the gift that relapse brings…
Take a look at this picture. Look at it closely. Anything seem off? Odd at first glance? True, on the surface it seems innocent - two best friends smiling for the camera, but if you close, real close, the picture isn’t entirely pretty. This particular evening marked my first relapse in four years, and it fell on an evening when many of my dearest friends came over my home to celebrate my birthday, me and here I was lying to all of them. This was December of 2006, and I’m high and I don’t particularly like it.
At that time, the whole of my world was unraveling. This was my latest attempt at sobriety (six months clean) until I would hit January and I would drink again, and then I would hit February of 2007 and I would realize that I had a serious drinking problem. I was climbing the walls, anxious, but I had a party to give, dishes to cook, a home to clean. Focus, I told myself. Keep moving. Stick to the plan - you’re sober! You haven’t done coke since 2002! All is well with the world.
I won’t delve into the particulars, however, let’s just say that it was a “gift” (if one could even call it that) from an old friend who turned out to be a terrible friend, and two hours before the party, I laughed, told my best friend that I had coke in my house, in my pocket, and she freaked out. And while it came from the very best place, I grew defensive, irrate, and I shielded all of this by lying. By saying that I was kidding, that I flushed it all down the toilet. Look at the powder circling the drain. In response, she sighed, in relief, and we continued on preparing for the party, arranging flowers in vases, folded napkins and the like. The thing was, I didn’t know if I was completely ready to let it go, to flush my gift down the toilet, and this, the weight of this, unnerved me. I needed time. And so I played house while a pouch of powder was in my pant pocket.
And while my friends trickled in off the street, bringing food and flowers, toasting my latest attempt at sobriety, I hid in the bathroom and did lines. But as soon as I did, everything suddenly felt wrong. I heard my friends laughing in the other room, and I felt criminal. I had lied to my best friend (which I had never done until that moment), I had lied to all of my friends, and I felt sneaky, pathetic. I didn’t feel the high I used to feel, rather I felt ashamed, angry with myself. I felt jittery, off-kilter. In short, I didn’t like how I was feeling, and the hole that cocaine used to fill had now been filled with people who care, people who were here to celebrate the fact that I was alive. People who are grateful that I was born.
I came out of the bathroom and avoided my best friend, who gave me the slightest of looks. It might have been a blink, the beginning of a frown, but she knew and said nothing. Kept laughing at everyone’s jokes, sang the chorus of happy birthday. I felt my heart breaking. You see, up until then I hadn’t loved anyone that much (save my father) to see the weight of what I was doing and how it could possibly affect other people. This was about me, but it wasn’t.
The next morning, I tossed my “gift” and over the coming weeks, I apologized to many of my friends. I was honest, and they understood. And when I told Susan the very next day, she wasn’t angry at all, but rather saddened that I couldn’t let her in, couldn’t share what I was going through. You’re not alone in this, she said. Who knew that in less than two months we’d have another conversation, this one over the phone, me telling her that this life I was leading was not a way to live, it was a way to die. And I can’t explain what a wonderful thing that is - feeling as if I didn’t have to carry the weight of my life, that my friends were willing to shoulder it too. They were willing to stand by and support my recovery.
To say that the past year hasn’t been revolutionary would be an understatement. Everything has changed, everything. I laugh sometimes, wish I would have done this ages ago, but my friends tell me what matters is that I’m doing it now. And they tell me that I’ve become a better and capable friend, that this is the Felicia they’ve waited for for a long time. They’re happy I’m back.
In an interview last week, a journalist asked me if I thought about using. If it’s something I think of still. And I nodded, said absolutely, because I was only human. Thinking about drinking and drinking are two completely different things. That one isn’t weak because they think about their addiction, rather they’re strong when they make the decision not to use, and that they keep making that decision.
I’m a month away from year one, and I suddenly feel like a little toddler, a colt on new legs, and it feels pretty damn good.
January 18th, 2008 at 12:02 pm
In my opinion, for what it’s worth, the absolute hardest thing about getting sober and evolving into a life of integrity is getting honest. I think it starts with a commitment to being honest with other people, but at the core it’s about getting honest with ourselves. Those of us who were lying from childhood — lying for and about our parents — are so accustomed to lying, even when telling the truth would be easier, that it is an ongoing, conscious effort. Slips are an inevitable part of recovery and there’s always one waiting around every corner. As you obviously have learned, getting honest and trusting the people who love us makes the journey tougher in the short term, but oh so much easier in the long term. I am proud of you. xo
January 19th, 2008 at 10:16 am
Hang in there. Here is a thought. It seems you love to write (and in my opinion, write very well). So, ask youself if you were to get stoned or drunk whether you will write a master piece (that you enjoy writing and others may enjoy reading). If so, then by all means get stoned and drunk and crash and burn early (heck you are just 32 which would be a shame). Obviously, if you crash and burn, your writing will stop. Obviously, if you are unable to write the master piece when you are stoned or drunk then the issue becomes somewhat manageable. I know this is simplifying things, after all there are infinite numbers of “challenging” things in life (and nature). In my case, at 52, I have done my share of recreational adjustments in my college and early working years. Obviously, the challenges still keep coming and I still handle them, in my opinion, very well. Challenges are so varied. My latest challenge was when my moderate secular “christian” spouse got breast cancer and rapidly turned into a fundamentalist, evangelical, talking to god person. I myself, being a secular nothing spent so much time researching all the supernatural “crap” and learned so much more about life and nature. At times, I would wonder why my spouse couldn’t have done the adultery thing as opposed to the god thing. Anyhow, this is, I know, a minor challenge on its face but all the same a major challenge for me that I think I overcame and on a quantum scale enhanced my knowledge (the pursuit of knowledge my “love” in life). So, life is good and may it be good for you too.
January 20th, 2008 at 10:57 am
Lisa/Derik,
Thank you so much for your sage words, encouragement and support!
Cheers, Felicia
January 21st, 2008 at 5:11 am
Congratulations! I didn’t realize it was already out!
January 21st, 2008 at 9:17 am
Michele-You and me, both girl
!
January 21st, 2008 at 7:56 pm
Although I’ve seen your name around blogging circles for years, I haven’t read your blog until now. Just read about your book. Huge congratulations. There are several bookstores within a few blocks of our house and I’ll be going out later to find it. But that’s not why I’m delurking to comment. I want to say that (in my opinion) it’s okay to want to drink or use…it’s okay if those feelings come up. I’ve been clean and sober for nearly 18 years*…and I sometimes still want to drink…most recently around the time I was about to have a birthday earlier this month. (No surprise, right?) It’s okay to have those thoughts and feelings…what matters is what we do when we have them. I’m hugely proud of you for writing this post…and commend you on having 11 months under your belt. Wishing you much success with your book…and even more with your sobriety.
(*And if anyone had told me I’d go 18 DAYS without drinking I would have thought they were insane.)
February 1st, 2008 at 7:01 am
[…] You rock. Here’s the list of this month’s winners: Suburban Turmoil awarded Felicia Sullivan Oh, The Joys awarded O Mighty Crisis MommaLoves awarded WhyMommy Miss Cellania awarded Old Guy […]
February 1st, 2008 at 8:13 pm
Oh, Felicia, I am so proud of you! One year is a huge accomplishment! And remember to reach out if you need strength approaching that anniversary. Even now as I approach my 8th year, I get wigged around that time. That is NORMAL. The thoughts of using/drinking are normal. Hang tough, know that you have people who are so proud and so willing to be there for you. Count me among them. I have been there and know what you are going through.
February 2nd, 2008 at 9:00 am
Marilyn/Jenn,
Thank you for your support during this incredibly wonderful, yet utterly fragile time!
Here’s to us, survivors, and here’s to me (yikes) as I’m hitting YEAR ONE!
xoxoxoxo, f.
February 2nd, 2008 at 3:18 pm
If you can find comedian Richard Lewis’s book, The Other Great Depression, it’s a good (minus the William Styron descriptions that beleager some of it) take on sobriety and how long it took him to clean up. From the book:
“It wasn’t that I was going to miss the taste of alcohol, but rather the delicious thought of not feeling.”
That summed up my past with alcohol too. Or to quote one of my friends who slipped, “What’s so great about feeling?”
February 2nd, 2008 at 6:21 pm
Lindsey was right - your post deserved a Perfect Post Award. I admire your honesty. You’ve dealt with some things that concern me but that I’ve not had the strength to completely deal with yet.
I think I’ll be a regular lurker now.