Try

"We recognize the need for change. Our disease involved much more than using drugs, so our recovery must involve much more than simple abstinence. Recovery is an active change in our ideas and attitudes." Basic Text, pp 53

When I first got clean, I didn't recognize the need for change. My family did. My friends did. In fact, I think everyone around me recognized how close I was to death and that something had to give. Otherwise, they would all be attending a wake. I don't mean to be melodramatic, but truly, that's where I was. I rarely share about what it took to get the process of recovery started. I'm not ashamed of it (I think it's a common story), I just don't talk about it much. One night, I overdosed. I remember nothing. My Mom has replayed the story again and again and it's frightening. I woke up, naked on a hospital bed with an IV sticking out of me neck and Nurse Ratchett coming at me with this nasty black solution. I don't recall the doctor or nurse being particularly loving. I can't imagine that I was a nice person either. Next step, the Whack Shack. It took forever (19 days) to detox and it was the most miserable time of my life. God gave me the presence of mind during this time to recognize the matter was life or death and today, I was being given a choice. He opened the doors for a treatment center and the rest of my life began. Deep down, I thought treatment would cure me. After all, who spends that kind of money to gain nothing? I was a "perfect" student, completed all my assignments on time, participated in groups, even went to aftercare. I left after three months and felt like a fish out of water. I bounced around from fellowship to fellowship. During rehab, we took the druggie buggy to this NA meeting. I hated it. The people were nuts and certainly didn't fit into my suburban lifestyle (frankly, they scared the poo out of me). The message was "do or die MotherF*****) and that's not my style. Anyway, I vowed never to return. During what I consider my alien period, guess where I ended up? Guess which group became my home group? Ha!

It was in that small, stuffy room that God revealed that my problem really wasn't about the drugs. It was so much more. I was spiritually bankrupt. This rocked my world. I've always gone to church, had a heart for God, and practiced my spirituality in a religious way. This furthered my shame (at the time I believed you couldn't be a christian and an addict at the same time. See a few previous posts, the cleft in my mind was vast...good thing God is bigger). I knew that all this provided a false sense of security and that I had let my broken relationship with a Higher Power (who I believed to be punitive and plain pissed off at me for being so imperfect) only tap into the surface of my life. This was my huge recognition for real change (or at least the start of it. The subject of reservations kicked my ass later on and provided yet another catalyst for change). I believe this is where God stepped in and helped me begin to change what I believed about Him and what I believed about myself.

Today, and everyday I'm able, I ask myself what lies I'm telling myself. Sometimes it's that I'm not pretty enough, skinny enough, able enough, or that not paying my bills will result in zero consequences. When I see those lies for what they really are, I can change - or better yet, try. I haven't become spiritual overnight, or found some secret to unlock the mystery of God. I just try to cultivate a relationship with Him that works for me. It's based on grace, prayer, and the belief that He always has my best interest at heart. Some days are better than others. Some days I feel connected and in harmony, other days, well, I don't.

So, what can I do? For starters, beware of riding the high horse or I'll be swimming in manure before my next breath. I can share, I can listen, I can try.