Living Clean

by Narcotics Anonymous

  Our pamphlet Self-Acceptance cautions us that “sometimes we slip into the melodrama of wishing we could be what we think we should be.” We often act as if that only applies to the parts of us that we can’t see. We understand that freedom from our defects of character comes through acceptance of ourselves as we are, and willingness to allow a power greater than ourselves to remove them; but when it comes to what we perceive as our physical imperfection, too often we address the problem through attempts to control or punish ourselves. We invent strict rules and try to live by them. We act as if these obsessions and compulsions were somehow different from those we had already surrendered. It can be difficult to know the difference between behaviors we can change ourselves and those we must surrender. We are on the wrong track when we hold ourselves to unreasonable standards and berate ourselves for failing to meet our own unrealistic expectations. Allowing ourselves to be human does not mean that we live without boundaries or restrictions; it means that we seek sanity in our lives by taking the actions we can and turning the results over to our Higher Power. We let go.

  Even though we have so much experience in sharing our struggles with a Higher Power and allowing that power to work in our lives, many of us hold on to the relationship with our bodies as something we must control through willpower. Whether we are learning to eat well, gaining or losing weight, or letting go of smoking or other habits, too often we forget that we have a program that teaches us to be free. Instead we mistakenly say that we have to “get ourselves under control.” We may never be free from the disease of addiction, but that doesn’t mean we cannot experience freedom.

  Fear of change is common among addicts—after all, we are creatures of habit! But sometimes this reaches extremes. We may be paralyzed by our fear. Sometimes what we fear are specific outcomes or consequences. Sometimes we experience a kind of free-floating fear that will attach itself to all sorts of things: We develop phobias, or we avoid risk to a point where it makes our lives very small. Some of us hold ourselves back from pleasure or sensation, either because we are afraid of the future or because we are afraid of the memories that may be unleashed. We fear that letting go might mean releasing our most destructive impulses.

  Some of us hide out by not caring for ourselves. We let go of personal grooming or hygiene, gain weight, or simply present ourselves as people we don’t care much about. We may want to make ourselves invisible to hide from attention, or to walk away from an old way of being that we don’t know how to change. When we admit our fear and look at it honestly, we realize that the actions we take to avoid harm are sometimes more destructive than the consequences we fear. But when we really do let go, we are free to be all that we are, without fear, without guilt, without reservation.

  We begin to climb out of the hole we have dug for ourselves when we recognize that our behavior is not working. We practice appreciating small things about ourselves: the unique way we move, the way our eyes glitter when we talk about things that matter to us, the warmth we feel when we know we are connected to our Higher Power. We celebrate the fact that we are unique and have beauty to offer the world. Our uniqueness is our gift; when we forget that, we let the disease back into our lives.

  When we fall back into disliking or even hating ourselves, our ability to love suffers. We buy into the old lie that we are not worth it or we’re broken. As we let go of the defects of character and other baggage we have been carrying, we begin to uncover the truth of our humanity, our spirituality, and our beauty. Accepting that can be some of the hardest work we will ever do.

  Acceptance of ourselves comes as we develop a healthy relationship with reality. We accept what is, and learn to apply the Serenity Prayer, changing what we can and letting go of the rest. We find that we can be happy in our own skin if we are willing to let go—not in the old sense of neglecting ourselves, but allowing ourselves to experience our freedom. We begin to experience our senses. The Basic Text tells us that we are “free to enjoy the simple things in life, like … living in harmony with nature.” And it’s true! When we see the color in the changing leaves, or feel the wind in our face, we feel the joy of being alive. We find a sweetness in our pleasure that had been gone a long time. Some of us discover that we want to make art; we want to communicate in creative ways. We may value being athletic—to be able to run, or swim, or dance. We lose ourselves in the moment and find, for once, we don’t have to think at all. We can just be. When we express the joy we have in living, it comes through in our movement, our work, the shine in our eyes. We have a beauty about us beyond the sum of our features. When we allow that spirit to shine through us, we are beautiful—no matter what we think we look like.

  Sex

  Asking a room full of addicts how they learned about sex would yield some very strange answers. Most of us struggle in some way with our sexuality. Discovering what is right and wrong for us in this area can be challenging. Each of us comes to terms with sex and our sexuality in our own way. The steps provide us with the tools to come to terms with our past, and to live free of the negative associations some of us have about sex. We start by accepting that there is a lot we don’t understand. Being willing to see what has created our views on our own sexuality and the sexuality of others can help us to understand our beliefs.

  Many of us are a lot more comfortable with sex than with intimacy. We struggle with issues of self-loathing, contempt for others, and abuse. We may notice that we would rather have unsafe sex than risk a difficult conversation. Having honest, open dialogue with our sponsor brings us to a new level of trust. As we experience intimacy in that relationship, our ability to be intimate with our partners and with others increases as well.

  Some of our most deeply held shame derives from the things we did sexually. Our past behaviors may reflect how desperate we were to get and use more, or they may have been the best we could do to find love and connection. Sexual abuse may also be part of our stories. This can be incredibly difficult to talk about. We may believe we are the only ones. On the contrary, it is remarkably common among addicts. Finding the words—and a safe place to say them—can be the difference between being able to live with ourselves and spending our lives on the run from our past. We examine our history in Fourth Steps and begin sorting out who we are from what happened to us or what we did. Healing takes time, but it does happen. We must be patient with ourselves. Gradually, we come to experience freedom from some of our deepest wounds. As we begin to clear up some of the confusion and contradiction in our lives, we can move forward with less of the baggage we brought in with us.

  We struggle with relationships. Experienced members suggest that we give ourselves a break for the first year, stay out of relationships, and put our recovery first, but few of us heed this wise advice. We come into recovery lonely, horny, and insecure. We are emotionally raw, and our judgment is still pretty impaired. We run headlong into relationships only to discover how challenging they are. Two sick people rarely make a well couple. We mistake novelty for love and find ourselves deep in commitment almost before we know each other, or fear commitment so much that we don’t give our partner a chance. We open the door for relapse when we get caught in loops of obsession and compulsion. We try, and sometimes we make mistakes. Each mistake carries a gift and a hazard: We can learn from our mistakes and use them, or let our guilt and remorse drive us into a corner or out of the program. The more practice we get at using the steps and other tools of recovery, the more we are able to use our mistakes to propel us forward.

  We define ourselves partly through our sexuality. For some, that definition is a major portion of our identity. Sometimes we seem to wield it like a weapon to justify our feeling different. We can be much more aware of the people who are not open to us than those who are. In the rooms of NA we are welcomed regardless of our sexuality. We find people who love us and with whom we feel comfortable no matter what our sexuality or our beliefs about sexuality.

  Although some of us arrived in the fellowship secure
in our sexual identity, others of us struggled with confusion or distortions about our gender or orientation. We may have engaged in behaviors that conflicted with our beliefs in order to continue using or to gain acceptance from others.

  Or we chased sex the same way we chased drugs, feeling just as powerless and out of control. Some of us followed those drives into relationship after relationship without ever really feeling fulfilled. Many of us confused sexual connections with intimacy, and became so divorced from our feelings and desire for emotional connection that we would settle for physical interaction. This can follow us well into our recovery and may point to an ongoing struggle with opening up to emotional intimacy. For those of us who used sex as a way to move through the world, it may take quite some time to figure out the difference between being sexual and being intimate. Working through these issues takes time, trust in our sponsors and close friends, willingness to challenge our assumptions, faith in the process, and ultimately self-acceptance.

  The next chapter will address our relationships in more detail. What we will say here is that part of learning how to live in our bodies is learning how to acknowledge the reality of our sexuality. We want to learn to express our sexuality in healthy, and fulfilling ways—something that was unimaginable in our active addiction.

  Sex is different when we’re clean. When we are neither numbed out nor artificially stimulated, we can be present to our own experience and to our partner in a very different way. Sometimes this can be frightening; sometimes it can be addictively exciting. Finding pleasure in our sexuality without thinking of it as a means of exchange or power can be a great freedom; for some of us, this takes longer than it does for others. We can enjoy ourselves and each other fully, in the moment, and learn what it really is to connect. We can be intimate. We can open up and be real. We don’t have to use each other as a drug; when we treat each other as human beings, we find our own dignity.

  Thrill-Seeking and Adventure

  Long after the obsession to use is lifted, many of us still seek a “rush” in other ways. The drive for excitement leads us to live full and exciting lives, rich with adventure. We are unafraid to take risks and pursue the opportunity to do the things we always wished we could. Sometimes, though, it seems like we just get strung out on our own adrenalin. Whether it’s gambling, sex, or creating drama in our lives, we can ramp up so fast that it’s hard to scale back down. We may distract ourselves with risky behavior when we are trying to fill a void or block a feeling. It is up to each of us to find a balance between chasing a destructive rush and really living our lives to the fullest.

  Surprising numbers of us are fond of extreme sports. A member who spends his weekends scaling glaciers said: “In those moments when I really am on the edge of life and death, when I’m not sure how I’m going to find my next foothold, then I feel present to the moment. I’m not thinking about the bills or the wife or the job, just how good it is to be alive and how I’m going to stay that way.” Some of us take on competitive sports or bodybuilding and get really excited about what we are doing. We find a passion and commitment for these activities that seemed lost to our addiction. We have the freedom to try new things and take new risks.

  Many of us are partial to motorcycles, and a similar impulse may lead us to ride. We like the sense of freedom, as well as the power and the risk. Some of us drive our cars very fast, and share that the excitement is not just going fast but knowing we’re getting away with something. We may think this doesn’t apply to us, until our sponsor suggests that we try obeying all traffic laws for a week—just as an experiment. While some of us find acceptable ways to chase the rush throughout our recovery, others find the need settles down after a while—or the wreckage we create just gets to be too much.

  Sometimes, without an outlet for our energy, we just sit in our own anxiety. It can be surprising to learn that anxiety comes from the same source as our enthusiasm; it can be useful energy if we channel it, or it can be incredibly destructive. The same power that fuels our destructive impulses can fuel our excitement, creativity, and ambition. It can drive us to adventure or chaos. Like so much of what we uncover about ourselves, it can be an asset or a defect, depending on how we use it.

  “When I found myself in self-centered fear,” said one member, “I would take risks that could ultimately cause me to lose everything. I was living on the edge clean so I could feel something other than the abyss of not using. I filled the void with things like gambling, shopping, anything that made me feel powerful when I am powerless. Now that I can see myself more clearly, I realize that I have to be more aggressive with treating my disease, taking its deadly nature into account.”

  At some moments, it may feel like we are holding on to our recovery with both hands. There are times when we just bulldoze through an obsession to use or act out in some other way. There are times when fear of our disease leads us to shut down, resist change, or fear novelty because anything that takes us out of our routine might put us at risk. But recovery doesn’t always have to be about ducking: When we know our lives are in the care of a loving power greater than ourselves, we are able to let go. Some of us express this very literally, going skydiving or bungee-jumping as a way to really step out. For most of us, though, letting go is a little less dramatic. We start to experience life as an adventure, and apply that willingness to try in other areas of our lives.

  Wellness and Health

  Life is an adventure, and we are able to go further and experience more than we had ever dreamed. We are able to live beyond the barriers we set for ourselves when we surrender to the real limits before us. Another door opens every time one closes: With self-acceptance comes a willingness to creatively explore new directions. Many of us have regrets about time or abilities lost, but when we really start to explore with an open mind, we find that we have options we may never have considered.

  We have had a difficult relationship with the word “should.” We have spent much of our lives rebelling against the things others expected of us, but when we get clean we find we have long lists of things we think we “should” be doing. We can be so full of “should” that no matter what we are doing, it feels wrong. Our expectations of ourselves can be so overwhelming that they cripple us. Part of developing new habits we can sustain is finding better reasons to do them than that we “should.” Behavior that brings its own rewards is much likelier to become part of our lives than the things we take on because we imagine it’s what we should do. We may have to persist a while before we find that reward, however. Whether it’s the peace we find in the course of exercising or the gratification of seeing ourselves develop or improve a skill, we are pleased to find that we can keep a commitment to ourselves.

  For some of us, exercising is something we do—or think we should do—to take care of our health. But for others, it’s deeper than that. “When I’m running,” said one member, “I get a sense of prayer. My mind becomes clear.” Finding a spiritual connection in exercise is easier for some of us than meditating while sitting still. Exercise can be easier to keep up when it is part of our spiritual practice than when it’s simply a matter of doing what we think we are supposed to do.

  Some of us see self-care as an ongoing part of the amends process. We start by not engaging in self-abuse and gradually learn to treat our body, mind, and spirit with honor and respect. When we care for our own well-being as we would an honored friend, we begin to feel differently about who we are and who we can become. We shift from “I should” or “I have to” to “I get to” and find that caring for ourselves isn’t a chore; it’s a privilege. When we treat ourselves with compassion, we learn to value ourselves. Exercising regularly can be a way to act on our new self-respect, and to build a different relationship with our bodies. We can let go of some of the emotional turmoil about what we look like or think we look like, and begin to love ourselves as we are. We are able to walk with dignity and treat others with respect. We start to view ourselves with a sense of unity: We let g
o of the idea that “my body” is separate from “my spirit” or “myself.”

  We feel refreshed and renewed physically, and realize that we are able to push ourselves beyond what we imagined our limits to be. Setting physical goals for ourselves and achieving them can have immense rewards. As we find freedom from our disease through practicing the principles of the program, we learn that discipline is actually a part of that freedom: We have the ability to pursue our dreams, and we get there one goal at a time.

  We may resist meeting goals or getting “too healthy.” We hold ourselves back from all we can be, either because we feel we don’t deserve it or because we are afraid of the change it will bring. Sometimes praying for willingness can begin the process of change. An act as simple as preparing a proper meal for ourselves can be the first link in a new chain; as we incorporate healthy patterns in our lives we begin to feel refreshed, renewed, and willing to set new goals for ourselves.

  It can take a long time to let go of the belief that somehow the ordinary rules of life don’t apply to us, from the speed limit to the laws of physics. Having courted death for so long, some of us seem to think we are immune to it. Even though we know better, the powerful sense of entitlement that enabled us to do what was required to maintain a habit doesn’t go away immediately, and many of us struggle with the feeling that being clean is such a triumph that the world ought to celebrate—and give us what we want.