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Abstract

alcoholics, for reasons yet obscure, have lost the power of choice in drink. Our so-called will power becomes practically nonexistent. We are unable, at certain times, to bring into our consciousness with sufficient force the memory of the suffering and humiliation of even a week or a month ago. We are without defense against the first drink.</blockquote><blockquote id="b97c">~ The Big Book, page 24.</blockquote>I mumbled something about doing more therapy sessions to stay in touch with my baseline feelings, but my new sponsor was having none of it.‘This isn’t an emotional issue!’ he said, cutting in. ‘This is a memory issue that no amount of therapy you chose to throw money at will solve.’He even suggested that the mental blank spot could be similar to a form of amnesia or dementia that science hasn’t picked up on yet.‘But why hasn’t science picked up on it?’ I asked, holding the phone tightly.‘Probably because this blank spot only happens at certain times. Most of the time, it lays dormant.’ he replied before warning,‘And unfortunately, this dormancy feature gives us an illusion of power. We think we’ve got sobriety now because our memory and willpower function normally again. Until, the condition randomly comes back online, and we relapse, leaving us totally baffled as to why it happened.’My new sponsor sighed deeply.‘It’s heartbreaking,’ he said softly. ‘Especially if you’ve relapsed after being multiple years clean. But it is sadly needed to show you that you are genuinely powerless, regardless of how much you desire and want to be sober.’My head was spinning. Every sentence felt like the jolt of an electric cattle prod.Later that day, I looked back at my recent relapses. I found no real conscious memory of consequences before any of them.It appeared relapse was happening to me, not by me.<blockquote id="8aba">As soon as I regained my ability to think, I went carefully over that evening in Washington. Not only had I been off guard, I had made no fight whatever against the first drink. This time I had not thought of the consequences at all. I had commenced to drink as carelessly as though the cocktails were ginger ale. I now remembered what my alcoholic friends had told me, how they prophesied that if I had an alcoholic mind, the time and place would come — I would drink again. They had said that though I did raise a defense, it would one day give way before some trivial reason for having a drink. Well, just that did happen and more, for what I had learned of alcoholism did not occur to me at all. I knew from that moment that I had an alcoholic mind. I saw that will power and self-knowledge would not help in those strange mental blank spots. I had never been able to understand people who said that a problem had them hopelessly defeated. I knew then. It was a crushing blow.</blockquote><blockquote id="93f7">~ The Big Book, page 41.</blockquote><figure id="7922"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/0*n4r4HuNFWSnCD_WU"><figcaption>Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/@alicealinari?utm_source=medium&utm_medium=referral">Alice Alinari</a> on <a href="https://unsplash.com?utm_source=medium&utm_medium=referral">Unsplash</a></figcaption></figure><h2 id="287c">A Belief That It Will All Be Alright.</h2>Sadly, the ‘blank spot’ wasn’t all that was happening.My new sponsor later explained that something else was happening in my mind, a kind of twisting of my thinking that I couldn’t see either.This is the other main feature of the relapse condition.The Big Book explains it as follows:<blockquote id="f067">But there was always the curious mental phenomenon that parallel with our sound reasoning, there inevitably ran some insanely trivial excuse for taking the first drink. Our sound reasoning failed to hold us in check. The insane idea won out.</blockquote><blockquote id="4ad8">~ The Big Book, page 37.</blockquote>Anytime the ‘good idea’ of relapsing suddenly popped into my head, part of me would start to minimise the lunacy of this thought.I would begin to rationalise this catastrophic idea with excuses and reasons why it would be, in fact, okay to relapse despite being in recovery.No matter how insignificant and non-sensical those reasons were, they quickly became plausible and seemingly rational.At the same time, the urge to want to relapse would start to surge.A fear of missing out would relentlessly come crashing in like waves rolling in and out of my consciousness.Thoughts and narratives of why it would be okay this time would dominate my thinking.Finally, a tidal wave of justification would smother me into deep unconsciousness.Convinced of my rationale, I would carry out my plan, only to revert back to type and do everything I said I wouldn’t do, and again, find myself powerless to stop once I started.This twisted thinking was nothing more than a lie, but I believed the lie and didn’t see the flaw in the logic in light of my track record with partying.To any average person, this kind of thinking and decision-making would be termed irrational, unsound, or even insa

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ne.The Big Book calls this thinking an ‘obsession to beat the game’.Whether it’s a vague idea that this time it would be different, that I would do it differently and party like a gentleman.Or the well-loved excuse that this will be my last relapse. After this final time, I’ll be done for good. I’ll get on with my life.But, it never was different and that last time never did happen.My new sponsor would remind me often,‘You aren’t changing your mind when you’ve decided to give in and party; your mind has been changed for you.’<h2 id="4c19">It Centers In Our Minds</h2>Of course, there is a body element for the addict.Naturally, as a consequence of the constant extreme usage of powerfully addictive substances and processes that are designed by their very nature to make you want more and more, addicts have developed a sky-high tolerance.But there’s this annihilation approach to our acting out and using once we start, which the Big Book describes as the ‘phenomenon of craving’.In the Doctor’s opinion in the Big Book, Dr. Silkworth calls the phenomenon of craving an ‘allergy’, but my new sponsor wasn’t too keen on that idea.‘If it’s an allergy, then why doesn’t the phenomenon of craving happen every time?’Regardless of whether it is an allergy, the body part becomes irrelevant, as most people with a severe peanut allergy don’t tend to keep repeating the total lost cause of trying to have another peanut to see if they will react differently.They don’t touch or go anywhere near peanuts because they remember how terrible it was last time.Once or twice is enough.Not so with the real addict because of the first two features of the disease; they will not only be back gorging on peanuts, but they will eventually take up residence in a peanut factory.<blockquote id="e3f6">There is a complete failure of the kind of defence that keeps one from putting his hand on a hot stove. The alcoholic may say to himself in the most casual way, “It won’t burn me this time, so here’s how!” Or perhaps he doesn’t think at all.</blockquote><blockquote id="d5e6">~ The Big Book, page 24.</blockquote>That’s why the Big Book says the real problem ‘centers in our mind’, not our bodies.‘What will happen now,’ my new sponsor forewarned, ‘as the relapses get worse, the time between them will get shorter and shorter.’This condition is progressive.Therefore, the blanking and twisting will naturally grow in scope and reach until you can no longer differentiate the true from the false.<h2 id="869b">Turning To Something Else</h2>If you believe in the disease concept of addiction, that this is a disease, a fatal illness precisely like any other life-threatening condition, then you have it for life.There is nothing you can do to change that.If you constantly can’t remember why or how you relapsed despite your honest desire not to.Or if you continually relapse, believing some trivial reason or silly excuse to relapse while dismissing the genuine consequences, then you are a real addict.You have this relapse condition.You crossed a threshold where, at certain times, your inability to use reasoning and rational thinking won’t even register for you.The tragic truth is that once that threshold has been crossed, you have no choice but to relapse.A compromised part of your brain will always fire the thought of using or acting out. That will never change. It’s wired like that for life.There is no cure.Even this information won’t save you, as at certain times, you won’t be able to recall any of it when it matters.So, let go of trying to change that.Let go of any old ideas around fighting it and instead get out of the way and trust in something else.After all, that’s all you’ve got.There’s nothing you or anyone else can do to stop this relapse condition.But there’s everything you can do about everything else.There’s everything you can do about building a spiritual dimension to your life, by giving back, helping others, living in genuine faith and trusting in something greater than you.There’s everything you can do to improve your awareness and intuition, raise your consciousness and develop another part of your brain.And let this part of your brain grow bigger and stronger than that addictive part so that it can embrace and look after that compromised part.Just like a bigger and wiser older sibling can care for and comfort a much younger upset sibling by giving that stressed child a big hug.There’s everything you can do about deciding to take on a new attitude, direction, and way of life that will keep this condition dormant one day at a time.If this article speaks to you, please follow, share and subscribe to me for more.Click <a href="https://twitter.com/TheDarrenJames">here</a> to follow me on <a href="https://twitter.com/TheDarrenJames">X</a>.</article></body>

LIFE LESSONS | AGEING | TRANSFORMATION

Are You A Late Bloomer, Or Feel Like A Withered Old Wimp?

You can turn the clock around facing the future and not the past.

Before the lockdown, I sat in the airport lounge with my acquaintance. She was a successful businesswoman and the CPO of a large company.

Whiffs of her perfume told me it takes money to be that fresh, even when waiting for a late flight home.

– “What the fuck,” said Lou (this time her real name — I will give a reason for that later) when we heard our flight was delayed. — “Do you want another Pinot,” she said without waiting for my answer and went to get us more to drink.

A tough woman.

Because now we had time and more wine, the chat became a real conversation.

Lou had been at the Exec Team meeting, and all was well. She was on top of her stuff and well-respected.

–”You know,” said Lou playing with the glass, “I have started to doubt the whole idea of the people function, or the HR as the term was”.

Little by little, Lou explained her frustration.

On paper, everything was great, but in reality, inertia hits hard. –”I am still for too many of our male managers ‘the HR-girl’, who comes in aid when shit hits the fan. When they misbehaved or didn’t read the situation, which escalated to personal grievances, they expected me to sort it out. I must calm them down. And they expect me to get their ducks in a row instead of working on culture, diversity and all that important shit. I have this bloody PhD, but I am still a girl to them”.

– “What are you laughing at, Jussi,” said Lou when I chuckled because she was so serious and funny at the same time. And now you will know why I use her real name (I asked her permission, though — and you will see that story soon).

– “Well, don’t be offended, but you are so tough that I don’t believe that any of your male colleagues have any chances, and I laughed because I realised that your name sounds in my Finnish ears like ‘luu’, which is a bone. And we call in that part of the world someone who is challenging in a forceful but positive way a hard bone.

– “You are a naughty old man, Jussi. I’ll get us more of this”, and I didn’t have a chance to say no.

When Lou came back with yet another wine, she was different.

Fear of the future under expensive attire.

We sat in a corner next to huge windows, watching the lights of the runways and aircraft blinking. A plane took off now and then, and the lounge became almost empty.

Our conversation took an unexpected turn.

– “Are you afraid of getting older,” asked Lou, preoccupied with something that she didn’t want to say but knew that she must.

– “I have everything you could ask for in life,” she continued, “A great job and colleagues (except some wankers, but they are everywhere). A PhD, two adult children who have started their life and a glorious divorce — I have them all,” Lou looked beyond her thoughts and sighed, “I guess I should be happy, but I am not”.

– “When Matt and I divorced, everybody told us it was such a surprise, but they were so happy that we did it in style,” told Lou, “We were so happily divorced that they almost threw a party for us. Fuck the whole thing”.

Lou continued explaining how she and Matt stayed friends and shared their time with the girls. It was an idyllic, modern way to say that a relationship had utterly failed.

She was working and having a stellar career, too. So, what is there to complain?

– “Fuck, I just feel that nothing is left for me in this fucken life. This is it,” said Lou, and teardrops wrestled themself from her eyes against her will drawing lines on her makeup.

– “I am this menopausal old hag spending a fortune on cosmetics to keep up my appearance. And I don’t have the courage even to think about tight bum personal trainers to give me false hopes and quickies anymore,” cried Lou, and I got her some tissues.

The boarding started, and we sat a few seats apart. When we landed, and I waited for Lou to come and share the taxi, she whispered, — “you go alone; I need to sort out my shit alone. However, thank you for listening to my misery; after all, it’s not that bad but just an effect of Pinot Noir and a long day”.

So, she took another taxi, and I thought it wasn’t a long day for Lou; her long life suddenly caught her by surprise. It seems that sometimes I have that kind of effect on people: they talk to me, which can lead to exciting situations.

Fast-forward a few years.

After the Pinot Noir-filled late night at the airport, I didn’t hear anything about Lou.

Because we weren’t close friends, I assumed she was a bit embarrassed and didn’t want to stay in touch. According to some posts on Linkedin, I remember her moving away from Wellington, and then I lost track of her.

Until yesterday.

I was sitting at a cafe writing when Lou tapped my shoulder. I didn’t see her coming, and I was surprised to see her there. It was a rainy day, Lou’s face and hair were wet, and her umbrella almost caused a flood on my MacBook.

We hugged, and she said she had come to spend Christmas with her daughter. — “I am a granny now,” said she, and she didn’t hide how proud she was. Soon I saw those photos on her iPhone about the little one. You know, the grandparent stuff.

The twist and turn of events.

– “Do you want to have another tea,” asked Lou without waiting for my answer and went to get tea for me and a latte for her.

She had changed. She was — radiant (that’s the right word). She was shining. But still, she was determined and din’t take no for an answer. But something was different. In her late fifties, she had now vitality and buzz that was irresistible. There was no heavy makeup, but she looked still younger than I remembered.

– “Okay, Jussi, tell me all,” said Lou and continued, “I was so embarrassed after our little wine-and-whine session at the airport that I couldn’t make myself contact you and thank you”.

– “I should have, but you know, I am not that courageous, and you saw me at my lowest point,” explained Lou, “but I have to tell you that it was a turning point. After a weekend with my thoughts, I resigned, sold my house and was mortgage free unemployed ex-CPO with a nice exit money on my account”.

Lou moved then to a small town and wanted to know what she should do with her life. She found a non-profit organisation and applied for a job as their GM and got it.

– “First, the chairman didn’t believe that I was seriously interested in that job,” explained Lou. “After all, it was some $150k drop compared to my salary as the CPO and not working with high-flying corporate sleeks and geeks but supporting, helping and working with the most vulnerable people in the society”.

Lou had transformed her life.

– “I realised I didn’t have any purpose in my life. It was all head and not a bit of heart. I was talking about inclusion, diversity, equality and all that bullshit we used to sprinkle over our slides, but it was just lip service at the altar of corporate greed.”

– “When I started to work with these people who have had it rough and always given the short end of the stick, I knew that it is where I can add value and find a purpose that is more than me, myself and I.”

– “I am privileged and lucky because I could make a move and leave the hamster wheel,” elaborated Lou. “And my relationships with my daughters improved too, so we are all happy, and my ex has a new wife and all, but I am okay with that. What are you laughing at? You are so bloody mischievous.”

I reminded her that, already at the airport, I had a hunch that she was (and still is) a hard bone. — “ But tell me, Lou, is this change just because you find your purpose or is there anything else..?”

And Lou had to admit that there is something — “Or actually, someone, and there she comes.” A bit younger lady than Lou came to the cafe and sat with us.

So, Lou has transformed her life, found her purpose and true love and is finally happy. And she gracefully gave me permisison to use her real first name because I wanted to write her story.

Don’t let your past use your clock but set the time for the future. Purposefully.

After this unexpected but joyful Christmas surprise, I thought a lot about Lou and what she had gone through.

We are so often victims of our past and current circumstances and the expectations of others that we cannot turn to face the future but look longingly long gone past. Why did I do this and that? Why me?

Instead of becoming grumpy old people, we can be shining examples of new and better choices. Finding your purpose and being honest about it will give you the energy to stop ageing and get younger in your mind year by year. Late bloomers have brilliant flowers.

History is filled with them. And you can become part of history by not giving up. My mentor in life, Dr Daisaku Ikeda, decided at age 65 to write a 30-volume chronicle of his years on the global stage. He finished it when he was 94.

I am 66, and as long as I live, I will live purposefully and refuse to look back but always to the future. I hope you will too. There are too many Withered Old Wimps in this world already — let’s not be one of them.

I am a curiosity expert; if you want to know how I can help you to become a more curious leader, creative and confident thinker, book a free discovery meeting with me here.

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