Ten Things I Learned by Sharing My Story
1. There is freedom in creating my own narrative.
I had no idea I could write like this. Absolutely no idea. But when I had the balls to claim my history in written form, I took control of my PRESENT, and I took control of the empowerment that innately lies in contributing to my future. Denouncing anonymity was just a tool that I used to contribute to what I wanted for my life and for those around me…and ultimately, what I wanted for the good of the world. It was the beginning of shame ridding. I hoped for liberation for myself, but I also hoped that my words would promote freedom for others. Lofty thought? Well, maybe. But never underestimate the power of ONE STORY. If positive intention aligns with bold action, amazing things can happen.
2. I must be accountable for my words.
Very early on, I learned that there is great responsibility in writing publicly. Every part of this “voice” is intentional and not by accident. Whether or not I cuss, what the topics are, what personal details I share, how long or short the essay is, considering what could happen if my children read these words. It may seem that writing “helps me”, and it DOES, but the public nature is a terribly unselfish action. This vulnerability is often what holds me back, and I have learned MORE from my ongoing commitment to moving through these fears, than in the actual writing process.
3. People may not like my words, my story or me.
Not everyone is going to like what I do or how I do it…what I say and how I say it. Unfortunately, because shame-ridding is a process, both pride and embarrassment are byproducts of writing publicly. I’m not always as confident as you may presume. That’s okay too. Sometimes you gotta fake it ‘til you make it. Yes, strangely enough, that’s part of Recovery, and it’s also a part of living in faith. I have been surprised by others’ reactions to my writing, both positively and negatively, and I must accept both outcomes. But I must always remember that I…am NOT my writing. It only represents a part of me.
4. Commitment takes follow-through.
I created the blog site, because I wanted to challenge myself. That was the impetus. And hell yes, I wanted to challenge you as well. I wondered what we both might learn by this dual commitment to vulnerability and to truth. In the very first essay on this site, I even challenged you to get naked with me. I’m not sure if you remember that, but that makes me giggle. I intended to have a LOT of uncomfortable conversations with you here, so THAT was my gentle warning, and kudos to those of you who have skinny-dipped with me for an entire year.
5. Each essay is a process.
Most mornings, I have no idea what I may write about. It begins entirely unedited and takes shape over the course of minutes, hours or days. There have been many writings that I have not posted, and there have been many that I have deleted for a variety of reasons. But when I move forward with posting, it’s because I usually have a bold faith that something positive will come from its reading. No, I don’t believe I’m a prophet. I just believe that we often hold ourselves back from the talents that we are able and WILLING to share.
6. Too much editing hinders the creative.
I never gave myself true freedom in musical composition. I held myself back, because of fear that it wouldn’t be extraordinary. In my head, it was of no value unless it was deemed as GREAT, and unfortunately, I KNEW what the standards of excellence were. But there is value in naivete and in unedited creation. I’ve learned to give myself free reign in this space, and only go back to read and edit AFTER passion and inspiration have been my fuel.
7. I can’t do this alone.
This may seem like a solitary venture, but it is anything BUT that. I would not have had the ability to do this, if it weren’t for the active support and encouragement of people close to me. They gave to me what I, in turn, wanted to give to others. Never underestimate what positive love and support may produce.
8. Shame is an epidemic.
I’m rather sure that Brene Brown was one of my inspirations in beginning this blog. She is a shame and vulnerability researcher, and many of my mornings before I ever began to write, began with listening to her words and applying them to my life. Writing just became my way to actively participate in her mission.
9. Reflect on the past and focus on the present.
There is value in living an examined life. That is no one else’s responsibility but my own. It’s never been about “changing my life”, it’s been about learning from past mistakes and committing myself to personal betterment. I hope that watching me do it for myself, has enabled you to do it for YOURself. It has not been easy, but there are countless rewards.
10. Faith is internal and must always RULE!
It may seem strange that even though I often write about difficult subject matter, that I consider myself an extremely positive and humor-loving individual. I certainly hope I have shown you that. I have let faith lead me in this venture, and writing has simply been an action of that internal drive. As always, I trust that I will pass on the simple beliefs that underwrite my compositions. I am always guided by faith in my God, in myself and in YOU.
Today is my birthday. Exactly one year ago, I posted this admission on Facebook, and it was the first extended personal writing of my adult life. I was 46 then, and I am one year older and wiser now. I am grateful that a year’s worth of writing has shown a true commitment to each and every word in the following composition. If you never read it then, I hope you will now. I still think it’s one of the best things I’ve ever written, because the beliefs and values presented here, are how I live my life. Boldly.
“Gray Matters”
October 12, 2019
Upon waking up this morning, and every morning for the last 8 months, I ask myself… “okay, what are we starting with today?” Meaning, where’s my beginning point, in thought, emotion, intention and purpose? You know, just a brief assessment of body, mind and soul. Too deep before morning coffee?
Why?
Because of physical pain, mental dreariness, emotional hangover? Spiritual absence?
You see, I just did it. I just asked myself the important questions.
And I sit. Sit. And think.
Next up: I ask myself what I’m going to do about all of those things. And it becomes my thesis of intention for the day.
So today, I asked myself if I should post this message. Will it promote a positive or negative consequence? Will it help or hurt others?
I don’t think it will actively hurt anyone I love, but they could suffer negative consequences because of it…even if they are not aware. For the most part, I do not know what will happen next…..and that’s okay with me. I have no real control over the thoughts and actions of others, so the decision to write is mine and mine alone. I will do so with the purest of good intention…..and let the rest just….happen. Because I write this for my children. Because of my children.
I had a disorder. That’s my proclamation. A disorder that affects 1 in 10 people, according to National statistics. But here’s the kicker. Because my children have me as their mother, my children’s chance of developing this disorder is 4 times greater than the general population. That means that each one of them can stand in a room, face to face with 2 other individuals…and there’s a CHANCE the disorder will claim one of them. And if they are not educated about the disorder, and taught fundamental strategies for a healthy life, they may endure it for years before they get help. To the outside world, they may function quite well, graduate from college, have a successful career, have children of their own…do all of these things before they realize that they need help.
Fast forward a few years. Maybe they have fully accepted their disorder, adopted a new way of living, and changed their daily actions in dramatic ways. What happens then?
Do they keep all that they’ve learned to themselves? Lord, I hope not. So I will do exactly what I encourage my own children to do when they have the potential to help others. I will be open, honest, forthcoming and courageous. I will not stay silent, because fear engages our shadows. And our shadows become our reality.
I know you are wondering about the facts. It will be hard to put simply and directly, but I will try. You are undoubtedly going to want to ask clarifying questions. I’m happy to answer these questions. I am an open book, and reading between the lines is to notice that there is likely more than what we see or assume.
I drank.
Not all the time. But for a long time. For many reasons.
It got worse. I decided to quit.
I got help. Everything got better.
Everything.
The answers are strangely, very simple…but not necessarily accomplished with ease. Few things in life are.
I don’t drink anymore. Any at all, for any reason. I see how hurtful it was, to myself and to others, and with each passing day…that becomes clearer and clearer. But that’s not the exciting or hopeful part. The best part is finding out that I will never need it at all. Any at all, for any reason. Everything is easier and much more interesting.
Most people think that the focus for someone like me becomes what I’m NOT doing…not drinking. But that is entirely wrong. My focus is what I AM doing.
I don’t presume to think I will change the world. Lord, I hope I’m more humble than that. But if I can do something that changes my children’s lives for the better, I will do so with the voracity of a tigress. I will put aside the mama bear notion that I can protect them from everything, and instead promote conscious fearlessness…and maybe fearless consciousness.
I concede, navigating this world without your favorite crutch is tricky, but not overwhelming. I am not fearful anymore. I’ve accepted that I don’t get that crutch, and it becomes easier and easier to walk unaided.
Alcohol is not scary. I don’t avoid the expansive wine aisle at HEB. I don’t want others to stow away their Chardonnay at gatherings I attend. For me, personally, I hurt when others assume I am limited in some way, although I recognize that their accommodation of me likely comes out of love. I prefer they ask. Please ask the uncomfortable questions. I ask them every day. What’s the worst that can happen?
Addiction is a multi-faceted disease, full of gray area. It’s as nuanced as the human condition itself. What HAS worked and IS working for me, specifically, may not be the perfect answer for others.
“a disease of body, mind and soul.” A little overwhelming, right?
Massive misconceptions of the disorder abound, and likening it to a disease has not helped understanding, acceptance or stigma in the ways that most people assume. Perhaps that will change…with time, and with action. I hope this post is a minuscule part of that.
Humbling myself for awhile and listening to others is a mind-blowing and soul-opening experience. That is what recovery is. It’s not a search to reclaim myself before I ever touched alcohol, but to accept myself fully and actively work towards betterment in a myriad of ways.
I got curious. I asked intriguing questions. And I became willing to have hard conversations. They were not nearly as difficult as I anticipated.
The reasons I drank are not black and white. When I investigate, I find light and dark, nuances of color. Lots of gray area. But alas, gray is very, very interesting to me.
I stay away from labels that don’t feel right. Words are powerful and should be chosen with care.
I choose not to declare myself anything that defines my past.
I don’t want my children to be afraid to hear about addiction. I don’t want my children to be afraid to talk about addiction. And I don’t want my children to feel the shame of addiction.
And more importantly, I replace the word addiction with FAILURE in the last 3 sentences.
I can not do this FOR them, but I choose to do it WITH them. I cannot change their genetics, but I can actively be a part of taking away fear for them.
I can affirm for my teenager that her suspicion about me was correct, and that that inner voice saying something “was wrong”…was right. That THAT voice should be respected and revered as sacred. What an amazing thing to be able to tell her. In a real way. That she should trust that best part of herself, and let it lead her…for we often already know the truth before anyone tells us.
I can show through action and attitude, that failure does not define us…not if we start asking the good questions, make better choices, and take action.
And I can spend a lifetime helping my 9 year old understand that I did have a problem, although his reality is that he doesn’t even remember ever having seen me take a sip of alcohol or appear drunk. Yes, this can happen. When you are smart, resourceful and crafty, you can cover up many things. I know, because I did.
We recover from things all the time. Personal traumas, chronic diagnoses…sheer stupidity.
For me, this is a combination of both the divine, and human will…the underlying goodness and order of all things, coupled with personal choice and action.
Recovery did not just HAPPEN to me. I did not wake up with a well-wrapped package filled with understanding, joy and hope. I started to practice the little things. Showing up, telling the truth, living by the principles that I should probably put on a banner in my front yard. Taking risks, choosing appropriate words, setting my day with intention and being grateful at the end of a long day.
When I looked back, I realized that I never liked much that didn’t come quite easily for me…as if my God-given talents and feelings would propel me into a life of purpose by destiny alone. That doesn’t mean I didn’t ever work hard. I did. But if the practicing was uncomfortable and difficult, there’s a good chance that I didn’t stay too long. I showed up to the event, chose a seat in the back of the room, and slipped out the back door, hoping no one would notice.
I decided that this time, I would try something different. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? So, I walked in. Sat at the front of the room. Raised my hand when I had questions. Listened to both the teacher, and each student around me…and left the lecture with a deeper understanding of myself and others. This is the goal everyday. Oh yeah, and also to use that understanding in a positive way, whenever possible. (I have to remember the last part. I think I underlined it in my notes…wink.)
And I’m not a perfect student. I still forget my backpack and show up late to class every now and then. But I keep coming back. Ready for each new lecture.
The subject matter for the class is not about alcohol. The fact that I drank badly was merely on my transcript. What’s on yours? Likely, we all took a class that we made a bad grade in. Oh, and we remember it well…. We may even STILL have recurring dreams about the final in that class. But wasn’t it the teacher’s fault that we failed? Weren’t they rude and ineffective? We’re pretty sure that our failure had nothing to do with ourselves. (another wink)
I started a project 8 months ago. For extra credit. I decided to start with a canvas that I painted years ago. I added some geometric shapes, a bold border…lots of color…strokes of gray. Admittedly, it’s a little abstract. I try not to stare at it for too long. That just gets weird. I don’t know when I’ll finish, but new ideas come every day, so it could very well take a lifetime. There’s no due date, and I’m thankful.
Sobriety should never come at a cost, although I’m happy to donate, for I know its rewards. I choose to revel in sobriety, and drink in all that it has to offer, denouncing even Old Man Webster’s somber definition. And I’ll offer those around me what I have learned so far, for it is valuable.
I’ll wake up tomorrow asking myself the same question I did a few minutes ago….“okay, what are we starting with today?”
But for today, I’d like to introduce myself.
“Hi, I’m Jennifer. I’m gray.
And gray matters.”
