half would work for me

“Everything got written so far wrong” when I tried to stop drinking and couldn’t.

I felt horror and sorrow. I felt determined to find out why and what it meant. I felt enraged and ashamed.

I drew my feelings this morning in the order in which they came to me, right to left.

I began this blog on August 17, 2013 with this “end in mind” drawing. I could no longer keep my writing voice silent, but I kept secret what was most plaguing me – that I was  7 1/2 months abstinent from alcohol and writhing.

On July 28, 2014, I had been abstinent from alcohol for 19 months. I am writhing less. But I am appalled at how hard abstinence is for me. Others early in abstinence, or trying to become abstinent, share their stories with me and they writhe, too.

Unacceptable.

That determined face is the one that’s writing.

Helpless Rage Theory Makes Sense to Me

I became addicted to alcohol because of helpless rage.

That’s the essence of Lance Dodes’s explanation for the origin of addictions in Breaking Addiction: A 7-Step Handbook for Ending Any Addiction (2011).

To discover if Dodes’s work could be meaningful to me, I excerpted sections important to me in story form here.

I’ve formulated his theory this way:

childhood hardship over which one feels helpless > rage at helplessness > overwhelming feeling of being trapped > aggressive feeling of need to escape > no direct action to take > an indirect, addictive action taken

And I’ve diagrammed it in the accompanying image.

Anne on Dodes on Addiction

(Note: Some people I work with hesitate to use the terms “neglect,” “abuse” and “trauma” to describe their pasts but are open to this generalization about their early years:  “What should have happened didn’t. What shouldn’t have happened did.” In the diagram, I used “abuse” and “neglect” as shorthand.)

So let me apply Dodes’s helpless rage theory to my own story.

When I look back at my childhood – and I can’t know if they were or not – this is only my perspective, my chicken painting – I experienced my mother and father as upset with themselves, upset with how their lives were unfolding, and upset with each other. I felt born into upset. I can’t remember a time I wasn’t determinedly trying to un-upset them or to keep them from getting upset with me or with my sister. My father drove me to and from sports practices; my mother tutored me in math. I had a fine middle class upbringing. Always present, however, was just-about-to-blow upset. I wan’t conscious of it at the time but, yes, words like “trapped,” “caged,” “imprisoned” work for how I felt. I felt powerless and helpless and hopeless to transform that situation into one in which I could just relax.

Dodes asserts that the natural response to entrapment is rage. When he described the furious, direct action one would take if buried alive in a cave-in*, I could feel the rage.

“All animals react with aggression to being trapped; it’s a necessary survival instinct…This fury in addiction is actually quite normal.”
Lance Dodes, M.D., Breaking Addiction

Because what one wants to do one is forbidden to do – the direct action I wanted to take was to beg my parents to please handle their lives and just love me and not make me do all the work to calm them – Dodes believes we substitute indirect actions.

I shared in my drinking history that alcoholism didn’t start for me until in 2007. A lot happened that year for which I felt the urge to take direct action.

In 2007 when the student pushed me off balance, what I really wanted to do was push him back, possibly throw myself on him and attempt to beat and beat him. (That sounds weird and there’s more to that story but I’m observing Babette Rothschild’s caution about reliving trauma. Just writing that much makes my scalp prickle. Enough.)

I felt helpless rage over his act. Instead of responding directly, physically, I tried a lot of indirect actions to relieve my outrage. Which one would work? The glass of wine that night helped my helplessness fade. Same thing when the kid threatened to shoot me. When Cho killed my fellow Hokies and himself, I had no one to beat. I felt rage and despair and helplessness and hopelessness. Only when I had a drink did I feel like I was doing something, anything, to hold together my broken soul.

And then I couldn’t not drink.

I was 19 months abstinent from alcohol 3 days ago, on July 28. I have become aware that every time I want a drink, just before it, I have thoughts and feelings. Yes, one of those feelings could be described as “helpless rage.”

. . . . .

*When you first find yourself trapped in a tight, dark space you might try to stay calm, but that won’t last for long. Soon you’ll be banging on the rocks, clawing at them to get out. Your hands will be bloody. You might break your wrist in the desperate effort [to do something, anything to get out.] But that wouldn’t matter. At that moment the normal rage in such situations is the dominant force…It’s good to keep in mind that if you and they [people who consider addictions unusual] were trapped together in a cave-in…you would all be furiously pounding on the rocks just the same.”
– Lance Dodes, M.D., Breaking Addiction: A 7-Step Handbook for Ending Any Addiction (2011).

To see how his thinking has evolved since 2011, I’m now reading Lance Dodes’s latest book, co-written with his son, Zachary Dodes, published this year (2014), The Sober Truth: Debunking the Bad Science Behind 12-Step Programs and the Rehab Industry. I’ll share what I discover.

For further reading:

The Abstinent Self

First entry:

What does addiction do to the self?

 

in this book by Becca Imbur, founder of Bimbur Books:

Creative book for creativity by Becca Imbur

Self-awareness? We Needed an App for That

Bent over a journal, sobbing as I wrote, broken-hearted from a divorce, beaten by a back injury’s unrelenting pain, exhausted without reprieve from a sleep disorder, I pictured myself in a hospital bed, lights dimmed, encircled three-deep by caregivers. In the warm, imaginary room full of people, present for me twenty-four hours a day, I felt my anguish ease.

As I envisioned myself lying in the bed, every need filled, every heartache and backache tended, I began to sense an uneasy presence in my chest. It felt hard, jagged, plastic and hollow, like a twisted yellow Christmas tree star. No matter what words of comfort those gentle, well-intentioned caregivers spoke to me, no matter what ministrations they offered my body, sharp, angular pain within me persisted, untouched.

Tracing origins of insights is difficult, but I think that experience writing in my journal and realizing that people could help, but that they were not enough, contributed to my beginning a quest to find not just what would ease my suffering from without, but what would ease it from within. [Read more…]