#sobersingularity

I haven’t been writing here much lately and it’s because I’m in a difficult space right now. I want to share all of the ways in which recovery has made my life better because I want anyone who is on the fence to know that this way of life is deeply worthwhile.

And it is.

But the truth is, it’s also really fucking hard. The first year was a blur of transformation, self-discovery, finding a home in the right recovery program for me. Change happened so quickly I’d have missed it if I blinked. At around nine months, I had an experience that left me with an existential question - do I want this for myself or not? The answer was I did, very much, and I was able to double-down on all of the reasons that made the first three-quarters of a year worthwhile.

And now, three years in… it’s easy to miss the progress. The changes have stopped coming in epiphanies, in those white light moments I had so often early on. I am still required to do all of the work of recovery, yet the rewards are less obvious. Lately, I’ve been saddled with self-centeredness, envy, and resentment. I’ve been disconnected and isolated.

I know the answer is to double-down yet again, but seeking out that connection and fellowship is hardest when I am roadblocked by so much resentment. 

The truth is, I can’t afford self-righteousness and ego even when it seems like everyone else gets to indulge in those feelings. I am not everyone else, and I don’t want to be like everyone else. But, paradoxically, the answer is to lean into the world where I am like everyone else - the one where we identify ourselves by our addictions when we speak not because we are reduced to those addictions but because we are united in our experiences of those addictions and our desire to recover from them. 

“We have not once sought to be one in a family, to be a friend among friends, to be a worker among workers, to be a useful member of society. Always we tried to struggle to the top of the heap or hide underneath it.”

In a recent episode of crushing self-pity, I reached out to my spiritual advisor, who reminded me to trust that I have something to offer the people around me. And if I don’t, or they don’t want it - they probably aren’t my people. That was a reminder I deeply needed, and it cleared enough of a path for me to remember what my values are and why I have them.

I’m not quite out of the woods yet - all of this progress is slow, and the world at large seems like it’s burning down around me. That’s enough to make me feel like I need to be doing more to make an impact that’s louder than the sound of the fire. But, of course, much like everything else, it’s not about me. Climate change, racism, transphobia, extreme wealth-inequality - these things don’t persist because Junior Knox isn’t doing enough about them. 

The truth is I am most useful doing what I do best. And that looks a lot like the list of qualities that I like about myself that my spiritual advisor gently nudged me to come up with: I’m good at meeting people where they’re at and helping them to feel seen. I provide a nurturing space in a hostile world. I am generous with my money and time and food. I am kind, and I constantly seek to be more so. I am comfortable with silence and letting others take up space. I check in on my people even when they have nothing that I directly want or need.

I forget that humility isn’t being completely disconnected from oneself; it’s simply being right-sized. I am not going to solve everyone’s problems. I do not need to be the center of attention. What I do need to be is a critical link in the chain that’s made up of my community and fellowship. It’s not so important that I stand out as it is that I have the strength and integrity to help support the whole chain. And remembering that I’m completely useless alone.

And, let’s be honest, capitalism demands that we compete. Capitalism demands that we stand out and prove our worthiness in relation to those around us. Capitalism denies us our inherent humanity by demanding that we find something to sell about ourselves. And it’s so fucking insidious. We sell ourselves into the illusion of “enoughness” every time our thinking becomes bogged down by self-centeredness like mine did, touching even those aspects of existing that should feel joyous - compelling us - compelling me - to ask questions like, “Am I in community enough? Do I write enough? Am I trans enough? Have I proven enough wit or passion or pragmatism on social media today?” 

It’s hard not to buy the bullshit, but not impossible. We challenge the system every time we prop up one of our peers or fellows when they have nothing to give in return. We upend the status quo when we love and accept ourselves as we are and resist the judgment and self-criticism for not grinding like we are supposed to, not wasting our energy competing like we are supposed to.