avatarLindy Vogel

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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.</p></blockquote><blockquote id="b97c"><p>~ The Big Book, page 24.</p></blockquote><p id="2733">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.</p><p id="e1c9">‘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.’</p><p id="1800">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.</p><p id="4ad6">‘But why hasn’t science picked up on it?’ I asked, holding the phone tightly.</p><p id="26fb">‘Probably because this blank spot only happens at certain times. Most of the time, it lays dormant.’ he replied before warning,</p><p id="337a">‘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.’</p><p id="a3e9">My new sponsor sighed deeply.</p><p id="f455">‘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.’</p><p id="969d">My head was spinning. Every sentence felt like the jolt of an electric cattle prod.</p><p id="8e0a">Later that day, I looked back at my recent relapses. I found no real conscious memory of consequences before any of them.</p><p id="352f">It appeared relapse was happening to me, not by me.</p><blockquote id="8aba"><p>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.</p></blockquote><blockquote id="93f7"><p>~ The Big Book, page 41.</p></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&amp;utm_medium=referral">Alice Alinari</a> on <a href="https://unsplash.com?utm_source=medium&amp;utm_medium=referral">Unsplash</a></figcaption></figure><h2 id="287c">A Belief That It Will All Be Alright.</h2><p id="baea">Sadly, the ‘blank spot’ wasn’t all that was happening.</p><p id="7c3e">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.</p><p id="02a0">This is the other main feature of the relapse condition.</p><p id="da70">The Big Book explains it as follows:</p><blockquote id="f067"><p>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.</p></blockquote><blockquote id="4ad8"><p>~ The Big Book, page 37.</p></blockquote><p id="da58">Anytime the ‘good idea’ of relapsing suddenly popped into my head, part of me would start to minimise the lunacy of this thought.</p><p id="e2c7">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.</p><p id="432a">No matter how insignificant and non-sensical those reasons were, they quickly became plausible and seemingly rational.</p><p id="6997">At the same time, the urge to want to relapse would start to surge.</p><p id="cdc4">A fear of missing out would relentlessly come crashing in like waves rolling in and out of my consciousness.</p><p id="b225">Thoughts and narratives of why it would be okay this time would dominate my thinking.</p><p id="fe2d">Finally, a tidal wave of justification would smother me into deep unconsciousness.</p><p id="c65b">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.</p><p id="34a2">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.</p><p id="888a">To any average person, this kind of thinking and decision-making would be termed irrational, unsound, or even insa

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ne.</p><p id="d880">The Big Book calls this thinking an <i>‘obsession to beat the game’</i>.</p><p id="9087">Whether it’s a vague idea that this time it would be different, that I would do it differently and party like a gentleman.</p><p id="b075">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.</p><p id="be67">But, it never was different and that last time never did happen.</p><p id="149d">My new sponsor would remind me often,</p><p id="a62b" type="7">‘You aren’t changing your mind when you’ve decided to give in and party; your mind has been changed for you.’</p><h2 id="4c19">It Centers In Our Minds</h2><p id="f0e7">Of course, there is a body element for the addict.</p><p id="86b6">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.</p><p id="2d70">But there’s this annihilation approach to our acting out and using once we start, which the Big Book describes as the <i>‘phenomenon of craving’</i>.</p><p id="01c2">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.</p><p id="10af" type="7">‘If it’s an allergy, then why doesn’t the phenomenon of craving happen every time?’</p><p id="ae75">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.</p><p id="2e48">They don’t touch or go anywhere near peanuts because they remember how terrible it was last time.</p><p id="436a">Once or twice is enough.</p><p id="3796">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.</p><blockquote id="e3f6"><p>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.</p></blockquote><blockquote id="d5e6"><p>~ The Big Book, page 24.</p></blockquote><p id="5cb9">That’s why the Big Book says the real problem ‘centers in our mind’, not our bodies.</p><p id="22d4">‘What will happen now,’ my new sponsor forewarned, ‘as the relapses get worse, the time between them will get shorter and shorter.’</p><p id="6f0b">This condition is progressive.</p><p id="e8f1">Therefore, the blanking and twisting will naturally grow in scope and reach until you can no longer differentiate the true from the false.</p><h2 id="869b">Turning To Something Else</h2><p id="922a">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.</p><p id="a2d8">There is <b>nothing </b>you can do to change that.</p><p id="d5f6">If you constantly can’t remember why or how you relapsed despite your honest desire not to.</p><p id="9aaf">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.</p><p id="a47a">You have this relapse condition.</p><p id="840d">You <b>crossed a threshold </b>where, at certain times, your inability to use reasoning and rational thinking won’t even register for you.</p><p id="d8c6">The tragic truth is that once that threshold has been crossed, you have <b>no choice</b> but to relapse.</p><p id="0564">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.</p><p id="5fb0">There is no cure.</p><p id="fcca">Even this information won’t save you, as at certain times, you won’t be able to recall any of it when it matters.</p><p id="7fc5">So, let go of trying to change that.</p><p id="59f9">Let go of any old ideas around fighting it and instead get out of the way and <b>trust in something else</b>.</p><p id="b722">After all, that’s all you’ve got.</p><p id="5065">There’s nothing you or anyone else can do to stop this relapse condition.</p><p id="d1dd">But there’s everything you can do about everything else.</p><p id="5e51">There’s everything you can do about building a <b>spiritual dimension</b> to your life, by giving back, helping others, living in genuine faith and trusting in something greater than you.</p><p id="3096">There’s everything you can do to improve your awareness and intuition, raise your consciousness and develop another part of your brain.</p><p id="7598">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.</p><p id="d2e3">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.</p><p id="da93">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.</p><p id="e415">If this article speaks to you, please follow, share and subscribe to me for more.</p><p id="fc50">Click <a href="https://twitter.com/TheDarrenJames">here</a> to follow me on <a href="https://twitter.com/TheDarrenJames">X</a>.</p></article></body>

RECOGNITION

Poetic Sperm and Your Babydaddy on Father’s Day

It’s a cliché, but don’t stop your wooing

I’m awash in warmth, for a million pool yards. (Photo by Nadezhda Moryak)

“Light, so low upon earth, You send a flash to the sun. Here is the golden close of love, All my wooing is done.”

  • Alfred, Lord Tennyson, in: Marriage Morning (1871)

We met on the pool deck — a cement wonderland. The deck itself surrounded an aging pool with a slow leak. But now the Charles McCaffree outdoor patio, the 50-meter pool — those “meadows in which we met” — have been jackhammered open, backfilled in, and felled to fond memory.

That pool deck is no more.

When I met Joe, I thought he was hot and fun to fuck. He was simply too good to be true — it was too much to hope that he’d father my children.

I wasn’t supposed to be able to have children, after all.

We had six kids, though. Six bottomless people who, paradoxically, fill our collective space. But often they drain us more than 20+ hours per week of college swimming (plus weights, running, classes, and study hall) ever did. It’s not a 24/7 thing to parent; it’s 25/8.

And he’s a brilliant dad.

My plate pileth over with the strength of his partnership. With solidarity. With hope and energy and faith and the spaghetti and French toast he taught me to make. The bounty of him, it is more of a miracle than the ballsack biology he brought to the table, and more than the endocrine gift I stole from time by getting pregnant at 20.

But it’s been hard. We’re in counseling and must reconnect. We met 22 years ago this fall, and finally we are renovating our space.

By being vulnerable in session last week we finally were able to feel the solid cementscapes of sexual excitement and smooth love — which had, for a few years, caved in for lack of water.

We cannot simply refill the same pool, but we can build a bigger and stouter one. In marriage and family life the slow leaks are inevitable. Repairs and rebuilds are not, but my body is afloat in warm feelings again, now that we’ve moved past spackling and broken fresh ground. The sperm are a-swimming more again in a corporeal flash of light.

“Over the thorns and briers, Over the meadows and stiles, Over the world to the end of it, Flash for a million miles.”

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Fathers Day
Appreciation
Marriage Counseling
Romance
Parenting
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