Threshold

Lately I've been reading a number of threads on SR about the efficacy of different recovery programs. Some of the thread have been aimed at determining which method is "better" and why. Other threads have been aimed towards pointing out that the reason some people don't achieve life long recovery is because they aren't really trying or are not doing the program the way they should.

I have relapsed lately, as well as having an acute situation with my mental health, so I have been paying close attention to those threads.

I decided to do some outside research as well, and have come across some articles that have given me more insight into the challenges of addiction recovery while dealing with mental illness, and about various recovery programs as well.

All recovery programs have a huge drop out rate. All recovery programs have a significant failure rate, even among the people who stay in the program a year or more. People who have dual diagnosis have a higher relapse rate.

These are statistics gathered over many many years by many many studies. They are not a particular person's axe to grind.

I've used certain programs or aspects of programs and all have been helpful to me, but none have been the complete and total answer for me.

Over the past weeks, as my mental situation has become more acute, I realized that I needed to back off from those recovery war issues, because rather than helping me, they were agitating me.

If I work a perfect program I will never use again, because the first and most important aspect of any program is that I never use again.

The debates remind me of similar studies on birth control methods. There is method failure, and there is user failure. If a couple uses condoms and foam 100% of the time, there is still a method failure. It's low, but it's real. And the reality is that most couples will not totally and completely use the method perfectly 100% of the time for a whole variety of reasons.

Birth control pills, shots, and implants, even when used correctly STILL have a failure rate.

Many methods are dropped by the users early on in the process as too messy, complicated, expensive, intrusive to intimacy etc. Just like recovery programs.

In the end, the answer is the same, abstinence is the only sure fire absolute no fail method of birth control, and abstinence is the only sure fire way of recovery.

Barring that, people are going to fail.

I can not drink but still have my life a wreck in other ways.

This morning I read some posts on SR about a person in a 12 step program who committed suicide. Sure it LOOKED like she was working the program, but clearly she was not applying it perfectly in all areas of her life or else she wouldn't have done such. If she applied it perfectly in all areas of her life, and had a total psychic change and spiritual awakening that a perfect program brings, she would never have done such a thing.

Why do people fail to apply a perfect program?

I do know this. That when I am in a state of acute mental distress being scolded for not working a perfect program isn't enough to smack me back into shape.

PaperDolls

I've been agitated recently by all the talk of which program or method is better. It's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. "My way was is best because that's what worked for me" or "I tried that and it sucks"? Give me a break. Talk about arrogance at the finest. It's been going on around here a lot recently. I really like your comparison to birth control ..... if you don't have sex, there's no chance of getting pregnant.

As far as working a "perfect" program ..... it's impossible really. Well, that's my opinion. I've stayed stopped (this time) but I've screwed up in other areas often and I should face the fact that I will again. Difference is this time, I don't drink over that stuff.....in my case, the more connected I am with my AA home group and sponsor helps make that happen.

Dealing with mental illness certainly makes it difficult but please remember, it can still be done.

soberlicious

You got that right.

Scolding, guilt, shame, and dependency on doctrine does not work for me. In fact, it exacerbates any mental distress I am experiencing. The biggest antedote for my crippling anxiety and depression was stopping the use of all substances and believing in my personal power that, yes, if fact I can take steps to address any mental health issues as they arise.

Threshold

That last part is what gets tricky for me. Nearly all the time I can do things to address my mental health issues, until they become so acute that I am too detached from rationality to address them. Too debilitated.

that's what's been so terrifying and deflating lately, the fact that as I am busy addressing them, something is going on in the backround and BAM!

That's life I guess.

soberlicious

Yes, I understand this. I have been there...but I will say that without using any substances for several years, it is easier to "catch" myself and make myself take the necessary steps to stop the spiral downward.

Threshold

And this is why I am terrified. Because even sober, even working a program, even under psychiatric care, etc...still am not "catching myself"

Honestly doing what I can to give myself the best hope at addressing things properly and before they get out of hand.

Sitting here wondering "what now"?

Of course I will still put effort into myself. But wonder if it's fair to ask anyone (other than professionals) to help/support me, be that in actual or emotional ways.

Like I am sucking up resources that would better go to someone that would be more likely to put them to purposeful use. If all I am going to do, through bad attitude or by factual reality, is shoot things down one by one...ugh. I'm sick of myself already.

Lately I've been feeling like I am trying to cure pancreatic cancer with talk therapy and the laying on of hands. I've said it before, there are times I wish it WAS a brain tumor because then there might be a chance to do something about it. Crazy talk? Um yeah!

Substance abuse came late in the game. It was not a long or chronic condition. It was crazy binge attempts to try to self medicate madness away long enough for "spells" to work themselves out.

Needless to say, it didn't work. Well, ok, I do believe that there were moments where being wasted kept me from doing something worse to myself. But overall, no, it does not help or address the actual issue. And absolutely using, in any way, shape of form lessens the efficacy of other things that may actually address the issue.

Which is why I'm thinking that the real issue is the mental illness, which it does appear isn't(as I hoped it might be) scared off by step work, or refusing to discuss things with the addictive voice (or any other voices), etc etc.

I admit that I hoped recovery work would do more than keep me sober.

I was riding on a lot of coat tails of hope from people who've had total life turn arounds through addiction recovery.

Still, sobriety is a critical part of addressing the mental health stuff, so getting and staying clean is a goal I must pursue. That is clear and undeniable.

I'm relatively lucid right now. Exhausted, and feeling pretty defeated, but not so lost in my head that I can't acknowledge facts as facts.

Sometimes I get so lonely that I DO engage with the voices, just to have someone to talk to. That is very sad, but I may as well admit that it is true.

And so, we are back to the fact that whether or not there is such a thing as working a perfect program, I need to work a better one than I have been.

babystrangeloop

Those darn atmospheres of judgmentalism. You try scrubbing them, you try soaking them. Now try gentleness, the better alternative sometime.

But how to be gentle when some old recovery program or another says "we tried to find a kinder, gentler way but we could not"?

I'm reading a book I got from the library today. It's not an "approved literature" book but truth is where you find it.

8 Keys to Safe Trauma Recovery by Babette Rotheschild.

Threshold

Book? Book? what is this thing you speak of?

Ha ha, I used to be a librarian, but I can't remember the last time I read a book. My brain has been so scattered. My room is littered with books, and I pick up and read a page and drop it to fall where it may.

I feel like the guy in Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner...water water everywhere but not a drop to drink.

There are so many good ideas out there, and yet I seem to currently be unable to apply any of them.

Like my brain is a solidified mass, unable to absorb the very thing that would soften and heal it.

ah...tomorrow is another day.

Key, though, I like that word key...and safe...and those two words together, interesting metaphors, lots of possibilities.

babystrangeloop

I haven't read that much of it either. I carry it around like a prop. I show it to people and they ask me "are you a doctor" and I say "poop no!"

Last night I carried it to a new meeting. I just read a bit from the back cover:

• Use mindfulness to identify what is helpful to recovery, and what is not
• Acknowledge the fact that you survived
• Determine whether you need or want to remember the trauma
• Stop flashbacks
• Forgive your limitations and share your shame
• Find you own pace of recovery
• Use movement and exercise to enhance your healing
• Lighten you situation by helping others

The "mindfulness" only comes to me when I'm in a park. In the city a park is like a shared backyard. Trouble is that many(?) of the people around like to toss their stuff on the ground. I picked up so many cigarette butts yesterday (I admit I smoke and I'm so compulsive about disposing of the butts) and when I sat down there were still so many butts, it was like I hadn't done a thing.

One other thing about "mindfulness" is a technique I was taught called "mental noting" where during meditation you are permitted to think (or say) a word to describe your sensations as they arise. I do it a slightly different way now; I call it "silly mental labeling" where I use one or two words to describe things that I am experiencing. It gets so crazy sometimes, the two-word combinations that arise in my mind.

Threshold

I've done a lot of mindfulness but never heard of that mental noting practice. I will add that to my "bag of tricks".

I have really benefitted from walking meditations. I love labyrinths and whenever I travel I try to visit any local ones. There is a "labyrinth locator" on line that allows me to do this. I've created labyrinths myself as well.

When I was a librarian, I used to mark labyrinths out on the floor of the children's area with tape. It was really interesting to see how people responded. Little kids would trace the labyrinth with cars and trucks. Older ones would walk or run through it. Teens would stare at it, appreciating the art of it (I changed up the designs regularly), and they asked if I could make one in the parking lot that they could skateboard through.

I usually do a lot of hiking, and meditate/contemplate at those times as well. I admit that so far I've been way more into comtemplation than meditation in the quieting the mind sense. Perhaps contemplation is a step before, where one quiets the mind of most things by focusing on one thing. Then through meditation gives up that one thing as well?

Hikes on new and rough trails force me to stop thinking of all the swirling stuff in my mind and focus on the trail. Those are especially good for me.

I'm an artist and I can "lose" myself in my work, which again, empties my mind of thought. I am simply being, doing, fully immersed in the now.

The logistics and emotional issues of my divorce (next week) are really doing a number on me. I have to execute a cross country trip, attend to legal and financial matters, and say goodbye to a lot of things and relationships I really don't want to say goodbye to. (yes, I can keep the people in my life, even long distance, but the pets and places I lose)

I had hoped I would be more graceful in this situation, but I'm clumsy and awkward and banging my mental and emotional shins on every thing that is suddenly out of place in my life.

I can make myself do the right things as far as attending to the business parts of it. And people tell me to take care of myself, but I'm not sure what that means. Which sounds totally stupid, but it is exactly how I feel.

I am in the sort of paralyzing overwhelming grief of someone who has just lost a loved one to death. Ok, wash your face. Yes, you HAVE to take a bath today, and yes you HAVE to do laundry. Am I hungry...or am I just nervous, OK eat, but it has to be healthy, damn I can't make myself a salad, how about eggs, and an orange. OK, do the car rental, and respond to that e-mail, people need to know you're OK.

But I am NOT OK, I want to scream, maybe I need to stop acting so OK...but what good will that do? It's ok, do something normal, go out for pizza, joke with the coworkers...I am so hollow inside...

I am trying to keep the faith that this is just a really sad and uncomfortable stage I must pass through and that my gritty strength will get me through, and I'll be able to feel and do things again.

Meanwhile the nagging and recurring episodes of acute anxiety, terror, and psychosis distract me from the tasks at hand.

I am so scared right now, so so scared.

NYCDoglvr

Since humans are all different there is no "one size fits all" recovery program. AA worked for me because I needed peer support, couldn't get -- or stay -- sober alone. Add to that denial is always perched on my shoulder, I have a built-in "forgetter". I need to get my hand up and say "I am an alcoholic".

I think it's fairly normal to have major anxiety when we first get sober but I needed someone to touch base with about it. I needed a room where I could unload it.

AD33

Great thread thanks,

I'm just over 8 weeks without alcohol/substances after 5 years in other programmes with an undiagnosed mental illness. It's difficult for me to sort out reality from unreality at present as my head is pretty busy but the most sense I can make of things is as follows:

1/ I tried to work perfect programmes and beat myself up for what I now realise was mental illness.
2/ I shamed myself and allowed others to shame me for the above. Some of my unwell-ness was, no doubt, dry alcoholism but quite a bit of it was the mental illness.
3/ My life got worse and worse until I relapsed by taking an overdose, ended up in a rehab which told me I had no mental health issues, left and went on an alcohol binge that ended up in another overdose.
4/ I blame myself for not being perfectly honest, serene, willing when I'm very newly sober, with a history of significant trauma and a dual diagnosis and try to catch myself when those blaming thoughts arise.

What seems to be helping is a sponsor who is also dual diagnosis

Threshold

AD, I appreciate the "merry go round" you were on. I feel that I am just starting to see that situation as I piece together my own history of addiction/mental illness. They can't necessarily be teased apart, yet to a certain degree they must be, so each can be addressed so neither sabatoges the other.

It's not like I can sit here and say "ok, now is this the addiction acting out...or the mental illness" but rather to assume it is both/and...and which treatments, etc are best aimed at which aspects of my current situation.

When one has self medicated for a long time with a substance, and then in recovery the issue that had previously been self medicated arises...it's not the addictive voice that sends me scurrying back. It's the mental illness.

I don't feel compelled to drink/drug lately, I feel compelled to shut down the voices in my head. I don't want to get high, I want to sleep.

Threshold

I have not been on SR much the past week due to traveling and dealing with the finalization of my divorce. I've had a bit of time to read, but not much to post. This has allowed me to "sit" with my feelings over some posts rather than busying myself firing off a response.

I've been letting my feelings over things I've read bubble to the surface, just feeling myself react with no opportunity or energy to defend myself. And no reason to. I am what I am, and so tired of making apologies, offering explanations, promises of how I am going to try yet one more thing to "fix" me, Tired of reading and feeling shame because I haven't been able to swallow, cultivate and adopt an idea that many people here said was their key to freedom.

I've sat here silently and watched while my thoughts and feelings (not in my own posts, but when shared by others) are analyzed and judged and found wanting, and corrected and chastised.

I think that it is finally becoming clear to me, and my posts the past few weeks are moving in this direction, that with dual diagnosis I am not the same, even in my addiction, as many people in the recovery programs I've sought community in. We are dealing with some very different issues. And those issues are significant enough that what works for many of them doesn't work for me. It is NOT a program failure. NOT a user failure. We are treating different things, with some similar symptoms.

Lacking faith in my own ability to see, feel and think appropriately, I've often let myself give up my "gut" sense for the analysis of someone who talks or acts like they know better. I've told myself that they must be right because somehow, somewhere in their life they have some measure of success that I don't. I take that as proof. That may indeed be a sign that they have been successful as addressing their issues, but it is not necessarily a sign that what they did will work for me.

I have been adding to my own frustration, exhaustion and desperation by continually blaming myself when someone else's prescription doesn't cure my ill.

I recall a winter when I was young. I had "inherited" my older brother's newspaper route when sports practice kept him from being able to get the afternoon paper's delivered on time. I was about ten. The newspaper bag was very large and heavy. I used to have to do the route in three chunks, because there was only so many papers I could lug at once.

There was a winter storm. The truck dropping off our bundle of papers was running many hours late. The papers came after dark. I rolled them, and now needed to head out to deliver them. My mother didn't believe in allowing reality like storms etc to keep us from doing our duty. The sidewalks were buried under two plus feet of snow. The roads were narrow, with high walls of plowed snow and ice chunks on either side.

My mother told my brother to help me deliver the papers. He was angry. He made me put all the papers for the entire route into the bag. He made me carry the bag. He was only going to go with me because my mom made him. He'd be darned if he was going to do my work for me. So I was lugging these papers, listening to the drill Srgt abuse from my brother, telling me what a sorry weakling I was, why couldn't I do my job myself, no, I was a baby who needed help...

I lugged and dragged that bag, and stomped toward porches, he threw the papers because he didn't want to wait the time it took me to tramp towards the porches over unshoveled driveways.

at some point, I really felt like I could not go on. I was freezing cold. My muscles burned like fire, I could no longer lift my legs high enough to tramp over the snow. My brother's words were just noise in my ears, I knew the tone was angry and derisive, but I could no longer identify the words themselves. I knew I had to keep going, but I truly came to a point where I couldn't keep going. I fell down in the snow.

At some point, probably only a minute or so later, my brother realized I was not following him. He came back and looked at me. He began to yell and berate me. I stared up, thinking, well, there is nothing I can do. I heard his voice, but still couldn't make out the words. I figured I might die there. buried in snow under a bag too heavy for me to move off of myself. He yelled and yelled and I didn't respond.

My eyes were open, but I didn't respond. I remember he kicked me, he kicked me thinking that would force me to get up. Usually words alone were enough to get a response out of me. This wasn't the first time my brother had yelled and called me names. When repeated physical assault failed to rouse me, he pulled the bag off of me and pulled me up out of the snow. he carried the bag for a ways, yelling at me and threatening me if I did not follow. Assuring me I was going to be sorry for this, that I was going to pay for this. I wished he'd left me to die in the snow.

When the bag was lighter, he sent me on in one direction while he took an armful and went the other way. Whether he delivered the papers or dumped them somewhere I know not. I did my part, we tramped home and he told them what a lazy crybaby I was. I was too tired and cold to answer. I sat thawing out in front of the fireplace while they all agreed what a pathetic lazy drama queen I was. I didn't speak for a number of hours. To speak was only to invite abuse, questioning, blame about why I thought it was OK for me to sit down and let my brother do my work.

I recall watching and listening to them all as if I was an animal in a zoo, and they were the people free, talking about me, pointing, making assumptions about my state of mind etc. I thought that they simply must not know what they were talking about. They couldn't. I mean, who could think that a ten year old girl should be able to do her paper route as easily in two feet of snow, with three times the number of papers in her bag, as she could in summer time? Who, in their right minds, could think that I should have been able to carry or drag the same weight as a 15 yr old atheletic boy?

I feel like that lately, in my recovery.

I am unsure how one applies the 12 steps to a hallucination. I am unsure how I am supposed to get myself up out of the snow while being held down by a weight equal to my own, just because someone is yelling at me, kicking me and telling me how I need to quit feeling sorry for myself.

I often read the reasoning that on a forum, it is hard or impossible to really know the tone of a post because we don't have the tone of voice or facial cues, only the words to read. That so many things are taken the wrong way, etc.

I call bullcrap on that. Simple plain old fashioned bullcrap. There are many posters here who are extremely eloquent and quite able to get their tone across crystal clear. If encouragement is so rarely mistaken as judgement, why do people keep claiming their posts are "misheard" when they come across as scathing?

If people seem to be able to pick out "victim mentality" and self justification and all that in the words of another, why do they claim to be misunderstood when someone suggests their own tone was harsh or self satisfied?

I don't recall my brother's exact words, but the tone was clear.

His suggestion that I was weak, lazy, dramatic and all that was nonsense. I was a ten year old girl doing a job that was too big for me under conditions that closed the town down for two days.

In the summertime. I put a reasonably packed newspaper bag on my shoulder and did my route. But this was not summertime.

I think that is where I am in my life right now. I am not working under summertime conditions. I am being asked to carry a load that is three times the weight I am able to carry, and I am in a situation that has shut down a town. I've fallen into the snow and can't get up myself.

And like snowflakes piling up are the well meaning words by people who have found success in their programs. Snow can be so pretty, fun, so many wonderful things, unless one is buried it in under a weight they cannot move on their own. And I want so much to be making the best use of all those words and posts and snowflakes. But instead I am lying in terror that they are going to smother me, and what I need is to have some help getting this sack of newspapers off of me. And all the kick, kick, kicks of tough love aren't getting me to my feet. And all the "well, that's what you get when you insist on maintaining that victim mentality..." aren't getting me to my feet.

And I think what I need is a different program. Right now I don't think it's the self centered lazy victim mentality that is keeping me down. I think it's the newspaper bag and the two feet of snow.

Through my fog I know that I should be praying, that my HP snatch the bag off of me, or causes the snow to melt, or softens my proverbial brother's heart. But I feel cold and numb and paralyzed. And I am not praying for much of anything other than to lay here and die in the snow.