EndGameNYC

Okay, so I've got some good news, I'm very excited, and this is going to be long. And I'll try not to be too preachy.

I accepted an offer from Mt. Sinai Medical Center in NYC as Senior Research Coordinator. It's the kind of work I've been coveting since I put down the drink five years ago. There were times when I thought it impossible because I'd burned bridges and now carried gaps in my rèsumè which I could not reasonably account for without also disqualifying myself from getting a job offer. I did everything I could or needed to do in order to prepare myself for this kind of work, despite my misgivings that my career would forever be in my past. No classes. No books. No extra training. What I did was to continue to work on myself, from the inside out. That's how things work sometimes.

So I'm thrilled. It seems compulsory to talk about humility when we achieve something in sobriety, but whether or not I'm humble is not for me to say. It's something that the Universe decides. I'm happy for what I've achieved, and I'm most proud of the work I've done to get sober and to remain sober, and to build a life that makes it much easier for me not to drink. For some time, drinking has no longer been even a passing thought. Hooray for me.

When I put down the drink five years ago, following a three-year relapse during which I destroyed virtually everything that was good in my life, I tried hard not to look too far ahead in terms of what and where sobriety would bring me. I didn't even want to get or be sober for at least the first year. But when I did look ahead, what I saw wasn't pretty. Maybe go on disability for major depression and/or alcohol dependence, possibly taking a part-time job in retail, like CVS or Walgreen's, to supplement my disability income, and maybe live out my later years in a nursing facility. I was that broken down, and these were my aspirations, with no disrespect for those with similar goals or with a similar lifestyle. We all do what we need to do. Or not.

Though it was not at all part of my plan from the outset, it turns out that I spent my first two years in recovery doing not much more than working on my sobriety and rebuilding my life. What I mean is, rebuilding my entire life, including my thinking, the way I responded to my feelings, and the way I engaged the world and other people. I'm no one's hero, and I don't have special powers. What worked for me as much as anything else is that I had nothing more to lose and nowhere else to go.

I got back to working in my field about two years into sobriety. I had two total hip replacements, two emergency surgeries, and brought down my weight, cholesterol and BP by working out and making changes in my diet. I returned to training in a traditional style of martial arts following a ten-year lapse after twenty years of training. Anyone who followed my thread while I was competing in the National Championships this past July knows how that went. But I'm still not, and probably never will be, altogether faithful to a primarily healthy diet.

Towards the end of this past spring semester at the university where I teach, I found myself feeling restless and uneasy. (Restless, irritable and discontent?) I've learned that when this happens I need to do something different, though I'm rarely certain what that something is. I don't make lists of "things-to-do" or lists of "pros and cons" when I'm struggling to make a decision. My "things-to-do" lists have historically transformed into "things-that-will-never-get-done" lists, a glimpse into an unfulfilled and unfulfilling future. So I stopped doing that, like thirty years ago. I've also learned that, when I can trust myself, when I'm sober, I typically know the right choice to make, which is usually following my heart, regardless of what I may be thinking; a style that can and has lead to catastrophe when I'm drinking. I've learned to trust myself again.

So I didn't make a list, but I got things done away. The new job is just the most recent of other changes or milestones that I've made this past summer. I picked up my training last spring to include kickboxing and fusion fitness. I stopped smoking. I finally reached a resolution with the IRS and my student loans. I got my driver's license back. I celebrated five years of sobriety on Saturday at an AA Anniversary Meeting, though my stop date is 08/20/2011. My initial motivation came from within, but was later reinforced by the death of my sponsor, who was my age, about six weeks ago, from renal failure following a months-long struggle with cancer. His death also helped me to re-connect with a couple of good people I'd lost touch with, to one extent or another. I won't say more about that except that, for those who know me, my own mortality, my own awareness of the temporary imperative of my existence, has proved to be an invaluable asset in my second term of sobriety. I cannot live without keeping one eye on the clock, and that's a good thing. Walking through my own darkness makes life "lighter" for me.

I got three moving violations within eighteen months while I was sober many years ago, and never had a DUI or ticket before then. I was working at Hillside Hospital/Long Island Jewish Medical Center at the time, so I was driving back and forth from Manhattan to the Queens/Long Island border. Before I knew the third ticket would knock me down to a restricted license, being allowed to drive only to and from work, I challenged the ticket because I thought it was unwarranted. I did some research and learned what I could about my circumstances. Though I could only provide the little evidence I could find and not proof in my defense, I made the time to challenge it anyway. That's what I do when I'm sober.

After several months and a few delays, I got my day in court. The judge was legally obligated to throw out my case due to a technicality, and she wasn't at all pleased about it. After she dismissed me, she lectured me -- it was more of an angry scolding -- about how lucky I was and that if she could have done anything in order for me to have been convicted, she would have done so. I left without comment. I got a refund for the fines I paid. I had previously sold my car since I didn't need it for the commute anymore. When I tried to renew my license (at a time when I was again drinking), the DMV told me I "better get a lawyer." I eventually learned that the judge had put some kind of block on my license and that, for all practical purposes, I wouldn't be able to renew it without legal assistance. As was, again drinking at the time, and had no obvious need to drive, so I let it go. Until now. For a time when I was without a license, there were a few things I would have liked to have done but was unable to do because I couldn't drive. Check that box off.

I quit smoking. I quit the first time I was sober after about six years, in 1989. My sponsor and others told me that I'd be playing with fire if I tried to stop smoking and drinking at the same time, so I did what they told me. Stayed stopped for twenty two years, and then started again when I started drinking in 2011. It was a very difficult thing to do, both times, but it was time to stop, and had been for a while.

I don't push it here or anywhere else, but my experience may be helpful. At the very least, physical activity of any kind can improve our mood and our health, and even change our outlook on things. I began my training in martial arts in 1983, about a month after I first got sober for what turned into twenty five years, though those who know me might also know that there were several years before my relapse when my thinking and behavior was not altogether "sober." I was afraid and alone. I had a broken heart and a broken life. I was desperate to just feel okay. A friend of mine involved in boxing and karate encouraged me to try it out, and I stuck with it for the next twenty years. If you find a good sensei, and you work hard, the things that this kind of training offers are available for anyone. Self-respect. Discipline. Confidence. Respect for others, particularly those who are most vulnerable. A re-channeling and/or dissolution of angry or violent impulses. A consistent flow of feel-good neurotransmitters that works against both anxiety and depression, depending on how often you train and how hard you work at your training. An intense workout. Weight loss or maintenance. Improved health. A heightened awareness of potential danger wherever you are. An ability to read both body language and facial expressions. Increased focus and concentration. And probably some things I don't even know about. So that's that.

I used AA to get sober the first time around, so that's where I went following my relapse, though I was internally kicking and screaming this time around. The world was a very different place in 1983. No Internet for the masses. No cell phones. Maybe sixteen people had personal computers. And very few options for treatment other than AA. Maybe it was and still is a "one-size-fits-all" or "cookie-cutter" program. I don't know. It seemed that way to me, though I had nothing with which to compare it. Maybe I was the perfect size for AA or I matched their cookie-cutter. Or maybe I just didn't know any better. I didn't know enough to care and, ultimately, it didn't matter. I was willing to do anything I needed to do in order to get sober. And that's what I did.

There was a slogan or saying back then, "The definition of insanity is being in a Twelve-Step Program and not working the Twelve Steps." Again, I didn't care either way. I was desperate, so I did everything that was suggested, with the exception of those suggestions that seemed to be the product of another kind of insanity. I'd ruined my marriage, my work, and important relationships. I turned myself into a nervous wreck who, with the addition of major depression and a wholly negative outlook on life, couldn't function in any meaningful way. I didn't suddenly become an expert as to what was the best treatment for me, although I might have liked to think so.

I don't believe in Divine Providence or Divine Intervention. As far as I'm concerned, God didn't keep me alive or get me sober because He has other plans for me. And even if He does, I'm certain that He doesn't care that I don't believe. I won't comment on my spiritual experiences. I just know that I'm here and that I'm sober.

Ya know what's special about me? It's the same thing that billions of people have done long before I was born. I did the work I needed to do to get where I wanted to be. And even when I didn't get there, I learned things that I wouldn't have otherwise known had I not made the effort. I've worked hard many times before for things that I wanted and never got. Am I not a failure because of my accomplishments? No. The only failure is to stop trying. The effort to succeed is a great teacher, regardless of the outcome. When I work for what I wanted, I incidentally learned how to work for things I wanted. The work itself became both a part of the process and an end in itself. I only realized that, for me, the process itself is the outcome. I just didn't know it till I got there.

I read something the other day that went something like this : "You are where you are in life either because of your efforts or because of doing nothing."