Saturday, March 28, 2015

What Recovery Isn't

I want a well-adjusted, addiction-free existence--aka I want to live in balanced, sustainable recovery.

But the more experience I have with recovery, the more I realize how little I understand it. I used to be convinced that the addiction was responsible for all the havoc in my life, affecting pretty much everything: marriage, parenting, work, school, church, shopping, sitting, etc. I took this a step further, though, and assumed that because my addiction affected everything, once I got rid of it I'd spring back to health in all these aspects of my life. Maybe it wasn't even a clear idea of what would happen, but a general conviction that my homework would get done easier, I would be able to parent my children better, and my life would be more peaceful. I've since come to realize that recovery (the glimpses I've experienced of it, anyways) isn't exactly what I thought it would be.

Recovery Isn't Constant Happiness

Recovery is not synonymous with happiness. There's no question that my last 58 weeks since I started working on recovery in earnest (of which I would consider about 50 solidly spent in recovery) have been more happy, peaceful, and productive than any similar stretch in memory. But that's on the whole--there are still moments when I'm bummed about X situation that's out of my control, or Y ability I think I should have, or Z relationship that I think should be healthier. Let's not blame recovery, though; not being happy all the time is a side effect of being alive. 

However, recovery does enable me to have a positive state of mind all the time. Rather than happiness, it's a clear conscience. I'm convinced feeling free of guilt can give a feeling of contentedness that approaches what I previously assumed would be a constant state of happiness.

Recovery Isn't Smooth

Recovery is bumpy. If recovery is a path, it's got elevation issues. Sometimes I reach a fork in the road and the one marked "recovery" is fairly smooth and slightly downhill. It's quite a surprise when I reach the same path the next week, only to discover it's uphill and rocky. Why is it easy to resist lusting sometimes, but not others? Why is it painful to reach out or talk with my wife sometimes?

I don't know. But I do know that recognizing recovery's fluctuating difficulty levels helps me to not be complacent when things are going easy and not to be overwhelmed when things are going poorly. When things get tough--like they've been the last few weeks--I just need to take it a day at a time and know it will get better.

Recovery Doesn't Automatically Erase Bad Habits

Recovery does not clear away the wreckage of my past--when I'm in recovery, I clear it away.  Part of the reason recovery is so hard to succeed at is because bad habits, which aren't necessarily addiction related, make it harder to succeed. For example, when I binge video games I get the feeling of self-medicating through a screen, which leads to switching to porn. When I avoid helping clean the house, I have a sudden impulse to escape into something unhealthy.

On the other hand, recovery makes it much easier to get rid of bad habits. I thought of an analogy that I really like, but decided I will make it its own post in a while. Starting a draft now to remind myself.

Recovery Doesn't Automatically Make Me a Cool Person

Similar to the previous point, recovery doesn't revolutionize who I am...or rather, it doesn't do it as quickly as I would have wanted/expected. There's something about the demands and challenges of maintaining recovery that necessarily changes my attitude and habits. But recovery (much less sobriety) does not equal toppling a wall of anti-sociability, laziness, and ineptitude. Through consistently making choices to reach out, work hard, and be proactive I eventually become who I want to be.


Let me end with a positive note about a few days ago. I was sleeping on the couch again (long story), and I was feeling particularly strong temptations. I knew trying to battle them through thoughts was a losing prospect--my wife was in our room with the lights off, and I didn't want to reach out to support people in the middle of the night. I got the idea to clean the kitchen, so I did. It was weird doing dishes in the middle of the night, but if that's what it takes--to battle temptations that are harder than normal with attempts to overcome bad habits and develop good ones--so be it. The happiness that comes from recovery is worth it.

Sunday, March 1, 2015

"Recovering" Year One

About a week ago I was going through some old blog posts that I hadn’t looked at in quite a while, when I realized that it was one year ago I started this blog. Some of the posts I looked at had things I had forgotten, and I realized I wanted to do something special to both recognize the occasion and make the first year more accessible. As a mental exercise I also wanted to see if I could boil the main ideas down to the bare essentials.

So without further ado, here are brief summaries of the 44 posts I’ve done over the last 365 days. Or, in other words, here are 1,689 words to describe the 45,041 words in all these posts. And, as a bonus, I also include a timeline of my recovery for the past year, complete with analysis.


I share a hodgepodge of insights (about myself as a child, my emotions, and my impatience) analogies (sexual feelings as a locked door and the effect of addiction on our perspective) and an image that represents the analogies. I realize now that I completely repeated myself from two posts ago.


I review my recent progress in establishing a safe environment with my wife, especially as it relates to forming healthy attitudes and habits towards sex.


I assess my feelings towards my feelings. I conclude I have emotional needs, even if I’m in the habit of burying them to avoid drama, awkwardness, and embarrassment.


I review the book entitled We Will End the Conflict Now: Victory Over Pornography From the Perspective of a Recovered Addict and His Wife. I criticize the definitiveness with which they talk about addiction even as I recognize that their book has very helpful perspectives, tools, and insights. Overall, I recommend it.


I share personal advice about counseling I wish I would have received before I started it the first time, including “Work to find the right counselor,” “prepare before starting,” and “don’t think of it as a silver bullet.”


I borrow (steal) the idea of “seeing ourselves in parts” from my counselor to complicate the Cherokee parable of feeding two wolves in ourselves. I also break down how all or nothing thinking robs me of significant progress in scripture study and conference review; math is involved.


While I ultimately conclude that addiction is a disease that addicts (wittingly or not) made ourselves susceptible to and resist treatment for, I also acknowledge there are hazards in thinking of it in this way and that recovery is possible.


I analyze my recent efforts to strengthen myself after a relapse by theorizing about three legs of a recovery stool: accountability, motivation, and safeguards.


I reveal my inner astronomy nerd by sharing an analogy comparing a supergiant star’s gradual fuel corruption and collapse into a black hole or supernova with the human tendency to rely on less efficient fuel (daily actions and habits) until we explode or collapse spiritually.


I confess a full relapse after comparing my gradual decline to (SA buddy) Kyle’s. I also brainstorm and commit to actions that will help me return to a healthier place in my recovery, including improved safety network, in-marriage celibacy, and counseling.


I compare recovery to a bank account, with recovery actions as deposits and addiction actions as withdrawals. I make a chart with seven specific deposit and withdrawal actions.


I claim that it’s mainly a desire to maintain (unrealistic) optimism that leads addicts to perform mental contortionism (aka lying to ourselves and others) and ignore the reality of their actions. I call this the reality distortion field.


I apply Pavlov’s theory of classical conditioning to pornography addiction to argue that many hobbies we defend as healthy and necessary are actually adding to our struggle to recover and need to be abandoned until we break the conditioning.


I draw on a quote from my sponsor—“we become disturbed to the degree that we’re broken”—to explore how my frustration with life is actually a symptom of my brokenness.


I share an epiphany I had at my first ARP meeting in five months (doing SA meetings in the meanwhile)—that I have actually made progress, and that my failures don’t define me or my actual progress.


I question common understandings of sobriety. I argue that it’s not masturbating to orgasm, but maintaining victory over lust, facing our weaknesses, and being true to ourselves.


After quoting Neil A. Maxwell about “educating and training our desires,” I apply the principle to addiction recovery, especially as it relates to hobbies that aren’t conducive to recovery.


I recount a meeting with my sponsor and his success as a professional singer after his sustained recovery. I then trace my own failed desires to become an artist and writer in hope that recovery will bring these healthy creative desires back to life. Illustrations included.


I propose that comments on blogs function as an act of faith and service, an investment in a community (similar to an allegory about heaven and hell by Rabbi Haim of Romshishok), and an act of critical analysis that improve our understanding. I include a chart of the types of comments and their potential challenges and drawings to explain the allegory.


I compare addictions (like gluttony) to allergies (like gluten-intolerance). I claim that we have just as much control over how addictions affect us as someone with an allergy does over how it affects them. Drawing of “Glutton-Free Bread” included.


Cuz it totally does.


I borrow (steal) an analogy from my wife about where we are in our recovery—moving on from crappy rundown apartments to our own house…though it’s under construction and still can’t provide shelter.


Silliness ensues artistically after a funny phrase on a fellow blogger’s post. I still love milkshakes.


An attempt to manipulate my kids goes awry, leading to this post questioning what makes us happy. I maintain that self-awareness and remembering how we react is key.


A comic based off my last post visualizes how we have baggage that we carry with us that will ultimately keep us out of heaven.


After quoting C.S. Lewis—“if we insist on keeping Hell (or even Earth) we shall not see heaven…”—I explore ways in which I try keeping earthly souvenirs while striving to be heaven-worthy.

In an effort to understand why otherwise obedient, good people become addicted to pornography, I compare it to a sales pitch, where Satan promises complete control over how you feel, complete safety from emotional pain, and the whole package is available for free. I challenge each of these claims, complete with a devil advertisement, a reference to the APA ruling that sex addiction isn’t a thing, and a video for recovering addict Mark.

I relate lust addiction to Albert Einstein’s definition of addiction—“doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” I then talk about how making telephone calls to support people helps me escape the insanity loop.

I investigate how the story of David in the Old Testament is applicable to addicts, drawing on the SA white book, personal application, and the Bible Dictionary. Insult of Song of Solomon included.

Another silly visualization based off a funny phrase in a fellow blogger’s post.

I analyze my fears—that my recovery program isn’t good enough to sustain recovery, that the pain of withdrawals isn’t going to go away, and that my marriage won’t recover—and my faith (pretty much the opposite). I update my self-boundaries.

I share one of my favorite scriptures—“he that hath no rule over his own spirit is like a city that is broken down and without walls”—and explore how my recovery attempts have shifted from the equivalent of drawing lines in the sand to actually making walls. I set my self-boundaries. Funny drawing included (colored by my son).

After an actual illness of the body that I was able to function through, I compare the experience to addiction and comment on the dramatic demands of the body.

After differentiating between “intimacy” and “sex,” these posts explore how addicts lack, but desperately need, the ability to connect emotionally, spiritually, and physically in non-sexual ways. Cool picture.

I rebut those who claim that “porn doesn’t hurt anybody” by comparing it to passing up a full time job to pick up change out of the gutter full time. I talk about financial, family, and skill capital that has been negatively influenced. Picture.

I share three well-meaning quotes about why wives should be having more sex with their husbands, then attempt to refute their logic—especially as it relates to addict-affected relationships. In part two I include a further claim that lack of sex is harmful; I analyze what kind of harm might come from no sexual relations. I’m still not convinced my title makes much sense, but illustrations included.

I review my first month of recovery, including communication with my wife, motivation, and help from others. Analogies to juggling and self-surgery combined. Fortunately, no illustrations included.

This is where I explain the title of my blog, especially as it differs from the previous incarnation which focused on video game addiction. Recovering as in “healing,” “to regain something that has been lost,” and “to cover again.” Pictures and illustrations included.

I complicate the word and concept “pervert,” including statistics about how common pornography use is and a word root analysis arguing that “pervert”—literally “twisted all the way through”—isn’t completely accurate.

This is where I describe the origin of my pseudo-image, Robert, the Hai Karate girl resister. A classy vintage cologne ad shared and analyzed.

I share the origin of my lust addiction in this inverted super-hero-gains-super-powers story. I conclude that not only did I not get super powers, but in some ways I sold my birthright for a bowl of poison porridge.




Analysis:
When I visualize my last year of recovery in this way, it's pretty dramatic the support I had before the move in August versus the lack of support afterwards. Some of the most helpful recovery practices disappeared without immediate replacements. I was thinking of making a line of where I was in my recovery, but I think it's pretty clear what it would look like: sloping up until the move, then turning steeply downhill until relapse and finding new supports, then slowly going back up again.

Another thing I realized was how my illustrated posts disappeared right around the time I moved. I suspect that for some reason my motivation towards art is partially a sign of how well my recovery is going, though it might just be my imagination.

Here's to another 365 days of recovery!