Who are We? – Excerpts from a Recovering Life

By: JANA GREENE

Years ago, I self-published a little book about recovery. I recently found a copy and dusted it off, and realized it may have some nuggets of truthful reflection. In the coming weeks, I will try to post little excerpts from the book, “Fierce Recovery, Living Your Best Sober Life Now.” I hope perhaps it gives you hope or lends hope to someone you love in active addiction or living recovery. WE CAN AND DO RECOVER!

Okay, now you are sober. Or perhaps you’re still drinking or using, and are ready to hop off the train wreck your life has become. When you feel broken, I hope you consider making The Big Admission.

“I am a drug addict / alcoholic / codependent person, and I need help.”

Who are we, the recovery community?

We are everyman. Every woman. We addicts and alcoholics are legion.

We are the famous actor who died of an overdose,

who is the rock star who lost her battle with alcholism,

who is the twenty year old kid who died in the bathroom of a fast food joint, needle in his arm,

who is the elderly man in the nursing home, stealing pills from a roomate,

wo is the wealthy businessman drinking in the wee hours of the morning to get going

who is the soccer mom who cannot stop at three glasses of chardonnay,

who is ME.

We are born with super dopamine-seeking brains, susceptible to hijacking our chemistry and feeding our anxiety.

We alcoholics and addicts are not weak. The strongest people I’ve ever met are addicts in recovery.

We don’t want to make excuses from the train wrecks we pilot; we only want you to know the disasters are not by design.

We are sensitive and often creative forces to be reckoned with.

We contribute to the landscapes of the world with music, art, poetry.

We love deeply, intrinsically…sometimes so deeply that our souls can hardly handle it sober.

We punch timeclocks and live ordinary lives. And truth be told, it isn’t always the pain that makes us want to drink and use, but fear of that ordinary.

We love our children fiercely. Yes, we would change “for the kids,” if only we knew how.

We have heart. We grieve for hurting people, but don’t always know how to handle grief without self-destructing.

We crave the ability to handle life “normally,” like you do.

We don’t mean to embarrass you.

We are brought to our knees in desperation that properly wired brains cannot fathom.

We might be your child’s teacher. Or your counselor. Or even your pastor.

We need each other for survival, sitting in dank church basements, drinking stale coffee, with others who are cut from the same brilliantly colorful, threadbare cloth as we. And it changes us for the better, as it should.

Welcome, Reader. Let’s talk recovery…