The world has vastly changed and I think we’ve all been party to some palpable fear and crazy thoughts:
Will someone I love get sick?
Will I be financially ruined?
What is even HAPPENING?
Watching life turn upside down has reminded me of another time my world crashed down around me: going to rehab for drug addiction.
Though I’m the first to admit that dumpster fire was entirely my own doing, I can’t help but see some clear parallels between surviving that burn and this one.
Dare I say it, but rehab prepared me for this. And in case it can aid you to, I’d like to share a few parallels I’ve observed.
1. “It’s not about you.” Let me explain.
After landing myself in rehab (a place I never thought I’d be) I quickly decided something I never said out loud: I was better than this place and different than the women I saw in it.
After all, I’d never been to jail (though I shoulda been locked up multiple times), never sold my body for drugs (though I’d gotten close) and I’d never harmed someone while under the influence—though that’s not because I didn’t get behind the wheel when I shouldn’t have…I was just never caught.*
*I later learned that these yet-to-be-realized transgressions are called exactly that: a “Y.E.T.” That stands for You’re Eligible Too. As in— STFU and stop judging things you totally woulda done if you’d kept going down that road, but I digress.
Since I was “different” than these other women, I decided early on that I shouldn’t have to follow the same silly rules the counselor’s designated a part of our treatment.
I’d break rules like sneaking food into my room, taking detours on the way to recovery meetings, or buying things I didn’t need in order to barter with them later. Innocent and harmless side steps of the house order – they didn’t matter, right? Except they did.
Because the rules weren’t actually about me at all. The rules were about the collective house as a whole – a collective that I was very much a part of, precious and special as I was.
For example, in sneaking food into my room I was upping the chances of a cockroach invasion… if everybody had decided to break this rule we could’ve very well had one.
By taking detours on the way to meetings (which always involved an accomplice since we had to travel in packs) I was putting another woman’s honesty (and sobriety) at risk. Bartering under tables and generally breaking the house order meant I was forcing others to keep secrets, enmeshing them in my “innocent” but dishonest behavior, and generally upping the collective resentments of the house as a whole.
And these stupid little rules, when broken often enough, often ended with someone getting kicked out of the house. “She brought it on herself,” was easy to think, except that we were all connected – and what each of us did affected the whole.
Can you see how this relates to the situation at hand?
The rules we’re being handed amidst this pandemic—like staying at home, avoiding unnecessary shopping, and generally not putting the vulnerable at risk—seem kinda silly on the individual level. I mean, does it really matter if I swing through the Starbucks drive-thru or take this time off work to go see grandma out of state?
Yes.
Yes, it matters – because if EVERYONE thinks these rules don’t apply to them, then EVERYONE is even more at risk.
The more each of us acts precious and special, the more others are affected – whether it’s by following our lead or actually being infected BY us.
Maybe our transgressions seem small and innocuous— but if we all think we’re special and disregard them we have a WAY bigger problem on our hands.
2. Reaching out for support is awkward – do it anyway.
During my stint in rehab, there was a rule that if you were going to leave the house (for a sanity saving recovery meeting) you needed a woman who’d been sober at least a year to give you a ride.
We were given dozens of names and numbers to call and ask for rides, as well as a designated time to do so. I remember staring at the phone and being appalled at the idea that I had to call someone I didn’t know and ask for something.
What if I don’t know what to say? What if they say no? What if I’m annoying them?
After doing this only a few times I realized that all of the above scenarios were totally possible.
Sometimes I had no idea what to say, often the women said no, and occasionally they even seemed annoyed.
But the whole point of this exercise wasn’t an experiment in socially awkward terror: it was because our counselors wanted us to cultivate relationships with sober women. Calling them for rides was only a beginning: we were finding friends for our future (and hopefully sober) selves.
As I made more and more calls, I found that the awkwardness began to wear off and that I actually started to enjoy the conversations. Many women were gracious, wanted to know how I was doing, and some shared that being of service to us new-in-sobriety-folk brightened their day. I realized that I didn’t actually hate calling strangers on the phone: what I hated was the feeling of needing something.
And, like anything, becoming more comfortable in the discomfort of needing got easier with time.
That discomfort of needing is something I know many of us are currently struggling with right now during quarantine.
Maybe you need time off work, more help from your spouse, toilet paper, help with navigating unemployment or figuring out Zoom— maybe, like many of us, you’re feeling alone and just want to talk.
There’s a lot of needing right now and that’s uncomfortable – but take it from me, someone who made upwards of a thousand calls to women I didn’t know to ask for something I doubted they wanted to give: you will survive needing. The needing gets easier. And being honest about something you need gives other people a chance to be there for you…something that actually feels really good amidst our current pandemic situation.
Which brings me to another hard-won lesson from rehab…
3. If you’re hurting, help someone.
Back before rehab, I thought I needed to feel good to help (or even talk to) someone else.
If I was feeling sad, insecure, or just having an “off” day, I would isolate, not answer phone calls and texts, and definitely not reach out to someone else.
“What could I possibly have to offer?” was always my thought, sure that the world (and my circle) needed me to wear a smile, sense of humor, and definitely not a frown if I was to be worthwhile to anyone.
It actually turns out that was all wrong.
As I navigated early sobriety I learned that its in these moments more than ever that I should be answering the phone/reaching out to others/finding someone else to help. That’s because the reason for my poopiness was usually being stuck inside my own head/problems/self.
I am such a loser…
I am so awkward…
I am so boring…
What those thoughts could also translate to is ME-ME-ME.
Over and over and the counselors pounded this idea into our heads: when you’re focused on yourself and how much your life sucks you don’t have the space to think about anyone else.
If you stop focusing on your problems and start focusing on someone else’s, it’s amazing what happens for everyone. Like magic, you feel differently – the world gets bigger because it’s not just yours.
What does that look like right now?
It means answering the phone when it rings, calling that uncle you never talk to, and figuring out a way to be of service when all you really want is to curl up in a ball. It also means forgiving yourself for feeling crappy – and remembering the easiest way out of your own crap is to think of (and reach out to) other people who might be swimming in crappier rivers right now.
4. It’s totally possible to stay in the house for weeks on end
Remember how I talked about breaking all those rules? Well, the counselors didn’t find me as special as I found myself, and I ended up on “blackout” punishment for most of my time in rehab.
That means I wasn’t allowed to leave for anything short of an emergency doctor’s appointment or a house fire – and I figured out how to entertain myself within four walls and a small patio real quick.
I painted elaborate designs on acrylic nails I found in the basement, hula hooped for hours on end, wrote snail mail letters to the two friends I had left, and literally jogged in circles because I was going so stir crazy. The front door was no man’s land and I was a prisoner – until I stopped worrying about what was going on “out there” and just began to accept my current circumstances.
Yes, I had 17 other women to entertain me – but for every heart to heart conversation there was someone literally threatening my life or accusing me of stealing their socks. (True stories.) So if you’re feeling like a prisoner in your own home (especially since you didn’t earn the sentence like I did) I encourage you to have a good frustrated cry, dig around in the basement for some acrylic nails (or a puzzle?) and maybe turn on Shawshank Redemption for a bit of perspective.
After all, Andy Dufrain reminded everyone how to be free men even whilst locked in a dirty and unforgiving prison. (And we won’t be swimming through shit to escape quarantine, unless the TP shortage gets to a new level.)
5. Stay in Your Hula Hoop
I know, I know, a hula hoop actually isn’t the six-foot distance we’re all encouraged to keep from each other, but here’s what I mean:
In rehab and early sobriety, it was always really tempting to look at what other people are doing/saying/getting away with – and cop a resentment.
Why should she get away with that when I didn’t??? Who does she think she is?
I spent a lot of time pissed off about what other people were doing, saying, and getting away with – which was a lot easier than just keeping myself in order and walking an honest line.
The truth of the matter is I’m STILL totally tempted to be focused on what other people are doing.
Amidst this pandemic I’ve been annoyed at partying neighbors, too much stuff in people’s grocery carts, and friends that I’ve seen travelling cross country or having kick-backs in groups.
For better or worse I make my judgments of these behaviors known– but when it really comes down to it, I can’t control anyone but myself. I am not walking in anyone else’s shoes and it’s hard enough to keep my own laces tied.
And if I’m REALLY being honest, there are times in my life when I woulda been the one getting drunk with friends or grabbing a cheap flight: though I’m harshly judgmental of these behaviors, I haven’t always made the best or most community beneficial choices myself. (Hello decade of my twenties.)
We should ALL stay home and keep telling others to do so. But also remember that when we’re wasting energy trying to control other people, we’re often ignoring or escaping the one thing we can control…ourselves.
And speaking of controlling ourselves, the only way I’ve managed to make it through both early sobriety AND these past few weeks is…
6. Take it a day, an hour, a minute at a time
When I was newly sober I was a wreck.
Not only did I have the daily issues to deal with (and living in a small house containing 18 women were plenty) but I also had the previous years of wreckage piled up just behind me.
Facing all that I’d screwed up (and all that I was grieving) was the entire reason I’d needed to stay high in the first place: facing and feeling all of it felt impossible.
But early on I learned a tool that on its surface is ridiculously simple, but in practice is revolutionary: I didn’t HAVE to face or deal with all of it at once.
I didn’t have to figure out how to clean up my relationships, my finances, my health, or my psyche right away. I didn’t need the job or the body or even a plan for the future. Yes, taking time to picture how I wanted things to go was important, but I couldn’t live there – I also couldn’t live in the fear of what could still go wrong.
The only reason I’ve made it this far sober was taking things one day at a time.
I couldn’t figure out how to face my former employer, but I COULD be honest about my past with someone I trusted.
I couldn’t figure out how to grieve being high for my dad’s death, but I COULD sign up for the trauma processing group and hear other people cry.
There was a lot I didn’t know how to do – and often, there still is.
In the present pandemic many of us are scared for our health, the health of those we love, our finances, and our future.
I don’t know how to fix any of this on a macro level – and when I try to I get overwhelmed and full of fear.
What I can do (and what you can do too) is take things day by day. One hour, one minute, one breath at a time.
Ask yourself…what do I need to do today?
Brush my teeth.
Feed the cat.
Call uncle Bob.
Nobody has a script for this— and that can be scary because (as humans) we like to plan and know what to expect.
But if during quarantine you have a sense of impending doom, I encourage you to join me in the only place any of us have any control or semblance of peace: the present.
You don’t have to figure it all out, and neither do I.
And if, like me, you’ve experienced what it feels like to burn your life to the ground, you’re actually in a pretty good position: because that means you know new beginnings are possible. That means you know that with every new construction of something beautiful, first comes the destruction of all that we used to know as normal.
We’re in the destruction, my friends. And though it seems that the world is burning we are going to get through this together.
I hope this trip down rehab memory lane has been helpful. If you feel like sharing, I’d love to hear how you’re doing in the comments. I’ll leave you with this quote that a friend wrote on her sidewalk with her kids; it’s one that’s keeping me company as we navigate this new world:
“Everything will be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.” (John Lennon)
xo
Melissa