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| Image of when I was Intercessor for a Women's Ceremony, September 2022 |
It was on June 19th, 1984 when I stepped into my first AA meeting. I was hungover and scared and desperate to stop hurting. It truly feels like another lifetime ago. And it was.
In recent years I've reposted this piece several times that I first wrote a while back for my sobriety anniversary: https://mollystrongheart.blogspot.com/2022/06/i-got-clean-and-sober-38-years-ago-today.html.Today I am moved to give voice to a yet larger picture.
Many years ago when I was still early in my sobriety, I remember reading somewhere in a book about spirituality that there would come a time when the pull to live a rich and full life would grow stronger than any pull to go backwards. Being the quote collector that I am, this one really stuck with me.
I do not know how many years into my journey of sobriety, healing, and awakening that it was when I first crossed over that line onto truly solid ground — a grounding and rootedness, a depth of wholeness and strength, and a sacred inner knowing that there was no going back. No matter what. This experience was one that I could not have even begun to imagine for the first 40+ years of my life.
* * * * *
These past many years have been an incredibly transformative and sacred path of heart and soul. As I have been gradually thawing out, coming back into my body by making the long journey from my head to my heart, and increasingly emerging from the fog I'd been in — that I didn't know I'd been in because it's all I'd ever known and was normal, right? — I took on claiming different parts of myself that had been denied, depressed, suppressed, fragmented, estranged, relegated and hidden away in the deepest recesses of my walled off heart. It wasn't safe to come out of hiding until there was enough support for doing so. And a lot of courage. And Grace and Love. And the growing commitment to waking up from the dukkha I'd been living in for the whole of my young life.
There has been so much to integrate. Along the way, I began to recognize more and more of what I had been blinded to. And, paradoxically, addiction ended up serving as the impetus and my doorway out of hell. Gradually, I came to see that I'd been swimming in a sea of alcoholism — myself and my first husband, friends, my parents, other extended family, and on and on. It was all I'd ever known.
And I went to 12 Step meetings, initially Al-Anon, identifying myself as someone who was married to an alcoholic. Then AA — "Hello, I'm Molly and I'm an alcoholic." Then I added on ACOA — "Hi, I'm Molly and I'm an adult child of an alcoholic." And I attended all kinds of conferences and speakers meetings and weekend intensives and other events. I was also devouring the growing number of books that were lining my shelves. And I began participating in women's groups and women's ceremonies. And, of course, there was the beginning of many years of therapy. The people in my life were also changing. And then changing again.
For years, my identity was wrapped around alcoholism — focusing on sustaining my sobriety, on the impact of alcoholism on myself and so many loved ones, on my healing from the trauma associated with addiction, on breaking the cycle of addiction for myself and my three sons. And this was absolutely necessary. I needed to claim and integrate all these different parts of my lived experience that had been disassociated, denied, split off into fragments. I was on this incredible journey of moving into greater wholeness, truth, compassion, connection, joy, and love.
* * * * *
Then, at some point several years back, I realized that I no longer needed to identify as "Molly, an alcoholic." Does this mean that I am in denial? No. Does this mean that I think I can drink or that I would even want to drink now? No. My truth is that I have integrated this part of myself that is alcoholic. I am clear that I will continue to choose to not drink. And I have absolutely no urge to drink. I have come to this place of experiencing no pull to go back. None. My life is too rich, too beautiful and blessed, too amazing to ever, ever pick up a drink or a cigarette or a joint or any of that. It simply will never happen. No matter what. The gifts of a sober life are too great to ever entertain a return into the deadening disassociation, pain, and trauma of alcoholism and the other substances I had once depended on.
That said, yes, this part of me that is an addict is still part of who I am. And this is just one part. It is no more the whole of my identity any more than being a survivor of trauma, being a twinless twin, or any other aspect of my life that has its roots in suffering and dukkha is the whole of who I am. It is not. Rather, these shadow parts of my life experiences and what I have carried in the past unattended in my heart have ultimately been transformed into doorways which served to shake me awake from the hell I'd been stuck living in. Instead I was offered the profound gift of a pathway to freeing myself from addiction and delusion, disconnection and isolation, fear and mistrust, judgments and shame, and the unaddressed pain and trauma that underlies it all.
And that is what pain can be — a doorway. All deep addictions, both substance and non-substance, are a manifestation of pain — banished, neglected, denied, suppressed, unattended pain. And, as my therapist says, "We all have addictions. If you don't have addictions, you are the Buddha (or Jesus, etc.)" So each and every one of us, I believe, falls somewhere on this continuum of addiction and, yes, trauma. It is what we do with that pain that is the root of our addictions, with the trauma we are witness to and absorb, that matters and matters deeply.
* * * * *
It is true that we are commonly told in entering AA meetings and beginning our sobriety that we will have to attend meetings for the rest of our lives. We are told that addiction is something that we will have to wrestle with forever, that it is "cunning, baffling, and powerful," and that if we let down our guard or stop coming to meetings that we will relapse. And for some, this is certainly true.
And this is not true for everyone.
The larger question, I believe, is whether or not we seek and receive the support we need, and have the inner resilience, to heal and open and strengthen our hearts. Can we address the pain and trauma we carry that is at the root of our addictions? Like Gabor Maté, I see addiction as a symptom, not so much of genetics or a disease or a pathology, as much as simply a sign that we are hurting, we are really hurting. As I once was.
If, in an ongoing way, we address, grieve, heal, and transform the many layers of our carried pain, the pull to go back lessens and lessens and ultimately loses its power over us. This has been my lived experience.
Does this mean that I no longer live with an addict part of myself? No. What this means is that I have befriended the traumatized little girl within myself. I know how to hold myself and how to ask for and receive nourishment from others. And this little girl knows that she is safe today and that I will protect her. There is no longer any need to pick up a drink or go have an affair or shop till I drop and on and on and on. No. Not any longer.
I have so many other options today, including when new experiences of trauma or old triggers surface. There is no pull to go back. This is the gift, the miracle of befriending our fragmented parts and moving into greater and greater wholeness as a fully embodied human being. We claim our sacredness and the truth, strength, and wisdom of the beauty and love that is the essence of our sacred selves. This journey is about becoming ourselves, who we've always been under our wounds and addictions and ancestral and cultural trauma.
So there is no self-improvement required. Trying to "improve" ourselves can just be one more shaming trip that feeds the harmful storyline and illusion that we are not good enough, that we are unworthy and unlovable, that we are shamefully flawed, and that our imperfections and how it is that struggle and have been wounded are to be judged and gotten rid of rather than embraced with compassion, understanding, tenderness, and love.
The truth that I have discovered is that there is nothing to improve. Instead, as our fog is lifting — and as our lives are growing richer, as we are emerging from inner and outer isolation and disconnection, as we are learning how to hold ourselves and others with compassion and love, as we are processing our pain and befriending ourselves, as we are learning to trust and be vulnerable, and as new friendships and spiritual practices are evolving and deepening — what is happening is what we have needed all along but didn't know it. We are embarking on and staying with this amazing process of shedding the obstacles that we have unknowingly built within ourselves against knowing, receiving, giving, and being Love.
* * * * *
Is it simple, easy, quick? No. And what I know today at the age of 72 and in my deepest being is that staying stuck in our disconnects, illusions, addictions, and pain is the hardest of all. It robs us of living a rich and full life. It robs us of vulnerability, authenticity, intimacy, and trusting, loving relationships with family and friends and partners and all of life. Ultimately, the cost we pay in neglecting rather than healing our broken hearts is that we are robbed of being who we really are.
And I smile as I am reminded of this beautiful and wise quote by e. e. cummings: "It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are."
So, yes, there are many bumps and hurdles, a lot of fear and shame and trauma to meet and embrace along the way — rather than run from. Which brings me to a story about my husband and myself 12-1/2 years ago when we were brand new.
Ron and I were on our first trip together to Mexico when we joined a couple friends of his for dinner. Ron and his friends were also having a drink. Although no one was drinking alcoholically, I was triggered. Big time. As in PTSD triggering. That night and into the next day, I fell into a very old and dark, dark place. And here I was with this new love of my life thousands of miles from home. And Ron knew that I was really weirding out. Big time.
I took some space and stepped outside that next morning and sat on a bench by our little casita and began to read The Pocket Pema Chödrön, a little book I'd brought with me (https://www.amazon.com/Pocket-Pema-Chodron-Shambhala-Classics/dp/1590306511). And Grace began seeping into my heart and body and the deep trauma I was in began to lift. And Ron and I were able to enjoy the rest of our trip together. I was so grateful!
Of course, that didn't mean that we were just fine. We were not. Ron was freaked out seeing this face of my old trauma that he hadn't seen before. And I knew that there was deep, deep work that I needed to continue to do to free myself of the grip of this terror and trauma that I had wrapped around anyone close to me drinking.
I need to also clarify that in no way was Ron alcoholic. And I knew that. But just being around alcohol triggered so much, especially related to my first husband now drinking himself to death, to the suicide of my twin brother using alcohol and valium, and to other alcohol-related traumatic experiences I'd had. So even though I felt solid in my own sobriety, here was another fragmented part of myself resurfacing in the present, and even years into my healing journey but rooted in the past, which was once again asking for my attention and deeper healing.
And it certainly makes sense. Here I was opening myself to so much vulnerability in this new relationship. So, of course, the old places were coming up again. Of course. This is what happens when so many of us open ourselves to love. It isn't just a walk in the park. Vulnerability, honesty, trust, intimacy, and love take courage. A lot of courage. And commitment to doing the heart-work which arises along the way.
Today I feel so much compassion for how these old places of pain and triggers and trauma come up again and again for all of us. And each time that they surface, the opportunity is again presented: What will we do now? How will we respond to this old pain? Will we listen or not?
I am eternally grateful that I listened to what was happening within me those 12 years ago. I sought the therapy and support that I needed to further understand, embrace, heal, and transform this deep trauma that I had associated with alcohol and abandonment. There had been so many losses, and there were so many layers. I went on to spend some time once again engaged in this deep healing heart-work.
Does this mean that I don't get scared or triggered today when someone I love is struggling with addictions? No. The difference for me now is that I can recognize, face, and own what is happening in my heart and get support. The strength and longevity and frequency of my triggers has been radically transformed. And I have tools, I have these amazing tools that help bring me back to the present and how I can cope and address challenging life experiences in healthy rather than harmful ways.
And I get to have this incredible marriage to the soulful love of my life. Ron and I would never have survived if we both hadn't been willing and wanting and determined to do the heart-work we needed to do as it arose. Learning how to welcome it all is key.
* * * * *
Every morning a new arrival.
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
Another poem comes to mind that is such a powerful truth for myself and many other courageous, kind, and loving people I know...
Ancestral Treasure
As I celebrate my 39th sobriety birthday on this day of June 19th, 2023, my heart is filled with gratitude. The profound changes and enormity of the transformations within myself and my life all began with first opening to recognizing and learning about addiction, owning and taking responsibility for my sobriety and the deeper healing of trauma, and transforming the many addictions which had plagued my young life, of which alcohol was one.
My relationship with alcohol has radically changed today because my relationship with myself has radically changed. Yes, I am an alcoholic and everything that has followed has flowed out of and wouldn't have been possible without my sobriety. And, that said, I am also so much greater than my addictions. Rather, addiction has served to propel me into deep change. It has been my doorway into waking up. Blessed be.
If we are so blessed, we all have our own different doorways presented to us which offer us a different path than the one we have been on, one which is sacred, heart-centered, and soulful. So often these doorways come to us in times of deep pain, fear, despair, trauma and loss. And in our pain, we may miss them. I know many who did not, or could not, seize the opportunity to find their way out of hell. Many are lost to themselves and never know the beauty of their true nature. Many never found the support they needed to make the journey. This breaks my heart. And this is certainly what tragically happened to my twin brother.
And, right alongside my broken heart, is my heart that has grown strong and fierce about compassion, humility, kindness, and love. My deep prayer is that more and more of us will know love, deeply, and will experience healing and awakening and will know who we truly are. This journey of becoming a fully embodied human being is such a sacred one, filled with blessings that had once been beyond my wildest dreams.
Deepest gratitude to all who have supported me on my journey, way too many to name here. And, today, I get to reach out my hands and my heart to others as so many who have done for me. We are all connected, all in this together, all related, all family.
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| Photo by Molly |
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