It's been 4 days since the last blog about Archie's funeral. It provoked some wonderful messages both from people who went to the funeral and others who couldn't make it. They said it felt as if they were there.
I suppose the best message of all was that Archie's partner liked it. No better tribute than that and it felt good to be of service.
It seems like the best read blogs are on the topic of recovery. I know some people who read my daily ramblings are not in recovery or suffer from addiction, I don't wish to exclude you. I hope I don't.
I do worry sometimes that my blog is too recovery. There are so many elements to our life, our minds, the world and society. I am aware there is more to life than recovery and addiction. I worry that I can be a little, 'there's Nick again banging on about recovery'. I wouldn't like to think I'm using it as a tool to be more interesting than I really am. Or that I'm one tracked or single minded.
But I can't escape from the fact recovery pretty much defines my life and everything that comes from it. I am an addict. My personality is addictive. My thinking is governed by it. I suppose this blog is an insight into the mind of someone trying to cope with that and use mechanisms not to let it dominate, control or ruin a life.
I got out of the momentum of writing last week. Why? I didn't feel I had anything useful to say. So I didn't write. Even though there are 100's of things that happen every day, I chose not to write about the head or what was happening.
On Weds, after the funeral I felt myself in a big black hole. Down and grumpy. Not because it affected me. I guess because it highlighted my own struggle to let go and accept the full spiritual programme. The funeral highlighted a man who had totally given himself over, with no doubts and resistance. The proof was in the life of love that was displayed by all there.
My pain has been with the sledgehammer inner rebelliousness and self will I seem to have. Even now I struggle with AA. Even now I struggle with the concept of God. Even now I struggle with the spiritual path. It was even in my mind at the funeral. It nearly always nags away at me.
My natural instinct is to go against it. My natural instinct when confronted with the language, the hugs, the programme, the themes of recovery such as 'love', 'boundaries', 'being good to myself' being of service' is abhorrent to my cynical, egoic nature.
I find the transition from angry, arrogant, self willed juggernaut of destructive man to an accepting, tolerant, reasonable peaceful recovery man on a spiritual path a very very tricky one.
There is an inbuilt resistance in me. Yes I am 12 years down the track, fully committed to the recovery programme, am in no doubt it is the main thing that binds my life together and trust the process implicitly, but still I am deeply resistant.
When I get myself out of the way and let go of the resistance and ego it's so much easier. But fuck me, it's as big as Carl Froch's right hander last night.
An example of which is yesterday. I went to a convention. My Mum was speaking at the Alanon meeting. I went to support her and also because I happen to believe her story is one of the most powerful and classic alcoholic stories there is. She is slowly getting to realise the extent of the damage alcoholism has had on her and the family through the Alanon programme and it is a joy to see.
Alanon is something that is seen as a bit of an after-thought. The alcoholics get all the headlines because we're so fucking egoic and dramatic. But the real damage is done to the partner, children, family of the addicts. They are the ones who for years have to put up with the madness.
The subtle thing is, because they are the ones reacting to the addict, they think the problem is with the addict. Their own denial is in the fact they cannot see that by being wrapped up in an addict and treating it as normal life situation they are also in the madness too. It is after all a family and society illness.
Also when you look under the bonnet, you will see a lot of people's life events have contributed to them being attracted to addicts or dysfunction too. Either to look after, fix, enable or be dependant upon someone not up to the job. The addict gets the blame but what drew us into those situations? How did we act around it?
It is so subtle that most people miss it. I know being brought up with an alcoholic father and elder brother has contributed to me making dodgy choices in relationships. I could have almost done a check list on the first date;
Alcohol or drug dependancy - tick
Chronic co-dependancy - tick
Abusive previous partners - tick
Huge dysfunction - tick
Slightly obsessive - tick
Needy - tick
Love me like I'm the centre of the universe - tick
Perhaps I should start an online dating agency for lunatics and obsessives. And when I picked the normal one, well I got bored of course after a couple of years.
All of the responsibility lays with me. The key is realising it and doing some about it. Not repeating patterns of behaviour and blaming others. And that to me, is the route of the Alanon programme. It's not about the other person. It's not about fixing or being fixed. It's about healing oneself.
In Alanon there is a huge strength to be found by seemingly wailing older women. It's quite extra-ordinary.
I have been to meetings and judged. The alcoholic ego raging against what I saw to a meeting sponsored by Saga. "How can all these old wailing women help me" I would think.
Well, when I stopped to listen I heard them finding their strength, their inner belief and a power that meant they didn't need to fix, to heal, to be healed anymore. I most definitely need that. In fact, if you really look hard you will see that most women are emotionally stronger than men. I have no doubts about that.
Anyway, back to the meeting. I got there around 2 minutes before the start. I hugged and kissed my Mum, wishing her "Good luck", scanned the room, saw 1 empty seat in the circle, rejected it and sat in a seat behind the circle of people.
It was as if that inner ego kicked in. I didn't want to join in. I didn't want to be 'one of them'. I went my own way and sat on my own at the back.
That is a metaphor for my life really. That's my struggle. I know I'm not alone. But there is still a large part of me, even though I am armed with the facts. Even though I am 12 years sober. Even though I have 3 sponsee's. Even though I am straight over to the struggling newcomer with my hand out. I am still reluctant to join in and give myself fully to this programme.
Weird isn't it?
I actually like a bit of drama. I like a bit of chaos. I like behaving badly. I like my defects. I like being a lone lone wolf sometimes. It feels comfortable separating myself.
But you know what, eventually it doesn't make me happy. It is an isolated, lonely place sometimes and ultimately leads to unhappiness. I see it in others and I see the happiness in others who have come through that. I know the way to go. It's the journey of getting there I find interesting. The alcoholic ego wants you separate, alone, isolated, cynical, sneering, rejecting new concepts. It wants you close minded. That's where the disease can run riot. An ideal breeding ground.
I guess that's why they say honesty, open mindedness and willingness. H.O.W!!! It's as applicable to me on year 12 as day 12. Sometimes I forget.
I am comforted by old timers like Archie and others who all tell me, 'it takes time'. 'Slowbroiety' 'Easy does it but do it anyway'. It's not a complicated disease, but it's a cunning one.
To the untrained eye, nobody would think, choosing to sit on your own away from the circle where the energy of healing is, is the disease in action. I didn't until just writing it now, but it is. A subtle form of it of course, but still chipping away telling me to do the opposite to the healing thing.
Fuck me, I didn't expect to uncover that when I started writing this blog today. I didn't really know where I was going to go with it if I'm honest.
I was going to write about the Carl Froch boxing bout last night. I was going to write about how awesome it was to see a huge domestic boxing match and how much I enjoyed the whole occasion and like Carl Froch's understated yet clinical skills.
I was also going to write how passing a girl in Richmond who had no bra on, a tight top and enormous erect nipples brightened up my day. It's a rare sight these days. Common in the 70's and 80's but always a thrill for a man. They were really perky and both saying to passers by 'Hi!!!'
But I didn't, instead I feel good about what came out of today's blog. It helped me if I'm honest. Made sense of my journey. I'm not going to hammer myself for it. Such themes and spiritual way of life has never come easy to me.
My early days were full of bile and hatred, so it's just a more subtle form of it. Makes senses to me. But I'm off to a meeting now. I've arranged to meet two newcomers at the 11am. One is a raging lunatic medical practitioner on 2 bottles of vodka a day and the other is a music producer who nearly killed himself 2 weeks ago.
You'd never think that if you spotted us in a coffee shop chain smoking cigarettes, drinking endless tea and roaring with laughter. I love lunatics. They make me feel I belong.
Together We Are Stronger
Nicholas E Evans
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