Living Clean

by Narcotics Anonymous

  We learn from each other’s examples. Those who go before us clear the path we walk today; we walk in one another’s footprints as we progress on our journey. We learn responsibility by watching others be responsible. Telling the truth about ourselves doesn’t just set us free; our example frees others. Even in our most painful moments, we can still be a vision of what is possible. If we are willing to include the people we sponsor and draw them closer as we go through an ordeal, they can offer support and reassurance we dearly need. We also give them the chance to learn from our experiences—and our mistakes. We can be an example of strength and perseverance for others, and we can look to others for hope as well.

  When we find our place, we fit like a piece in a puzzle. It feels right. “Recovering in complete creative freedom” means that we can listen to our heart and our Higher Power, and follow that path wherever it leads. The first time we believe we can stay clean, we begin to understand that we have choices about our lives. But living out our choices takes courage, patience, and perseverance. We have to be willing to hang in there when it gets hard, and keep going when we’re not sure we’re getting anywhere. We keep doing what’s necessary to care for ourselves as we move forward. The same tools that brought us freedom in the beginning can keep working if we continue to use them with the same willingness.

  We are loved and our lives have meaning today. We do remarkable things with our lives—sometimes by accomplishing big goals, and sometimes simply by being ourselves. A member complained to her sponsor that as a homemaker she felt she wasn’t really doing enough with her life or her time, that maybe she should have done something more important. Her sponsor smiled. “Are you kidding? By breaking the cycle of addiction in your family, you’re changing history!” Our greatest achievements may not be the things anyone else ever knows about: The simple fact that we survive our own stories is monumental. That we go on to help others and live lives we can be proud of is beyond our wildest dreams. Whatever we do, we make a difference in the world because we are clean.

  The Journey Continues

  Awakenings

  A spiritual awakening is just that—an awakening. We still have to get out of bed. Some people awaken for just a moment and then doze off again. If we want to stay awake and alive, if we want the miracle of recovery to continue to unfold in our lives, we find ways to put this awakening into action. If we are not carrying the message, we go to sleep again.

  We seem to awaken in stages, not all at once. We may not know it right away, but the first time we find hope is a spiritual awakening. Each of us experiences new awakenings as we examine our beliefs and practice living by them. Honesty, open-mindedness, and willingness are often the first spiritual principles we experiment with. We learn more principles as we go, and some become more important to us than others. Over time, we gain more experience with using them to guide our actions. Spirituality is progressive, dynamic, and creative. The foundation of our recovery is that we have to get out of ourselves in order to live.

  In early recovery, many of us move back and forth between genuine excitement at our new possibilities and sorrow for what we have lost. Some of us describe early recovery as a “pink cloud,” and others tell about a long season of grief. We experience many new feelings, sometimes very quickly. We grow and change, build and lose relationships, go to meetings, and we learn. Throughout our recovery we experience new awakenings, new surrenders, and new freedoms. The simple principles we learn when we are beginning our recovery take on deeper meaning as we practice them in our lives. Just when we think we know all that recovery has to offer, more is revealed—if we are willing to accept the gift.

  There is no substitute for time in recovery. It gives us a chance to heal, grow up, start over, and build lives that matter to us and to the people around us. But time itself doesn’t heal us, grow us up, or start us over. What matters most are the actions we take. Consistent application of the tools of recovery changes us. The process is ongoing. We don’t just work the steps; we come to live them. They shape how we think, how we feel, and how we respond to the world. The steps teach us to grow up and help others. We learn to love ourselves by speaking the truth. Accepting our assets is part of our amends to ourselves, but more importantly, it begins the process by which we make our amends to society. Humility is honesty about who and what we are. We come to see how much we have and how much we have to offer. There is a difference between being in the program and living the program. When we come to an understanding of this program for ourselves, it becomes our own, and it becomes a part of us.

  Building a spiritual life that we can grow with is a creative action. It requires that we practice, develop our beliefs, and apply them to our lives. Step Eleven does not say, “We maintain a conscious contact”; it says, “We sought … to improve our conscious contact …” When we practice our program, this relationship doesn’t just get more important—it gets better. Our spiritual experience doesn’t have to make sense to anyone but ourselves. Embracing the part of ourselves that is creative—that changes the things around us in a meaningful and positive way—is an act of self-acceptance that becomes visible in our lives. We discover that the things we care about and value the most reflect the will of our Higher Power for us.

  Self-acceptance frees us to do the next right thing, or to wait peacefully for the next words or actions to emerge. When we are no longer in the middle of the storm, we begin to understand ourselves, our disease, and our recovery in different ways. We can be ourselves in the present moment without fear or apology, without the need for approval or justification.

  When dancers move through space with intention and beauty, we say they are graceful. In the same way, when we move through our lives with intention and gratitude, we demonstrate grace; when we crash from one self-willed experience to another, creating damage and confusion, we are disgraceful. If we are willing to return to humility and gratitude, our lives get easier. Even when we can’t identify the next right thing, we can generally see the next wrong thing and stay away from it. When our spirituality leads us, we can move through our lives with ease.

  Our lives in recovery are so unlike what brought us here that we may not know what to do. Sometimes even achieving our goals can seem to make our lives unmanageable. Experience can be a mighty teacher. Awareness creates a foundation for new ideas; life provides opportunities to put that new information into action. Adapting to new information can take time. Awareness that we are in possession of a precious gift changes how we see ourselves and our world. We experience grace.

  Joy and gratitude walk hand in hand. For some of us, joy is the sense that we are part of something much larger than ourselves, and more important than our immediate feelings and experiences. We matter, but we matter most when we are connecting with others. This deep sense of joy does not require that we be happy all the time. It’s bigger than that. Humility means that we understand our place in the world; joy comes from seeing that we have a purpose. Being spiritually awake, we can see the miracles that surround us, even when life is difficult. Generosity of spirit is the antidote for loneliness and alienation.

  Living Our Principles

  Understanding is important, but it doesn’t help much without application. We apply the principles, and we apply effort. We apply ourselves to changing our perspective and our lives. When things get difficult, it can be easy to forget that we already have a life we love and enjoy. We don’t have to deny reality to have hope or gratitude. We feel what we feel, and we do the footwork anyway. We learn not to take our emotions quite so seriously. “My feelings aren’t facts,” said a member, “but I still feel them.” When we choose not to look through the lens of resentment and entitlement, we can see the world as it is and find beauty in it even when it’s challenging. Each day is filled with opportunities either to escape reality or to show up and live.

  Each of us works our program differently, and it changes for each of us over time. It might mean that we are writing, serving, attending meetings�
��or just that we are practicing a conscious contact with our Higher Power. Whatever it means for us, we have a responsibility to walk our talk. The idea that “if you want what we have, do what we do” has no expiration date.

  The awareness that we can always get better brings its own freedom. We can see the changes in our lives and in our thinking, and we know that recovery works for us. The more we know that, the more we can see what still needs to be done. We have ideas about what our lives are supposed to look like “by now,” and we shame ourselves for not being there. We don’t have to get caught up in ideas of where we “should be.” This is an issue in early recovery, but it comes back as we get some cleantime. A member who was homeless on his twentieth anniversary was ashamed to celebrate. “What have I got to show the newcomer?” he asked. “That you can stay clean no matter what,” came the reply. Acceptance frees us to share honestly about our lives without feeling that we have to fit into a model or be anyone other than who we are. Serenity doesn’t mean that we don’t experience dramatic events. It gives us the clarity of mind to go through them. No matter what happens, we can remain whole and joyful at our core.

  Our understanding of the steps deepens, and we start to see the possibilities they offer in new ways. The more we trust, the more our eyes are opened. We are no longer so focused on what is wrong with us; we start to shift our attention to the assets we have and the hope we can see for ourselves. When we can separate hope from wishing or expectation, it stops feeling like such a setup. More and more we are driven by hope rather than fear. The gratitude we feel grows from relief at not having to use today to genuine appreciation for our lives as they are and as they can be. When we put gratitude into action, we see the world differently. A member shared: “My touch has come back, my smell and taste are alive. My children and grandchildren run into my arms and are safe there. People who come into my life go away with something good.” The sense of wonder we experience in our own lives—as if we were seeing them for the first time—brings an array of feelings. Our hearts break for the harm we have caused, while at the same time we are filled with joy and gratitude for the gift of recovery.

  It is such a relief to be able to feel good again. Even pain is okay sometimes—it helps us feel human. But sometimes it seems like we don’t have our hand on the emotional volume knob. “When I started to feel, I had no control over my emotions,” a member shared. “I learned different ways to deal with them over time. My sponsor taught me to name my feelings and had me create a written list of healthy things I could do when I was emotional.” Our feelings won’t consume us, even though it sometimes feels like they might. At some level it really doesn’t matter what we feel. What matters is what we do. We no longer have to act on our impulses and emotions. We can make choices in our lives today about what we do and how we respond.

  We may still get depressed or frightened or angry, but our feelings don’t have to take possession of us anymore. When we realize we’ve survived every emotion we ever had, we start to believe that we are going to be alright even when we don’t feel alright. Our best lessons often come by looking back at our own bad behavior. Our regret helps us to find compassion for others and a sense of possibility for our new way of life. Getting some perspective means that we can put a little distance between our thoughts, our feelings, and our actions. Our feelings won’t kill us, but denying them might. It’s usually when we’re trying to avoid a feeling that we act out, creating damage and confusion to divert attention. Admitting our feelings, even when we’re judging ourselves for having them, is one way we practice honesty.

  We come to see our addiction in different ways and to recognize it in different feelings and behaviors. Sometimes it’s as simple as obsession and compulsion, but we may also recognize it in a need to be in control, fear of being wrong, self-pity, and self-righteousness. We can see it in other behaviors as well, including conformity, mistrust, inability to feel love or sadness, and fear of change. A member shared: “I have worked the steps, and I have not worked the steps. And I have experienced the consequences of both.” Our willingness to pay the price for acting out on our defects starts to fade. We learn to recognize our own disease as we get better at being aware of what’s happening inside us. When we are better able to look at ourselves honestly and understand how we operate, it’s easier for us to accept ourselves. Honest self-assessment requires a little detachment, so we can stop judging and become willing to change. Having compassion for others teaches us to have compassion for ourselves. Some of us ask ourselves how we would respond to a sponsee going through what we are struggling with.

  We rely on a strong foundation, and we never stop working on it. We know what we can expect when we walk into an NA meeting, and that makes us feel safe and secure. We may resist changes to the format or style of our meetings even when they’re a good idea, because we hold so tightly to that sameness. Making changes can be a challenge in other areas of our lives as well. When we’re experiencing change, we want to hurry back to a place of comfort and familiarity. Allowing ourselves to have an emotional life without being controlled by our feelings is a new freedom.

  Knowing our spirituality cannot be taken from us gives us permission to hope in a new way. Many of us are uncomfortable with hope. We have been so deeply disappointed in our lives that hope just feels like a bad idea. Some of us can’t tell the difference between hope and wishing. But the hope we get in recovery is not that we will win the lottery or that our true love will return to us. Hope begins when we think that it might be possible for us to stop using against our own will and stay clean. We find it again and again as our journey continues: In the dark moments when we realize we can go on anyway, and in our triumphs—it is possible. It’s possible we can break the cycle, it’s possible we can exceed our dreams, it’s possible that we are much more than we ever gave ourselves credit for. Each time we realize it’s possible, our faith grows stronger. Hope doesn’t end. No matter how much better or worse it gets, we know that there is still reason to look forward. We begin to experience unconditional hope.

  The Lifelong Practice of Surrender

  Our understanding of surrender may change over time, but our need for it does not. In the beginning, surrender might just be about not using drugs. As time goes by, we start to see other ways our addiction plays out in our lives. We become willing to surrender other behaviors, sometimes one by one. We come to understand that using—whatever we are using—is just a symptom of our problem, which is spiritual in nature. Gradually we start to let go of the things that drive us to act out: denial, anger, resentment, the need to be right, the feelings of superiority or inferiority, shame, remorse, and fear.

  As our understanding of the First Step grows, we surrender more deeply. Our trust grows, and we become a little more willing to let go. We can see more areas of our lives where we still cling to the illusion of control. Surrender rarely looks appealing in the beginning, but it takes us progressively less time to notice when what we are doing isn’t working. At first we may let go only when we are beaten, but our tolerance for pain diminishes as we recover. We are less willing to go along with things that wound our spirit. As we have more experience with the hope and healing that follows, we can recognize surrender as a way we put our feet back on the ground. The shift from thinking that we surrender to our disease to realizing that we can surrender to our recovery is a spiritual awakening in itself.

  Changing our perception is like seeing the world through a different pair of glasses. Surrender is a shift in perception: We are no longer looking for an angle at which we can take control. Honesty can shift our perception: It opens us to the truth. We concern ourselves less with what other people might think of us, and find instead that we are answerable to our own morals and values. We begin to see more clearly what it might mean to live according to the will of our Higher Power. Each time we surrender, our world opens up a little more. We can see past our obsession and accept the possibility of a change in our perception. We might take a
deep breath and ask ourselves what would happen if we just let go. Our faith grows through our experience, and gives us the opportunity to see our lives from a different perspective. As we gain experience, we don’t feel as much like we have to go out on a limb to act on our beliefs. We begin to trust that the result of letting go will not be a calamity. A series of spiritual awakenings add up to a steady faith.

  Fear is a natural feeling. The question is what we do with it. Steps Three and Eleven allow us to invite a loving Higher Power into our decisions, and Step Ten helps us to check ourselves as we go. We are often the last ones to see or acknowledge our own growth. When we see other members recovering and their lives improving, we are reminded that the same is happening for us. As our awareness deepens, we continue to find areas of our lives that need work. As we change, we adjust. And as we adjust, our balance shifts and we change some more. Feeling like we know it all is often followed by the feeling that we know nothing. It’s a nice feeling, for the moment that it lasts—and then we get to learn more about surrender.

  We learn not to take ourselves too seriously. At the end of the road, nothing was funny anymore, but as we let go of worry, shame, anger, and confusion, we start to relax. One of the gifts of recovery is regaining our sense of humor. It comes and goes, of course, but when we lose our sense of humor it’s a pretty good sign that we could benefit from a change in perspective. A member shared about a woman in her home group whose laugh would fill the room: “Her laughter gave me hope. It had so much love and self-acceptance in it. You could hear the joy.” We can laugh because things are meaningful, or because we know that it’s going to be okay. We can see the magic and the irony in our lives, and enjoy it. Lightening up is a necessary step on the way to enlightenment! The humor we find in one another’s stories is one way we know we are in the right place. What’s funny to us tends to change as we grow. We are less amused by the suffering of others, and more able to see the lighter side of heavy situations.