Step 4 and the Magnifying Glass of the Interior Landscape – Jay R.

You're on. Hi. Is it just me, or is it perfect in here? I just think it is so cozy to come and sit with a bunch of addicts. I just don't think, you know, it's just, I don't think it gets better. So I'm completely scripted, big print, down to writing my own name, right? Step four, courage. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves. Oh wait, so I've got two talks back-to-back, they're interwoven, so I've got 40 minutes and about in the middle we'll have a one minute would you advise a one minute stand up? Well, we can see. Okay. So, step four, courage made us searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves. Step five, integrity. Admitted to God to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs. My name is Jay and I'm an alcoholic. This is a talk about courage and integrity. Pieces. To relieve our suffering, we need teachings, a teacher, and a community, a path and a companion. These critical elements alone are insufficient to relieve our suffering. We also need to exhaustively and continuously examine how we act in the world and in all the elements of our interior landscape. The individual must adjust their self to some model of action and being that has worked for others. The individual needs courage to persist and to see clearly. Because persistence is tiring, and in looking closely, we will see and experience things that are uncomfortable. We need courage. Courage is our companion and teacher when we are alone. If we have a model of action and we consistently adjust ourselves to it, we are integral. we embody the twelve steps and the eight the eightfold noble path we also need the second wing of radical acceptance a vast ocean of tenderness self-compassion this is not a story of a rugged individualist a 20th century alienation or victim This is not, everything is suffering and we can't do anything about it. I'm not a bump on the outside of the universe. And it's not Jane Austen. We suffer alone and we are not alone in our suffering. It is a we program. And steps four and five are primarily about actions an individual makes. Is addiction different? from others' suffering? I think addiction is like a magnifying glass. The sun is hot when it shines on a piece of paper. Put a magnifier in the sun, put a magnified glass in between the sun and the paper, and the pepper burns. Our path to recovery can happen when we step out of the sun of our youths. Turn the magnifying glasses, teachings and practices on ourselves to become both the subject and object of our investigation. If we realize our addictive nature is always with us, our efforts must also be magnified above the normal sufferer. Today I'll look at my suffering, courage and integrity. I'm going to need to use what's for me an even bigger magnifying glass. Chronic mental illness. Does it apply to you? I think so because it is normal suffering and addictive suffering magnified. It's all the same water. It's All the Same. It's Al the Same, Water the Seeds of Useful Future Karma. My name is Jay. I'm an alcoholic, a drug addict. I'm also a person who has survived a childhood of traumatic abuse, decades of disabling mental illness, 15 years of constantly taking 4 to 12 psychiatric medications, and two total loss fires. Here's the typical dictionary definition of courage. Courage, the quality of mind or spirit that enables a person to face difficulty, danger, pain without fear. While the AA promises state fear of people and economic insecurity will leave us well, when I hear the without fear Age of Chivalry TV Western Nike commercial I don't think so A personal definition of courage Until I wrote this down I never strung this all together Courage Whatever it takes to take to face today's difficulty and pain knowing fear and shame arise endlessly vowing to come back from the storyline if only for two seconds at a time I will not flee or use drugs, alcohol, or recite my victimology or IDA suicide. I will do the things that care for my body and mind and be of service. Sounds like crazy Buddhist Boy Scout 12-step error. Be tender. Be tender, it's more like endurance. Endurance, the factor power of enduring pain or hardship, synonym. patience. Courage and integrity appear together or neither appear. Integrity, a concept of consistency of action, values, methods, measures, principles, expectations, and outcomes. In ethics, integrity is regarded as honesty and truthfulness or accuracy of one's actions. The word integrity stems from the Latin integer, whole, complete. In this context, integrity is the inner sense of wholeness deriving from qualities such as honesty and consistency of character. The Buddha called suffering a holy truth because our suffering has the capacity to show us the path to liberation. Thich Nhat Hanh says, if we look at our suffering, it is holy. If we don't, it's just suffering. So here's the story. After a bit, I dropped the commentary layer and I hope you'll be able to read in between the lines and see consistency of action. Mid-February 2010 For some reason, I've lost my endurance to drink a pint of vodka a day while taking prescribed Xanax and other psych meds. I've lost 35 pounds of muscle. I'm desperate, exhausted, despairing. I don't think I can prevent myself from committing suicide today. I have my wife take me to psych ward at Abbott. I'm there a week. They use Klonopin to detox me from alcohol and the psychiatrist talks about going off Xanaxa half a milligram at a time. I know that's not happening various plans for in or out patient treatment for alcoholism are discussed should that be necessary also nice to know just in case otherwise it's just typical psych ward shenanigans I get home on a Tuesday evening what happened I courageously sought help I endured a week in psych ward I got some information and help if it wasn't enough help I'm going to need more Wednesday I don't drink Thursday day. It's necessary to drink vodka for anxiety attenuation. Friday, my wife and daughter go off early in the morning as usual. As usual, the anxiety is impossible. I've suspected that anxiety hasn't worked for years. I didn't clearly know then that I was going through Xanax withdrawal daily. I was using it as prescribed. The first symptom of XanaX withdrawal is anxiety! As usual, I hope to drink just enough to make the anxiety manageable. I dose myself with vodka. Something happens and it's clear down to a cellular level that if I don't do something different soon, I'm going to die. I'm outside trying to smoke a cigarette something happens I'm crying you know full bore snot running down my face ten below zero I can't get up off the frozen concrete what's happening I realize I have to go to treatment right now today I'm experiencing shame that I'm I'm bad enough to have to do this I have no way to go to treatment what's happened At some subtle internal level, I've just done eight or more of the steps in less than a moment. No, that momentary realization isn't enough. When I was in psych ward the previous week, I was instructed how to get into Fairview Riverside for treatment, should that be necessary. So a lot of the afternoon, I'm in the waiting room, the general emergency waiting room at Fairview, and then the evening, I'M in the behavioral emergency waitingroom. This gives me plenty of time to re-correct my decision. All I want is vodka and oblivion. I get into an exam room and meet Dr. Chung. He tells me they won't take me into treatment unless I come off Xanax now. My body wants to bolt immediately. I've been on Xanaxx as prescribed for anxiety for eight years. I know I'm an addict in my experience missing a dose of Xanax for 18 hours is for real a bad assing trip a hangover and stomach flu all together I can't do that he tells me the combination of Xanax and alcohol that I've been doing Monday through Friday and then, you know, not drinking on the weekends when the girls are home could have caused a seizure bad enough to stamp my spine and I'd be dead before I hit the floor. And I believe him wholeheartedly. I don't think he's going to let me leave the hospital. I believe I'm dead whether I go or stay. And there's some internal shift. I'm free-falling steps one through three without thought or language. What happened? Dr. Trum saved my life with his clear words. The task of getting off Stanix seemed far worse than getting off of alcohol. I didn't believe I could get off alcohol. Yet it was clear I had to do both simultaneously, immediately. I think I showed a little teachability and willingness and trust, right? In detox, they put me on phenobarbital for seizure control and an atypical antipsychotic for anxiety. I tell the psychiatrist that I can't do the antipsycotics, and I let her talk me into it. It's like she's selling this fabulous used car. Gotta have it, babe. And within a few hours, I lose the ability to read a sentence, speak, and I can only sleep two hours in a night. It's weeks before I can sleep four hours even again. What happened? Well, together the doctor and I made a wrong treatment decision and I was going to need even more persistence and endurance to get through treatment. In detox, I have a single room and I've always had a single home in psych ward. When I get transferred to treatment, I learn that I'm expected to be housed on a floor with all men and have a roommate. And almost immediately, my experience of this is more threatening than locked psych ward with everybody acting out their mania, schizophrenia, self-injury, and psychosis. I've endured decades of PTSD in part as a consequence of the abuse I received from my father. It gets triggered around me a lot. And this is the all-time trigger for that fear. I can exert little control over panic, terror, PTSD, flashback, and disassociation, and I feel psychotic. I've been in treatment for three hours, and I know I'm going to die if I leave, and I can't do this. I see my counselor, Jim, explain the problem. I sound like the crazy person I am in that moment. I don't know if he believes me or understands me. He said, you know, something's going on because I am already the object of ridicule on the floor. He's able to arrange a swap so I have the only single room on the store. What happened? It was really difficult to explain and ask for help in that situation. Jim was able to work with the Rood Special Snowflake. Jim saved my life more than once in those weeks. The private room helps just enough that I'm able to stay. If I can have some privacy, I can manage the PTSD. The long haul of Danik's withdrawal settles in. There's a long list of withdrawal symptoms, and I seem to have almost all of them. One of the most disturbing is that my brain is telling me very distorted information about the size, shape, and composition of my body. It feels like I'm hallucinating or psychotic all the time. And I'm far more afraid of being psychotic than dying. The counselor gives me reading materials that say benzodiazepine, Xanax. Typically, benzodiazapines typically have the most difficult and protracted withdrawal of any drug. And the physical pain is surreal. I settle in and wholeheartedly work on everything they assign and that I'm told to do in treatment. And I don't start feeling better physically, mentally or emotionally while in treatment I wonder again and again why I'm tolerating this. I don't have any other choice. My wife is not going to let me back in the house while using. And really, being a homeless, polydrug addict, chronically mentally ill person on the street isn't going to work. Where are they going to send my disability check? I'm aware there's hardware store down the block a couple of streets a couple of streets down the block, whatever. And I think about wire and rope. And I can't think of any workable suicide plan given the situation. I don't believe my wife or daughter care. I am unwilling to hurt them like that. I stay, endure, and work. I undergo many of the typical changes in treatment. in treatment something happens for the first time in my adult life I'm comfortable with men I feel some cannibal for the first time I'm uncomfortable internally calling myself a man this seems no less bizarre than waking up and finding myself a giant cockroach this change occurs after I hear a speaker who says the individual's ego and emotional boundaries can only be created and maintained with their gender peers. I do a lot of examination and practice around this. What happened? I don't know, but two years later it hasn't gone away. I'm okay. I complete my two weeks of treatment I find my way into Street Gorilla Yeehaw AA I did I find a sponsor who drives me around 12 hours a day going to meetings and being of service he talks AA non-stop in the truck he's merciless he's a maniacal Cornell educated lawyer the sponsor-sponsee relationship only lasts three weeks Mark has spent most of his days for several decades bringing in a new guy to AA I learn a lot of important things from Mark including a new example of persistent effort I drink a few more days and spend one more night in psych ward. It's not that story. I've been clean from Xanax since February 26, 2010 and free of vodka since April 14, 2010. In April, I start months of outpatient treatment and continue with AA and service work. I'm also trying to be of service at home. It is the own way to make amends. In May, three months off Danix, I'm experiencing very difficult anxiety, depression, chronic fatigue, and chronic pain. Nothing new, and it's all made worse by Coach Act is Danix's withdrawal. That's why Kaisers recommends the medication Cymbalta. It's prescribed for all four of those things. I'm hesitant, but I agree. My daily activities are centered on treatment and AA. I start to experience gratitude, humility, in a few moments of grace, and it feels like it's coming from the outside. I don't have a belief system to sift into. I wonder if there's something wrong with me. My outpatient treatment is wonderful, painful, and sad. There's a moment when the internal tectonic plate shifts again. In group, a young woman is checking in, doing her check-in, and, you know, she complained well you know she said she's got to go to uh U to court three times a week show her UA results say what she's been doing in treatment and get UA'd there and um you know this is her opportunity to not spend six months in jail and um she's saying that it's just too much of a burden on her schedule she doesn't have a license or a job and our counselor he turns he looks at her and he says well do you think that's unjust yes and he looked at everybody fixing each eye in the room and he said well I don't think any of you got justice if you got justice you'd all be dead you got grazed I can't disagree with Steve in August six months off standards anxiety depression fatigue and pain are not much better my cognitive abilities and memory are quite poor I'm having Cymbalta side effects, but no therapeutic response. You know, if Cymbalt is going to help, it should be about now. I have a friend in the program who's been off Xanax a few more months than me. He says for him, the Xanaxa withdrawal started to get better around six months. And he provides me with some comfort and helps me endure. Our only child leaves for college. My wife's business schedule picks up. She's out of town more than she's in town. She's going to go to India for a week. And I have an idea of what kind of an emotional trigger my daughter leaving home is going to be. I know what kind OF opportunity, wife in India 12 time zones away is going to be. And I'm concerned. What am I going to do? Before going forward, I'm going to go back just a little bit. And just so you know, I am not giving medical advice. Got a problem, see a doctor. What's important about the mental illness history? Starting 15 years ago over time, this was the bad news from the psychiatrists. These medications won't make you better. They'll just suppress symptoms. You'll be on medication the rest of your life. We can't suppress your symptoms. Only some attenuation is possible. You will never work again. Why did you write refractory depression on the diagnosis? Because there's no antidepressant effective against your depression. We've tried every medication there is. Either they don't work for you, or you can't tolerate the side effects. This is the best you can hope for. So I can't have a story. I can' t have a storyline. If I have a storytelling about being a victim, about the medical system, about whatever, that storyline can kill me as fast as vodka. And I think that, for me, that's what Thich Nhat Hanh is saying when he says, you know, with a gun you can kill a few guys, but you get yourself an idea and you can tell millions. Anybody heard of the 20th century? So, and the pain and fatigue, or even what's the story there? consequence of depression, anxiety the meds, injuries that I've got and you know the story that comes up is shame shame, shame, millions of flavors and for me in the end the medications did more harm than good for me what's worked meditation, mindfulness letting go of the storyline especially victim and injustice Yoga. Connection with people and nature. Art making. I have to avoid stress, even if it means not doing stuff. And diet. And sleep. And so, what's the story? Because I can't tell if these things make me better or if I do these good things when I feel better. I can never tell. So, it's August 210. Then, September, I'm aware my illness symptoms have relapsed potential. So I'm back to where I was. Like Halls, don't get too angry, hungry, lonely, tired. Our daughter leaving is a danger point. I'm going to be home and alone more than I ever have before. And I've got various health-related projects. and AA is the only thing I got out of the house right now. And I start to make every thought and action an object of investigation and I see in addictive insanity and normal human delusion in everything and I talk this through out loud all day long and gently laughing at my delusion without intent I find this is a conversation I'm talking to someone else and they're listening and I don't have any idea about this it might be a little disturbing because I feel like I'm being heard so I've got this sponsor and he starts this is how he starts the day every day and he advises and I get it I'm awake I'm sober thank you I practiced this for months and you know when I spill coffee in the counter into the open drawer and under it and then down the cabinet fronts and it soaks into the rug on the floor and the cats come and get mixed up in my efforts to clean it up and I'm already late my first genuine reaction is to laugh at my greed and say thank you thank you I change completely and rapidly a complete psychic change joy happy Joy is happy and free? Check. All the AA promises? Check. Unruffled serenity the entire day? Check. I examined this. Many doctors and therapists have told me I could never change like this unless it was really me, you know. I can't find a place in my mind where the anxiety, depression, and obsessional worry set. I can't find that place. It's gone. It's like a conception of motion key with no brain receptor site. And I can somewhat remember these states, but, you know, it seems like somebody else. Like imagining childbirth, giving childbirth. I check myself for pink clouds and delusions. Nope. I don't feel crazy. I'm puzzled and cautious. I have my people check me out. Sponsor, uncommon experience. Doesn't look like you're full of it. Therapist with 30 years of recovery. Looks authentic. You're the man. Keep doing what you're doing. Psychiatrist addiction specialty. I don't see anything wrong with you and no, this is not the Cymbalta. There are no drugs that do this to people. Wife. I believe you, but I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. I observe, and I'm almost continuously in a state of gratitude, serenity, and grace. A state of grace. And I'm not comfortable with this word. Nothing else fits. Nothing else seems... I seem to be in frequent conversation with some other. I have no concept. I haveno story or causation. I'm just doing what they told me to do. I conclude this experience is not an artifact of mental illness or therapeutic effect of medication. I'm not lying or fooling myself. This can't be anything other than enlightenment, so I stop looking for a problem. And I am going to run out of time. It's November 210. My cognition and memory are pretty good. Is the Xanax withdrawal over? I've had considerable weight gain in my legs for almost two weeks to climb the flight of stairs from Cymbalta. Putting on a t-shirt still hurts my shoulders. so bad that it takes my breath away. I need shoulder surgery. I've been thinking about doing a 400 hour remodeling project that seems to be done, needs to be done now. Doing drywall work over my head and scaffolding seems impossible given the weakness or injury. I start slowly and within days I find I can do pretty hard work with my arms over my bed and I'm running up and down ladders and scaffolding and I'm doing 50 hours of construction work a week. I miss the fight and I finish the project. It's the end of 210. I work on a 300-hour studio photography project, learn tons, produce some exciting results. I start practicing yoga for six hours a week with my teacher. I come back here after being gone for a decade. I started taking some classes, meet with the Akron and decide to participate in the two-week intensive. We study the precepts, so we do Raka Suphar and do Jukai in the fall. These intensives, you know, we do these. It's like a really long retreat or, well, maybe we'll explain that later. And the intensive is tiring and a wonderful thing to do. And, you Know, I have some profound experience in Zazan and yoga. And I decide, with careful consultation, I'm going to reduce Cymbalta. So I'm doing the precepts for classes, and after the one on not misusing sexuality, something changes. Within days, I don't feel safe home alone. The fear I experience while taking a shower or being in bed is almost overwhelming. I can barely tolerate being in yoga class with women in tight clothes. My body says, run! There's no safety anywhere. I want to get away from my body. I want it to be safe. I want the body to get away from mine mind. And I haven't experienced this kind of fear before and I've never been terrified of women. Body and mind says panic. It's the worst possible thing I can do. I know what this looks like and there's lots of reasons why I don't want to talk to anybody and I know this is dangerous When I talk to my therapist, I try to listen carefully to a couple of friends. And the most reasonable explanation is pre-verbal sexual abuse. I knew that. Because I've been occasionally exploring it for 30 years. What else explains some of the thoughts and the feelings? The memory fragments and a couple bits of my parents' stories. But there's no direct evidence, no memory fragments. It could be anything, and there aren't any family members to ask. Any perpetrators dead. So again, there's nothing to do when there's no storyline. Clinging to any of it is going to hurt me. And I focus on enduring. And the fear received some, and now it's still coming up a year later. March of this year. March of 2011. I start to have some volatile withdrawal symptoms that become disabling. I can't drive safely for a month and I have to give up all activities, AA, clouds, yoga. Self-care is the limit of my cognitive and physical abilities. The dysfunction is so bad. Is it worse than the Xanax withdrawal was? I'm working with a psychiatrist who specializes in medication withdrawal. This is the worst she's seen, but that's all she thinks it is. And, you know, I continue spring, continue tapering, and there's only minor improvements. And, the anger, hopelessness, and victimization awake. And they want to be fed. And I keep them on a starvation diet. I start and then give up spring practice period here. and I'm still out of time so you know in the summer something happens amazing again I sign up for a pranayama class which is part of yoga and again after only a couple of days I'm able to start practicing yoga and within a week I'm doing yoga 10 hours a day and I am doing pranaya and zen and zazen an hour two hours a day. Summer, so my raka-su. The sewing is a hilarious teacher. Every stitch is mind-streamed. Look, there's greed, rushing, attention, and serenity. And you know, I've still got cognition problems and somehow I'm still I do a 400 hour landscape project and I slowly taper off all the remaining spectra and add distance biking and walking. And again, I'm startled and mystified. Let's just keep going back and forth. How do I do this stuff? Why are the sweet mystical spiritual fruits back? Two minutes. Well, basically I'm going to say since the fall it all happened again. I had a pretty close I had a very severe episode of depression around the holidays that lasted for a couple of months And, you know, this time I could watch on like an hourly basis, watch myself lose functionality and life and serenity. And it got to can't get out of bed, can barely feed and myself can go to the bathroom and be dressed. And, you know what can I do except be patient and courageous and keep doing. And again, you know in the middle of January it started to lift and again I'm able to do all the things that I need to do so that was a fast 40 minutes for me and I guess the thing is that all I can you know I guess it's just going to keep coming and there are going to be episodes forever and everything is a danger for everything else you know mental illness and addiction together doubly explosive and neither are going to go away and each can be a trigger for the other and each is a risk for the others and you know there's all the other stuff and the only thing to do for me is to water the seeds of useful future karma with all my activities whatever I can do Thank you so much.