As a person in long-term recovery, recovery from alcohol and other drugs, like heroin, nicotine, and all of the collective events of my life, I am, of course in a state of constant, fluid development. I imagine we all are, as human animals, spiritual beings, residing in the Milky Way Galaxy, flying through space at a rate of 45,000 mph, on a continuous pursuit of self-actualization. As some of you may know, I have been talking for a while now about some disenchantment that I have been feeling in certain areas of our recovery community, and in some respects, I have pulled away from different parts of it. Not completely, of course, because I need to stay tethered. I need to stay in contact with the things that help me. I used to find that comfort and safety in drugs. However, I am just not willing to put myself in that position. Not anymore.

I do feel it is necessary as I move through my life to make some necessary changes. For example – and I ask you all to bear with me on this, as I know that it has been a piece of heated debate – but the word “clean” as opposed to “sober” or “clean and sober” is something I am working on removing from my personal vocabulary. What I am feeling about it now is just how the word has something of a puritanical connotation that I am kind of uncomfortable with now. It is true that most recovery support programs, 12 step or otherwise, are not religious programs, however, the twelve steps really are rooted in elements of 1st century Christianity and those fundamentals therein, which I support, on matters of principle, as they relate to the Four Virtues adopted by the Oxford Groups in the early 20th century. They are prudence, temperance, fortitude, and justice. It was from these virtues that the 12 steps were derived, and they continue to do a world of good for those who practice them.

But what is absolutely undeniable and unequivocal for me is what is present in those places of support. For me, on a spiritual level, identification and the empathy that is felt when we share.

When we allow ourselves to be vulnerable and throw caution to the wind and say, you know, “I’m a person, and sometimes I suffer; sometimes I struggle; and I need help with this or that,” and whether or not I am looking for people to approach me after a meeting or not, just looking around a room and seeing the signs of quiet identification and the nods, the eye contact – that helps me feel less alone. That helps me feel safer, and a part of something, in a way that I could never have imagined feeling, had I not been introduced to this thing we call recovery.

Until next time, stay safe, be well, and live free.