STEP TWO
"We came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity."
[Spiritual principle behind this step: Hope]
Oh, god, it was happening again. My heart was beating so hard against my chest I thought it was going to hammer a hole through muscle, bone and skin. My arms and my legs were weak, so much so I had to sit down on the floor. My vision started to tunnel, everything black around the edges, the pinpoint of sight getting smaller and smaller. Last week I passed out when it went this far. I tried to hang on to conscious thought, but it was so hard. Somehow I stood up, walked a few steps, only to sit back down. I thought I should try to get to a phone; I should try to call somebody. But then my vision started to clear. My heartbeat stopped pounding the wall of my chest. I sat there on the floor for a few more minutes, then stood and went to the kitchen sink to splash my face and neck with cool water. It was over. This time. How long until the next time? I called the doctor's office to make an appointment. After hearing my symptoms, the nurse told me to come in right away and they'd work me in.
I described the symptoms to the doctor. After finding my heart beating normally and no other symptoms present, the doctor decided to hook me up to a heart monitor for 48 hours. I was to return in two days with a log of everything I did for those 48 hours.
The heart monitor and the logbook would provide him some answers.
And that might have worked, had he known the questions.
I didn't tell him about the half gram of cocaine I snorted thirty minutes prior to the latest episode. I didn't tell him that I sometimes passed out completely. I didn't tell him that this happened several times a week, sometimes more than once a day. What I really wanted was for the heart monitor and logbook to reveal that my cocaine use was not the cause of what was happening, but that it was something unrelated. Instead of logging, "hit of cocaine" in the logbook, I logged, "caffeine pill" or "espresso." If the cocaine was the problem, the doctor would tell me that these episodes only happened after the "caffeine pill" and "espresso" entries. Then I would know. He wouldn't know, but I would know.
I didn't pray a lot, never have used prayer much in my life, but I prayed a lot those 48 hours. I prayed that the cocaine wasn't the cause of whatever was happening to me. I prayed I had a faulty heart, or a stuck valve, something that heart surgery could fix.
Wait. Stop. Did you hear that? Did you hear what I just said? I was actually praying that I had a heart defect that required open heart surgery because, in my mind, that was more acceptable and more treatable than hearing the doctor say I had to lay off the "espresso" or it was going to kill me.
That's insanity.
And that is why, in step two, I had to find something, some power greater than me, greater than my addiction, that could actually restore me to some semblance of sanity. The addiction was too big to fight on my own. I wasn't the 'power greater.' Most people think this step means find God. I wasn't ready to deal with such a task after working step one and moving on to step two. I needed something right then, right there, right now. I didn't have time to find god. I needed hope and I needed it fast. I admitted I was powerless over my addiction and that left a huge hole right in the center of my soul. I had to fill it. I had to grab onto something that was bigger than my addiction in order to stay clean for another week, another day, another hour.
For me, I found that power greater than myself in the collective power of other addicts staying clean, and helping one another. I went to an NA or AA meeting everyday, every single day, for 6 months. "The therapeutic value of one addict helping another is without parallel." That is straight from the book of Narcotics Anonymous. I found it to be true.
I also found a power greater than myself and greater than my addiction in two weekly sessions with a therapist. I used this power for six months, then dialed down the power a bit to once-a-week sessions for another 18 months. I started feeling empowered.
I got a sponsor, someone to help me walk through the steps, someone to help me walk through the pain, someone to make me feel heard and understood. I also reached out to several others who were on the same path I had begun. I developed friendships with women who had been walking this same path for a year, three years, five years. Some of those friendships are still strong today, ten years later. My two closest friends are women I met in those first months of recovery. Those relationships became stronger than my addiction. Using again meant losing those friendships.
Once I discovered those powers greater than my addiction - the collective power of recovering addicts, therapy, a sponsor, and relationships with others in recovery - I was able to breathe a little, to loosen my panicked grip, to discover what needed to come next. I was able to take some time to allow the toxins in my body and my mind to clear out.
I was behaving differently.
I was thinking differently.
I was feeling differently.
I was being restored to sanity.
I’m Maze. I’m an addict.
No comments:
Post a Comment