Coming Back to Life

I met with my sponsor earlier this week to go over my addiction inventory, which I decided I'm going to share with my SA group in two weeks. It was great to get some feedback and perspective on it, but the part I really enjoyed was chatting with him for a few minutes afterwards. I have a lot of respect for him--I'd tell you about his recovery from low-bottom drinking/sex addiction, but just trust me that it's amazing. It's really a miracle that 1) he's alive at all and 2) he has been sober for multiple years. Anyway, the thing he said that really stood out to me was how he talked about hobbies in recovery. It came about because I asked about his singing, which it turns out he does at a professional level. I asked if he'd been singing for long, but apparently he only started about 10 years ago (he's in his 50s). For decades he wanted to pursue singing as a hobby or career, but had never managed to. This goes along with another story I heard last night in SA group from a man who's been sober for about 6 years who talked about how he's started doing woodworking and fishing, both of which he gave up a long time ago.

One of the many side effects of sex addiction is that it seems to crush the creativity and motivation out of those caught in it. The way my sponsor described it was that we all have God-given drives for creativity and imagination, but addiction has a way of luring you inward and focusing you on yourself to the point where you're unable to receive motivation and light from God. On the other hand, one of the aftereffects of drying out from the addiction is that life returns to these starved, dormant desires to create.

This is incredibly encouraging to me.

I've tried for years to force myself to pursue creative outlets, every time falling flat on my face. For example, six or seven years ago I had an idea for a children's book that I was going to illustrate myself. It was going to be a retelling of Little Red Riding Hood where she (in her bright red hoodie) goes around terrorizing the forest creatures by jumping on them. The climax comes when her trap backfires and an elderly wolf falls on her, hurting his back and immobilizing them both until a passing lumberjack frees them. Anyway, I had the whole thing story-boarded with text and rough character sketches, then...nothing.

An illustration from my adaptation of Little Red Riding Hood. That's a baby owl in the upper left; also, the scan faintly shows the dialogue/text written on the other side of the page.

Another example: about four years ago I had an idea for a science fiction novel. I was quite proud of the premise; I worked on the setting, characters, and plot quite a bit. I had created quite a history and ideas for how everything worked. I even wrote short stories based on it and three or four drafts of the first chapter--over 20,000 words worth. And...nothing.

Concept art for my sci-fi novel (the one on the left is a spaceship)

Both of these projects are still there, and I still want to work on them. For the longest time I had excuses that explained why I couldn't: my work took up too much time, my family took up my energy, I needed time to rest, etc. Now I realize the only reason I haven't finished them--whether or not they end up being worth sharing with anyone else--is because I have been hunched over, desperately clenching my addiction like it were a life preserver in a violent storm. My muscles were clamped in this death-grip for so long that they started to atrophy. The sad thing is that this "life preserver" isn't buoyant. It makes the storm infinitely worse, drowning everything I wanted to become.

For the longest time I've been angry that I can't make myself work on these and other projects. I decided I must not be the creative type--maybe I'm only good for watching tv and playing video games. I also concluded that this must just be the nature of life. Both of these conclusions built resentments against family, work, and God. And how did I deal with them? Yep--more acting out and trying to forget that I even wanted to do those things in the first place.

As I was talking with my sponsor another thought occurred to me. Every desire we have is originally from God. We want to eat, interact with others, sleep, have sexual relations, etc. These desires are part of what God made us to be. The Adversary corrupts and twists these into addictions--we want to eat two boxes of Twinkies, exploit others for sexual or financial profit, etc. Part of our challenge in this life is to find and use these impulses in the way God originally intended us to. So my impulse to obsessively play video games may be corrupted, but somehow I can find a way to meet that impulse in a healthy way. That might mean not playing video games, but if I can find a way to feel fulfilled in that desire, I won't want to anyways. I'm convinced that the key to a happy and fulfilling existence in this life is to be able to differentiate between Godly and corrupted desires and choose the original, the pure, the uplifting.

Now I realize that around the corner, if I'm diligent in my recovery, is the resurrection of these creative impulses which will strengthen me, those around me, and my relationship with God. And it won't be me futilely trying to force life into something dead and shriveled; rather, it will be God breathing life into me, reinvigorating parts of me I had left for dead long ago.