An Authentic, Enduring, Transforming Recovery

The earliest days of my recovery from binge drinking were heady.  That was 7,500-odd days ago.  

Even though I never for one moment missed alcohol, it was in fear and trembling that I counted one-day-at-a-time in my journey to sobriety — acutely aware that I was one temptation, one sip, away from a relapse.

With each day following the last, again and again and again, more confidence was built that I’d not return to what was for me the ‘demon drink’.

But recovery isn’t only about staying ‘dry’ — and AA majors on this through the Twelve Steps.  

The steps aren’t a bandaid of abstinence, they are a program of life for transformation — into an inspiring life of ‘making amends’.

There is no better protection against relapse than cauterising the need to drink at its source by living a life of power and gratitude.  This life is one of dealing with all fear, guilt, and shame.  “Life” in all its abundance.

But there are still the initial days and weeks of getting sober, and that’s the stuff of wing-and-prayer.

Authentic recovery is both enduring and transforming.  It must last and the changes we make must last.  Both dimensions — time and growth — are needed for authentic recovery.

One thing we must accept as we do the maintenance steps 10-12 is that we cannot do another person’s recovery for them; that is THEIR work much as it was our work that we did or are doing.  We cannot make it easier for anyone.  

But one day at a time it works IF we work it.

Victim or Victorious? Life’s most pressing choice

Of all my nearly 60 years on the planet, living this life, the most important practical thing I know is the concept of CHOICE.

Agency is another word we could use. The agency or choice of going the right way. The right way is often harder but easier in the longer run.

Our response to the things that happen to us in this life.

The. Most. Important. Thing.

Being Christian, a pastor, a chaplain, other Christians will say, well, what about your faith, Jesus, God your Saviour—isn’t THAT the most important thing?

Faith does us and others no good if we
continue to choose to NOT follow it.

Faith says, “There is only one good way to respond to life’s injustices. Have faith. Respond well. Own what is yours to own. Repent as and when needed. Keep doing good. Let go of what you can’t control.”

One way of interpreting Galatians 6:9 is, “Let us resist despair and keep doing good, for at the right time we will achieve our goal if we don’t give up.”

Easier said than done? Of course!
But, doable… and most of all, it’s n e c e s s a r y... to succeed.

I know from raw hardship and pure hell that at times life can crush the choice out of us, but one thing we can’t deny is we must still respond well. We MUST find a way to defy the logic that says, “I’m doing things my way.” “My way” is almost always the selfish and foolish way.

We all face a battle with our attitude, the tussle of flesh versus spirit, good versus bad, and the temptation to get back or get even, taking the law into our own hands.

The good always serves us in the long haul and we know it,
but it doesn’t usually FEEL good.

The choices we make otherwise to take control of situations we don’t have control of always leads to poor choices that inevitably have consequences.

None of us can afford the folly of playing the victim. We must choose to respond as a victor to become the eventual victor. 

Being the victim makes life miserable.
Being victorious of attitude brings hope. 

Will we operate out of the victim and give ourselves over to self-sabotage? Will we continue to blame others and suffer the consequence of throwing away our only power; to change ourselves? 

Or will we choose to respond as if we are already victorious? Because inevitably that response does lead to victory.

Victory over temptation in the short term.
Victory of a legacy that serves us
and others in the longer term. 

The victorious life is one good decision leading to another, in series with more good decisions, that leads ultimately to victory.

When life turns south, we are all tempted to wallow in the role of victim. It’s the default. To have the insight to turn victim into victorious, that is courage, faith, strength, selflessness, wisdom, all rolled into one. Simply because we had the humility to be honest.

The truth sets us free (John 8:32).

Freedom’s peace is in the last place we look

Just about everyone fights to achieve peace.  Ironically, we all tend to go about it the wrong way.  The tension arises in our insistence that we have it our way when life doesn’t work like that.

My favourite work is probably spending time with individuals broken by their life circumstances.  It usually corresponds with their rock bottom.  

It reminds me acutely of my own rock bottom in 2003—a rock bottom that lasted a year or more because of my life circumstances at the time.  Endurance was and is the lesson.  Having believed it would take place—I would not have made it if I didn’t have that faith—I praise God for the rescue availed to me.

That rescue is as simple as this:
“The truth shall set you free.”  

If that truth means we are trapped in freedom’s opposite—bondage—we see that the rock bottom descends farther down the more we ‘insist’ on refusing to take hold of our freedom.

L.I.S.T.E.N.

There comes a time in all our lives when our life is screaming at us to listen—to take heed of what our life would tell us if only it could speak.  

But of course, our life can and does speak to us.  How ‘fortunate’ or ‘unfortunate’ are we at present?  How is our approach to life working?  If we’re in an angry, bitter, resentful season, is that serving us and others?  And what are others in our lives saying?

There is a tragic irony at play in those whose lives are going to rack and ruin.  I know from direct lived experience.

When we most of all should listen,
we are least likely to.

Those who can listen to WHAT their lives are telling them—yes, that’s us—no matter how ugly or uncomfortable that message is—demonstrate the humility to grow.  They exhibit a growth mindset.  

Those who refuse to listen continue to lose what little they have; they create damage and contribute to disorder rather than invest in the fabric of life.

Here is an acronym to help:

Listen
Intently
Solemnly
Totally
Even
Now

Listening intently, solemnly as if it is all that matters, with the totality of our being, each moment, even now, staying in the present.  One moment at a time.  In faith, we are on the right track to that peace we seek.

Those who listen tend to succeed in life
because listening is central to humility.

“For those who exalt themselves will be humbled,
and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
(Matthew 23:13)

But we don’t typically take much heed of the direct path to success because we think taking control is what works.  

But this negates the fact that in life
there are so many things beyond our control.

The person who accepts what they cannot change—others, and many situations—and who changes the things they can—themselves, and their own responses—ultimately succeeds because these two are wisdom that leads to serenity.

Freedom’s peace is in the last place we look: the place of letting go when we prefer to clutch hold of our control so tightly.  The only thing we ought to clutch hold of tightly is what WE are responsible for.  Everything else WE ought to routinely learn to let go of.

Blue sky above grey clouds

 

One of the easiest things to forget on cloudy days is the presence of the hope-filled blue sky above.

Likewise, it’s so easy to forget when we are encumbered by grey cloud emotions that what exists beyond it is a blue sky more hope-filled reality above it.

There is a blue sky above, on the sunny days when life is easy, and also on those harder, darker, cloudy days and seasons.

We often need to be reminded. I know when I have suffered my darkest days, it’s almost like I have no insight for that blue sky above that reigns resplendent as an ever-present irrepressible reality. I so quickly forget that the blue sky exists beyond the cloudy circumstances of my life.

Isn’t it a cosmic irony, when we most need to see the hope-filled blue sky above, we are encumbered by this darker grey cloud that drives us into an oblivion of despair.

The opposite reality is also true, because we see people full of hope when we are in the grips of grief, and it can feel harsh and isolating when people rejoice when we are mourning.

The sky is always blue, no matter what  
I otherwise feel is true.

The sky is blue, no matter what
I’m going through.

Those Long Lonely Grief Walks

Reminiscing these days brings a giddy delight for the days of wandering streets and roads alone with only music and my sorrows to accompany me.  I was finding a new life hard to acclimatise to, yet the unadorned life of simply strolling and pondering seemed intractable.  

Whether I was home or walking, those alone times I’d often wonder if life would ever work out.  And it has.  I suppose I never imagined life straightening out, though I couldn’t help but hope.  When there’s nothing else, hope is too attractive to ignore.  

That season 20 years ago now was about as stark as anyone can imagine.  We don’t have any comprehension of suffering until we’ve walked that dreaded path.  From my late mother’s records, she attests to the pain she witnessed: “Five months on and he is still doing it hard.  Wish I could take away his hurt and pain but all I can do is be here to listen to him and show my love and support for him.”  (25 February, 2004)

Five months on.  I remember it as much as it was yesterday.  Yet what 20 years does is add a silver lining.  I go back to that five-month-post-divorce version of me and I see the unsteady courage of making a new way.  

I write these words for the person or their supporter who is climbing their own Everest of grief outbound of loss.  It was incomprehensibly tough, though each day had its own unpredictable rhythm, which added to the instability of the season.

It’s the parts of the day where there is no escape into a working mindset that are hardest; much of that time I would walk, or if I were immobile I’d sob.  I think it’s pretty important to be honest about myself, a grown man, crying.  Such was the sorrow I experienced for the pain of loss, so often missing my young daughters, I was beside myself in pain.  

But those long lonely grief walks somehow helped, even if I could not escape the pain that insisted upon abiding.

Grief always takes longer than we would like it to take.  All I can say is, notwithstanding the pain of it, believe things will get better and slowly they do.  Enjoy the distractions that give a reprieve to the pain, but don’t deny the pain when there is no easy way out.  

The redeeming feature of those long lonely walks is revisiting those ‘ancient’ treks once out the other side — even if that’s 5, 10, 15, 20 years later.  There comes a time in venturing these well-worn furrowed paths when the mirror-image realisation takes place — an enormity of gratitude for what you got through.

Circumstance Beyond Our Control

Over a lifetime, inescapable sorrows are gathered.  The pain produced wreaks havoc, scattering hope, vanquishing lives. 

Yet beyond varietals of denial and resentment there are the third-way varietals of peace to be gleaned as the sorrow gatherings are embraced for the fact that they ‘are’ (inescapable).

Beyond a place of our controlling them – we can’t – we rest in the acceptance of unacceptable circumstances beyond our control.  Such an acceptance is wisdom for we have no other way of moving forward and ahead by faith into a destiny that chose us – for we did not, and never would, choose it. 

But in choosing to go with a new normal,
something more wonderful becomes us.

Life in the long run – the purpose of sustaining life no less – is to receive each circumstance beyond our control with a grace that absorbs and therein honours the pain of it. 

Such a process is not hard,
but it is NOT our human default. 
We typically are hurt by pain.

The process of absorbing pain brings with it a benefit as it deepens the heart and we enjoy a deeper spirituality within our humanity.  What seems a curse is destined as a blessing.

Sadness, truthfully, is beautiful.  What might seem bizarre and even abhorrent is no less true.  It is an ancient fact of human experience written about by the mystics to a thousand years ago, and ancients much further back than that. 

As we embrace our sorrows,
our anger is healed.

Griefs gather as we age,
but ageing is not a foe.

Our purpose as we age is to
grow in grace – to grow and not to rescind.

Too many people kick against the goads, but just as much we can find our best life post-50.  I can tell you my happiest years are in the second half, yet the paradox is it’s my first half being healed that brings me most joy. 

And it’s because I’ve learned the spiritual truth that this life holds nothing but pain, yet somehow that very pain is but the key that unlocks the door to the real joys of a life more abundant than most realise. 

VARIETALS OF DENIAL AND RESENTMENT

The saddest reality of life is how many people never live the full life they could have lived. 

Too many people are trapped in the varietals of denial and resentment.  In my AA days 20 years ago, I so often heard it said, “Poor me, poor me, pour me another drink.” 

Addiction is a bypassing of the pain that is better meant to heal us.  In addiction, both denial and resentment run out of control – all because the pain seemed too hard and too much.  The cycles of escape and anger should be their own evidence of the wrong path.

Pain is merely the antecedent of healing.

Denial and resentment are two undesirable ways of dealing with pain.  We are forgiven for trying these two ways out – getting ensconced in them.  They are the world’s ways, how almost everyone responds without thought.

A THIRD WAY

There is a third way, and that way is key.  That third way of taking the pain INTO oneself. 

When we take grief in all its confrontingness, it overwhelms us.  It takes us to a desperate place, a place where we are destined to reach out – if we are not afraid of others’ reactions.  

My emphatic exhortation here is,
GO with all you have INTO this third way.

When we open ourselves to a fearless journey of partying with the painful truths of our lives, those very pains prove their healing property as we endure them. 

And that healing property is our hearts grow supple and vulnerable, more easily broken with compassionate empathy in the common bedrock of a symphony of pain that this life is made up of. 

All of life opens up to us when we are no longer afraid of having our hearts broken. 

This article was inspired by The Pretenders, Back on the Chain Gang.  I played this song on repeat as I wrote this.  Long live music like this!

What do I do with this crippling grief?

A polarising question to loss: “What do I do with this crippling grief?”

There is a simple answer to a question that is an eternal conundrum.  The pain of grief has been felt by people since people have existed.

The answer is there is no answer.  Yes, I know that this seems absolutely confounding.  But there is a purpose in being confounded.  Being confounded is the right response to something confounding.  

Contemplating this leads us to a place contemplation.  It leads to silence.  From silence comes respect for all things that do not have answers, for there are many of those in life.

To loss, there is no answer.  

And yet what is to come of crippling grief?

Silence.  Stillness.  Surrender.

~

In the discombobulating reality of loss, grief invades as an ever-present foe, stealing all semblance of peace, hope, and joy.  It causes us to distrust both present and future.  It annihilates all confidence that happiness is possible again.  It’s like we’ve travelled through a portal to hell and cannot get back to the life we once knew as comparatively safe and wonderful.  We envy what we once had.  It’s like a parallel universe where we see others untouched by loss get on with ‘their happy lives’.  In loss, a series of blows is meted out in a season of unparalleled injustice.  

There is no making sense of it.  There are no words.  Anything ventured is a waste of space and energy.  And yet, somehow the answer is closer than ever before.  In a topic that makes no sense, sense is finally made when we agree that searching is senseless.  

So what do we do with this crippling grief?  There is no answer.  Knowing there is no answer is itself an answer, and a way forward.  And when we can’t move forward it is okay to stay as we are.

If we are crippled with grief it is comfort we need, not glib answers.

Suffering is a crossroad — which way to go?

Suffering is a crossroad.  It is designed as the opportunity to break our arrogance, because we cannot escape the pain of it.  That which we cannot control humbles us, though it feels distinctly unfair.  

Suffering can be a blessing in disguise
… or a curse.

Which way will we take it? 

This is a choice — a crossroad. 

Because suffering is a crossroad there is temptation to go the other way and to further dig our heels into the firm ground resenting the pain of it.

When I first faced suffering as a 36-year-old twenty years ago I did not know what had hit me.  I was flummoxed by it.  Suddenly I was living in a parallel universe with life otherwise going on around me, yet I was living an absolute nightmare.  Every day, every moment, was shrouded in emotional uncertainty.  I had no scaffold with which to understand it… it undid me completely.

The gamut of grief descended and tabernacled in me for several months, if not a year or more, transforming my existence acutely in those first six months.  That six months felt like a very, very long time.

I’ve used this experience a great deal in my pastoral ministry and counselling work — I was ‘held’ in this purgatory for an extended period where there was no possible escape for a reason.  

So I would not forget, and because I couldn’t escape, I had to endure the crossroad experience day after day, week after week, month after month.

At the crossroad, the decision point comes, “do I make something of this situation I’m in… do I take the opportunity to improve, to grow, to apply faith, to choose to respond in a mature way… DESPITE how I feel I want to respond… OR do I allow the experience to crush me and get stuck in the mire of bitterness, resentment, and disempowerment?”

Do I make this about me
and the opportunity in this hardship?

Or do I make this about me
and how unfair the world is?

(In case we don’t know, the world is unfair, but there is an opportunity in that unfairness — to rise above it.)

Do you see the crossroad that suffering brings us to?  It is a polarising place forcing us into the valley of decision.  

We go either of two ways
but we can’t go both ways.

Do we believe that the things against us now
can be part of the making of us?

Suffering is a precipice where all kinds of futures beckon.  

It won’t always be the way it is — so hard.  

Our choice: do we build brick by brick a future that we believe is possible or do we rage against the machine? 

The former has a future we hope for.  The latter is defeat.  Easy choice.  

The choice is to do the hard work now for a beautiful outcome rather than deny we have the power to forge a good future.  

You will reap a harvest of blessing if you do not give up

NINE years ago we were going through a very tough time, but in context it was just another season in a 20-year journey of becoming for me.  

That 20-year journey started with the loss of my family as we knew it in September 2003.  This broke me for months but was the cause of the rebuilding of me for the better.  This was followed by burnout in 2005, clinical depression and midlife crisis in 2007, and then an extended period of acute stress that became chronic, and then we lost our son Nathanael to stillbirth in 2014 (picture of me with him on the day of his funeral).  2016 to May this year were some of the hardest years, but always sprinkled with many reasons to be grateful.

We weren’t to know it at that time, when we lost Nathanael, but we were only a bit over fifty percent the way through the trial of twenty years (2003-2023) yet that’s the truth of it.  

It isn’t helpful to go into all of it it in graphic detail unless to say that there are others I’m journeying with right now (more than a few) who are either part the way through their hellish reality or are only just beginning.  

It does not help to attribute judgement — but when we are going through hell, as Sir Winston Churchill once said, we simply must keep going!

Some of these people are doing it tougher than I had it.  It is astonishing that they keep waking up in their nightmare yet keep agreeing with themselves and their loved ones to do their best.  They are nothing short of inspiring!  And they will make it out of their respective hell.

That tug of faith keeps us facing each day knowing somehow it won’t always be the way it is right now.  Our reality defies this faith, however, but it’s faith that helps us insist on a hope we do not yet see.  Only by faith can we continue to ‘show up’ when broken.  The faith of raw courage.

I want to encourage those on the toughest of journeys right now — those who are not there yet, especially those questioning their method or even their existence.  Keep going.  You will get there, and it will be even more beautiful than you dare to imagine right now as trudge through the mire.  Belief will get you all the way home.  

The title to this little article is part of a Bible verse: “Do not grow weary in doing good, for you will reap a harvest of blessing if you do not give up.” (Galatians 6:9). 

It’s a life-saving verse for some in their season of anguish that they cannot change.  For those of us who cannot relate, kindness, acknowledgement, and understanding go a long way.  Yet, if we can’t relate, we are an anachronism for those who have lost more than some will ever know.

May we go gently with those in our midst who are struggling,
and may those who endure trials right now be gentle with themselves.  

I care but I don’t know how

Funerals can be daunting.  But so can an unexpected rendezvous in a shopping aisle.  Or awkward silences in any environment.

Times when we clamour for the right thing to say or do when we encounter a person grieving a deep loss.  It’s that social awkwardness we have all faced — if we are honest.  This is because we don’t know how to manage that moment of a person before us grieving their loss, imagining that we must do or say something/anything to redeem or honour the moment.  

We don’t know how to communicate with someone who is enduring deep pain we cannot connect with.

The truth is, none of us when we are honest
knows how to master that kind of moment.

We feel betwixt and between, as if doing something or not doing something will both be wrong.  We feel paralysed for a response.  It is all because we care.  It isn’t because we don’t care.  It’s so often we fail in giving care because we are fearful of saying or doing the wrong thing, whether saying or doing the wrong thing is even the thing.  The thing is, we care. 

Because we care, we may appear not to care.

Many times in life we are challenged by emotions we don’t know what to do with.  Or how to deal with them.  

It isn’t a sin to care that much that we don’t know how to show it.  Being able to show we care does not necessarily mean we care more.  It just means we bear more competence and confidence in the realm of the grieving.  

My life has taught me that experiencing and facing the pain of one’s grief has been the best teacher for understanding another’s grief.  It isn’t a person’s fault if they haven’t experienced what another person has experienced: the rawness of facing a grief that cannot be denied.  

Grief teaches that there are NO words,
there is only presence.  

Through presence there are words and actions that help — few words and meaningful actions.  Being comfortable when a thing cannot be fixed.  Knowing that the ‘fix’ is in simply being present and perhaps doing something useful that is welcomed.

In awkward situations, we don’t need to do or say anything.  We understand and accept this the moment we face that there are no words to placate a person or situation.  

This is how we show we care:
we face the unspeakable reality
with the grieving person encountered.  

We don’t try to deny their reality.

“Rejoice with those who rejoice,
mourn with those who mourn.”

ROMANS 12:15