Freedom from addiction is not, and has never been one size fits all. Today more resources and paths of treatment and recovery are available than ever before yet decades of bitter experience has clearly demonstrated though that whether it is classic 12 Step recovery, CBT, DBT, EMDR, Smart Recovery, Celebrate Recovery, etc. without engagement in a community of individuals intimately familiar with the curious nature of addiction thinking, having personal experience with life’s inevitable difficulties, challenges, and successes free of intoxicants and addictive behavior, sustainable healthy long-term recovery, as the current death and relapse rates attest, is elusive. Miracles Of Recovery lays the foundation to bring recovery and treatment into the 21st century.
Tag / Opioids
Autism, Addiction and Me
I was born in 1955. Way back then there were basically 3 types of “kids”: just the regular let’s play hide-an-seek, build a fort, throw rocks, ride bikes, ring doorbells and run, make random calls and ask if “Ben Dover” was home (caller ID ruined that), get muddy, mercurochromed bloody knees and elbows, be home by dinner time kind. Then there were the “weird” kids. Now, this class broke down into the “weird” in an eccentric kinda way which made you kinda cool and then there were the “stay away from little Johnny” kinda weird which wasn’t so good, and everybody had at least one friend who fit the former and knew one of the latter. Today the latter generally hold elective office or work at the DMV.
Finally, there were the “special” kids (special being the term used in polite company). Now, I know a lot about this class, for you see, I’m a member. As a child I struggled to “fit in,” be “just one of the kids” and I lived in terror (strong word but completely accurate) of the “short bus” which transported them to school and home again. My generation pretty much walked to and from school. The only time a parent picked up their child was if they were injured beyond the school nurse’s ability to patch them up or they were sick, projectile vomiting kinda sick or did something REALLY BAD, like invade Poland. So, every day when the short bus would pass me, twice, I would freeze up inside, deathly afraid of being found out. I was seven when I first began considering suicide.
I was adopted at six weeks of age and unbeknownst to my new parents, I was “special” as well as being a sickly child; my heart stopping more than once before I was 9. As a result, my father felt cheated out of the son he envisioned having, and though I supposed he tried, it was abundantly clear he would have traded me in for a different model if given the chance. Mom was Mom. I could have been on death row, guilty as sin, and she would have been there patting me on the arm saying, “its OK honey, the Governor will call since I know in my heart you are a good boy.” But I couldn’t talk her or anyone about what I was feeling and experiencing, hell, I couldn’t even put it into words for myself.
I didn’t know why I was different, but it was clear I was. I would watch the interactions of my playmates, confounded as to the ways they related and responded to each other, and they did it so effortlessly. I’d hang in the background, try to be a part of without really being noticed, especially for the wrong reasons. And I watched a lot of TV looking for clues.
I had a hard time making and keeping eye contact and would often look off to the side when talking to someone. I would say “inappropriate” things (not like bad language or such, well, OK, sometimes, my mind just makes connections which make perfect sense to me, others, not so much) and had no clue as to why they were inappropriate. I would get that hated scrunched up nose narrowed eyed “say what” look and know I had somehow messed up.
In the early 60’s IQ tests were the rage. When the sealed envelopes with the results were handed out in my class, everyone got a white envelope, well almost everyone, mine was manila in color. That day’s walk home was filled with thoughts of suicide and ways to do it because I knew this was it. I left the envelope on the kitchen table (the thought never crossed my mind to disappear it) and waited in my room resigned to my fate. When Mom opened it all it said was the school wanted them to make an appointment to come in for a conference. My Dad was pissed (yep, that is the word he used) because he would have to take off work and was sure I had done something I was covering up. I maintained ignorance, thankful for the reprieve, dreading what I thought I KNEW was coming. The day came and I attended the meeting with the Vice-Principal as well. They were told I was, wait for it, ABNORMALLY intelligent. I don’t know what else was said after that, for I had shut down and blanked out. It was in the car driving home when I came back around to my father saying, “that was a huge waste of time.” I waited for “the” talk I had been dreading, but it never materialized. I went to school the next day as if nothing had happened and it was never brought up again. I really don’t know why they had my parents come in, this was before GATE or programs for gifted students existed, I think they were just as perplexed at what to do with me as I was.
At a very early age I decided the best course of action was to try to “fit in,” so I dedicated myself to mimicry. I would surreptitiously watch you: your facial expressions, the tone of your voice, the words you chose, how others reacted to you and how you reciprocated. And I practiced and practiced. You know how people say they have done something a “thousand” times? From that point (around 7) through High School I spent thousands of hours in front of the bathroom mirror rehearsing the things that came so naturally to you, until it became second nature. I taught myself to “fit in,” to act as if, even though I didn’t understand the underlying why’s.
And life went on. I looked at what generally qualified as “normal” (not surprisingly a lot of that came from TV) and started checking off the boxes. In time my fear of being “found out” diminished, but I was still a little “weird” which was kinda OK in High School. I played sports, got a girlfriend (relationships took my acting to a whole new level, and I still sucked at them), had a small circle of friends and was bored out of my mind. I drove my teachers to distraction by rarely turning in homework but acing tests. My poor mother on numerous occasions had to fight with instructors to pass me. I wouldn’t have graduated High School if not for her. She was 5’1 & ¾” as she would often proudly state and maybe 110 pounds soaking wet. One her favorite momisims was “dynamite and poison come in small packages,” she was a force to be reckoned with.
What really made High School tolerable though were the drugs and alcohol. See, if you were loaded or drunk you were expected to say and do inappropriate things. It would be forgiven with the blanket, “oh, he is just f#%ked up.” Talk about a get out of jail free card. As you can well imagine, drugs and alcohol became constant companions and close personal friends. Time passed and I kept checking off boxes: I got married (poor girl), bought a house, became a father and had the beginnings of a career in business management, because that is what “normal” life looked like, right? Things were good, at least I thought so, right up until they weren’t. My reliance on intoxicants turned on me and I ended up out of control, alone, broke, in dire straits physically and mentally. Then at 30 years of age I sought help and have been free of active addiction since 1985.
When I first I entered the community of recovery I was amazed. They talked about secrets and being “the actor,” of hidden feelings and motivations, lies and destructive behaviors. I felt like I was home at last and I let my guard down a little. Though I am still a part of this community, this feeling lasted only a couple of years until I had to face the truth, though I had much in common, I was still “special” and proceeded to work to “fit in” once again.
You see, I’m Autistic and all that implies. Hyper focus, given to routine, poor socialization skills, difficulty in forming and maintaining relationships, the whole eye contact thing (I have been practicing that for over 55 years and I still get it wrong) and so on. I am “high functioning” with (if you believe the tests) a high IQ. Sounds good, but to me it’s like being the car in the junkyard with the best paint job and good tires. I know, I know, just stop it. You must admit though it is a pretty good line. Shhh…just between you and me, the whole IQ testing thing, today I am pretty sure all it really denotes is someone who takes IQ tests well. Just sayin.
There used to be a thing called Asperger Syndrome, which pretty much described me. It is not a thing anymore though, which kinda sucks cause Asperger sounds like you’re having a burger made from snake and only real men eat snake burgers, I could see John Wayne or Errol Flynn eating a snake burger and liking it (remember, born in 55).
It wasn’t until President Kennedy came to office that the approach to mental health and how we address and work with children who are “special” began to change. In the ensuing decades a new world of resources and understanding has emerged, and had I been born a decade or so later, my life probably would have had a very different trajectory.
There are myriad of ways we can be defined, if we allow it. I am not DISabled; I am just other abled. I see the world through a prism of colors, sounds and textures different than you, not a good thing or a bad thing, it just is what it is. On the upside, having studied people’s expressions (micro and macro), vocal inflections, body language, etc. since I was a small child, I have an uncanny ability for “reading” people and predicting behavior, especially those who suffer from addiction.
Today, maybe it has to do with getting older, but I don’t care anymore about “fitting in,” I want to spend the rest of my days free of the fear-based restrictions I placed on myself and be honest. I met a young man recently who was Autistic, I asked him how he was coping with life and fitting in. You know what he said? “Screw’em. If they don’t like me for who I am, I don’t want them in my life.” I cried.
We all have gifts and talents, are part of the grand fabric of life, the tapestry of colors truly a wonder. All here to teach and be taught, no one without or lacking value. Today I see the world through a new pair of glasses and though the music in my mind is somewhat different from yours, it is all part of the great symphony, every note of value, even those off key for they provide the impetus for change and growth. The key is, and always has been, love, and from love acceptance and respect.
So, if we ever meet in the “real” world, whatever that is, I may say something a little off key or be a little too blunt, but don’t take it personally. Oh, and I am told I can be a little intense so there is that. It is just me, being me, no longer in hiding, and chances are excellent I will probably say something that will make you laugh and though I don’t own a 1949 Buick Roadmaster convertible I am an excellent driver.
Spiritual Facelifts
Spiritual Facelifts
Write this large upon your heart: What we concentrate on manifests in our
lives, mentally and physically. When we focus on fear, loss, anger,
resentment, worry, envy or any of the whole host of negative thinking morbid
reflection engenders, not only do we suffer mentally and emotionally, it alters
our appearance. Worry lines on the face, bags under the eyes from lack of or
restless sleep, twisted visage from a sour stomach, tight jaw and grinding
teeth, well you get the picture. When you look in the mirror what do you see?
Anything less than the radiance that emanates from a soul at peace demonstrates
that we have strayed from the Spiritual Basis and there is work to do.
Take heart though, the good news is when we see it and feel it in our heart Living on The Spiritual Basis provides a
clear course of action. We begin by gently
turning to God in prayer and thank Him for knowing Him better, asking to be
shown the way of patience, tolerance, kindliness and love in all areas of life
but particularly in the area (person, place or thing) troubling us. We ask to
be shown what action (patience probably the hardest) should be taken and finish
with a statement of willingness to be of service in any capacity that He would
have us be. Closing with “Thy will be done.” Of course, this is only
suggested, change or alter the prayer(s) as it best fits you. The key is in the
recognition and speed in which we turn to the Miraculous and choose to trust in
infinite wisdom and love instead of our finite selves.
By embracing this way of living, we become more aware of the pain in the faces
of those around us. When we see others in pain, we quietly pray for them as we
would for ourselves for in so doing not only are they uplifted; the whole world
is uplifted as well. All humankind will be raised to the Heavens if each of
us adds our inch.
Miracles Of Recovery
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Hard Selling God
Hard Selling God
Some time ago I had a conversation (a berating more accurately) with an adamant “my way or the highway” Christian. You have probably met one, within the first few minutes of conversation they ask if you have accepted Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior and if you don’t answer to their satisfaction the hard sell begins. They matter-of-factually state that if you don’t buy their particular brand of belief you are doomed for all eternity and it is their job to save you. Considering there are tens of thousands of Religious Denominations worldwide, I find it difficult (okay, impossible) to believe there is only one true path, enlightenment packaged one size fits all.
We have all fallen into the cross hairs of an aggressive salesman, how did you enjoy the experience? Even if you purchased what they were selling, how did you feel? Would you then go out of your way to recommend or continue a relationship with this person? You may have even bought what they were selling just to get away from them.
Having turned my will and life over to the care of God many years ago, I have never seen the spiritual “hard sell” approach work in the long run. Though I applaud their passion and commitment, their approach truly does more harm than good. To be clear: To have a spiritual awakening the desire must come from within. The best sermons delivered quietly by our actions, an attraction to those seeking freedom from the bondage of self, our lives a demonstration of the Word. So, stand firm in faith and never shrink from flying your flag of belief, but do so with love, a smile, the Word emanating from a gentle heart, considering how you would want to be approached if the roles were reversed, leaving the hard sell to used car salesmen. Oh, and in my case as a Christian, though you may disagree, I believe the realm of Heaven is roomy, all inclusive, never exclusive or forbidding, open to all who earnestly seek.
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Freedom In Spirit
Freedom In Spirit
Often, we fail to measure the words we employ or take the time to consider their ultimate impact, the unintended consequences. You have probably experienced the sick feeling when you have said something, you would give anything to have back; unfortunately, we cannot un-ring a bell. Conversely there are the times when we have failed to speak up and then rehearse what we wish we should have said, extending the discomfort of our inaction.
Words carry impact, reverberating with life far beyond the moment of their utterance. Fierce resentments have been born from seemingly casual remarks, birthed seemingly from something we felt was innocuous. Fortunately, the converse is true as well, our words have the power to provide hope, healing and solace far beyond our limited understanding.
Having chosen to live on a new basis, the Spiritual Basis, we speak from the heart, delivering the truth to the best of our current understanding, but always wrapping it in love. The goal is to always be of service, to stand for truth, to help and never harm, while realizing we all fall far short of perfection in speech, this lack of perfection humbling, leading ultimately to growth and greater understanding, for such is the path of Freedom In Spirit.
Miracles Of Recovery
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Analysis Versus Action
Analysis Versus Action
A centipede was quite happy,
Until a frog in fun
Said, “Pray, which leg comes after which?”
This raised her mind to such a pitch,
She lay distracted in the ditch,
Considering how to run.
Living on the Spiritual Basis requires us to avoid over analyzing our beliefs, but live them while avoiding debate or arguing with anyone about them. We allow our actions to speak for our beliefs for no one is ever moved far spiritually by words alone. We convince others when we walk the way we talk, our actions speaking in ways words never can.
“There is a place for analysis, but it is apt to be quite fatal in prayer and meditation. Do not dissect the love of God, but feel it. Do not dissect Divine Intelligence, but realize it. Do not wonder how God can possibly solve this problem, but just watch Him do it in His own way-and He will if you give Him a chance.” Emmet Fox.
The principles of attraction not promotion, demonstration over intention, action over analysis are at the core of this new basis for living, the Spiritual Basis, and by practicing them we avoid the centipede’s fate of paralysis from analysis.
Miracles Of Recovery
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Today’s Headline (again): WE ARE DOOMED!
Today’s Headline (again): WE ARE DOOMED!
I comment on this Emmet Fox teaching a couple times every year, for it is always applicable in my life, the teaching timeless. I began following politics in 1968 and came of age politically during the election of 1972. Since then one truth has become abundantly clear: regardless of who wins the other side is always incredulous their candidate or issue lost, claiming all manner of reasons why, adding for effect the dire consequences to come from the electorate’s poor decision. Today, Living on the Spiritual Basis places secular issues and concerns in their proper perspective; politicians come and go, those in power today will not be forever and regardless of how we may feel about them, history demonstrates there really is nothing new under the sun.
To wit: The Captain Is On The Bridge
“The world is not going to the dogs. The human race is not doomed. Civilization is not going to crash. The captain is on the bridge. Humanity is going through a difficult time, but humanity has gone through difficulties many times before in its long history, and has always come through, strengthened and purified.
Do not worry yourself about the universe collapsing. It is not going to collapse, and anyway that question is none of your business. The captain is on the bridge. If the survival of humanity depended upon you or me, it would be a poor lookout for the Great Enterprise, would it not?
The captain is on the bridge. God is still in business. All that you have to do is to realize the Presence of God where trouble seems to be, to do your nearest duty to the very best of your ability; and to keep an even mind until the storm is over.”
Emmet Fox wrote the above during the great economic depression of the 1930’s as war clouds were gathering over Europe and Asia, the precursor to WW 2 and the American heartland was gripped in a Black Blizzard, the greatest ecological disaster in this country’s history, as dust storms destroyed crops and displaced millions from Canada to the Gulf of Mexico.
The overriding truth is simply this: God has always been and will always be; our job to keep an even mind and proper perspective while remembering there will always be someone reminding us the sky is falling, again.
Miracles Of Recovery
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Vintage D.T.Y.T.S.
Vintage D.T.Y.T.S.
A while back an individual posted online that I needed medical help, based solely on my blog picture viewed on their mobile device. Pretty insightful. So, I immediately headed to the ER for help. The staff was waiting for me (since the government now reads all posts and follows everyone with drones) and I was rushed into a state-of-the-art diagnostic suite where I was subjected to a battery of tests of which I just received the results, in a tweet, on Snapchat, Instagram and Pinterest.
The Prognosis: first, I am terminal. It has been determined I am going to die, they just don’t know when or of what, but it is a certainty. Bummer. However, there was good news, my levels of D.T.Y.T.S. are all exceedingly high for a man my vintage. (You know, D.T.Y.T.S.: Don’t Take Yourself Too Seriously).
So, a prescription was forwarded, by e-mail of course, that I just filled at Walmart. The directions read: Laugh at yourself daily, for you are the funniest person you know. Every time you walk into a room and forget why you are there, laugh. When the coffee cup, eyeglass, car keys gremlin moves them from the last place you are certain you left them, laugh. When you find yourself at the grocery store opening the glass doors in the frozen food section to “see” what is on the shelves, laugh. When you find yourself waiting for the light to change at a stop sign, laugh. And most importantly laugh when some know nothing self-important chucklehead chooses to point out your shortcomings and character defects uninvited. And then say a silent prayer for them.
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Today’s Gift and The Presence
Today’s Gift and The Presence
When we find ourselves drifting out
of the present moment, dwelling either in the past or projecting into the
future, we open the door to morbid reflection. When thinking about the past
what usually surfaces? Is it the overwhelming number of times when things went
well, when we did the right thing or the times when we were less than our best,
made a mistake or were treated poorly? When considering the future do we ponder
along the lines of how great life will be, or do we drift into negative
projections? Living on the Spiritual Basis alters our focus so instead of
seeing only the carnal and secular, the finite, our vision is lengthened and
broadened as we have begun to comprehend the infinite.
But Fear is a powerful adversary, forever trying to steer us from the light,
with morbid reflection one of its’ favorite tools. When we reflect morbidly on
the past depression becomes our traveling companion while reflecting morbidly
into the future, we invite anxiety along for the ride. When used constructively
our past is an asset, becoming a resource for instruction for those seeking a
way out of the Fear driven life, demonstrating what life was like before and
after choosing to Live on the Spiritual Basis. Our future is a promise,
chapters unwritten, our lives the paper, faith the ink, the pen in our hand
guided by a Power Greater Than Ourselves, if we but ask. God does not
dictate the script, for of all creation we alone have free will in Spirit, so
remember, He is a gentleman and will only be our partner if we ask. So:
The only time we can stand in the presence of God, the only time we can be
present for God, the only time God can act in our lives is in the present
moment. Living on the Spiritual Basis we now have a history of God’s love and
direction in our lives, the past an asset, the future a promise, today the
gift.
Miracles Of Recovery
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Living The Consecrated Life
Living The Consecrated Life
When we turn our will and life over to the care of God, we embark on living a consecrated life. Having taken this path by choice, our job now is to see the Presence of God everywhere, in everything and everyone, expressing our current understanding of spiritual principles to the best of our ability. Remember, we are forever growing and learning, and this new way of living is Simple but not easy, a price has to be paid and that price is the surrender of self. The equation is straightforward: the more time we spend thinking about ourselves, the less comfortable we become, opening the door to restlessness, irritability and discontentment. Conversely, the more time we spend focusing on the Presence of God, practicing the principles we have come to know and believe the more comfortable, at peace we become. Living this consecrated life is the true path of serenity, providing the peace of heart and mind we all truly crave.
Miracles Of Recovery
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Vincent Lee Jones 