Tiny Buddha

Tag: alcohol

  • What Happened When I Stopped Drinking Alcohol Every Night

    What Happened When I Stopped Drinking Alcohol Every Night

    “First you take a drink, then the drink takes a drink, then the drink takes you.” ~F. Scott Fitzgerald

    I love Sophia Loren. There’s a picture of her in my home looking eternally youthful and refreshed. From what I’ve been told, it’s due to her nine to ten hours of sleep each night.

    When I look at this picture, I see someone who revels in the delights of life. Food, laughter, sex, work, motherhood, and self-care. Not long ago I stared at that picture thinking, “How could I admire someone so much and live my life in such a different way from hers?”

    Have you heard of the halo effect? It’s when you do the things you know are right for your body, mind, and spirit, and in doing so you begin to exude this powerfully beautiful and enticing energy others can’t get enough of. I now realize my relationship with the daily habit of alcohol was actually diminishing the glow of my halo. It was essentially stealing my joy, time, money, looks, well-being, and especially my slumber.

    Who knew that for so long my beauty sleep was being hijacked by alcohol!

    Puffy face, dark circles, dry mouth, red eyes, weight gain, and not to mention the headache, elevated heartbeat, anxiety… these are just a few of the lovely side effects I experienced with overindulging in the bottle.

    In trying to reduce overwhelm, I inadvertently was fueling it through interrupted sleep and the fuzzy feeling the following day. 

    Do I think alcohol is bad or that drinking is off-limits? No.

    I do know for myself that the daily two, sometimes three, glasses of wine took a toll. It stole any type of focus and motivation the next day to follow through on all the things I said I would accomplish the night before, basking in the embrace of my main squeeze, Mr. P (Pinot Noir, that is.)

    My relationship with alcohol was stealing my ability to step into the life I claimed to desire.

    I wanted to release weight.

    I wanted to make more money.

    I wanted to write my book.

    Until I released the hold Mr. P had on me, I knew deep down I would never come close to achieving any of those dreams.

    Every morning I wake up and ask myself three things:

    1. How do I want to feel today?
    2. What is one thing I can do to love myself today?
    3. What can I give to others today?

    My answer to #2 was often…

    “Drink more water.”

    “Start weight training.”

    “Let go of gluten.”

    The truth was the one true voice within was quietly and patiently saying day after day, “Take a break from alcohol.”

    I just wasn’t ready to listen.

    A phone call eventually prompted an experiment in courage.

    For ninety days I promised a friend I would join her on an alcohol reset. After I hung up that fateful Sunday, I went to the calendar to mark the ninetieth day. Immediately fear crept in with thoughts like “You’ve tried this before, and it didn’t work” and “You won’t even make it through tonight.”

    Fortunately, in that moment, something other than myself took over. It was as if I was whisked into something beyond my own comprehension, because the next 120 days flew by. In fact, after day twenty-one I stopped counting. I no longer was ticking off the calendar to when I could finally have a drink. Why? Probably because I knew in my heart the steady drip of wine each night was simply not serving me, my purpose, my body, or my pocketbook.

    Why was this time different? Because I looked at it as something I “got” to do rather than “had” to do. I viewed it as a gift rather than a cleanse.

    What is on the other side of a toxic relationship with alcohol? More than I could imagine. Every morning I wake up and think, “I am so lucky.” It’s as though I’ve captured more time in my day, and each moment holds a sense of sacredness.

    I’ve seen sunrises by candlelight, baked banana bread before bed, and gotten more done by 8am than I ever did after 5pm.

    I’ve finished a Netflix show without falling asleep… and actually remembered what I watched.

    I’ve released twenty pounds.

    I wake up hydrated.

    My skin seems to have reversed in time a la Benjamin Button.

    The list goes on and on.

    The other day my mother gave me a compliment that made me cry… in a good way.

    She said, “You know, it’s like your skin, your hair… you look like you used to look when you were younger.”

    For so long I was using wine to push down the unwanted feelings of anxiety and overwhelm. While I thought I was “taking the edge off,” I was actually making myself edgy!

    These days, I plan my fun based on how I want to feel the next morning. What I’ve discovered is that taking a break from happy hour can literally transform not only the other twenty-four hours of your day but your life as well.

    When you have enough energy and vitality to embrace the day, you start to find little miracles everywhere in the form of simple pleasures, a pleasant conversation with a friend, or a moment that might have sent you into a tailspin… but now you breathe through it with patience and grace.

    People often ask me, “Do you ever have a glass of wine… ever?”

    Probably every two weeks or so if I am being social (and socially distancing) with family or friends. Do I enjoy it? Yes and no. In fact, the few times I have had a glass or two, it no longer held any energy for me. It’s now a “take it or leave it” kind of thing.

    In fact, it’s as if moderation moves you toward abstinence.

    Why? Because I am no longer willing to sacrifice how good I feel the next morning for alcohol.

    I also revel in the reduction of anxiety! Why would I want to go back to something that was creating the exact experience that was causing me to emotionally suffer?

    Yes, there are people who can drink daily and function fine, and there are those who can’t drink at all. And then there are people like me who know alcohol isn’t the kind of friend they want to hang out with every day but perhaps in very small doses every so often.

    Drinking is marketed as sexy, elegant, and unifying.

    Is slurring your words sexy? Is stumbling out of a restaurant elegant? Is not remembering the conversation you had with a friend unifying?

    The reality for me was alcohol made me feel drained, grumpy, and even a wee bit nauseous. How you feel is creating your day and, in essence, your life. So, if you feel cluttered and haphazard waking up, you are creating a cluttered and haphazard day. 

    I used to wake up and run to the kitchen. Waiting for me was the one thing that would decide if I needed to beat myself up or pat myself on the back. Like the scale, the opened bottle of wine oftentimes determined if I was “good” or “bad” the previous day.

    Only one-fourth of the bottle left? Bad girl!

    Three-quarters left? Good girl!

    So much time, energy, and thinking put into the act of drinking!

    In the end, bedtime is the best of all.

    Four hours of alcohol-free sleep is WAY more rejuvenating than nine hours of alcohol-infused sleep. Waking up feeling your body buzzing (in a good way!) is the best high of all.

    If your inner voice is asking for a break, maybe it’s time to listen.

    Sweet dreams.

  • How to Befriend Our Unhealthy Survival Mechanisms

    How to Befriend Our Unhealthy Survival Mechanisms

    “Wounded children have a rage, a sense of failed justice that burns in their souls. What do they do with that rage? Since they would never harm another, they turn that rage inward. They become the target of their own rage.” ~Woody Haiken

    Survival mechanisms are ways of being that we picked up along the way to help us cope with what was happening in our reality.

    Getting mad at ourselves for doing what we do only promotes self-hate. We’re not bad or wrong; in fact, we’re pretty damn intelligent. We found ways to help us soothe our traumas, hurt, and pain and perhaps get love and attention. That’s pretty intelligent, wouldn’t you say?

    I should just stop eating so much, drinking alcohol, smoking, exhausting myself through compulsive exercise, being busy, procrastinating, people-pleasing, etc. Easy peasy—just stop, right? Not when we have an “internal fight.”

    What do I mean? Part of us believes it needs to do these things in order to feel safe or be loved and accepted by others. That’s why they’re called “survival mechanisms.” That part of us doesn’t understand logic and reason; it understands emotions and feelings.

    It has a need to be loved and feel protected and safe, and it uses these things to get these needs met. Letting go is like jumping out of an airplane without a parachute. Pretty damn scary, eh?

    That’s what happens internally: the fear of letting go consumes us, and most often appears as an anxious feeling; then we pick up our survival mechanism again to soothe that feeling. It’s like running on a hamster wheel but not really getting anywhere.

    When I was little, I used food to cope with the environment I was living in. I was constantly told I was bad and wrong, and food helped soothe my feelings of insecurity. It actually became an obsession and the only thing I cared about.

    My whole focus in life became how I could get food to comfort me. I was teased for being fat from the popular girls, and I heard it at home from my father calling me “fatty, fatty two by four.”

    I didn’t know what was going on at the time; all I knew was that eating was all I wanted to do. Then, when I was thirteen, my doctor told me to go on a diet, and at age fifteen I entered my first hospital for anorexia.

    For the next twenty-three years of my life, anorexia, my coping mechanism, became the only thing I cared about, and I also had sub-symptoms like anxiety, cutting, and depression.

    I was existing but not living. My days and nights were consumed by trying to cope with life through eating and exercise. What a life, eh?

    I thought I was protecting myself, but really, I was living in a prison; I was the prison guard and the prisoner of my own creation. But I couldn’t stop; it was like this ‘thing’ had a hold on me.

    I cried and cried for it to go away, but it took control of my life every day. I wanted someone to save me from this thing, but the more I tried to let go, the more it had a hold.

    Even after twenty-three years of therapy and hospitals and treatment centers, it was still my savior.

    So, how did it finally let go? I took my healing into my own hands. I was determined to experience happiness, love, and inner peace.

    This was a process, not an overnight fix, but I started healing the unresolved issues that caused me to not feel safe, understanding my survival mechanisms’ purpose for me, and loving and accepting myself unconditionally. By doing so, the anorexia, anxiety, cutting, and depression no longer needed my attention, and I released those symptoms. 

    You see, that thing that had a hold on me, it was really my friend; it was my protector, and it worked until it no longer did. So instead of trying to get rid of it, I integrated it. Now it didn’t need to pick up another survival mechanism; instead, we became loving friends.

    Unhealthy coping mechanisms don’t free us; they’re just a way to numb our trauma, hurt, and pain, but they also keep us from truly living.

    By understanding what we’re trying to cope with instead of running or numbing, we’re able to see what we really need, get those needs met, and experience inner peace. This is called loving re-parenting. Because that’s what loving parenting looks like: offering kindness, understanding, compassion, and caring instead of judgment, criticism, and abandonment.

    Trying to get rid of a symptom—like overeating, cutting, or smoking—is fighting against our own biology. By making peace with it, by listening with compassion and understanding, we can help that part of ourselves get its needs met, and most often the symptom naturally goes away.

    This is how I’ve been able to free myself from the symptoms that had a hold on me, and here’s a way for you to get started today, if this resonates.

    1. Move into acceptance of who you are and what you’re experiencing. Replace judgment with compassion, knowing that you’re doing the best you can with what you know today, and you’re learning and growing as you go.

    2. Take a deep breath, close your eyes, and imagine you’re talking with your unhealthy survival mechanism.

    3. Ask it, “Why are you here? What’s your purpose?”

    4. Ask it what it needs so it no longer has to get your attention through the symptoms you’re having.

    For example, the part of you that’s binge eating may let you know it needs a safe place to process and express your feelings, somewhere that you’re seen, heard, loved, and accepted unconditionally. It may also let you know that it’s time to learn how to set healthy boundaries.

    Or the part of you that’s experiencing depression may let you know that it’s tired of trying so hard to meet other people‘s expectations of how you should be, and it’s time for you to honor yourself and find ways to get your needs met so you don’t feel so powerless.

    For any “symptom,” it may also be helpful to understand secondary gain. Ask yourself, “How is being this way getting me love, attention, and someone to take care of me so I don’t have to take personal responsibility or fail as a human being?”

    5. Find ways to get your needs met. Tell yourself, “I give myself permission to take loving care of myself and do good things for my body and health. I am loved. I am safe.”

    6. Practice consciousness, which is becoming aware of our thoughts, feelings, and actions. This allows us to see what’s really going on internally that may be asking for compassion, love, healing, and a new understanding.

    When we ask ourselves, “Why am I thinking, feeling, and acting this way?” we may become aware of core beliefs like “I’m unlovable” or “I’m unworthy.” It’s because of these core beliefs that we’re feeling, thinking, acting, and perceiving the ways we are. Of course we’d treat ourselves badly if we believe we’re fundamentally bad.

    When we understand what the driver really is, we can start healing the childhood wounds that created those beliefs and then shift how we see ourselves. By doing so, we naturally start to think, feel, and act differently.

    —

    This is a process, and it’s different for everybody. The key is to be compassionate and loving with whatever you’re experiencing and to remember that there’s nothing wrong with you. Even if you’re experiencing “symptoms” that seem unacceptable to society, the truth is you’re a beautiful, valuable, lovable being who deserves to heal and is worthy of a wonderful and fulfilling life journey.

  • How to Love an Addict (Who Doesn’t Love Themselves)

    How to Love an Addict (Who Doesn’t Love Themselves)

    I grew up in a family of high-functioning addicts. We looked like the perfect family, but as we all know, looks can be deceiving. No one was addicted to drugs, so that obviously meant that we had no problems. Cigarettes, alcohol, food, and work don’t count, right?

    I have come to realize that what we are addicted to is nowhere near as important as the admission that we’re addicted to something. When we try to make ourselves feel better by telling ourselves that gambling or porn or beer is nowhere near as bad as crack or heroin, we are merely lying to ourselves. In the recovery movement, we call this denial.

    Denial was the foundation my life was built on. We did not speak of my grandfather’s abusive behavior and alcoholism. We did not question my grandmother’s chain-smoking habit. We did not mention my other grandfather’s drunken falls and injuries. We never tried to help my aunt who was eating anything she could get her hands on. No one questioned the countless hours my father spent working.

    There were so many things we just never talked about. There were so many things that were secrets. Things I had to hide. The unspoken family rule.

    I loved my family members. I still do. They were good people. They tried really hard. They just didn’t know how to look after themselves, to value themselves, to love themselves.

    They did the best they could under the circumstances and with the lack of awareness, information, and support at the time, and I don’t think it’s ever fair to judge that from the outside.

    I have gone through my stages of anger, judgment, and resentment and come out the other side. All that is left is sadness and love.

    I loved my family members. I loved them so much and all I ever wanted, even as a little girl, was for them to be happy.

    I wanted my granddad to not drink come 4pm so he would stay the lovely man that he was. I didn’t want to see him shout and cry and fall over. I didn’t want to be scared like that and watch my grandmother cry while helping him up and cleaning away the blood. He was a good man, but he had seen the worst of World War II and I don’t think he ever recovered from that.

    Maybe he would have been an alcoholic without those experiences; I will never know, and it really doesn’t matter because he was not just that.

    He was kind and generous. He played with me and made me laugh. He cuddled me in bed and told me story after story. We had so much fun together. Remembering those happy times will warm my heart for the rest of my life. I will be forever grateful for those happy memories and the time I had with him. I guess that he is the first addict I ever loved.

    My grandmother was the kindest person I have ever met. In my eyes, she couldn’t have been any more perfect. I wish that she had lived longer so that I could have had the opportunity to get to know her as an adult.

    What would I have seen? Would I have seen a woman who didn’t set any boundaries? Would I have seen someone who gave and gave without ever really getting anything back? I don’t know. I cannot say. But she was definitely the love of my life. And maybe that’s because she might have been codependent and treated me like a little princess, or maybe it is that she was just one of the kindest people the world has ever seen. It might even be both.

    It doesn’t matter who it was and what they were addicted to, I loved them. I truly loved them. I loved them then and I love them now even though they are no longer alive and haven’t been for decades.

    Addiction may change how they behaved at times, but it didn’t change the essence of them. And that’s what I have always loved. It doesn’t mean that I was blind to everything that was wrong. It doesn’t mean that I didn’t sense that something was terribly wrong.

    Today, I love the addicts in my life from a greater distance. The pain of loving someone who doesn’t love themselves is too much to bear. We speak and we care, but there is an emotional depth we can never reach. A depth I craved then and I depth I will crave if I let myself forget who I am loving.

    Because that’s what I found to be my solution for maintaining relationships with people I love but who struggle to love themselves:

    I can love them, but I can only do so by accepting that there is an emotional distance I will never be able to bridge. I have to accept that the closeness I seek, I can never get. I may get a hint of it every now and then, but I can no longer allow myself to be lured into wishing and hoping that things will change how I want them to change.

    I can love them and I can hold space for them, but I cannot change them. What I can do is remove my expectations and hopes and dreams for them and their relationship with me by accepting the reality of our situation.

    This gives me freedom. It gives me freedom to love them while being true to myself and honest about my feelings.

    It allows me to enjoy the contact and connection that exists while having healthy boundaries in place that protect me from sacrificing my own well-being and peace of mind in a misguided attempt to save them from themselves. It is that separation that finally allows us to connect.

    It gives us space to respect our struggles and each other as individuals. As long as I failed to see that, I tried to change them, and that’s what stopped us from connecting.

    And so. learning that I cannot change another person and that only they have the power to do so, opened me up to actually being able to love them.

    I also learned that I cannot love another person into loving themselves. I used to believe that meant that my love wasn’t good enough—that I wasn’t enough—but I now know that the love they needed and the love they sought was the one that only comes from within.

    Because if my love could have saved them, it would have. I loved them that much.

    But love that comes from the outside needs to be able to connect with the love that’s on the inside, and that love, they just hadn’t connected with.

    That love they never found during their lifetime.

    And so, they couldn’t teach it to anyone else either. No one knew about it, and everyone just coped with their pain in the only way they knew how to.

    I wanted them to look after themselves and be happy so very much. I wanted them to be healthy for me. I wanted them to stay alive for me. I didn’t understand that I couldn’t save them. I didn’t really comprehend that part for most of my life, which paradoxically has cost me a lot of my life.

    I know the yearning and the craving. The wishful thinking. The rollercoaster of hope and crestfallen disappointment. The believing in them and cheering them on only to watch them fall again.

    But I was always on the outside. It was never in my control. It never really had anything to do with me or meant anything about me.

    I just happened to be born into my family and love them.

    For most of my life I wondered if I did really love them or if I just loved what they did for me, but I can now say with absolute certainty that I loved them.

    The things I loved doing with them, I haven’t done in decades and yet the love is still as strong as ever. As is the gratitude.

    I am grateful for the kindness they’ve shown me and the lessons they’ve taught me. I am grateful for their perseverance and their endurance. I am grateful for the thousand things they were, because they were more than addicts.

    They had dreams and aspirations when youth was on their side. They had things they liked and favorite clothes they wore. They had friends and social lives. They danced and they had fun. They kissed and made up. They tried really hard to be the best people they could be, and how could anyone ever say that that wasn’t good enough?

    They never did anything to intentionally purposefully hurt or harm anyone because they were good people. Good people who never hurt or harmed anyone but themselves. And witnessing that was painful. Knowing that that is what happened and continues to happen is still painful.

    It is a reality I wish wasn’t true. If there was something I could do to change that, I would. But I know I can’t. And that is the reason why I can love the addicts in my life.

    When I thought that I could change them or save them, I couldn’t love them. Love accepts people as they are. It does not seek to change someone so they fit in with your idea of them. Love is inherently respectful. Trying to change someone isn’t.

    I could never really control them or their substances, and I have lived with the panic of not being able to. But I have made friends with it. I now know how to soothe myself and in that way, I take care of myself. I have achieved what they never could.

    I cannot control what my addicts do to themselves. I cannot control the choices they make. But I can control my choices.

    And I choose health, growth, and love. I will not continue the family heirloom of addiction and self-abandonment.

    Instead, I have learned to love in healthy ways. And that includes me. I have learned to take care of myself and dare I say it, like myself. But I couldn’t have done it if it wasn’t for my family.

    While they provided me with my challenges and relational struggles, they also provided me with kindness, love, and strength. For some reason, they managed to love me enough to let know that there is another way of  being because that is what has kept me going.

    I always knew there was something wrong. I just didn’t know what it was. And I also always knew that there was a better life out there, and I was right. I just wish that my addicts could have also had that experience. I wish we could have had it together, and I don’t think that I will ever stop wishing that.

    But I accept the reality that is and I will continue to do for myself what they could not do for themselves so my children will not share the struggles of the past. I focus on what I can control, and I take full responsibility for my own life. I look after myself how I wish they had looked after themselves. I do it for me. I do it for my children. And I do it to honor them.

    Because I know that they would want for me what I wanted for them. The difference is that I am able to give it to them. And I do so with all my love.

  • How I Stopped Chasing Highs and Self-Destructing

    How I Stopped Chasing Highs and Self-Destructing

    “Problems cannot be solved with the same mind set that created them.” ~Albert Einstein

    In our culture, it’s pretty common to think of rock ‘n’ roll hedonism a little wistfully. From Keith Richards to Hunter S. Thompson, the wild nights and strung-out days of the world’s most iconic party animals are seen as integral to their sparkling creativity, rebellious nature, and untouchable glamour.

    So many people, especially if they want to make it in the creative industries, idealize and inevitably attempt to mimic these lifestyles. Whether they want to be a “work hard, play hard” music producer, channel Hemingway as a bar-frequenting writer, or fulfill the image of free-spirited artist, artificial highs come with the territory.

    When I was in my twenties, I fell for this concept hook, line, and sinker. I was working in the music industry and quickly cemented my image as the consummate party boy. Up for any new experience and the person you came to for a good night out, to an outside observer, it would seem that I was having the time of my life.

    However, after the months turned into years of living this way, it became clear that all those hard-drinking, pill-popping creatives have produced their canon of work in spite of their lifestyles, not because of them.

    When you hear the amazing tales of fun and debauchery, you don’t see the crashing hangover the next day, or the sense of hopelessness and despair that comes with being trapped in yet another comedown, while life refuses to move forward.

    I was relying on various kinds of chemical highs to hide the fact that in every other part of my life, I was stressed and strained to breaking point.

    Plagued by chronic insomnia, I hadn’t had a good night’s sleep for years. But within my industry, this pleasure-seeking and self-destructive behavior felt normalized, because that’s how most people behaved.

    Instead of living the dream, I felt trapped in an endless cycle of stress and anxiety. Letting my hair down one too many times a week was a shortcut to feeling okay—at least for one evening.

    The fact is that this kind of hedonism doesn’t make us feel better in any meaningful long-term sense. It’s a distraction. It’s a way for us to temporarily feel good, and potentially open us up to interesting experiences—but the highs never last. In fact, I spent much of my twenties feeling utterly drained, with no time or inclination to nurture anything truly worthwhile.

    There’s an idea that all this “stay up all night, work all day” overindulgence is fine, or even laudable. That’s until the day when we step over the shadowy and undefined line into addiction, and our behavior is suddenly viewed as embarrassing and shameful.

    I never came close to this point; in fact, to some of my peers and colleagues, it would have been far weirder and more uncomfortable socially if I were teetotal. But my lifestyle was still undeniably self-destructive.

    My own health and well-being fell behind every other consideration, especially my career. Whether it was taking a second job and running myself into the ground in order to keep it all going, or staying up all night at events before getting up for another day of work, it simply didn’t end.

    It was when I found myself completely exhausted, yet entirely unable to sleep at 2am on my ex-girlfriend’s couch—thinking of nothing but how my life was going nowhere, and convinced that there was no point left—that I realized things had to change.

    Moving Away from Hedonism

    I walked for hours that night, feeling like I was at the bottom of a pit full of regret, fear, and bitterness. But the simple action of getting up, getting out, and allowing myself to feel these emotions rather than mask them with my busy non-stop lifestyle was one of the first positive actions I’d taken for months.

    It was a dark time, and I still used partying to numb myself to the realities of my life, but a chink of light had been let in. My friends could see I was in trouble, and after they whisked me away for the week, I decided to remove myself from the life I’d created and go to South America for a few months.

    I got lucky in the fact that a big record deal finally paid me enough to extricate myself from the music business, but it was a shift in thinking that made me want to do this in the first place.

    I learned that when something isn’t working, we can’t be afraid to let it go. Being a success in the music industry was my dream, but I had to acknowledge that this wasn’t a healthy or enjoyable part of my life anymore.

    The realization had landed that we need something more meaningful and fulfilling to enjoy our lives than a series of fleeting and artificial highs.

    It became ever clearer that success didn’t equate to working all hours and pursuing a unsustainable lifestyle in order to make a broken and inadequate “Plan A” work. I had to figure out why exactly I had chosen to pursue such self-destructive behaviours, and get to the root cause.

    Seeing Clearly and Moving Forward

    With far less hedonism and hard work to hide my issues, solving my anxiety-induced chronic insomnia became a priority. However, like many people I found myself focusing on the symptoms of my problems, completely unaware of and failing to tackle their hidden source.

    I tried herbal sleeping tablets, but was instinctively reluctant to try anything pharmaceutical (which was interesting, considering I’d been so willing to take any number of illegal substances in order to have a good time).

    Ear plugs and eye masks made no difference, and it was apparent that, as with my hedonistic life choices, I was simply skimming along the surface of things rather than looking deeper. It was as if there was a patch missing from the roof of my house, and instead of going up and fixing it, I was putting up a leaky umbrella each time it rained.

    It was only the chance recommendation from a friend of a friend that led me to Vedic meditation—the technique that changed my life. After my first lesson I slept soundly for the first time in years, and within a few weeks my insomnia had eased entirely.

    It was through meditation that I learned about a different kind of hedonism. Years later, I have left my partying days far behind, but live a far more vibrant, creative, and enjoyable life. By swapping late nights for bird song and record deals for teaching, I moved away from self-destruction, and toward self-growth.

    Of course, this took a long road of self-discovery (which isn’t over yet!). But I feel there are some pointers which can help people if they’ve found themselves trapped into a similar situation to mine.

    Here are three ways to move on from self-destructive behavior.

     1. Allow yourself to learn from the lows.

    It’s all too easy, after enduring the depths of a hangover all through Sunday and a drawn-out week at work, to get to Friday night and think the answer to all that sadness and frustration is another night of overindulgence.

    I’m not saying this is easy, but instead of relying on your usual route to a good time, make yourself sit with your feelings. Without the (ultimately counterproductive) balm of alcohol and other such substances, you will start to see things as they really are, and work out if there’s anything that needs to change.

    2. Switch up your routine and break the cycle.

    Getting away from my life in London was a key part of breaking the bad habits that had me repeatedly making bad choices, which did nothing but make me feel worse (as the saying goes, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result).

    It could be something as simple as suggesting to your usual drinking buddies that you try a different, sober activity on a Sunday night, or catching up with friends you haven’t seen in a while rather than sticking with the same crowd.

    The important thing is to show yourself the possibility of a different kind of lifestyle, and to build confidence in the fact that you can manage without your usual self-destructive coping mechanisms.

    3. Think about what’s driving your behavior and address the root cause.

    Hopefully, by taking a step back, you’ll be able to see what compels you to work too hard, party too hard, or indulge in your particular vice (for some people, this could even be over-exercising and obsessing about health).

    Perhaps you are a high achiever and have worried yourself into chronic stress and anxiety. Maybe you have low self-esteem, and don’t believe you are worth looking after. Whatever it is, once you are aware of your motivations it is much easier to address them.

    For me, the key to becoming a much happier person was meditation, and I thoroughly recommend it in all its various forms. But you may find that it is therapy which helps you most, or simply practicing gratitude. Even the most basic act of keeping a journal each day could make the difference.

    Whichever proves to be the most beneficial thing for you, the important thing is dedicating some time to your own self-care. By acknowledging your problems, you give yourself the best chance to fix them.

  • Loving Yourself Through Addiction and Relapse: Be Patient with the Process

    Loving Yourself Through Addiction and Relapse: Be Patient with the Process

    “The greatest glory in living lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.” ~Nelson Mandela

    It’s a cold winter day. As I plunge my hand down into the wax paper bag, I fully expect to find another bite or two. But, alas, there are only crumbs.

    A distinct wave of sadness shoots through my heart. The chocolate scone is gone. And I don’t even remember eating it.

    It is in this moment that I wake up. I quickly shake my head from side to side, as if rousing myself from a long night of troubled dreams.

    What have I just done? What about the vow I’ve made to myself, again and again?

    For years I have known that the best thing for my body’s healing process is to eat fresh, whole, organic foods (lots of leafy greens, fruits, and nuts!) and to avoid ingredients that overstimulate my endocrine and nervous systems, such as sugar and wheat flour.

    And yet, today, here I am again. Eating some stupid, cheap scone I picked up on impulse at the local bakery. Full of who-knows-what ingredients.

    Here I am again. Ignoring my own wisdom. Falling back into the food addiction that has plagued me since childhood.

    Today I have lost control.

    I pull my car over into a parking lot. (Yes, I have been mindlessly scarfing that darned scone while driving!) I take a deep breath.

    Now is definitely the time for some self-love.

    Addiction is a Dirty Band-Aid 

    Whether you struggle with a food addiction like I do or you deal with drug or alcohol addiction, every addiction is the same. An addiction is a loss of control over one’s behavior.

    Our addictive behaviors don’t just randomly happen for no reason. They are a symptom of a deeper issue.

    Why do we get addicted?

    That scone or that cocktail or that cigarette brings about a temporary cessation of suffering. They block sadness, tension, fear, pain, boredom, and anger. They numb any and all negative emotions.

    To put it simply, an addiction is a coping mechanism. It allows us to trudge onward in life, but without really looking toward the deeper issues.

    An addiction may be a short-lived, temporary cure for the pain—but, as we all know, it’s not a long-term solution.

    Running to our addiction is like slapping a Band-Aid on the wound—a Band-Aid that is dirty. Over time, the wound gets infected with the dirt and grime, and it worsens rather than heals.

    The Addiction is Not the Problem

    Here’s the thing about addiction, dear friends: The addiction is not really the problem. The addiction is the glaring symptom.

    If we can look deeper than the symptom and see the situation from a holistic point of view, then we may begin to bring about a resolution to much of the suffering in our lives.

    So, what is the deeper issue? What lies at the root of addiction?

    Ultimately, all addiction—no matter the type or the severity—stems from a lack of connection. When we feel disconnected from other people, from our society, from our deepest hopes and dreams, and from a sense of love, then this disconnection brings about powerful emotions. These emotions hurt, and so we run to the seeming solace of the addiction.

    The addiction may seem, on the surface, as if it’s the problem, but actually it’s not. The addiction is, in reality, a helpful pointer, showing us that there’s some internal healing we need to do.

    The wonderful thing about addiction is that it is a powerful red STOP sign. It screams loudly: “Look! There’s a problem!”

    Addictions help us get in touch with our inner self. Just like a cough helps us connect with the needs of our lungs (do I need fresh air? do I need more exercise? do I need to take certain herbs?), an addiction helps us get in touch with the needs of our heart.

    Our heart is the seat of all emotion. Our heart is where feelings arise, are felt, and then released.

    When we feel a lack of connection and love, we do not feel safe. We do not feel safe enough to explore the many emotions that can arise as a human being in our daily lives.

    When we feel disconnected, negative emotions can feel overwhelming and scary. This is particularly true for those with abuse or trauma in their life history.

    The addictive behavior is a misguided attempt to self-soothe. We believe that if we eat that scone or we drink that beer, then those scary emotions will stop and we will somehow be safe, somehow feel connected again.

    But we all know that doesn’t work. What ends up happening is that, once the temporary high wears off, we are left feeling crappier than ever.

    The addiction is not the problem. The problem, rather, is the false perception that there is no love, no connection.

    Rising from Bottom

    The cliché of the “rock bottom” is a cliché because it’s true. Most addicts eventually experience it.

    Rock bottom looks different for everyone. It will have varying levels of intensity and consequences.

    For some, the bottom is drastic: a suicide attempt, an illness, or a hospitalization. For some, it will simply be a very sad day when they realize that the time has come to change.

    This time of rock bottom is the moment when we begin to wake up. It’s the time when the healing can truly begin.

    For me, my rock bottom with food addiction came when my body had disintegrated nearly to the point of death.

    I was on my perhaps my tenth round of antibiotics that year and having a severe allergic reaction to the medication. Delusional with a high fever, unable to lift myself from bed and barely able to call for help, I realized I probably would not live much longer if I did not change just about everything in my life. Shortly after, I began to explore the world of alternative medicine and began to clean up my diet.

    We can think of this rock bottom—this intense realization that things need to shift—as the bottom of a spiral. This spiral begins at ground zero, and it moves upward through time.

    As the days, weeks, and months pass, and we dedicate ourselves to a new way of being, we will have various challenges that arise. We will learn and grow and allow our emotions to be felt, rather than running from them. We will heal old wounds from childhood that have been lurking for many years.

    Over time, with patience, we will be slowly shifting our perspective. We will become a new and better version. We will be moving from contracted perceptions of disconnection, lack, and fear, into expanded perspectives of connection, abundance, and love.

    Through the adoption of various healing practices such as meditation, support groups, therapy, prayer, Reiki, or exercise, we come into greater harmony within ourselves. We learn to love ourselves.

    Relapses and the Spiral of Evolution

    In my struggle with addiction (not just with food, but with many other substances over the years), I have realized I am grateful to addiction. Addiction has played a very powerful role in my spiritual evolution.

    Addiction is a powerful point of change. It is a journey inward. It the journey of becoming aware and conscious.

    As we humans make this journey, and break the cycles of addiction, it’s so important to remember that change is not linear and it’s often not easy. Relapses happen.

    The spiral analogy can be helpful. If we imagine that we are travelling upwards in consciousness, to greater and greater levels of joy, power, and self-awareness, then we can avoid traps of self-blame when we do occasionally relapse.

    That day when I woke up to find scone crumbs on my lap was a challenging day indeed. I’d just had a disagreement with my roommate and was struggling with money issues. When I stopped at the bakery that day, intent on buying some tea, those scones whispered sweet love songs to me and I could not find the willpower to resist.

    In that relapse, I temporarily lost sight of my own truth: That I want to avoid sugar and wheat flour in order to heal my body.

    In that relapse, I was returning to the particular side of the spiral that was so known and comfortable: running to unhealthy food for comfort.

    And yet, even though I had returned to that old familiar side of the spiral, I actually experienced this relapse from a greater height! In other words, in this relapse, I was able to more quickly move past it and get back to my own power.

    It took just a few minutes and I forgave myself and moved into self-acceptance. I did not beat myself up.

    In that cold car on that cold winter day, I placed my hands on my heart, and whispered some words of love and reassurance to myself. In the past, in the beginning of my healing journey with food, I might have added a cookie or a brownie on top of the scone, as a way to escape the terrible emotions of self-judgment and guilt. But—this time I didn’t! 

    Love Yourself and Heal 

    A relapse is nothing to be ashamed of. It happens.

    If you or someone you love has been healing a pattern of addiction, please know that patience is key.

    The spiral of evolution will bring you situations that will test your courage and self-awareness. Sometimes you will succumb. And that’s okay!

    If you wake up and suddenly find yourself acting in a way that you know is not your highest good, then congratulate yourself for waking up. Take stock of your long-term changes and pat yourself on the back for coming this far.

    Notice how you can more quickly bounce back from the relapse, with greater levels of patience and self-love. Notice how awesome you are!

    Ultimately, the journey of addiction recovery is a journey of healing. And it’s a journey all humans go through, as we refine to greater and greater levels what it means to love and care for ourselves.

  • How and Why I Stopped Binge Drinking

    How and Why I Stopped Binge Drinking

    “Good habits are hard to form and easy to live with. Bad habits are easy to form and hard to live with. Pay attention. Be aware. If we don’t consciously form good ones, we will unconsciously form bad ones.” ~Mark Matteson

    I am an extreme person. I have always done things at 100%. I worked my hardest in high school in order to attend the best college so that I could attend the best graduate program so that I could get the best job earning the most money. I not only went to these institutions, I did very well at them.

    I was also very into powerlifting and bodybuilding—two sports that take extreme amounts of dedication, determination, discipline, and desire.

    This fiend-like mentality was fueled by my desire to please my parents. I lived for my parents, always pushing myself to meet or exceed their expectations. I was a people pleaser.

    My negative cycle started when I was quite young. I remember being in middle school and beginning to be concerned about my weight and body image. This was probably spurred by prior memories of being picked on as early as grade school.

    In middle school, the perfect storm for pain began to emerge. I realized that I could do something about my weight, so I started to lift weights and run—a lot. What I also did a lot of was eating compulsively. This was exacerbated by a rough divorce between my parents, not to mention that late middle to early high school is a time of trial and tribulation for anyone.

    Through high school, I would work out like a soldier, restrict my calories, and then binge. Sometimes I would eat until I could not move. This often happened at night, so I could not sleep either. Then I wouldn’t eat for a day or two to overcompensate.

    Heading off to college marked another morphing of this cycle. I was getting serious about competitive powerlifting and bodybuilding. I became meticulous about what I ate. I would weigh every single piece of food on a scale and then track the macronutrients (amount of fats, carbs, and proteins in grams) in an excel spreadsheet. I even became the president of the weightlifting club.

    I remember not having more than a sampler of beer on my twenty-first birthday because I didn’t want to go over my macros. It went on like this all through college.

    During my early months at college, I was so dedicated to weightlifting that I would go to parties and not drink. I can remember people getting uncomfortable around me because of this. At this point in my life, I did not understand that this was their insecurity to deal with. So I let it make me feel awkward and eventually began drinking more and more often.

    At first, I had it under control. I wouldn’t drink during the week, or for two weeks before any major exams. But when I drank, I drank a lot.

    My pattern continued through most of graduate school. There were a few times when I didn’t drink for a month or two, but usually, it was an every weekend thing. The binge eating and binge exercising continued through this time as well. I would either go for a very long bike ride and then eat everything in sight, or do the opposite.

    I consider a time early in graduate school as the beginning of my “spiritual awakening.” I had times of intense consciousness and presence. There were also very harsh periods of loneliness and depression. The cycle of getting anxious, getting depressed, and uncorking continued until graduation.

    After a short hiatus, I took a job at a startup company near where I attended graduate school. At first, the old pattern returned similarly. Once things got stressful, my cycle morphed.

    There started to be times of excessive drinking during the week. After a long day of twelve to fourteen hours with a team consisting of my boss and myself, how else was I to escape?

    I would also binge eat and then fast afterward since I didn’t have the time to do extended bike rides. This was just another way to eat everything in sight and then compensate to prevent weight gain.

    During this time in my life, my mindfulness practice was nearly non-existent. There were long periods of anger and frustration. This all continued until I realized that this job was a dead end, got fed up, and quit.

    While unemployed, I drank heavily on the weekends, which often led me to sleep most of every Monday away. I continued drinking my weekends away after I found a new job and then added a couple weeknights of drinking. Eventually, I was drinking almost every day and was still binge drinking on the weekends. Something had to give.

    Reasons for the Cycle

    My mind has always been fertile, with lots of thoughts, ideas, and emotions, which can be very overwhelming at times.

    Additionally, I had never dealt with personal issues or traumas that I had experienced, such as my lack of self-love, low self-esteem, or the anger and resentment that I had toward others who had what I thought that I did not. When those emotions came up, I would spend long periods of time not truly in the present moment.

    By overusing caffeine, I limited my creativity and capacity to think. I was often out of the moment and caught up in a chaotic mental chatter. I would get a boost of productivity with the first cup or two of coffee, and then it was a downward slide after that. I would often end up at the point of paralyzing myself with anxiety about deadlines and things that I could not control.

    Alcohol came in to dull this stress that had built up all week. This also suppressed any emotions that I had been feeling, including social anxiety.

    Drinking created countless problems. I often slipped into a sporadic, impulsive, and undisciplined lifestyle. I noticed my short-term memory was fading. I tended toward binge eating, especially while drinking or hungover. I stayed up late, throwing off my schedule. Massive schedule swings left me tired, unproductive, and uncreative. Alcohol also limits real human connection, leaving new relationships superficial.

    I genuinely feared approaching women in a social setting since I’d been rejected many times before. I feared embarrassment or the awkward moments. So instead of showing them the deep, rich, and intellectual me, they had to experience the alcohol-induced, animal side of my brain and all things that go with that. I am embarrassed to write this, but that is what alcohol does when consumed in excess.

    I also justified my behavior by only drinking on the weekends. I recognized some time ago that binging every weekend was taking me until Wednesday to feel normal again and that something might be wrong with that. But it was not until recently that I became driven to do something about it.

    This cycle that I speak of comes in an infinite number of varieties. My cycle revolves around alcohol and food. The root is a lack of self-love and general discontent with my mental construct of reality. A cycle can show up as any addiction.

    For me, going through such a perpetual cycle came from many things. I had to surface those and realize them with extreme presence and awareness. Mindfulness is a healthy way to deal with the stress and anxiety; alcohol is not.

    Ending the Cycle

    I got to a point where I thought enough was enough. I had big goals, and this type of lifestyle was not supporting those goals. So I decided to stop, cold turkey, or so I thought.

    I ended up quitting for about a month. I reduced my caffeine intake and didn’t drink at all. My energy went up, and I was feeling very balanced and grounded. This new pattern did not last long.

    I ended up slipping back into the cycle. This made me realize that this would be tougher than it may have seemed. This setback reinforced how poorly I feel and how much money I waste when I am in that cycle. It was a stark reminder how easy it is to create embarrassing situations while intoxicated.

    I now focus on the fact that we must have infinite patience with ourselves. There is no need for negative, self-defeating self-talk.

    I have recently been blessed with an opportunity to rebuild my life in a different place with a new career path. I have taken that opportunity and am currently designing my life to include people who are dedicated to living a healthy lifestyle and have an objective of helping others.

    I have again stopped drinking with the dedicated intention of not drinking for this month and not binging for the indefinite future. By writing this, I am now held responsible for my actions.

    I know it will be an arduous journey to reform my life and habits, but it is less about never drinking or binging again and more about trending toward a life of more balance and less binge.

    Reasons for Quitting

    The intriguing part is that I am not stopping this substance abuse for me. I am ending it because I found a purpose that is larger than me. I have devoted myself to this, and I need to have a fully functional, focused, dedicated, and creative mind to carry out these things.

    I have knowledge and wisdom inside of me that is very useful to others. I can translate it into a modern cultural and societal context in such a way that will be able to get through to and help many people. The rough draft of my first book is complete with many more to come!

    I know that my thoughts become negative a couple of days after a binge drinking session. I know that I am not fully present and conscious during the drinking or when I’m hungover. When I am intoxicated, I act in ways and do things that my sober self would never do.

    After a week or two of not drinking, I have noticeably more energy and a clearer mind. I realized that I must take charge of my own life and not let others influence me. To get to this point, I had to get fed up with poisoning my body and my mind.

    Alcohol is also a complacency tool. It has been given to the masses as a legal substance to numb their thoughts and emotions. It is a destructive way for humans to be able to cope with things that they falsely believe they cannot control.

    I must also always keep at the forefront of my mind that I have an alcoholic father and a mother who struggles.

    I now focus on mindfulness and gratitude. I have since realized that we are all are extraordinary and unique beings who possess a gift that we must give. Because of specific experiences that we have had, we all have more or less of certain qualities. To be angry or resentful when we do not have these characteristics is unrealistic.

    I want to be healthy, and this requires a holistic approach. We can have fit bodies and weak minds, or vice versa. To be truly healthy and happy, we must approach health from the perspective of mind, body, and soul.

    All of these components need nourishment. If we fail to nourish one part, then like a plant, it will wither. Knowing how to be healthy is one thing; doing something about it is entirely different.

    Personal Takeaways

    • It is a personal choice to take positive action.
    • I realized that when people get awkward that you don’t drink, it is their stuff, not yours.
    • Allowing such an unhealthy, addictive cycle shows little to no self-love.
    • Health is a holistic thing (physical, mental, and spiritual).
    • We must keep company who support us in our goals. Choose your company wisely.
    • Alcohol is a complacency tool. It kills consciousness and creativity.
    • This cycle I speak of comes in an infinite number of varieties.
    • We are not alone. Many other people are trying to escape their reality as well.
    • To cease such a cycle, we must devote ourselves to a larger purpose.

    Conclusion

    In the end, we are all human. This means that we are fundamentally flawed. We are also creatures of habit. It is easy for us to do something over and over if we feel we’ve gained some type of reward for doing it. This means that it is not uncommon for these habits to be negative, self-defeating, or unhealthy.

    One thing that we as humans can do is to shine the light of consciousness upon these cycles that may not benefit us. The shadows of darkness cannot live in the presence of this light. I am not suggesting that shining and holding this awareness is easy. I personally still struggle with this. It is difficult. Life is difficult. With practice, like with weight training, we can become strong, and we can change these patterns.

    We can identify our damaging cycles. We can share them with friends and family with no embarrassment or shame. We can choose to focus on what our higher purpose in life is, as we all have one. This will allow us to replace these negative, downward cycles with positive, upward ones that will benefit us and all of the people around us.

  • Why I Now Appreciate Years of Pain and How Gratitude Healed My Life

    Why I Now Appreciate Years of Pain and How Gratitude Healed My Life

    TRIGGER WARNING: This post deals with an account of abuse and may be triggering to some people.

    “Hope is faith’s impoverished sister, but it’s a start.” ~Maureen Barberio, Gettin’ Out of Bullytown

    My life wasn’t always easy. It’s not always easy now, as a matter of fact. But there was a very long period where it was quite difficult and painful. It is sad how many of us can say that, isn’t it?

    I grew up in a dysfunctional home with two sisters. My father was an alcoholic and was physically and verbally abusive. My mother, herself a victim of my father’s verbal abuse, was very loving and complimentary but could do little about my father’s behavior. My mother, sisters, and I have always been very close.

    Each time I was yelled at, and with each blow I received, a little bit of my spirit was broken.

    Instead of gaining confidence during my grade school years, so I could enter the teen years ready to face the hormonal changes and roller coaster of emotions that go along with them, I went into the teen years feeling unworthy of anything good. I looked at my sisters and saw such beauty in them. I looked in the mirror and saw nothing but flaws.

    In addition, I had done what so many children do: I assumed all blame for the abuse my father was heaping on me. I continued to look up to both my parents, as impossible as that may sound, and I took to heart every word spoken about me.

    The fact that my father found me so imperfect and flawed meant it must be so. And being imperfect and flawed meant I was unlovable. The guilt and shame I felt about this was devastating, although at the time I had no idea that guilt and shame was what I was feeling.

    While other girls in high school got prettier and prettier, while my sisters became prettier in my eyes, I viewed myself as less and less attractive. I watched the excitement others had about boys and dating, and I knew in my heart I would never have those things. I’d never fit in. I was different. I was unworthy.

    There’s nothing like leaving a house of sadness on a sunny day, unable to enjoy the beauty of nature because your heart is so heavy that you want to die. There’s nothing like going to school and seeing how carefree your friends are, all laughing and having a great time, and joining in with them even though inside you feel like a piece of garbage who shouldn’t even have friends.

    I felt phony because I had so many secrets, not the least of which was my unworthiness, which they either didn’t see or they recognized but never mentioned out of pity for me.

    Even the most confident girls struggle in high school with all the changes they’re faced with. Imagine going into it convinced you’re nothing but a hideous thorn in everyone’s side. Those high school years magnify the negatives, but with the help of a loving, supportive family, young women come out of them feeling good about themselves and their future. I came out of those years just feeling worse about myself.

    By the time I hit my late teens I was convinced I would never have what ‘normal’ people have in the way of a life where there’s a man who cares about you and you plan for the future and build a life together.

    I was living in emotional pain, and to lessen that pain, I began drinking and using drugs. I wasn’t resorting to these things all the time, but I was using them as tools to help me instead of seeing the root of my problems and pain.

    In my early twenties, I met a man I thought was simply wonderful. The attention felt incredible. I started feeling better about myself. He loved me! This was as close to feeling loved and carefree as I had ever felt before, and it was so different that I embraced it.

    Six months after meeting, we began living together and then married when I was twenty-six, despite the fact that by that point he was drinking heavily and doing a lot of drugs. I guess it didn’t matter to me, because I was doing the same.

    Somewhere along the way, he began being very critical of me, so I found myself on the receiving end of verbal abuse once again. I tried harder to please him, as I had spent my childhood and teen years trying to please my father while always missing the mark. The little bit of my spirit that remained was constantly chipped away.

    To cope with the reality of increased disappointment and anger on the part of my husband, I went through periods of abusing drugs. During other points in our marriage I decided to live without taking substances, but my husband would push me to join him, and to keep the peace, I did.

    Even though I was a fully functioning adult, had jobs and attended college, I spent more than twenty years in a verbally abusive, alcohol and drug-fueled marriage.

    Each morning I’d wake up and tell myself I wasn’t going to drink or do any drugs, and each day that I failed I grew more and more disappointed in myself. I felt such intense shame about who I was and how I was living that it was difficult to even think about. I spent much time feeling depressed in a place of darkness.

    Growing tired of our lifestyle, we eventually stopped drinking and taking drugs and discovered we had nothing in common. The verbal and emotional abuse continued. So at the age of forty-five, I moved out of our home into another property we owned. I had no faith that my life would ever be better, but I hoped it would, and as the quote above states, that’s a start.

    There is something that is so satisfying about seeing a neglected garden of weeds and taking steps to clear them out to see what you can grow. Or watching a caterpillar move through various stages until a beautiful butterfly emerges.

    There were many uncertainties I was facing, but I decided that the Universe gives us each a garden—our lives—and it’s up to us to tend to that garden to see what beautiful things we can grow. Each of us is a beautiful butterfly, and sometimes we must let ourselves go through the process of getting rid of a hard shell in order to emerge as our true, beautiful selves.

    I was uncertain about who I was, what I wanted to do next, and had a million questions that couldn’t be answered. At the urging of a friend who had mentioned it numerous times, I finally gave in when she once again said, “Why don’t you try Centers for Spiritual Living? I think if you go it will help you.”

    And so I went. As soon as I walked in the door I felt like I was home. I actually felt something within me that was so moved on an emotional level that I cried.

    A wonderful speaker talked about gratitude and challenged us to spend forty days writing down everything we were grateful for, an exercise meant to shift our focus and put it on the good instead of what we felt was lacking in our lives. The Minister handed out a journal to each of us, and the person who walked out of the church that day wasn’t quite the same as the one who had walked in.

    Over the next forty days I diligently did my homework by trying to find something I was grateful for. At first it was hard. I’d sit for five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes, and wonder what it was that I was grateful for.

    Oh wait, I’m grateful I don’t drink and take drugs anymore. I wrote that down. I’m grateful to be out of an abusive marriage. I wrote that down. Those seemed a little bit like I was still putting my focus on negative things, however, and I had to ask myself whether or not I was grateful about anything positive.

    Well, yes, I was grateful I finally took my friends advice and went to the Center for Spiritual Living. I was grateful my friend told me about it. Oh, and I was grateful for my friend! In fact, I was grateful for all the new friends I’d made. I was grateful to be living in a place where there was a Center for Spiritual Living to even go to. I was grateful to be living in a place that is surrounded by beautiful nature. I was grateful for nature!

    This is how it went every day. I would struggle to write something I was grateful for, but once I wrote down one thing, it would lead me to another and another and another.

    Sometimes I would close my journal and notice I’d spent thirty minutes writing and it felt like it was only five minutes. The floodgates would just open and I’d get lost in thinking about how wonderful my life had become. One more thing for which to be grateful!

    I so loved this exercise that I did it for a second time once the forty-day challenge was up. What happened after that was nothing short of astounding. I became more interested in the spiritual aspect of life, and filled with a bit more confidence, signed up for A Course in Miracles. I was starving for this kind of information, which seemed to fill me up!

    I began getting out more. I signed up for a couple of classes at the local university, in order to complete my studies and get a degree. I continued the practice of writing down the things for which I was grateful, only now it didn’t take five, ten, or fifteen minutes before I could think of something, I was already coming up with things while I was still reaching for my notepad and pen. I still found the flow to be the same though. I’d write down one thing, which would lead to another and another.

    I continued spending time at the Center, signing up for classes, and reading books to be discussed. It was a whole new world I was being exposed to.

    In the years that followed the dissolution of my marriage I achieved my goal and actually earned two degrees, graduating Cum Laude. Somewhere along the way, I began looking at my image in the mirror differently. I thought: Deborah, you’re not half bad! In fact, you’re pretty! You’re kind. You have a good heart. You’re lovable!!!!

    I met a wonderful man and got married. I started my own business, and I love the work I do.

    As I continued my spiritual studies and practice of gratitude, I came to be blessed more and more. I became a licensed Practitioner at our local Center for Spiritual Living, started a second business, and have become even closer to my two wonderful sisters, enjoying my time with them laughing and joking as though we’re three little girls.

    My life looks nothing like the life I lived until I was in my late forties, and yet, I’m grateful for that earlier life because the pain of it has led me to so many wonderful places. My heart and spirit have healed, and I am committed to spreading the word about the blessings you will receive through the daily practice of gratitude.

    This doesn’t mean my life is perfect, or without worry, or even absent from the occasional feelings of guilt or shame about something, but I am able to quickly deal with those feelings and put my focus back on the things for which I am grateful. And that has made all the difference in the world.

    Can you relate? Just for today, write down some things you feel grateful for. There are plenty of things. Just look out the window, go for a walk, and you’ll find them. Keep doing that each day and make it a habit.

    Think of some things you’ve always wanted to do but didn’t pursue because of fear, shame, lack of confidence, etc., and commit to doing just one of those things. Baby steps. That’s all it takes.

    And when you start feeling down or worried, open up your journal and read through your lists. It will move the focus from the negatives to the positives. You’ll find that writing about gratitude will lead to feeling more positive about your life, prompting you to take action that brings positive results—and even more blessings and opportunities. I’ve noticed this snowball effect in many lives, starting with my own.

    As I live a life that consists of gratitude, I see where every negative experience has molded me, taught me, made me compassionate, and led me to be the wonderful and best version of me that I can be today.

    Isn’t that a blessing?

  • Emotional Pain Doesn’t Go Away When You Numb It (with Alcohol or Anything Else)

    Emotional Pain Doesn’t Go Away When You Numb It (with Alcohol or Anything Else)

    “Making a big life change is pretty scary. But know what’s even scarier? Regret.” ~Zig Ziglar

    It had been a long day at work. I’d had to work with new people, which always got my anxiety going, and had to put out a few fires. By the end of the day, I climbed into my car shaking on the outside and screaming on the inside. Sounds, light, and smells were like battering rams to my senses and my internal pressure was reaching explosive levels.

    I had a prearranged dinner with my mom and sister at a local restaurant, and I hardly remembered driving there. It may have been wiser to cancel, but they wouldn’t take it well and I didn’t want to be alone with my pain.

    I needed relief from the mental agony, to get some of the stress out, but my boyfriend was working and unavailable to talk and my family didn’t handle my “moods” very well. I was the first to arrive and ordered a glass of wine while I waited. It disappeared quickly.

    I got another glass and went a little more slowly, finally relaxing enough to fake a smile for my mother and sister when they joined me.

    Dinner was a blur as I tried to be enthusiastic and say and do all the right things, but when they left I felt all the pressure from earlier come back ten-fold. I made my way to the bar to numb the pain. Some time and several drinks later I blacked out. 

    I dealt with abuse and neglect growing up and was diagnosed with two mental health disorders as a young adult.

    I tried many medications but when they didn’t help, I sought relief from the only thing that seemed to numb my mental agony—alcohol. It never lasted long, so I needed more and more until I was out of my head or passed out.

    When I let myself, I can see a stream of images like a movie flash through my mind—so many nights spent getting wasted and countless mornings waking up unsure how I got home or where I had been.

    The emotional aftermath was its own hell—full of fear, vulnerability, and regret. Anything could have happened to me while I was out of it.

    I would have bruises from unknown sources and would be left wondering for days what had happened to me. Then would come the extra heartache and drama of finding out I had lost the tight reign on my emotions and trauma while drunk, spewed out all of my pain and anger, and hurt the people I love most.

    I was truly on the verge of jail or death when it finally clicked in my brain that it had to stop. I was out of control, and rather than healing from my trauma and problems I was creating more. I was building a new mountain of regret and hurtful memories, not freeing myself from the ones I already had.

    I was drinking to numb the pain, but after a few drinks my emotional pain would explode into more anger and despair. Worse, I could end up hurt, dead, or killing someone while I was out of it. Drinking was a quick fix with a long and heavy price.

    This clear memory came to my mind of a man in his fifties that I had seen at court with a long-standing list of alcohol-related problems, and I realized that could be me. I wanted to be happy, and some day soon, I wanted to have a family. But my drinking was destroying my relationships, my health, and my dreams.

    I decided it was enough and went to an online forum to declare my sobriety and get support and accountability. I also went to AA meetings. While there was a lot of shame and grief about what I’d been through and the things I had done, it was a relief to actually talk to others with similar experiences and not feel so isolated in my problems.

    They were real people who knew and understood my struggles and offered genuine compassion, encouragement, and advice. I made friends that I could contact when I was down and wanted to drink and they would help me through my pain.

    Once I had a good support system, I went to work on myself. I actively sought to be healthier and to learn how to cope with and manage my problems. So much of my experience as a child was out of my control, my issues and life were out of control, and I was sick of feeling powerless.

    I picked up books and online courses about my issues and personal healing. I started learning about mindfulness, the art of being present and understanding your thoughts and feelings. I made healthier choices in diet, exercise, and sleep. I found Dialectical Behavioral Therapy and other holistic therapies, which taught me survival skills like what to do in an emotional crisis.

    When I wanted to drink it was because of intense emotional pain, so I learned to ground myself. I would play that movie in my mind, see the aftermath of my drinking, and I would turn to one of the many coping mechanisms I learned like journaling, EFT, taking a walk, art, and using positive self talk and affirmations.

    I was so reluctant to give up alcohol. My mind made up a zillion reasons why I wasn’t an alcoholic and why I needed to numb my pain. But the truth was I was afraid to change and face the unknown, and I was afraid I would fail. I was ashamed of what my life had become and I didn’t want to be embarrassed and vulnerable by making it known.

    I think that is the heart of problem for all of us who struggle with addiction, numbing, and similar problems—fear, shame, vulnerability.

    We’re running from our problems, trying to escape the pain, and we’re afraid there’s no end, no help, and that we aren’t strong enough. Often, we’re lost in the depths with no clue which way is up. We don’t know where to turn or what to do until something wakes us up.

    I didn’t make the leap to change until I hit rock bottom and had no other choice. Until I accepted that my drinking was like putting a flame to a gas tank, and I didn’t want a life of pain and destruction.

    When I was finally honest with myself and accepted that I had to stop running from my pain and problems, I was able to let go of my drinking, start changing, and get the help I really needed. I went from a downward spiral of escapism to living with intention and thriving. I was able to start healing and making the life I wanted.

    I finally got in touch with my mind and body and was able to hear and understand what it was telling me, what I really needed. I learned to trust myself and be confident. I found the serenity and clarity I had been so desperately seeking. It took time and tears. There was embarrassment and shame. But there was also hope, happiness, and true change.

    If you are struggling with emotional pain, mental health, addictions, or other heavy burdens, there is hope and there is change.

    You can overcome your addictions, your destructive patterns, and your crutches. You don’t have to keep suffering. It can get better if you are brave and vulnerable and willing to start the process of healing.

    Don’t suffer in silence. Try to step outside of yourself and your pain to find support.

    I went online and to AA meetings to find others who would understand. I didn’t see them as different from me and isolate myself. I opened up, and those places became a safe space for me to really talk and get encouragement and help. I found a place I could talk about it where I would be seen with empathy not judgment. I was able to release my emotional pain without consuming me.

    Next, try to understand where your pain is coming from—what causes you to seek relief in your destructive behaviors.

    You can seek counseling, do personal research, and try alternative therapies. Journaling your thoughts and feelings can help you step back from your pain and find the source. There is no one way to do this; I tried all of these and found different elements in each that helped me to understand my pain.

    As you work to understand yourself and cope with your pain, you must replace your hurtful behaviors with healthy ones. Just quitting them leaves a hole that you will scramble to fill the next time you are in distress, and you will likely relapse or choose some other bad thing.

    I found coping mechanisms like art, walking, EFT, and others to help me express myself when I was hurting and wanted a drink. Now, I carry tools with me so I always have something healthy on hand to do when my pain strikes. I always remind myself that though it feels like it will last forever it always passes.

    As you work through your problems, you’ll find greater relief and freedom. You’ll be able to see and think more clearly, plan ahead, and react the right way when things go wrong. This is how you can build resilience and mindfulness. You can be aware of yourself and your needs and care for yourself in a healthy way.

    —

    Sobriety was the best gift I could give myself to restore my emotional balance. It’s been over a year since I became sober, and I can see a real future for myself. I no longer live each day heavy with regret. I’ve come to accept and learn from my experiences, and I use them to make wiser choices and help others.

    Now when I go out, I know how my night will end—with a clear head and good memories. I don’t have to fake anything or run away anymore. I truly feel and live in each moment.

  • Overcoming the Painful Desires and Beliefs That Feed Addiction

    Overcoming the Painful Desires and Beliefs That Feed Addiction

    “Taking responsibility for your beliefs and judgments gives you the power to change them.” ~Byron Katie

    I had spent five horrible years in and out of rehabs and support groups for my substance use problems. Along the way, there were a few periods where I cleaned up for six months, eight months, and almost a whole year one time, but nothing seemed to stick.

    The worst part was that even with all of the painful effort it took to keep the drug and alcohol use going, and all of the painful consequences that were piling up, I was happier in that life than I was during the sober, trouble-free times.

    I believed that getting high and drunk was really great, and I believed that sober life was complete drudgery. These beliefs played themselves out quite predictably.

    I felt tortured and deprived when I was sober. I would trudge to work, then I would trudge home and hope that I could fall asleep quickly to end the misery until the morning.

    Then I would wake up and do it all over again. I lived with a painful desire to get high and drunk the whole time.

    I thought about it when I got up in the morning. I thought about it while I worked. I thought about it when I met with my counselors and therapists. I thought about it before, after, and during the support group meetings that were supposed to help me to resist the desire to get high and drunk.

    I was hanging on by a thread—resisting my desire to get high and drunk one day at a time. Eventually, resisting would become too painful, too unfulfilling, and too unsatisfactory to maintain any longer.

    I was resisting this desire so that I could stop bad things from happening in my life. But then I just ended up lacking bad things. I didn’t have any good things going on.

    When I was abstinent, I didn’t have the thing I believed I needed to be happy and comfortable: heavy drug and alcohol use.

    I took it for granted that I would always have a painful, overpowering desire for heavy drug and alcohol use. I could fight it or give in. I repeatedly gave up the fight and gave in to the desire.

    But then I found a new approach. After years of being taught how to fight the desire, and years of failure, I found a way to change my desire.

    I learned to accept my substance use habits as a simple pursuit of happiness activity (rather than as a compulsion). I learned that I was desiring it and doing it because I believed it was my best shot at feeling good. I learned that I could re-examine that belief once I acknowledged and accepted it.

    I know this might be scary to people who’ve been taught that such habits have nothing to do with choice, but think about it—everything you do is because you believe you’ll benefit from it in some way.

    In some cases the benefits are small, like when smoking a cigarette, which is an extremely mild stimulant that may provide a good feeling for a few seconds or minutes. In other cases the benefits can be big, like when going to college, which can result in more employment opportunities and job security that lasts a lifetime.

    Everything we do is driven by our belief that it will bring us closer to some sort of happiness or benefit.

    Now, getting back to my substance use habit, I had to take responsibility for my beliefs about drugs and alcohol.

    I believed that drugs and alcohol were cure-alls, and that I needed them:

    • For the traumatic pain left over from my childhood
    • For my social anxiety, generalized anxiety, and depression
    • To have a good time at all in any way
    • To feel normal
    • To wake up in the morning
    • To go to bed at night
    • To be creative
    • To clear my mind

    That’s a crazy list of powers I believed that drugs and alcohol had. Several of them are contradictory; yet, these beliefs are not uncommon at all.

    Every time I hear someone express that they’re struggling to stay sober, such beliefs are involved. In fact, I saw someone complain about struggling to stay sober on Facebook recently, and she said:

    “I hate that I can’t have a drink because I know it’ll quiet my mind and I’d relax.”

    This is what creates desire. If you believe you need something to be happy, then you will desire it.

    Unfortunately, our culture has done a great job of convincing us that drugs and alcohol have amazing powers to cure all of our ills. They have also done a great job convincing some of us that we need to “self-medicate” with these substances too.

    The thing is, drugs and alcohol don’t medicate anything. But as long as you believe they are your medicine, you will feel deprived and suffer when you don’t have this medicine. The sooner you stop believing that they are medicine, the sooner this desire will go away.

    The fact is, most of the emotional and behavioral experiences people have while using drugs and alcohol are subjectively created. They’re mostly an effect of expectancy. As a noted addiction researcher observed:

    “Sometimes alcohol may be a relaxant (the martini after the hard day at the office) and sometimes it may act as a stimulant (the first drink at the party).” ~Norman Zinberg, Drug, Set, and Setting, 1986

    Isn’t that a bit unbelievable? It’s a total contradiction and thus literally impossible. Stimulants and relaxants are total opposites. Yet, you probably know from your own experience or watching others that people can have both of these effects while drinking.

    The key is to realize that these effects don’t come from the alcohol itself. They come from you.

    The fact is that you don’t, in reality, need alcohol to relax, and you don’t need it to get wild at a party, because alcohol itself does neither of those things. If you want to relax, you can do it, with or without alcohol. Same goes for getting wild at a party.

    And the same goes for the plethora of things we think drugs and alcohol do.

    The reason for this is that you are actually cognitively creating these states with your intentions. You expect to have these experiences when you drink or drug, and that expectancy itself creates the experience.

    There are plenty of other ways to intentionally put yourself into a relaxed state or any of the other states we believe are caused by substance use. The self-help world offers plenty of good advice on how to do this through mindfulness and other techniques. This website is a great resource for that.

    I encourage readers to seek out such techniques if you feel you need them. However, before you do so, the best thing you can do is rid your mind of the belief that substance use is a cure-all. It is not.

    If you haven’t broken these beliefs first, then in that moment that a new coping skill you learn doesn’t work so well for you (or you just don’t feel like using it—we’ve all been there!), you might feel tempted to return to substance use to deal with the problem.

    If you have broken these beliefs, then you won’t feel tempted to use substances to cope. In this case, when a coping skill doesn’t work out, you’ll rightly look for a different coping method, rather than back to drugs and alcohol.

    Stop giving drugs and alcohol credit for things that they don’t really do. Be mindful of these beliefs, and have the courage to change them. Once you do, you’ll find that you have much less of desire to use substances.

    By severing the connection between stress and substance use, you can permanently end the phenomenon of feeling triggered to use substances when you encounter stress.

    The same goes for severing the connection between substances and any of the other false benefits we’ve been taught to attribute to them. Then it’s up to you to decide how to deal with these life problems, but it will be much easier to solve them without the specter of a “relapse” hanging over your head.

    I embraced the responsibility I had for my beliefs about substance use, and I examined them. I changed them. I ended up believing that drugs and alcohol didn’t have much to offer me anymore, and I believed I could be happier dedicating my time elsewhere.

    Changing my beliefs was my choice. No one else could do it for me. Methadone couldn’t do it for me. Meetings couldn’t do it for me. Even the people who showed me these ideas couldn’t do it for me.

    It was up to me to consciously question what I believed about the objects of my addiction, and how happy they could truly make me.

    As a result of changing my beliefs, I haven’t had an issue with drugs and alcohol for twelve wonderful years now. I don’t feel deprived. I enjoy a drink now and then, without feeling desperation or loss of control.

    When the normal troubles, hard times, and disappointments of life come along, I no longer feel like I need a drink or drug to deal with them, because I no longer believe they’ll help with the situation. When I’m bored, I no longer feel like I need substances to be entertained.

    I now get to live my life feeling free of addiction, and it’s wonderful.