life.
I no longer need to know why certain substances disagree with me, any more than I need to know why the other medications I do not use disagree with me. I only need to remember that I do not pick up a drink or a drug.
While not drinking has become part of my new normal, I do not begrudge people who can drink. Why should I? I don’t begrudge people who can take Tylenol. I simply do not take it myself. I do not take Tylenol and I do not drink alcohol; it is that simple. Like I told my sister-in-law, it doesn’t bother me if you drink; it only bothers me if I drink. Today I choose not to be bothered.
I had to stop the us-and-them mentality. It is this exact thought process that has caused me great mental anguish. If I allow them to be normal because they can drink, I am certainly harboring a desire to drink, to be like them, and to fit in. I can no longer afford to drink. My life is too good today to give it all up to drinking and drugging. Therefore, I must become more accepting of the way other people are, especially when it comes to drinking alcohol or using drugs recreationally. Some people drink; I don’t. Some people use; I don’t. That is the way of the world. Making not drinking or drugging part of my new normal makes life easier to live, even though others may choose to drink. However, if I categorize people as us and them, or them and me, I alienate myself from a large part of society, making it impossible to fit in with people outside the program. Instead, I choose to be part of society. I do my part by choosing not to drink.
Only a small fraction of those who need help with various addictions are actually in a program and fellowship of recovery. To set myself apart from people outside my program puts severe and possibly damaging limits on my personal growth. I once tended to walk around in life, except in meetings, not knowing how to act. I tried to fit into a world where I felt I didn’t belong. If the only place I feel I really belong is in a twelve-step meeting, I must change this attitude in order to continue to grow and function in the world.
What I have found is that my fellowship is a safe place. When I first entered recovery I needed to feel a sense of belonging, and I received much more than that in the meetings I attended. I felt a safe sense of belonging, love, caring, and empathy. In the selfless acts of caring provided by program members I found the help I needed to take the steps necessary to begin my recovery. I found a positive “we” in my life. “We” helped me to get started and was necessary for the rest of my recovery. “We” helps me grow by continuing to provide a safe place to try out new behaviors without feeling like I am being judged too harshly. I did some stupid things within the safety of my program and watched others shrug them off while continuing to go about their business. They did not make a big deal out the stupid things I did, and neither should I.
The real world is chock-full of the same kinds of behaviors that exist within my program. In fact, I have found that my fellowship is really just a mirror image of the world at large. The difference is that in my fellowship I share the view in the mirror with people with whom I am comfortable, people I understand and trust, and who understand and trust me. I can be comfortable with people who are not in recovery. When I say comfortable, I am talking about not thinking in terms of in or out of the program, drinker or nondrinker, or anything that sets me apart from “them.” This feeling of understanding, acceptance, and serenity takes time to develop, but I am making steady progress.
I have grown to think of myself simply as a person. I can fit in anywhere. I can go anywhere, see anything, say anything, and do anything except consume alcohol or other drugs. On top of that, I have discovered that I can learn from anybody, as long as I am willing to learn. After all, if I limit my learning to things I gather only in the program, I put restrictions on myself. If I limit my activities to program activities, I restrict my life. I did not enter recovery to put restrictions on myself. I entered recovery to remove restrictions, to get rid of misery. I entered recovery to be “happy, joyous, and free.” My new freedom includes activities of all kinds, with people of all kinds, in places of all kinds, for reasons of all kinds. It takes work, but it is definitely worth it.
Much seems to depend on how I look at any situation. There are many people in the world who can drink or use without suffering horrible consequences. I can choose to set myself apart from them if I so desire. However, if I do so, I exclude millions of potential friends and acquaintances from my life, to forgo possible learning and potential growth. I can accept that since they don’t have to drink when we go out for dinner, they can drink at dinner, or they may not. I go places with so-called normies on a regular basis.
The places we go serve alcohol, and my friends just as easily order alcoholic or nonalcoholic beverages. Their choice to order nonalcoholic beverages is perfectly normal for them. My old thinking tells me they will order a beer just because they can. However, they may not be in the mood for alcohol and choose not to order it. I regularly go to restaurants that serve alcohol—with a friend who has no problem with alcohol—and he or she chooses to order a soft drink or a glass of iced tea. Even if he or she does order a beer, it doesn’t bother me because it only bothers me if I drink, and I don’t drink because drinking makes me abnormal. I have no trouble watching another person consume an alcoholic beverage.
While I have excluded alcohol from my diet, I have not excluded people from my life. I like most people. I used to like alcohol. I choose to exclude alcohol from my life just as I choose to exclude certain people from my life. As long as I do not drink, I can invite some very interesting people into my life, and they can invite me into theirs. It is a win-win situation. I choose not to drink and I enjoy the company of others, some of whom choose to drink and others who do not.
Why is it that seeing a disgustingly drunken person does not make me want to drink, but seeing people enjoy alcohol causes me discomfort? Some might say this is because seeing the disgustingly drunk person reminds me of where I have been. I would tend to agree. However, I have also enjoyed alcohol. I used to love to drink. If I am completely honest, and I try to be, I’ll admit I would enjoy being able to drink today. By that I mean I wish I were able to drink without all those unsightly and dire consequences. Unfortunately, when I drink, I end up like the disgusting drunk. Still, why should I begrudge someone else the pleasure of enjoying a cocktail? I don’t begrudge people what they have in their lives: their jobs, spouses, children, money, cars, etc. (At least if I am living the program, I don’t begrudge people these things.) Then why would I begrudge their desire or ability to drink alcohol? My guess is that it is because I would enjoy being able to drink today without all those terrible consequences. However, it is long past time for me to stop wishing things were different and accept the fact that some people can have alcohol, while I choose not to do so today. After all, using for me is now a matter of choice. I could drink a beer with them. But I know where I would end up, even though I don’t know what the long-term results might be. Because of this uncertainty, I choose not to drink. I do this because I don’t want to be abnormal anymore, and when I don’t drink I can be as normal as anybody else. While I can honestly say that I would enjoy being able to drink or use socially, I know the reality of my disease, and I no longer choose the path that leads to abnormal behavior. The power to choose is wonderful.
There are many who choose not to partake in alcoholic beverages. There are more of them making this choice, more people who are not addicts, than there are people who are addicts in recovery. (Studies show that approximately one-third of the population in the United States does not drink alcoholic beverages.) A little math puts the number of nondrinkers in this country somewhere around one hundred million people. One hundred million is a large number of nondrinkers. For whatever reason, one out of three people does not drink. Researching this information helped me drive home the point for myself. One hundred million people in this country are not drinking. This statistic made me dizzy while I was trying to take it all in. It gave me a different perspective on the “drinking/not drinking dilemma” that I used to dwell on. I used to think everybody drank or used socially, was in recovery, or was an addict or a drunk. This new information helped me to see things in an entirely different light.
I no longer see normies
