One of the many things I've learned in #recovery is that #emotions #pass...both the #negative and the #positive.

I'm what they call #dualdiagnosis, meaning I have #comorbid #disorders which fueled my #alcoholism and #addiction. Specifically, #anxiety and #depression, which were the result of my genetic makeup and life events that occurred in childhood and early adolescence. Both predated my descent into addiction by at least 2 decades.

I told everyone in creation when I felt anxious. My parents, counselors, friends, therapists. No one listened, no one seemed to care, and everyone seemed hell-bent on making me feel as though I was making too much of a big deal. For me, these things never passed - like a low hum in my gut, the anxiety never went away. It was not temporary with me, but rather lingering and frightening.

I had to almost die, almost go bankrupt and almost face jail time before anyone would listen.

What I have learned is that in fact - if you get the proper treatment (both pharmacological and psychological) and if you give up alcohol and drugs one day at a time - emotions do pass. They run their course. Anger is caused by a release of #cortisol in the brain. If you can pause and recognize it, take a deep breath, walk away...it will run it's course, and you won't lash out at those around you.

Even love. If nurtured, it will grow. If ignored, it will fade with time. (I'm still learning this one the hard way).

There is no #light without #darkness. We all have a #dark #side. There is always #temptation. We can #pretend it's not there. We can attempt to #ignore it. We can try to will our way through it. But these methods lack #humility.

We are not better than our demons, vices or desires. Not by a long shot. All it takes is one slight change in the wind and we are right back in their grip.

The only way to make it through is to admit powerlessness. To acknowledge our humanity and say, "these things are a part of me." The person you can't turn away from. The substance you can't quit. The pattern you're locked into. We are drawn to them because of who we are.

I’m going to be #honest: I was not much in the #Christmas #spirit this year. 

I did not go to a mall. I didn’t buy a single person any gifts. I didn’t hang any Christmas lights or buy a tree. I winced every time I heard Christmas music. I bought a plane to ticket out west to see family. That was my gift to them…to the family out West anyway.

My dad got me a Christmas gift this year. I didn’t expect it, nor was I really hoping for it - so I didn’t get him one. He still treats my addiction/alcoholism/disease as a moral failing, and his gift-giving patterns illustrate that. When I behave in ways he approves of, he buys me gifts. When I do not, he withholds. And he makes it a point to let me know that he withholds. He even gave me a letter on my 40th birthday (a few months after my relapse) saying that he specifically was not going to be giving me gifts anymore, ever, world without end amen. The resentful part of me wants to frame it and hang it next to the email he wrote about forgiveness and unconditional love. And yet I know it’s the best he’ll ever be able to do. He has always had a chip on his shoulder about having to raise me as a single parent and cannot acknowledge that he ever has.

This is the relationship I have with my father. There will never be a time when it isn’t conditional.

I knew that the best thing I could do for myself was take this trip out of town. Away from responsibilities and expectations. I chose to stay with my mom, because as much as she hurt me when I was an early adolescent, she and I are birds of a feather. We are fine now, better than ever. She is a still a mess, a budding hoarder and anxiety-ridden. But unlike my dad, she wears her heart on her sleeve - I cannot help but love my mom.

I have spent time with my cousins and relatives, seen the babies grow into toddlers, genuinely smiled and laughed and hugged them all. I’ve taken care of my mom’s animals, walked the dog, helped her fix a few things around the house, helped her clean, watch movies and documentaries with her and had great talks as we always do. I recognize my mom’s mortality more now than I have in the past. I’m grateful for the time with her.

I’m in Colorado, within walking distance of a legal marijuana dispensary and a liquor store. It never crossed my mind to enter either, I’ve barely thought at all about my recovery, and haven’t attended a single meeting. I’m simply in equilibrium with my surroundings and content, with no thought of how my addictions define me or not. It is a weight off my shoulders to not be defined by my conditions or affectations. I simply am.

Maybe that is the real gift I’ve been given this holiday season. The illumination that simplicity and serenity bring, without any thought of obligation to anything: occupation; tradition; ritual; or self-discovery.