Need some thoughts advice from you wise folks
Hmmm, I need to think about that too. Because the thing is I feel like I would chop off my own limbs with a rusty knife if it meant I would stop drinking. I cannot put into words the desire inside of me to stop. Yet.... I don't. I want to stop but I also feel angry about having to stop. I am not sure how or if it is possible to reconcile those two conflicting emotions.
quat
Join Date: Jul 2013
Location: terra (mostly)firma
Posts: 4,822
Changing my mindset from 'have to quit' to "I choose to not drink" was the ticket. Reading about AVRT really helped me with that. You can do this, I know you can, you too, right ?( if you're not sure, change your mind )
All I can say is I have had many more additions to my life, so many blessings, by removing one thing. Alcohol.
Guest
Join Date: Jun 2011
Location: The Deep South
Posts: 14,636
When I saw clearly that the negative aspects of continuing to "reward" myself with the wine were far outweighing any benefit, I realized it was delusional thinking on my part. The feelings of deprivation, the fear to let it go as an ingrained habit... the desire to "consume" things... I've had to let that go. Feeling afraid, out of control, lacking... all of it, I had to learn to let go
It's true that there's only so much we can control in our lives. And seeing that alcohol was one of the things I used to "control" and "manage" with, when in fact, it was stealing the life and spirit and soul from me... that's when I realized no amount of romanticizing would be enough anymore for me to keep doing it.
My anger was more about things and people that I had allowed to upset me, and anger at myself even. Not so much anger that I could no longer drink. The drinking was doing nothing more than intensifying the negatives in my life.
It's true that there's only so much we can control in our lives. And seeing that alcohol was one of the things I used to "control" and "manage" with, when in fact, it was stealing the life and spirit and soul from me... that's when I realized no amount of romanticizing would be enough anymore for me to keep doing it.
My anger was more about things and people that I had allowed to upset me, and anger at myself even. Not so much anger that I could no longer drink. The drinking was doing nothing more than intensifying the negatives in my life.
You use the word "think" in a lot of your posts. I'm not sure you are going to be able to think yourself sober. It's the mental equivalent of the Chinese Finger Trap. You can't get out by pulling, just like you can't get sober by thinking about it. Just stop drinking.
And if you have to think, think about living and loving your sober life.
And if you have to think, think about living and loving your sober life.
You use the word "think" in a lot of your posts. I'm not sure you are going to be able to think yourself sober. It's the mental equivalent of the Chinese Finger Trap. You can't get out by pulling, just like you can't get sober by thinking about it. Just stop drinking.
And if you have to think, think about living and loving your sober life.
And if you have to think, think about living and loving your sober life.
I imagine as a fellow alcoholic you can relate to the all-consuming nature of this disease. Possibly you were one of the fortunate ones (like my mother and another good friend) who just up and stopped one day. Not all of us are that fortunate despite an incredible desire that burns to our very cores. A desire so strong that we analyze and think about alcohol and sobriety what seems to be every single second of every single day.
Just stop drinking. Great advice, advice I give myself every morning when I wake up. Advice I give others here on this forum. Advice that is much easier said and written than actually done. I'lll get there. There is no doubt in my mind. As always, your input is very much appreciated.
EndGame
Join Date: Jun 2013
Location: New York, NY
Posts: 4,677
Hi Merv.
It sounds as though you're struggling with denial, continuing to negotiate with your problems with alcohol so as to arrive at an equitable peace treaty in which alcohol continues to impose some influence.
More than this, you're also describing a largely incomplete grieving process...with your ex, your ex-boyfriends, with what you eat and drink. In my considerable work with people who are grieving, the first and most crucial step is acknowledging the extent of the loss. Without this, the grieving process will forever be undone and, in many ways, will later be our undoing.
This reluctance to "let go" is, unfortunately, counterbalanced by a diminished ability to move on, regardless of our feelings around this or external appearances. The same is true of addictions and other forms of psychopathology. They not only impair our ability to live a good life, but also generally restrict our participation in areas of our lives that would otherwise be important or meaningful to us. We cannot enjoy or nourish ourselves with that which we cannot or will not see, remaining as they do, beyond our grasp; that nagging feeling that "something's not right" or "something's missing." (Google 'Plato's Allegory of the Cave' for a visual and complementary description of this process.)
Each of us has only a limited amount of psychic energy, and the more we "spend" this energy on people, places and things that are no longer a part of our everyday lives, the less we have to give to other, potentially more meaningful aspects of our current lives. I don't know that there is any greater suffering than the late-in-life recognition that we've bided time throughout a life unlived.
Putting down the drink is not a conclusion of the mind, but an ongoing activity, a process, that leans heavily on (for many) the cessation of intense and regular suffering and, when we are honest and vigilant in our early recovery, the promise of a better life. Both a growing commitment to our sobriety and the "leap of faith" to which I and others refer. Clearly, this is not a simple decision, a solitary event; nor is it an easy undertaking. it requires much more than thinking ourselves through the process.
I don't know anyone who embraced sobriety fully when they first attempted to get sober, and how could it be any other way? Requirement for AA membership, for example, recommends that members "have a desire to stop drinking," not a 100% desire to stop drinking or a full commitment to sobriety. But if sobriety is my goal, then I need to act; I need to start somewhere. And I need to cooperate with my recovery.
This incomplete grieving process is also, among much else, a control issue and, yes, in my experience, is largely based on fear, though 'terror' may be a more appropriate descriptor, given how this dynamic generalizes for you across so many areas of your life. When I eat my cake, I no longer have it. Revisiting the now-vacant bakery is not only unsatisfying, but takes time and energy away from the things that may be helpful in my efforts to build a better life. There are also hidden dangers that come with regularly entering abandoned buildings.
For me, the peace negotiations are over; finished before they started. There is no more bargaining to be done. I didn't surrender under my terms, if for no other reason than the fact that alcoholism never needed to fire a shot in order to win. There was no battle, no war. The outcome is inevitable and always the same, so why waste time and energy fighting?
It sounds as though you're struggling with denial, continuing to negotiate with your problems with alcohol so as to arrive at an equitable peace treaty in which alcohol continues to impose some influence.
More than this, you're also describing a largely incomplete grieving process...with your ex, your ex-boyfriends, with what you eat and drink. In my considerable work with people who are grieving, the first and most crucial step is acknowledging the extent of the loss. Without this, the grieving process will forever be undone and, in many ways, will later be our undoing.
This reluctance to "let go" is, unfortunately, counterbalanced by a diminished ability to move on, regardless of our feelings around this or external appearances. The same is true of addictions and other forms of psychopathology. They not only impair our ability to live a good life, but also generally restrict our participation in areas of our lives that would otherwise be important or meaningful to us. We cannot enjoy or nourish ourselves with that which we cannot or will not see, remaining as they do, beyond our grasp; that nagging feeling that "something's not right" or "something's missing." (Google 'Plato's Allegory of the Cave' for a visual and complementary description of this process.)
Each of us has only a limited amount of psychic energy, and the more we "spend" this energy on people, places and things that are no longer a part of our everyday lives, the less we have to give to other, potentially more meaningful aspects of our current lives. I don't know that there is any greater suffering than the late-in-life recognition that we've bided time throughout a life unlived.
Putting down the drink is not a conclusion of the mind, but an ongoing activity, a process, that leans heavily on (for many) the cessation of intense and regular suffering and, when we are honest and vigilant in our early recovery, the promise of a better life. Both a growing commitment to our sobriety and the "leap of faith" to which I and others refer. Clearly, this is not a simple decision, a solitary event; nor is it an easy undertaking. it requires much more than thinking ourselves through the process.
I don't know anyone who embraced sobriety fully when they first attempted to get sober, and how could it be any other way? Requirement for AA membership, for example, recommends that members "have a desire to stop drinking," not a 100% desire to stop drinking or a full commitment to sobriety. But if sobriety is my goal, then I need to act; I need to start somewhere. And I need to cooperate with my recovery.
This incomplete grieving process is also, among much else, a control issue and, yes, in my experience, is largely based on fear, though 'terror' may be a more appropriate descriptor, given how this dynamic generalizes for you across so many areas of your life. When I eat my cake, I no longer have it. Revisiting the now-vacant bakery is not only unsatisfying, but takes time and energy away from the things that may be helpful in my efforts to build a better life. There are also hidden dangers that come with regularly entering abandoned buildings.
For me, the peace negotiations are over; finished before they started. There is no more bargaining to be done. I didn't surrender under my terms, if for no other reason than the fact that alcoholism never needed to fire a shot in order to win. There was no battle, no war. The outcome is inevitable and always the same, so why waste time and energy fighting?
Not so good advice. I sound like my dad telling me to stop drinking 30 years ago.
What I've implied in that simple yet difficult statement is this: Live a recovery-centric life, not a alcohol deprived one. It's not about quitting drinking, it's about living sober.
Like you, I thought I could think my way clear of my problem. But all I did was think about drinking...or not drinking. Then I remembered back to a time when I didn't think about drinking or drugging. I was a boy, a young teen, but I went through my day without being obsessed about alcohol. And the knowledge that I once was like that, meant I could again be that person.
I hope you find your way back to the person who didn't have to think about drinking all the time.
What I've implied in that simple yet difficult statement is this: Live a recovery-centric life, not a alcohol deprived one. It's not about quitting drinking, it's about living sober.
Like you, I thought I could think my way clear of my problem. But all I did was think about drinking...or not drinking. Then I remembered back to a time when I didn't think about drinking or drugging. I was a boy, a young teen, but I went through my day without being obsessed about alcohol. And the knowledge that I once was like that, meant I could again be that person.
I hope you find your way back to the person who didn't have to think about drinking all the time.
Hi Merv.
It sounds as though you're struggling with denial, continuing to negotiate with your problems with alcohol so as to arrive at an equitable peace treaty in which alcohol continues to impose some influence.
More than this, you're also describing a largely incomplete grieving process...with your ex, your ex-boyfriends, with what you eat and drink. In my considerable work with people who are grieving, the first and most crucial step is acknowledging the extent of the loss. Without this, the grieving process will forever be undone and, in many ways, will later be our undoing.
This reluctance to "let go" is, unfortunately, counterbalanced by a diminished ability to move on, regardless of our feelings around this or external appearances. The same is true of addictions and other forms of psychopathology. They not only impair our ability to live a good life, but also generally restrict our participation in areas of our lives that would otherwise be important or meaningful to us. We cannot enjoy or nourish ourselves with that which we cannot or will not see, remaining as they do, beyond our grasp; that nagging feeling that "something's not right" or "something's missing." (Google 'Plato's Allegory of the Cave' for a visual and complementary description of this process.)
Each of us has only a limited amount of psychic energy, and the more we "spend" this energy on people, places and things that are no longer a part of our everyday lives, the less we have to give to other, potentially more meaningful aspects of our current lives. I don't know that there is any greater suffering than the late-in-life recognition that we've bided time throughout a life unlived.
Putting down the drink is not a conclusion of the mind, but an ongoing activity, a process, that leans heavily on (for many) the cessation of intense and regular suffering and, when we are honest and vigilant in our early recovery, the promise of a better life. Both a growing commitment to our sobriety and the "leap of faith" to which I and others refer. Clearly, this is not a simple decision, a solitary event; nor is it an easy undertaking. it requires much more than thinking ourselves through the process.
I don't know anyone who embraced sobriety fully when they first attempted to get sober, and how could it be any other way? Requirement for AA membership, for example, recommends that members "have a desire to stop drinking," not a 100% desire to stop drinking or a full commitment to sobriety. But if sobriety is my goal, then I need to act; I need to start somewhere. And I need to cooperate with my recovery.
This incomplete grieving process is also, among much else, a control issue and, yes, in my experience, is largely based on fear, though 'terror' may be a more appropriate descriptor, given how this dynamic generalizes for you across so many areas of your life. When I eat my cake, I no longer have it. Revisiting the now-vacant bakery is not only unsatisfying, but takes time and energy away from the things that may be helpful in my efforts to build a better life. There are also hidden dangers that come with regularly entering abandoned buildings.
For me, the peace negotiations are over; finished before they started. There is no more bargaining to be done. I didn't surrender under my terms, if for no other reason than the fact that alcoholism never needed to fire a shot in order to win. There was no battle, no war. The outcome is inevitable and always the same, so why waste time and energy fighting?
It sounds as though you're struggling with denial, continuing to negotiate with your problems with alcohol so as to arrive at an equitable peace treaty in which alcohol continues to impose some influence.
More than this, you're also describing a largely incomplete grieving process...with your ex, your ex-boyfriends, with what you eat and drink. In my considerable work with people who are grieving, the first and most crucial step is acknowledging the extent of the loss. Without this, the grieving process will forever be undone and, in many ways, will later be our undoing.
This reluctance to "let go" is, unfortunately, counterbalanced by a diminished ability to move on, regardless of our feelings around this or external appearances. The same is true of addictions and other forms of psychopathology. They not only impair our ability to live a good life, but also generally restrict our participation in areas of our lives that would otherwise be important or meaningful to us. We cannot enjoy or nourish ourselves with that which we cannot or will not see, remaining as they do, beyond our grasp; that nagging feeling that "something's not right" or "something's missing." (Google 'Plato's Allegory of the Cave' for a visual and complementary description of this process.)
Each of us has only a limited amount of psychic energy, and the more we "spend" this energy on people, places and things that are no longer a part of our everyday lives, the less we have to give to other, potentially more meaningful aspects of our current lives. I don't know that there is any greater suffering than the late-in-life recognition that we've bided time throughout a life unlived.
Putting down the drink is not a conclusion of the mind, but an ongoing activity, a process, that leans heavily on (for many) the cessation of intense and regular suffering and, when we are honest and vigilant in our early recovery, the promise of a better life. Both a growing commitment to our sobriety and the "leap of faith" to which I and others refer. Clearly, this is not a simple decision, a solitary event; nor is it an easy undertaking. it requires much more than thinking ourselves through the process.
I don't know anyone who embraced sobriety fully when they first attempted to get sober, and how could it be any other way? Requirement for AA membership, for example, recommends that members "have a desire to stop drinking," not a 100% desire to stop drinking or a full commitment to sobriety. But if sobriety is my goal, then I need to act; I need to start somewhere. And I need to cooperate with my recovery.
This incomplete grieving process is also, among much else, a control issue and, yes, in my experience, is largely based on fear, though 'terror' may be a more appropriate descriptor, given how this dynamic generalizes for you across so many areas of your life. When I eat my cake, I no longer have it. Revisiting the now-vacant bakery is not only unsatisfying, but takes time and energy away from the things that may be helpful in my efforts to build a better life. There are also hidden dangers that come with regularly entering abandoned buildings.
For me, the peace negotiations are over; finished before they started. There is no more bargaining to be done. I didn't surrender under my terms, if for no other reason than the fact that alcoholism never needed to fire a shot in order to win. There was no battle, no war. The outcome is inevitable and always the same, so why waste time and energy fighting?
As carl so correctly pointed out, I certainly can't "think" myself sober. That said, this is proving to be a process for me and by getting to know myself better I am making slow progress. This thread has been extraordinarily helpful and important to me today and I feel stronger than ever. I have got to let go of so much stuff. So much stuff. Even where I live, I feel like I have kept one foot back in the US, am straddling the Atlantic, not really one place or the other. But I also feel so close, soveryclose, to a great, satisfying life. Christ, even now as I type I realize I was about to say exactly what you pointed out above- the nagging feeling of being so close yet something missing.
Lots more to say but I fear I will start rambling. I'll leave with another very sincere thanks to you and everyone else who has taken time to write. I have never felt so cared for or supported in my whole life. Words wouldn't do it justice to say how much it means to me so I'll just say good night... I'm off to bed, thankfully alcohol free for another day.
Member
Join Date: May 2014
Location: liverpool, england
Posts: 1,708
I don't think most people are comfortable with this concept of letting go and not all recovery methods require this. For me I struggled with letting go, which in a way is asking for help. Having faith in somethign greater than ourselves is what I needed - others need somethign different.
My therapist had a great analogy. Its like we are on a plane, the pilot is dead and we are heading towards a mountain (in the Alps if you like). The fate is known - we will perish if we stay on the plane. There are others with parachutes jumping and you can see the chutes opening and they are floating to safety. But we stay on the plane because we are scared as to whether our chute will open. We need faith to jump to trust it will. Soem are able ot just trust. For others like myself I had to disect and understand how parachutes work and deploy, baraometric sensors etc. In the end I still just needed some faith and jumped. It worked and opened.
Some choose death vs the unknown. The stats are pretty awful when it comes ot addiction, its sad really but not all are supposed to escape. But for those of us who have the faith and trust that the chute will open and things will be alright and can leave the booze and/or drugs behind; the valley we will float down to is wonderful. A life worth living so much better than I could have ever imagined.
Your chute will open Mera - do what you need to understand and trust but it will open. You will be alright but if you stay on that plane, I promise it will crash and burn but you know this already.
My therapist had a great analogy. Its like we are on a plane, the pilot is dead and we are heading towards a mountain (in the Alps if you like). The fate is known - we will perish if we stay on the plane. There are others with parachutes jumping and you can see the chutes opening and they are floating to safety. But we stay on the plane because we are scared as to whether our chute will open. We need faith to jump to trust it will. Soem are able ot just trust. For others like myself I had to disect and understand how parachutes work and deploy, baraometric sensors etc. In the end I still just needed some faith and jumped. It worked and opened.
Some choose death vs the unknown. The stats are pretty awful when it comes ot addiction, its sad really but not all are supposed to escape. But for those of us who have the faith and trust that the chute will open and things will be alright and can leave the booze and/or drugs behind; the valley we will float down to is wonderful. A life worth living so much better than I could have ever imagined.
Your chute will open Mera - do what you need to understand and trust but it will open. You will be alright but if you stay on that plane, I promise it will crash and burn but you know this already.
but on this issue i agree with you as i have the faith in aa and i think its having that faith in something greater than me that is the key
The good news Desy is you only need faith in something greater than you! AA has no rules on what that HP is...the collective group of AA can work just fine. Just not you flying the plane:-)
Member
Join Date: Sep 2014
Location: Berwick
Posts: 128
You are seeking sobriety with more passion and vigour than I've seen on SR to date, in anyone newly around.
Just keep putting in the work, the effort. Your posting, reading books, acknowledging advice. It's really heartening to see.
I can't remember who said it but it goes
"success is 10% inspiration and 90% perspiration"
Keep up the good work!!!
Just keep putting in the work, the effort. Your posting, reading books, acknowledging advice. It's really heartening to see.
I can't remember who said it but it goes
"success is 10% inspiration and 90% perspiration"
Keep up the good work!!!
Hi, Mera -- I don't know if I've got anything brilliant to add but here's my two cents.
When I got sober, I didn't have the words to really describe what I was doing. It was just that I needed to prevail upon the strength I knew was in there somewhere to accomplish it. In retrospect, I would call it "grit." It's intangible, but I'm convinced we all possess it.
Life isn't easy. It will throw curves at us, just like it does for people who don't share our problem. The difference is we just have to summon the grit inside of us and persevere without alcohol. We cannot consider it a reward, a "just this once" incident or something we deserve.
Call upon your grit, Mera. You've got it.
When I got sober, I didn't have the words to really describe what I was doing. It was just that I needed to prevail upon the strength I knew was in there somewhere to accomplish it. In retrospect, I would call it "grit." It's intangible, but I'm convinced we all possess it.
Life isn't easy. It will throw curves at us, just like it does for people who don't share our problem. The difference is we just have to summon the grit inside of us and persevere without alcohol. We cannot consider it a reward, a "just this once" incident or something we deserve.
Call upon your grit, Mera. You've got it.
Guest
Join Date: Dec 2006
Location: Canada
Posts: 4,580
I too have struggled with "letting go" in my life.
I'm really glad you posted this Merv. I think you are looking at yourself dead on and asking the right questions. I think we are the richer for it.
Over the past weekend, I pruned my 400 Facebook friends down to about 127 and the results? Well...I loved the results. I was left with a far more intimate group of folks I know and care about. My homefeed was suddenly clean and I was able to see things of interest to me in seconds...rather than being deluged with crap of folks I barely know.
I realized my account was rendered almost meaningless as it was cluttered with the energy of folks I likely wouldn't even say "howdy" to on the street if I passed them...
Letting go..is awesome. What Endgame says here..ya..it's part of my new gospel.
EndGame
Join Date: Jun 2013
Location: New York, NY
Posts: 4,677
I too learned, and continue to learn, to let go the hard way. Probably like most people do.
I was forever tortured by love lost, opportunities missed and poor decisions. The Holy Trinity.
A running fantasy throughout my life is about my having access to time travel, and fixing my past with all that I now know. I doubt that this is uncommon.
What I've learned is that, by traveling back in time in my imagination (and in my dreams), I'm taking my energy and my attention away from enjoying my present, and adding more bricks to the wall that prevents me from having a better future.
Grief and longing are not pathological states; they are simply part of the human condition, and they do not need to be "fixed." Being leveled by a broken heart has as much to say about our capacity for love and affection as it does about not only our capacity for pain and suffering, but our ability to learn from suffering, allowing for an excellent opportunity for us to become better and stronger people. But this can only occur after we've given ourselves permission to move on with our lives at the moment that's right for us.
Lingering in that dark place for much too long, we notice that the lights are beginning to dim, signalling that closing time approaches quickly.
If meaning can't be had from suffering, then what's the point?
I was forever tortured by love lost, opportunities missed and poor decisions. The Holy Trinity.
A running fantasy throughout my life is about my having access to time travel, and fixing my past with all that I now know. I doubt that this is uncommon.
What I've learned is that, by traveling back in time in my imagination (and in my dreams), I'm taking my energy and my attention away from enjoying my present, and adding more bricks to the wall that prevents me from having a better future.
Grief and longing are not pathological states; they are simply part of the human condition, and they do not need to be "fixed." Being leveled by a broken heart has as much to say about our capacity for love and affection as it does about not only our capacity for pain and suffering, but our ability to learn from suffering, allowing for an excellent opportunity for us to become better and stronger people. But this can only occur after we've given ourselves permission to move on with our lives at the moment that's right for us.
Lingering in that dark place for much too long, we notice that the lights are beginning to dim, signalling that closing time approaches quickly.
If meaning can't be had from suffering, then what's the point?
In the brilliance, this bit shone out like the shiniest of all diamonds for me.
I too have struggled with "letting go" in my life.
I'm really glad you posted this Merv. I think you are looking at yourself dead on and asking the right questions. I think we are the richer for it.
Over the past weekend, I pruned my 400 Facebook friends down to about 127 and the results? Well...I loved the results. I was left with a far more intimate group of folks I know and care about. My homefeed was suddenly clean and I was able to see things of interest to me in seconds...rather than being deluged with crap of folks I barely know.
I realized my account was rendered almost meaningless as it was cluttered with the energy of folks I likely wouldn't even say "howdy" to on the street if I passed them...
Letting go..is awesome. What Endgame says here..ya..it's part of my new gospel.
I too have struggled with "letting go" in my life.
I'm really glad you posted this Merv. I think you are looking at yourself dead on and asking the right questions. I think we are the richer for it.
Over the past weekend, I pruned my 400 Facebook friends down to about 127 and the results? Well...I loved the results. I was left with a far more intimate group of folks I know and care about. My homefeed was suddenly clean and I was able to see things of interest to me in seconds...rather than being deluged with crap of folks I barely know.
I realized my account was rendered almost meaningless as it was cluttered with the energy of folks I likely wouldn't even say "howdy" to on the street if I passed them...
Letting go..is awesome. What Endgame says here..ya..it's part of my new gospel.
Guest
Join Date: Dec 2006
Location: Canada
Posts: 4,580
Contrary to what some believe, putting down the drink can indeed be an event, and it most certainly is that way for some. It need not be a process at all. They don't believe it be like it is, but it do. Not for all, but certainly for some.
I guess I am saying that you need not take others' statements as universal. You get to create your own way here. It starts by believing that you deserve this, and that you will succeed. The rest is up to you. Onward!
I guess I am saying that you need not take others' statements as universal. You get to create your own way here. It starts by believing that you deserve this, and that you will succeed. The rest is up to you. Onward!
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