Thoughts On God...

 In a recent post, I wrote about "The Key to Happiness."

Personal morality is a concept I have thought about for some time. I often share these thoughts at a Monday night Recovery meeting that I regularly attend.

To recap: Every immoral act we commit, no matter how small, chips away at our self respect until we are one day left a self-loathing heap. Conversely, each moral act, no matter how small, builds our self-esteem and grows confidence and love for self and others - we build self-esteem through estimable acts.

This particular meeting is regularly attended by an ordained pastor who volunteers his time helping some of the guys at a local recovery house. He is a lovely man who has an honest love for the men in the program and for God.  The reason I bring him up is because every time I share my thoughts on "building self-esteem via estimable acts," this godly man is quick to add the footnote, "And remember, the most important reason to be good is because it pleases God." 

While I don't disagree with this sentiment, I do question its underlying motivation for morality - does God truly require our moral righteousness solely for the sake of His pleasure? 

I think back to my childhood and the relationship between my brother and I. We fought like caged wolverines on an electrified floor. My mother, bless her heart, despised our fisticuffs and wished for nothing more than her two boys to love each other and get along. For her sake, we did our best to keep from smashing one another in the face, but we lived a LONG way from loving each other and (truly) getting along.

So, if examined, yes, we managed to keep the peace and throw up the facade of harmony, which made our mother happy. But was that what she really wanted? Or would she have preferred that we honestly get along and love one another as brothers should? I don't think anyone would argue that she would have preferred the latter (as any mother would).

We are made in the image of God, so would His preferences be any different? Does God want us to be morally upright because it pleases him? Or does he prefer we do the right thing because it is the right thing to do? 

Yes, even the smallest act of virtue pleases God, and there is no fault with being good for the sake of pleasing Him, but His genuine satisfaction comes when we uphold moral standards through selfless acts of love for others, our brothers, with no strings, simply because it's "just the right thing to do." God wants us to do the right thing, not for Him, but for our brother, for the world, and because it makes us spiritually stronger. 

His pleasure is simply a guaranteed side effect.

As for me and my brother, we get along great now. He's an honorable man of god, an exemplary husband, and an incredible father... and once I got bigger than him, he became a great brother as well.

Self Medication

During my first six months of sobriety, I remember looking back on who I was a half-a-year prior and marveling at how far I had come. "Who was that guy?" I didn't recognize the person I had turned into while in my addiction.

So why did I drink?  It was the only thing that quieted the demons, silenced the voices, and shut off the noise.  

To be clear, there were no audible voices, nor did the family dog instruct me to kick-start a chainsaw while my family slept.  It was just... "noise."  More specifically: Emotional chaos that blared like a siren, constant and incredulous. The fear of being alone with my own thoughts scared the hell out of me and alcohol was the only thing that shut it all down.

It was a spiral of depression and self loathing. I couldn't look at my own reflection - if I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror or store window, I would look away. I was unable to face myself. Too ashamed. 

My self esteem was in the toilet. I would find myself repeating, "Guy is great... Guy is awesome... You rock.  Guy is a rockstar..." en sotto voce, over and over, to sooth myself into placation. I had to constantly reassure myself that I was not trash in order to keep moving forward.

But alcohol... Alcohol was the great emotional suppressor.  Problem was, the more I drank, the more I loathed myself, the more I loathed myself, the more depressed I became, the more depressed I became, the louder the emotional chaos. How to turn off that emotional chaos?  More alcohol.  

The process of overcoming the noise, without the aid of alcohol, was a difficult one. I knew I'd get there because I could remember a time, before I started drinking, when I lived without the noise. And as with all good things, it took a lot of time and practice to get back to level ground. Once I did, I knew I never wanted to go back to the bottom because I never wanted to have to climb out again.

My wife tells me it breaks her heart when she hears how low and desperate I had become in my disease.  

My answer: It wasn't me.

My Future Relapse

My wife and I were talking about a "Long-timer" (someone who has many years of sobriety) that I knew in AA who was diagnosed with terminal cancer. In order to deal with the pain, he started smoking pot. She wondered aloud why anyone would throw all that sobriety away after abstaining for so long. My response, "Hey, if I was dying from cancer, I'd smoke a bowl in a second!"

"You would??" she asked. 

"Yep. In fact, when we get old, if you die first and leave me alone, I'm gonna tell them to put me out on the front porch with a bottle of whisky and box of cigars and leave me to slide into eternity with a smile on my face."

"No!" she gasped. "I wouldn't want you to give up your sobriety because I'm gone!"

I laughed and explained to her that (for me) sobriety is not an "abstinence" issue, it's a "quality of life" issue. 

I once heard someone at the podium say, "If it wasn't for hangovers, I'd still be drinking!" No truer words have ever been spoken. I didn't quit drinking and smoking because my parents, my friends, or Jesus wanted me to... I quit because my life was MISERABLE. My alcoholism had lowered my quality of life to the point where I didn't want to continue living -- Had drinking improved my quality of life at all, I would still be drinking today. 

Fortunately, I have a lot to live for today. I have a beautiful marriage, to a beautiful woman, with a beautiful home, and beautiful family and friends. Today, I'm happier than I've ever been because I'm sober. I have so many things that I would not have if I were still in my addiction. Today, I'm sober because it improves my quality of life. Period. 

That said, the day may come when when time takes it all away. On that day, I may decide the only way I can continue on, the only thing that will improve my quality of life, will be found at the bottom of a bottle. 

I hope that day never comes, but if it does... bottoms up!

Death or Relapse

Today I turned 20.

Not 20 years old - 20 years sober.

20 years ago I hit bottom and dragged myself into my first AA meeting. Scariest thing I've ever done. 

I had always been able to quit drinking for "short spurts." Whenever I felt I had lost control, I would hang up the bottle for 30 days (Note: If you find yourself having to do this, just remember, normal drinkers, aka "normies" or "non alcoholics", have no need for such action... ever.). My logic was that if I could quit for a month, I could quit forever, therefore I wasn't an alcoholic (Another Note: if you think this is true of your drinking, you're already well into your addiction).

In June of 2003, I had the last of such attempts. The difference this time around: I couldn't do it. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't put the bottle down, even for one day. No more denial, I needed help.

I cracked open the phone book (we had internet, so I'm not sure why I grabbed the phone book) and found the number for the AA Hotline. The person on the other end informed me of a "New Comers" meeting that night, just a few miles from my home.

I'll never forget driving driving around the corner and seeing all the people crowded around the front door of the hall, engulfed in a plume of gray cigarette smoke. I didn't know you had to arrive early to save a seat, so I wound up in the back, in the section of the hall that the regulars affectionately referred to as "death row."

I don't remember much from that meeting. I remember it was hot - June in Southern California with no AC - it was crowded, and these people were strange. All I wanted to do was get out of there and climb back into a bottle.

The other thing I clearly remember were the chips -- 30 day chips to be specific. I'm sure people took 60, 90, and 6 month chips that night, but I don't recall those... I remember the 30 day chips. 

"I've done 30 days before," I thought. "If they can do it, I can do it."

Then I went home and promptly got drunk. 

But a funny thing happened for the first time in my drinking career -- It didn't work. That single meeting put just enough Program into my head to ruin my drinking! I was disgusted with myself. I had done the hardest thing in my life by walking into that meeting to ask for help and here I was, back where I started, with a bottle in my hand.

The next day, I went back to that AA Hall. The date was June 6 -- my sobriety date.

It's not been a perfect two decades. I've made a lot of mistakes and regrettable decisions. I've had to apologize over and over again for boneheaded plays both in and out of sobriety; shame has become a familiar foe on my winding journey through the minefield of life. 

If given the chance, would I want to go back and do it over? Correct those missteps? Nah, falling down is how we learn -- To erase my past mistakes would be to erase my current wisdom.

Yet, as I look back over the last two decades, it occurs to me that everyone who helped me in my early years, everyone who showed me how to stand on my new (wobbly) recovery legs, all the people who I looked up to as pillars of sobriety, with few exceptions, are all dead or relapsed. The names rush back to me... Cowboy Larry, Hotrod Dan, Old Man Dan, Keats, Réal, Brock, Clint, Gabe, Derek, Tom, etc. etc. etc.... those who were key to me in my early sobriety are all now absent from the rooms for one reason or another. Gone. Only the memories of them remain.

Not me. I'm here. 20 years. Who knew? Volumes could be written...

To quote Cat Stevens, "Look at me, I am old but I am happy."

Happy Birthday to me.