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Went to see a valuable friend in Manchester last Thursday, Kev. He does SMART recovery and although I’ve only known him a year or so he and I know each other inside-out as we are a mirror reflection of each other. It’s a healthy friendship with an emphasis on mutual support in life and recovery.
I’m fortunate to have met such an ally on our journey in life, as I can discuss anything with him as he can with me. Yet we both agree that in active addiction we would of enabled each other to the grave.
So I look to Kev for guidance to resolve or clarify my distorted thoughts and usually he hands me the answer on a plate. This week, after a group we both attended, I threw him this thought, because it’s how I felt. I informed him that now in recovery I feel void of emotion, no elation, no depression.
An inability to feel at all, an uncomfortable comfort, where nothing provokes any passion or emotion. An acceptance of the futility of life with no concern for anything or anyone. Flat-lining.
This was leading to the irrational thought that you’re never more alive as when you want to die. In fact the memory of the desperation I was in, when active in addiction, at least allowed me to feel something if only agony. I still felt something.
This contentment I’d got now was so cold and alien. My addictive character doing a sneak via the side door. It’s a tricky f*****r my addictive character. Always waiting in limbo, waiting to slide into my mind with some crazy distorted thought pattern. Waiting to trigger yet another episode of madness.
Yet I know it well. This poisonous side of me. So I could rationalise this for myself. But what was this discomfort with my comfort? The answer came in a SMART meeting which wasn’t the best meeting I’ve attended. It was a bit like pulling teeth in there on this particular occasion (which is rare I should say).
The answer came from my friend in his end statement to finish the meeting. For he remarked that a silence does not have to be uncomfortable (said in relation to a silence that had occurred in the meeting) for he had realised that a voice in his head (you know the one) had become calm. And for sometimes long periods was silent, that insane chant of “I want, I need” had mostly gone.
This led to a feeling of inner calm and tranquility, a new feeling that was indeed a blessed relief. A feeling that I’d not acknowledged in myself. An alien yet welcome feeling of contentment that I now recognise.
I can relate to this Tony. I was talking to a good friend a day or so ago, saying that although things are going well in my life I feel strangely detached, almost ambivalent about it all.
But maybe – as you suggest – this is the ‘right’ way to feel. Budda would certainly say so (I think – if I’ve got it wrong do correct me!).
Pucker Tony, I really can identify with so much. Wonderful way of putting it into words. Thanks.
Hi Tony,
I can kind of relate to this in that I have never had any kind of “spiritual awakening” in my recovery. As I have mild aspergers, I have been told that my emotions tend to stem from intellectual processes rather than as an innate immediate response.
This is a very difficult thing to get your head around, I form opinions and feelings based on logic and reason, it makes me sound quite cold and detached. But that’s just me, it’s neither right nor wrong. No matter what I do I can not change it. I can never make sense of it, yet I can come to accept it.
A very honest and emotive blog
Matt
I love your blogs, Tony. Thanks for allowing us a window into your mind. I’m learning a lot from you, as I am sure are others.
I too used to hate ‘awkward silences’ particulary when trying to deliver group therapy to a collection of people. However, I’ve learnt to accept that they can become quite calming and not uncomfrotable and it gives folk pause for thought.
Another fantastic blog from a man that truly knows his ‘stuff’!
Hi Tony
Good stuff for me that silence is a secure and warm place – I used to be involved in direct sales – you know the guy who says “do you want to buy this really nasty kitchen/windows/anything for £10,000 or can I make even more money and sell it you on rip off H.P. for £15,000” then compete and utter silence – next one to speak loses.
So now when 20 years later when i’m doing a Smart meeting and it goes really quiet I often drift back into my sub conscious mind and think how things have changed – reflecting on how the situation of silence is similair but the outcomes have changed – massively – instead of me going home with a big fat cheque in my big fat car. I go home feeling good knowing that often that silence has given a member an oppurtunity to do some valuable work on themselves.
Our Monday evening meeting last night was inspirational – some of the changes people have made in a really short time are immense – the impact on there familys and health almost immeasurable – knowing that I have played a small part in this change – is for me some much more rewarding than drinking expensive champagne with my high maintenance car and girlfriend.
Tony I hope that empty feeling changes soon for you – but surely feeling empty has got to be a lot better than – waking up feeling sick and skint and hopeless – keep up the good work for yourself and Smart.
Respects
C.
Tony, I can relate to this too. I think if we’re used to ups and downs, contentment and stability don’t always seem comfortable or ‘normal’. Perhaps therein lies the key :-). I love it when a throw-away line from someone really strikes a chord and speaks to us. I’m hoping for more tranquility for you!
