let go

I’ve heard some ‘confessions’ that sounded more like bragging than coming clean. Hence Step Six of the Twelve:

Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character

There are two aspects of this that I didn’t get the first time through; “Ready” doesn’t mean it will happen when you want, and “remove” is usually an invasive procedure.

I believe I’ve mentioned elsewhere that I’m not sure I will ever have these defects of my character completely removed. I’m in remission; I have been granted an indefinite reprieve from the death sentence I was facing. That doesn’t mean I will ever be completely free. What it does mean, in my world, is that I can look myself in the mirror and know that I am trusting the only One worthy of my trust, and laying my weakness at His feet daily.

He can do whatever it is He wants to do whenever He wants.

That’s what I am ready for.

Do I wish I were cured? You betcha. I don’t like having to be extra cautious of the things I see, the places I go. There’s a restaurant not far from my office that I once really enjoyed; but the road between here and there would take me deep in enemy territory, past a few establishments which would call to my base nature. I steer clear. I pray for a day when I can go back to that Thai place without closing my eyes (a definite hazard while driving around here); but there are other places I can go when I need coconut milk soup.

Paul had his thorn in the flesh. Whatever it was, it sounds like it afflicted him much like my addictions have afflicted me. I pray that they be removed, but I am beginning to hear God say, “What you need is not less of something; you need more of Me.” So I wait. Ready. Hopeful. And certain that there will come a day, maybe not in this mortal lifetime, but there will come a day when I will be free.

As to removal…

Ever had a wart or mole removed?

This isn’t like that.

If you are an addict, there is something that has a fairly deep grip on a part of your heart and it will not let go easily.

My father died several years ago of a gliablastoma multiformae, a tumor that sprung up in his brain, and shot out tendrils like a weed digging itself in against any efforts to uproot it. The doctor treating him said that his patients tend to be young kids, and they refer to that beast as “my octopus”. I saw the MRIs from the early stages right up until his final months, and it was a horrific sight. Toward the end, the tumor invaded various control and thought centers. He couldn’t see the left column on a page or a remote control, and he had trouble forming words. The movie Aliens didn’t hold as much terror as this thing, as far as I was concerned.

But what I saw spreading its roots throughout my dad’s brain was a very good picture of what addiction does. A little behavioral issue – probably not unusual or noticeable – slowly takes hold and becomes a little more traceable. Eventually, the tumor that is addiction is taking control, ruling our lives.

That isn’t something that will come out without a fair amount of pain.

There are times I miss the rush of an anonymous encounter. There are times I want to stop at the ice cream shop and binge on the fattiest stuff they have.

It is simple enough to say, “But I get over it pretty quickly when I think about the relationship I now have with my wife,” or “but I sure don’t miss those extra fifty pounds I’ve lost“. But those are simple statements that cover over a truth – regardless of how deadly it was for me, my former life was familiar. It was ugly and complicated, but I mourn it’s loss. That probably makes about as much sense as Smeagol calling after his “preciousssss,” the Ring of Power that left him such a hideous shell of a … whatever the Gollum was.

Loss is loss. Loss causes grief. Grief is pain.

As I write this, it occurs to me that I might come across as discouraging someone who is thinking of changing their direction for the better.

Nothing could be farther from my intent.

I want to make sure you know, dear reader, that it is worth every bit of pain.

• To know that I don’t have to fear coming home to a wife and kids who found something I had hidden away -
• To know that I can look my daughter in the eye and not be a hypocrite when I talk to her about making good choices -
• To know that I can teach my son about being a man and not have to tiptoe around what role sexuality plays in that -
• To not live in fear of being tripped up by phone records, mileage, bank statements -

That is a pretty good taste of freedom. And it just gets sweeter.

MNRecovery

spiritual castaways

I know that one of the most important things to remember while blogging is the importance of being concise. This runs contrary to my natural tendency to never use a sentence when three paragraphs will do. However, after reading the previous post, I realized that there was something more about the opening quote that really struck me.

Chuck Noland, Hanks’ character in the movie Castaway, is an addict. Bet you missed that part of the movie. An addict is, by my definition, someone who is so enslaved to some cruel master that nothing else really matters except serving that beast. An alcoholic is a slave to the bottle. The sex addict is a slave to sensuality. A heroin addict serves the needle.

Chuck Noland is a slave to time.

We live and we die by time. And we must not commit the sin of losing our track on time.

And like so many of us, he has to hit rock bottom before he sees his master for what it is.

Hard to imagine hitting bottom much harder than Chuck did.

But the tide brought him to his island. And the tide brought him food, a friend (sorta), shoes, all the stuff that Chuck would need (besides his apparent Boy Scout training). The tide surrounded him as he began to gain a new perspective on time. And when he tried his first escape, when he really hadn’t yet been completely broken, the tide pushed him back on the shore, and gave him some new wounds that would keep him down for a bit longer.

In my mind, the tide is God.

The tide sustained him, cradled him; and when the time was right, the tide carried him home.

And Chuck was aware enough that, after he was back on dry land, back in Memphis, hundreds of miles from any water bigger than the Mississippi River, he still said,

And I know what I have to do now. I gotta keep breathing. Because tomorrow the sun will rise. Who knows what the tide could bring?
- Castaway (2000)

He knows there is a tide, and that it still flows, and that it is a wonderful mystery.

The people I know who are genuine in their Christianity, who have the kind of faith that makes you think, “I want something like that” – I think those people must see God in this way. He provides and sustains, and may work in ways that seem cruel at times; but that’s because we’re looking at pixels instead of the full screen.

There were times in my early recovery that I wanted so badly to “get off the island” and get back to the real world. Turns out that I needed a little more time of being alone with Him, more solitude if you will, before I was ready to come back and deal with the real world.

Drift wisely,

MNRecovery

are you lonely tonight?

We both had done the math. Kelly added it all up and… knew she had to let me go. I added it up, and knew that I had… lost her. ‘cos I was never gonna get off that island. I was gonna die there, totally alone. I was gonna get sick, or get injured or something. The only choice I had, the only thing I could control was when, and how, and where it was going to happen. So… I made a rope and I went up to the summit, to hang myself. I had to test it, you know? Of course. You know me. And the weight of the log, snapped the limb of the tree, so I-I – , I couldn’t even kill myself the way I wanted to. I had power over *nothing*. And that’s when this feeling came over me like a warm blanket. I knew, somehow, that I had to stay alive. Somehow. I had to keep breathing. Even though there was no reason to hope. And all my logic said that I would never see this place again. So that’s what I did. I stayed alive. I kept breathing. And one day my logic was proven all wrong because the tide came in, and gave me a sail. And now, here I am. I’m back. In Memphis, talking to you. I have ice in my glass… And I’ve lost her all over again. I’m so sad that I don’t have Kelly. But I’m so grateful that she was with me on that island. And I know what I have to do now. I gotta keep breathing. Because tomorrow the sun will rise. Who knows what the tide could bring?
- Castaway (2000)

I caught an episode of Inside the Actors’ Studio, the often-lampooned show where James Lipton conducts in-depth interviews with actors (I know, seems like that would be an oxymoron, depth and actor); this particular installment featured Tom Hanks, who had just wrapped the filming of Castaway. Hanks was talking about his acting coaches, and said the best advice he had ever received was this:

The best roles are always about loneliness.

I believe that is true when it comes to movies. I also think it is true, in a different way, when it comes to real life.

I read an essay about one man’s recovery from pornography. I don’t agree with every word of what he wrote, but there was a lot of good truth and a few “aha” moments for me while reading it. One of those was when he wrote of loneliness as being a normal part of the human condition. That got me to thinking about how I would try to smother loneliness with some form of acting out. Another weekend with no date? A pint of ice cream. Another rejection by some girl who was no prize herself? Another trip to the store for a magazine they put in a little brown bag.

For a short time, I wasn’t alone anymore. My two best buddies, Ben and Jerry, were keeping me company. Or Miss February. And they were fabulous company while they lasted.

But then I had to hide the evidence.

I was so ashamed of my eating habits that I would drive around looking for a dumpster where I could anonymously leave the candy bar wrappers and ice cream cartons. Makes me wonder how many times the Cincinnati narcotics unit went dumpster diving after a shady character was seen nervously throwing in a bag, only to be rewarded with junk food leftovers.

I was so ashamed of my porn habit that I would frequently buy material and dispose of it within just a few hours.

There’s a huge trash disposal site in Northwest Cincinnati locals call Mt. Rumpke. Several thousand dollars of my sordid past lie buried in its decaying, fermenting mass.

It is only in the last couple of years that I’ve become aware that I have better options for dealing with loneliness.

The best one is the hardest: just be lonely. Seems unnatural, I know; but stay with me here for a minute.

Think for a second about apples. I like the texture, the sweetness – but most red apples don’t do so well when you put them in the oven. The best for baking (I can’t believe I’m writing this on this blog) are Granny Smith apples. Most people wouldn’t think of shining up a Granny Smith and munching away; they are tart, very acidic. They aren’t most children’s first choice for their lunchbox. But they have their place. And when used in the right context, they are pretty durn good.

I’m not trying to trivialize loneliness. I’m trying to say that it has its place. Like most things in life, loneliness is neither good nor evil; the issue is settled by what we do with it.

Rather than try to cover loneliness with either acting out or with business, I’m finding that lonely times are some of my best times to think about what a gift life is, and to thank God for every day that He leaves me here to enjoy it. I think loneliness can be a potent force in helping us to see something about the Creator we would otherwise miss, the thing that traditional religion often misses about our God – He wants a relationship with us. For me, the only thing that really fills the loneliness in a satisfying way is to focus in those moments on my relationship with God.

Anything else I do is a bit like drinking salty water to try to quench my thirst.

confess

I am humbled that I can approach the throne of the Creator of the Universe to admit my shortcomings, to own up to where I fall short. I am using other words here besides “sin” because that is such a loaded word – it has been beaten into people so hard that we recoil at the sound…but all it really means is that we have come up short of the target.

But it is one thing to speak to an invisible God and share my weaknesses; it is quite another thing to open that area up to the view of another person. Step Five says:

Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs

Like Step Four, this is not an exercise one can do in a few minutes. This is where you have to really dig in deep, and start looking at the root causes and earliest indications of the behaviors that got you where you are today.

For me, Step Four took an afternoon of focused time, plus a week of “oh, yeah” additions. Step Five tooktwo months. I know other people who have taken a year to work out a list of their wrongs. I’m not sure if their lists were really more comprehensive than mine; for some it is a very difficult thing to put to paper a list of their wrongs done.

Some include, or even focus on, the wrongs done to them.

I think there is great value in thinking about those things, if it helps to reveal the dark areas of your soul where you have locked away some of the wrongs you have done; but one runs the risk of playing the blame game.

Said another way, if the Steps are about me admitting my weakness and becoming stronger, what is the point of focusing on what others have done to me? That makes me a victim. Victims are generally innocent. Therefore, I’m not responsible…

That really misses the point, don’t you think?

In my bondage to pornography, every time I started to “get clean,” the highlight films would start playing in my brain. They weren’t just the images I had taken in; they were also the feelings of shame that I was so weak. Then the narration would kick in: “You’ve given in so many times before – why fight it?“

I confessed all of this stuff to God hundreds, maybe thousands of times.

But the grip this stuff had on me did not begin to loosen until I told a living, breathing human being all about it.

I confessed abusing a neighbor who was a couple of years younger than me. I confessed targeting girls who I thought I could talk into doing what I wanted. I confessed going places that exist for no other purpose but to provide sexual gratification. I confessed blurring all kinds of lines, dropping every standard I’d held, to get my next “hit.” I listed them all in detail. I got as specific as I could remember as to times, places, people, anything I could remember, because this was the means to freedom.

To make darkness retreat, you must turn on some light.

I turned a spotlight on my darkest behavior.

It would be remarkable if I were completely free from that moment on, but I was not. There were dark days still to come. I would need to repeat this step, a little later.

But when I finished that day – after hours of talking, crying, and praying – I felt the weight lifted. I had told another human being the absolute worst of me, and he was still able to look me in the eye and treat me respectfully.

An important point or two here – you can’t just pick someone off the street for this. I know plenty of people who have switched into “verbal dairrhea” once they start confessing, and they suffered a lot of rejection because they chose the wrong people with whom to share. For the other person’s sake, they must be someone mature enough to hear the gory details without being themselves triggered by what you describe. If you and one of your friends decide to get clean together, don’t be each others’ sponsors. You need someone who has some level of detachment.

I also think this is the one time where being graphic is helpful, within any limits you and your sponsor agree to beforehand. If I may switch addictions for a moment here, it is probably not as freeing to me to say, “I used to eat a lot of junk food” as it is for me to say, “Mint chocolate chip shakes made with chocolate milk. Every day.” The more I can do to identify the particular beast, the less power it has over me.

It took me a while to understand this, but a major function of the twelve steps is to teach us to dispense with foolish pride. Pride keeps us trapped in stupid behavior. For me, this was the step where I really felt that wall coming down.

Walk strong,

MNRecovery

soular inventory control

A life lived out of control is not a life of deep reflection. It is so much easier to glide through our daily routine , including ill-advised behaviors, on autopilot than it is to stop and think about what we’re doing. I suspect that most of us would probably look at someone else with the same patterns of behavior and think “what a nutcase,” or “danger – trouble ahead.” That brings us to Step Four of the Twelve Steps:

Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves

Taking an inventory is critical. If you don’t have a pretty clear picture of what you have going for you, as well as what is working against you, success is unlikely.

Westley: Who are you? Are we enemies? Why am I on this wall? Where is Buttercup?
Inigo Montoya: Let me ’splain. [pause] No, there is too much. Let me sum up. Buttercup is marry’ Humperdinck in a little less than half an hour. So all we have to do is get in, break up the wedding, steal the princess, make our escape… after I kill Count Rugen.
Westley: That doesn’t leave much time for dilly-dallying.
Fezzik: You just wiggled your finger. That’s wonderful.
Westley: I’ve always been a quick healer. What are our liabilities?
Inigo Montoya: There is but one working castle gate, and… and it is guarded by 60 men.
Westley: And our assets?
Inigo Montoya: Your brains, Fezzik’s strength, my steel.
- The Princess Bride, 1987

An honest inventory usually doesn’t paint a very pretty picture for the person who is just coming to grips with their addiction.

However, this is not just taking an official moment to denigrate oneself.

This is where we take stock of where we are. We are not looking at root causes yet. An inventory is not a history – it is a snapshot of where things stand as of a particular point in time. This is critical, as there will be points down the road where you will need to take another inventory. If you take inventory once, never checking back to see how your “stock” has improved, the exercise is pointless.

There are several approaches you can use to work through the inventory. I’m a big fan of using the SWOT analysis used for basic analysis in many businesses. SWOT stands for strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, and threats. I worked through this process the first time by sticking a blank poster board up on the wall and dividing it into quadrants (one region for each of the SWOT categories). Next I spent a couple of hours thinking through my attributes (good, bad, and ugly), and writing each in the appropriate region. While I was doing this, I shut off my phone and all other distractions. Over the next week, I added to the list daily. By the time I had finished, the poster was full and I had extra sheets of notebook paper stuck all over my wall.

This is not everyone’s cup of tea, and that’s fine. The important thing is that you take some focused time to really dig deep and try to see yourself as objectively as possible. And that you make a record of it; memory fades and details get fuzzy, which makes the value of this limited for future reference.

The hard thing is getting around our natural tendency to see ourselves either as gods or monsters. Most fellow travelers with whom I’ve discussed this have said that they found it much easier to either list their failures (weaknesses) or their strengths; balance does not come naturally to an addict.

Could it be that lack of balance is part of our problem? Hmm.

This isn’t about beating yourself up. You probably did that about the time that you came to Step One.

The other thing I would caution about, with both this and the next step, is to be wary. Regardless of how screwed up our lives had become, there is a natural inclination toward the familiar. Thinking about where we are, and looking at the past (next step) is likely to bring up some nostalgia for our former comforter. I think this is where it becomes absolutely critical that you have an accountability partner – a sponsor, in AA-speak – who can help you talk and think through these steps without letting you drift.

Once you have a good, clear picture of where you are, you are ready to start looking at what got you here…but that’s another step.

Keep walking,

MNRecovery

i surrender all

Step 3 of the 12 Steps is:

Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood God

This is so closely linked to step 2, accepting the need for a Higher Power, that the 12-step meetings I used to attend always presented the two as one. I want to address it separately because I think this is easily misunderstood. It can be a roadblock for some, and is glossed over by others.

Here are a few examples of what this does not mean:

• “I ask God each morning when I get up, ‘What clothes should I wear today?’”
• “I’m waiting to hear from God. In fact, I’m just going to sit here in the basement in my underwear and not do a thing until I hear from God what I should do next.”
• “God wants me to be happy. This total withdrawal from {insert addictive behavior here} makes me unhappy. I’m just going to do a little bit to ease the strain.”

First, God does care about the intimiate details of your life. He wants for you to know His heart (He already knows yours). I don’t see anything in the Bible, nor from my experience, that suggests that God cares a bit about what clothes I am wearing. I should modify that a little. If I wear clothes with the intent of distracting others and/or drawing (sexual) attention to myself, that probably ain’t getting a heavenly thumbs-up. But God is not a fashion slave.

To the person who plans to sit and do nothing until they hear God’s voice, enjoy the silence. I believe God speaks, and I think it is hard to hear when we are distracted by, well, life; but there is a difference between having a quiet time to reflect and listen vs. just sitting there waiting for the hand of God to start writing on the basement wall.

And for my last example above, where does the Bible say that God wants you to be happy? Don’t get me wrong; I don’t think walking around in sackcloth and ashes serves much of a purpose; but there is a huge difference between a life of contentment/joy and a life of happiness. I am pressed down by my circumstances. I feel the weight of so many expenses and limited resources. I see my house as a list of urgent projects rather than a home. But I know that, in the end, it really is going to be okay. What needs to happen will. I will find the time and the money to do the things that are most important, and the rest…I need to just let go.

Turning my will over to God is the logical response to steps one and two. If I’ve made a mess, and only God can straighten things out, seems like asking Him in to clean things up should be a natural response.

But it isn’t always that easy. Sometimes the very issues that led us to our behaviors are the things that keep us from inviting God in. I know one man who was sexually abused by a member of the clergy. He tries, but he has such a hard time separating those actions, and that man, from God. Others have been wounded in their childhood by family members. If the wound was inflicted by a parent, it would not be a surprise that we would have trouble trusting God. Most of our opinion about God flows directly from our feelings about our parents, for better or for worse. And if our parents were not worthy of our trust, we will project that onto God.

How to get past this…I don’t know any easy answers. If I did, I’d be writing a book rather than posting for free. I know that part of the answer is to recognize that your parents were not God, and to separate their humanity from His divinity. This is infinitely harder to do if you aren’t learning about God’s heart, and you can’t do that without taking a look at the love letter He wrote to you. You’ll find it in the “Religion” section of your local bookstore, which is kind of offensive, I think. It isn’t a book about religion; it is the ultimate guide to relationships, with special emphasis on a relationship God wants to have with you.

Th end of the text of Step Three says “as we understood God.” Some use this as a catch-all for whatever you decide to make your god. But be cautious. If you decide your god is, as Firesign Theater once said, a

hairy thunderer, or cosmic muffin,

you’ve sold Him, and yourself, short. He’s bigger and stronger, and more loving than that. He’s not a wood nymph, a spirit in nature. He is above nature. He is above all. And He wants you to know Him. How cool is that?

ain’t nobody that strong

Step 2 of the original twelve steps:

Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity

For many in modern society, the idea of someThing or someOne that is a greater power than we is foreign and smacks of superstition.

But I don’t have that problem. There is an old saying that “there are no atheists in a foxhole.” While the saying is not accurate, the sentiment usually applies to people who seek recovery in a group setting.

If the idea of a real God is unpalatable to you, fear not. I know several people who decided their “higher power” would be the group itself. Not that I would trust my sanity to a bunch of sex addicts, but hey, whatever works, right?

See, if you’ve figured out that you have made a mess, and that you are powerless to get out of it, you have a simple choice:

• Give up
• Find someone strong enough to help

I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I don’t see a third option.

So what does that “Power” do? That depends on you.

If you are still stuck on the idea that you have it within you to slay your dragon, you will likely not see much evidence of that Power.

Power reveals itself in your surrender to it. I once thought if I said some magic words each morning, I would be free. I may need to explain – my “magic words” were in the form of a prayer. I call them “magic words” because I talked to someone who had moved much further down the road to recovery than where I was, and he told me he started every day with a simple prayer. I’ll not quote it here, for fear you might try those magic words expecting a result. And don’t misunderstand – I’m not sure one should expect much in terms of recovery without starting the day relinquishing your own will to that of God.

But the greatest threats to my “sobriety” (term used in all 12-step programs, despite the specific issue/behavior) didn’t usually come along at 7:00 a.m. They came after work, especially when I was travelling. That morning prayer was a long way away, and mostly forgotten.

And it wasn’t an honest prayer to begin with.

I prayed that God would remove from me the desires that led me to blow thousands of dollars, and risk my marriage. I asked Him to reach down with a giant pair of tweezers and just pluck out the evil within me. I kinda wanted that, but I also wasn’t really ready to do without my crutch. Also, that pretty much flies in the face of something some dude wrote a while back:

7 And by reason of the exceeding greatness of the revelations, that I should not be exalted overmuch, there was given to me a thorn in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to buffet me, that I should not be exalted overmuch. 8 Concerning this thing I besought the Lord thrice, that it might depart from me. 9 And he hath said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my power is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. 10 Wherefore I take pleasure in weaknesses, in injuries, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ’s sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong. 2 Corinthians 12

I’m not sure I should be seeking a “cure”; it may be that this is an area where I will need to continue to rest on God and ask for His strength, His grace, His mercy to keep my head on straight and my eyes fixed where they should be.

In any case, I eventually came to realize that my pithy A.M. prayer was not really unleashing much power.

It was then I remembered a prayer by St. Patrick (you know, the Irish guy that makes people get drunk each March):

God be with me, God before me, God behind me,
God in me, God beneath me, God above me,
God on my right, God on my left,
God where I lie, God where I sit, God where I arise,
God in the heart of everyone who thinks of me,
God in the mouth of every one who speaks to me,
God in every eye that sees me,
God in every ear that hears me.
Salvation is of the Light
May your salvation, Lord, be ever with us.

I tried to relegate God to five minutes during my morning commute, and expected Him to shield me all day. In fact, I needed to take Him on as a cloak, to invite Him continually throughout the day to be with me. I need Thee, oh, I need Thee; every hour I need Thee says the old hymn. And the old me was thinking, I kinda want Thee, pretty much so; just not when You’re an inconvenience.

Pop Quiz: The Three Gorges Dam project in central China is estimated to provide, when at full capacity, the same amount of power as 18 nuclear power plants. How much power did it produce in September of 2006?

The anwer is “none.” The dam was not operational until late October of that year.

Tremendous potential; no application.

There is a Power that might not “heal you” from the desires that drive your addictive behavior.

But as you dig a little deeper, as you submit yourself, as you relinquish your desire to slay the beast on your own, you will find peace in the struggle. Whatever the poisoned picture of God you might have been handed by your past, He isn’t about making you into a mindless robot; He’s about helping you come to terms with reality, and knowing that you aren’t alone. He’s also about much more, but that’s what applies to where we are today, here.

a step in the right direction

In the bible of 12-step programs, chapter 1, verse 1:

We admitted we were powerless over our addiction – that our lives had become unmanageable

This is why people think it is funny to hear someone say, “I can stop {insert behavior here} anytime I want.” The implied ending to that sentence is “I just don’t want to now.” If someone says something like that, it’s a pretty good sign they couldn’t stop if they wanted. An addiction has taken root when you are not in control of it. And one of the ways it maintains control is by leaving you, initially, with the feeling that you do have some level of control.

I used to live within easy walking distance of a convenience store in Cincinnati that served incredible ice cream. When I would pull into my apartment after work, I would walk across to the store and get a snack. One afternoon I went in and just got something to make for dinner that night.

What? No milkshake tonight?
No, not very hungry.

{short pause}

Is the large shake still on sale?
Yep.
Let me have the mint chocolate chip.

It felt wrong to not have a shake. As my waistline increased, my willpower decreased.

Any muscle left unexercised will eventually atrophy. Willpower is a muscle.

Now I have protein shakes most evenings. I’ve lost six inches around my waist and fifty pounds.

But between then and now, I reached a point where I realized that my eating was in control of me. And I realized that I did not have the willpower to stop this coming train wreck, the heart attack or stroke that were bound to come, eventually.

In an excellent series called “Destinations,” Andy Stanley at NorthPoint Community Church frequently repeated this gem:

Direction, not intention, determines destination.

I had walked so long in a self-destructive direction that I had no idea how to change paths.

So what happened?

Step 2. I’ll post about it soon.

dig deep, get dirty

Geologists tell us there is a massive shelf of oil-bearing shale under North Dakota and Manitoba. It is probably not enough to sustain North American consumption for years on end, but it is a potentail source to reduce dependence on Gulf-region energy, if only temporarily.

The oil sits at a depth of around two miles. That isn’t terribly deep, but it would take some effort to get to the stuff.

Wells for oil and natural gas are tricky things. You can spend a lot of time working down to the target pocket, only to find the pocket is empty.

There is also a significant danger of fire and explosion. People die every year working the gas wells that keep us on the highways.

It is hard, dirty, dangerous work; so why would anyone do it?

Because the reward justifies the risk.

So it is with trying to understand the roots behind addictive behaivor.

There are programs aplenty that focus on behavior. If you want true freedom, you will eventually have to deal with the defects within yourself that helped you get where you are.

What? Defects? But I’m…

Defective. Broken. Something less than you were meant to be. And trying to treat the symptomatic behavior without treating the underlying cause is like taking aspirin for a level-5 brain tumor. You might feel a little better for a while, but you’re still going to give in.

Unfortunately, the exercise of seeking out the root causes has been typified as looking for someone to blame. Our parents – it’s always their fault, right? Passive dad, aggressive mom…abusive dad, milquetoast mom…absentee father, doting mother…they’ve been stereo-typed, and people have mistaken the search for root causes with playing the blame game.

In my case, my father was absent a lot during my formative years. He was a good dad – he was just busy trying to provide for a large family. That isn’t the reason I struggle.

It created a vacuum in my life – there was no one in the place where a father really should have been. That isn’t the reason I struggle.

Nature abhors a vacuum; so I turned to the next most senior male in my life, my oldest brother. He was barely a teen at the time, so he was not in any way prepared to be my role model. That isn’t the reason I struggle.

He got sick of me looking up to him for answers, so he treated me badly to get me to, well, go away. That isn’t the reason I struggle.

Around the time all of this came together, I was entering puberty. Bad timing.

Ever since, when I sense rejection, I start looking around for something to give me comfort, to distract me from the hurt inside.

So are my addictions the fault of my dad, or my brother? The answer is “C. None of the above“. No one set out to get me messed up. But I learned that rejection is painful, so I found ways to medicate – to get outside of real life so I didn’t feel the pain.

This has limited value if you are still deep in acting out; but recognizing the source helps me today to be able to analyze what’s going on. Remember, an addiction was once a habit – something I did without thinking about it. If I stop and think about it – and I can because I recognize what’s going on – am I more likely to resist the temptation? Am I less likely to follow desires that I know are destructive? I hope so.

It hasn’t been a pretty process so far. I’ve “lost the friends that needed losing” as Dougie McLean once sang. I’ve seen tremendous strain in relationships I need to keep as I’ve fought through this. I’m still trying to figure out if there is a way to make amends to some of the people I’ve hurt along the way.

But the struggle is now, usually, a good fight.

And that changes everything.

grab your partner

The US Army has had moderate success with their slogan, An Army of One.

It appeals strongly to our American spirit of independence.

Everyone wants to be a hero. Preferably a live one.

But consider the Spartans in 300, or the crew surrounding William Wallace in Braveheart. One man can be a hero. A group of men, supporting each other, can be victorious. And yes, I know most of the 300 died. But they spat in the eye of Xerxes, and stopped the man-god’s conquest.

Point is, we need people around us to help us through the rough spots in life. And to whom we’ll return the favor.

Choose wisely, my friend. If you are currently caught in a spiral of addiction, it is simple to find people who want to help – but they may just enable you instead. “Enable” is not the same thing as “empower“. Enablers make it easy for you to fall back into your old patterns, and will make excuses for you at every turn.

You don’t need excuses. You’ve been making those up for years.

You need at least one, preferably a small group of people, who will look you in the eye and challenge you when you want to make a lame excuse.

You need someone who doesn’t let you off easy, but will stand by you when you need it.

You need a brother, or a sister, who won’t mind a call at the most ridiculous hours of the night because you’re needing to process something critical.

You need a person or people who are safe – people who will keep confidences, and not gossip about you.

You need a partner.

This person should not be your spouse. You need someone, preferably of your own gender, who can listen to your darkest secrets.

A chord of three strands is not easily broken.

You probably were quite successful at getting to where you are mostly on your own. Don’t trust those same instincts to get you out.