Build a Community that Sustains You
In the worst 12 years of my struggle with alcoholism, I felt that the responsibility to figure out and alleviate my suffering was my own problem to solve. I approached the intense amount of suffering and struggle like there was some established equation that existed out there that I could just plug the inputs of my life into and boom, just like that my alcoholism would be lifted, the struggle finished and I could drink normally for the rest of my life. I had to figure it out myself and I didn’t want help because I wanted to shield and hide my issue from others. I had a reputation to uphold as well as a desire to limit exposing others to the intense pain and suffering that I was going through.
The ironic aspect of this push to figure my issue with alcohol out on my own is that I wasn’t entirely wrong. The first step in establishing yourself on the road of recovery is deeply personal, and it is an aspect of discovering the solution to alcoholism that only the addict can take. That is acceptance of the fact that you are an alcoholic. As soon as that first, and critical, solo act of acceptance is taken then a world of support and a community that you never realized will be there for you to celebrate and support your journey on the road of recovery.
In my story, my acceptance of the fact that I am an alcoholic took place in the walls of rehab. I can’t quite tell you the exact moment it happened, but more so the moments that led to me being fully convinced that I was an alcoholic, and an alcoholic for life. It was being around other addicts and realizing that my thought patterns and behaviors weren’t unique. It was constantly having to say, “My name is Kyle, my sober date is 5/14 and my drug of choice is alcohol” every time we opened up sessions in rehab. It was getting comfortable talking about and looking into my past with techs and other patients. It was realizing the period in time where I had crossed the threshold. Gradually, but also suddenly, I found myself completely convinced that I was an alcoholic. Acceptance was more freeing than I could have ever imagined.
After that, I didn’t feel like hiding from or feeling ashamed of the fact that I was an alcoholic. Instead, I listened, I talked and I did my best to learn. I aimed my learning towards improving myself, I talked in an attempt to sort out my thoughts, but most importantly I listened to the lessons that others had to provide. I suddenly found myself enamored by the stories and the struggles of others in rehab and realized that none of us want our lives in shambles. So we started working together, supporting each other, sharing deeply and making bonds that are difficult to describe in this age of tens of thousands of surface level, but entirely unfulfilling digital connections.
I feel an intense amount of gratitude for the core group of individuals that I went through rehab with during my 28 days there. They taught me how to love myself, be vulnerable, lead, aim at a compelling vision and do the work. We protected each other and our recovery journey viciously. I have never divulged these stories, and I won’t expand on them in detail, but during my time in rehab we rallied around each other and got two individuals kicked out that were incredibly detrimental to everyone’s recovery journey, well-being and were an overall safety risk. We loved and supported each other more than I had experienced in my life in quite some time. I was reminded again of what it meant to be a part of a real community.
Leaving rehab, I knew that I had experienced something special. I also knew that despite the intense motivation and the feelings of love and support that we all felt for each other that the odds were not in our favor that all of us would stay away from our drugs of choice. The relapses started quickly upon discharge, but for those friendships and individuals that truly wanted change, wanted to live a life in recovery, our core group stayed around and supported them.
In addiction, you trample on relationships from the past. I knew leaving rehab there were key relationships with family and friends in my life that I wanted back and that I wanted to strengthen. As badly as I desired to have a switch flip that brought trust, love and friendship back into the relationship I knew that it would take time, and that I only controlled my input into the relationship.
Additionally, I knew what had been experienced in rehab with the friendships, a real sense of community and purpose with others was something that I wanted to grow in my life. So I deliberately started searching out and worked to create small ensembles of community in my life. I focused my efforts on smaller groups of people (generally less than 20) that had an intense focus and vision for their pursuit. I pushed to be in person with individuals and aimed for honesty in my relationships and interactions. I challenged myself with this idea - I had lied and hid in isolation for so long, and my life became such a living hell, what if I did the exact opposite?
That mindset and challenge shifted my entire perspective when it came to creating healthy relationships. No longer was I feeling like I had to put up this facade of a perfect life, of everything in order and put together. I was honest with friends and family about my shortcomings, about what I was doing about it and where I needed help. It created depth to what had been, or what could have been, surface level relationships. I found myself reaching out to friends I hadn’t spoken to in quite some time just to check in. I found that when I approached relationships this way, that vulnerability, gratitude and love was reciprocated nearly 100% of the time.
It’s a funny thing when you have a genuine conversation with someone about the details of your struggles and vulnerabilities. You feel love, you feel support, you gain strength and maybe most important - you feel human. That humanness had been missing from my life for so long, it was a foreign experience to me when it started coming back into my life during rehab. I think that’s an aspect of life that those that do not struggle with addiction, or any other significant shortcoming, take for granted. There is a loss of humanness in alcoholism, especially in the manner in which I shelled up and isolated myself. Having that come back into my life felt incredibly special and powerful.
The most humbling experience was to witness the community that sprung up in support of Lucy’s life and time on earth. There were friends and family that were there with us in the months leading up to her birth. People opening their doors up and inviting us in when we made the move for her birth. The outpouring of love and care from her medical team in the hospital. People that were desiring to sit and talk with us, devoid of phones or devices. And the amazing group of individuals that we have been lucky enough to be surrounded by in the aftermath of her loss as we navigate the difficult road of learning how to live our lives without our daughter. We said ‘I love you’ to others more often and more genuinely than we ever have in any other time period in our life.
Individual strength alone wouldn’t have allowed us through this time period in the manner in which we have made it thus far. From the depths of our heart, we thank you all who have been a part of our community and our support team, in the days, weeks and months since losing Lucy. We needed it. There were moments where we needed to take time, be vulnerable, be honest with our suffering and be supported. To know your community is there for you in those moments is beyond humbling, and it motivates us to someday, hopefully, be able to answer the call when someone else is in need.
Community is strength, community is love and community is the most human thing that we can have in our lives.
That’s all I’ve got.
Kyle