He was mad, but he was magic. There was no lie in his fire. Charles Bukowski
I learned about Philip Seymour Hoffman’s death late last night. As a fan, I’m sad. As a fellow addict, I’m shaken. Even after all these years – there I am going about my business and then: Oh yeah. That’s right. That thing that could kill me. It’s still around. Still stalking good folks.
To those of you tethered to drugs or booze or food or snark or perfection or work or shopping or any other life pain killer I would say this: You must stop running from your broken heart. A broken heart won’t kill you, but running WILL. If it doesn’t kill your body, running takes your soul.
You must Be Still. You must stand still long enough to feel it all. The only person on Earth you must answer to is Yourself in the Stillness.
Today is the day to stop running. For EVERYONE. Here are my thoughts on how:
On Recovery
excerpted from Carry On, Warrior
To My Friend, On Her First Sober Morning,
I have been where you are this morning. I’ve lived through this day. This day when you wake up terrified. When you open your eyes and it hits you . . . the jig is up. When you lie paralyzed in bed and shake from the horrifying realization that life as you know it is over. Quickly you consider that perhaps that’s okay, because life as you know it totally blows. Even so, you can’t get out of bed because the thing is that you don’t know how. You don’t know how to live, how to interact, how to cope, how to function without a drink or at least the hope of a future drink. You never learned. You dropped out before all the lessons. So who will teach you how to live? Listen to me, because I am you.
You are shaking from withdrawal and fear and panic this morning, so you cannot see clearly. You are very, very confused right now. You think that this is the worst day of your life, but you are wrong. This is the best day of your life, friend. Things, right now, are very, very good. Better than they have ever been in your entire life. Your angels are dancing. Because you have been offered freedom from the prison of secrets. You have been offered the gift of crisis.
Kathleen Norris reminded me last night that the Greek root of the word crisis is “to sift.” As in to shake out the excesses and leave only what’s important. That’s what crises do. They shake things up until we are forced to decide and hold onto what matters most. And what matters most right now is that you are sober. You owe the world nothing else. And so you will not worry about whether the real you will be brave or smart or funny or beautiful or responsible enough. Because the only thing you have to be is sober. You owe the world absolutely nothing but sobriety. If you are sober, you are enough. Even if you are shaking and cursing and boring and terrified. You are enough.
But becoming sober, becoming real, will be hard and painful. A lot of good things are.
Becoming sober is like recovering from frostbite.
The process of defrosting is excruciatingly painful. You have been so numb for so long. And as feeling comes back to your soul, you start to tingle, and it’s uncomfortable and strange. But then the tingles start feeling like daggers. Sadness, loss, fear, anger, all of these things that you have been numbing with the booze . . . you start to FEEL them for the first time. And it’s horrific at first, to tell you the damn truth. But feeling the pain, refusing to escape from it, is the only way to recovery. You can’t go around it, you can’t go over it, you have to go through it. There is no other option, except for amputation. And if you allow the defrosting process to take place, if you trust that it will work, if you can stand the pain, one day you will get your soul back. If you can feel, it means there has been no amputation. If you can feel, you can hope. If you can feel, you are not too late.
Friend, we need you. The world has suffered while you’ve been hiding. You are already forgiven. You are loved. All there is to do now it to step into your life. What does that mean? What the hell does that mean? This is what it means. These are the steps you take. They are plain as mud.
Get out of bed. Don’t lie there and think – thinking is the kiss of death for us – just move. Take a shower. Sing while you’re in there. MAKE YOURSELF SING. The stupider you feel, the better. Giggle at yourself, alone. Joy for its own sake . . . Joy just for you, created by you – it’s the best. Find yourself amusing.
Put on some make-up. Blow dry your hair. Wear something nice, something that makes you feel grown up. If you have nothing, go buy something. Today’s not the day to worry too much about money. Invest in some good coffee, caffeinated and decaf. Decaf after eleven o’clock. Read your daughter a story. Don’t think about other things while you’re reading, actually pay attention to the words. Then braid your girl’s hair. Clean the sink. Keep good books within reach. Start with Traveling Mercies. David Sedaris is good, too. If you don’t have any good books, go to the library. If you don’t have a library card, apply for one. This will stress you out. You will worry that the librarian will sense that you are a disaster and reject you. But listen, they don’t know and they don’t care. They gave me a card, and I’ve got a rap sheet as long as your arm. When practicing re-entering society and risking rejection, the library is a good place to start. They have low expectations. I love the library. Also church. Both have to take you in.
Alternate two prayers – “Help” and “Thank you.” That’s all the spirituality you’ll need for a while. Go to meetings. Any meeting will do. Don’t worry if the other addicts there are “enough like you.” Face it – we are all the same – be humble.
Get Out Of The House. If you have nowhere to go, take a walk outside. Do not excuse yourself from walks because it’s cold. Bundle up. The sky will remind you of how big God is, and if you’re not down with God, then the oxygen will help. Same thing. Call one friend a day. Do not start the conversation by telling her how you are. Ask how she is. Really listen to her response, and offer your love. You will discover that you can help a friend just by listening, and this discovery will remind you that you are powerful and worthy.
Get a yoga DVD and a pretty mat. Practice yoga after your daughter goes to bed. The evenings are dangerous times, so have a plan. Yoga is good for people like us, it teaches us to breathe and that solitude is a gift. Learn to keep yourself company.
*When you start to feel . . . do. For example – when you start to feel scared because you don’t have enough money….find someone to give a little money to. When you start to feel like you don’t have enough love. . . find someone to offer love. When you feel unappreciated, unacknowledged . . . appreciate and acknowledge someone in your life in a concrete way. When you feel unlucky, order yourself to consider a blessing or two. And then find a tangible way to make today somebody else’s lucky day. This strategy helps me sidestep wallowing every day.
Don’t worry about whether you like doing these things or not. You’re going to hate everything for a long while. And the fact is that you don’t even know what you like or hate yet. Just Do These Things Regardless of How You Feel About Doing These Things. Because these little things, done over and over again, eventually add up to a life. A good one.
Friend, I am sober this morning. Thank God Almighty, I’m sober this morning. I’m here, friend. Last week, my son turned eleven. Which means that I haven’t had a drink for eleven years and nine months. Lots of beautiful and horrible things have happened to me during the past eleven years and nine months. And I have handled my business day in and day out without booze. GOD, I ROCK.
And today, I’m a wife and a mother and a daughter and friend and a writer and a dreamer and a Sister to one and a “sister” to thousands … and I wasn’t any of those things when I was a drunk.
And I absolutely love being a recovering alcoholic, friend. I am more proud of the “recovering” badge I wear than any other.
What will you be, friend? What will you be when you become yourself? We would love to find out with you.
Love,
G
Author of the #1 New York Times Bestseller LOVE WARRIOR — ORDER HERE
Join the Momastery community on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram & Pinterest
95 Comments
Read this day before yesterday. First sober day and first meeting yesterday. First hamgover free morning today.
Thank you
Good work, Surfergirl. Now for Day 2! Those meetings saved my life. Keep coming back.
Just over a year later now and i keep coming back. This article helped me to take my first steps into sobriety and I will be eternally grateful for that.
Being in recovery is a blessing. It is the grace of God alone that lifts us out of the muck and the mire of our suffering and into the light of a glorious life and sets us onto our journey of Faith. When I don’t know what to do, first I start cleaning. It’s kind of a mindfulness thing – getting centered and focusing. Then after that I ask: what is the next right thing to do. Works every time. God always gives us enough light to see the very next step. We don’t have to know the rest of the path. You are so blessed to have a loving sister to support you. Blessings and joy, Glennon.
It started ; Bev Parrish; ( pleaselikemepleaselikemepleaselikeme) invited me to her mother’s apartment across the street from Greenwich High, where we were freshmen. She brought out a pitcher of orange juice, and a bottle of clear liquid… “DRINK ME” …
Many rides home to suspicious, hateful waiting parents over the next three years were spent with my head hanging out of his car window, throwing up. (Sometimes, he wouldn’t wash his car; leaving the detritus of my folly for all to see) Rallying to meet THE ADMINISTRATORS , struggling to walk straight, to see out of both eyes, “The movie was so good we saw it twice”… They had little choice other than to swallow it – just as I had swallowed the clear liquid in the pitcher of orange juice. I was better than the rest of them, wasn’t I? Sixteen screwdrivers and I didn’t get drunk. I couldn’t – THE ADMINISTRATORS OF MY LIFE would find out. Then I’d be locked away.
18 TIME OUT! PREGNANT! WHAT? HOW? Maybe it will go away………..
Fast forward…20 years…. “Bourbon and water, light” seemed to roll off my tongue as the amber colored warmth rolled in. Always appropriate… friends’ white linened dining rooms, prime rib. Dessert. I was different, special; I drank bourbon – only at appropriate times, no temptation otherwise. Truth.
I became fascinated with wine labels; not the sophisticated simple font labels of today – the flowery ones – Beaujolais Nouveau – served in a beautiful glass, slightly too big for my hand to hold securely. The stem: wrap your fingers around the stem. I didn’t have any problem other than the fact that a little was never enough; I never learned to take only four Oreos…. always the whole bag!
February 8, 1990 – prime rib on Diane’s white linen tablecloth – this drink looks too light, I think I’ll add a little more bourbon. (I’m a BOURBON AND WATER drinker!)
Two bottles of wine on her set table as I passed by; how will I manipulate things so I get to sit by the pretty bottle? After dinner, music, singing, dancing around the dining room table… What fun!
Suddenly, the room began spinning – take me home now! More throwing up down the side of the car door… Run to the bathroom to continue retching to get the poison out of me. “Come get a look at your mother mounting the porcelain pony” He said to Jeff and whoever she was… They came, I felt pure and utter shame. Bed…deep sleep … awake… HEADACHE… Foggy brained… Sunday… Get up! Read the New York Times… can’t focus/can’t think…… can’t……. stop…
I knew I was out of control… No promises, No oaths, No proclamations, just no.
P E R O I D
No problem… No champaign toasts at my kids’ weddings… No dessert with rum in it… No lick as wine I pour for the others drips on my finger….NONE!
I actually tried AA, at the suggestion of someone who ‘knew better me’ “quitting doesn’t count if you don’t do AA”. I actually did “Ninety a Minutes In Ninety Days” – another obsession. The only thing I learned was that ” I was a bad girl and deserved to be punished!”
Fast forward twenty five years… Diet Pepsi is the thing… They are all smiling and laughing… I didn’t hear the joke…. I can’t lose 30 pounds… I’m fat…. I hate my hair… I hate it here………I hate life………………………. I have colon cancer.
Whew! Dodged a bullet on that one…. “I thought you had cancer for years and then you died; Mumba only had it for a week”. I love those kids so.
Time to start over/second chance/LIVE! Drink! Why not? I’m 71, had colon cancer, have a painful hip which causes me to limp; THAT WHICH HAS DEFINED ME FOR THREE YEARS is no longer wanted….
“I deserve it” just one glass – it has to be red; red is good for you. Tastes like dirt… Dump it down the drain… Jeff will know; Chardonnay, Shiraz, Merlot, Malbec, Cabernet… All those $20 bottles down the drain… Where’s my treat? Why does everyone else like it… Maybe I should try that clear liquid: Vodka – “Stoli and Tonic”…… Now THIS tastes good… Maybe I’ll have a second…. Donna! You are drinking real alcohol… “They” drink wine or beer…. A sip of Fat Tire when we stopped for an early dinner on the way from a multitude of Dr visits in Miami. I am the patient ; the diagnosis elusive. Ah yes! Fat Tire it will be – out of the bottle; no girly glass or worse still – plastic – for me.
Just one: at 6.30, with Brian Williams. One soon turned to two, then three… All those pills before sleep…. Up in the middle of the night to go pee… staggering and stumbling – fall and wake up with a black eye. Maybe I will go back to two; and finish by 7 so it’ll be out of my system before I take the pills.
I don’t want to be sitting in front of the TV, slugging my beer down. I’ll try white wine this time… Which should I be: a beer drinker, or a wine drinker – or Stoli and tonic on the back porch: “cocktails with hubby” …… I can’t decide who I want to be!
No friends/too hot to go out/bad hip keeps me from my three mile walk/surgery on my neck and a brace for four months/ avulsions:cellulitis…..can’t focus and stay awake long enough to read/I have nothing to do… Maybe go to CVS……….. Kids distancing; I haven’t been well enough to travel… Missed Christmas… MISSED SOCCER SEASON!
Nap at 2…. Kill the day…. Is it 5 yet? Beer time! The ritual: put the bottle in the freezer for about 10 mins (never cold enough for Donna!) …get the opener – open bottle with one hand, trash drawer with the other; swift flick of the wrist and the top is in the trash…. Sip……AHHHHH!
Collagenous Colitus: yet another diagnosis!
NOALCOHOLNOALCOHOLNOALCOHOLNOALCOHOLNOALCOHOLNOALCOHOLNO
….. what will be my treat……what’s the point……..what do I have to look forward to……
You will be beloved. You will be enough. Without it. Seek the light… God is right there with open arms, calling to you as his precious daughter. You are a beautiful writer… I believe words can bring you healing, and bring healing to many others too.
What if day one sober (again) finds you in a treatment facility (again) and you can’t follow the recommendations past paragraph eight? What are the micro-steps to take before you’re out in the big scary world? It’s almost like a secondary day one. Literally asking for a friend.
One minute at a time, pray, ask for help, know that you are loved, broken and beautiful and loved. You’re never alone. Breathe. Breathe some more and listen for the tiny voice of love.
These words are truth. I am printing this post and mailing to my brother, who is in prison. He will not appreciate the part about makeup, but he will totally get–and love–the rest of it. Thank you, G.
This gives me hope for my sister. Glennon, I envy your stories about your Sister. It’s clear how much love and gratitude you have for her, and I often think about how lucky she is to have a sister who is – yes, an addict – but a a truly recovering one. That is selfish of me, I know, because my sister has struggled with alcoholism for 20 years. She is currently in a long-term residential treatment center. She’s running out of chances, out of relapses. The next one could be the last. I love her. Anyone reading this, if you don’t mind sending her some love and light, it would be appreciated. She can SO do this. Thank you all xoxo
Casey – NEVER never never give up the hope that she can be sober. My brother was in and out of jail and prison for his behavior related to drug and alcohol addictions from the time he was 13. He is now 53, and has been sober and “himself” for 7 years now! I am so proud of him and the life he has made for himself.
So, these words were passed on to me and I pass them to you: “Never give up hope. As long as they are alive, it is not too late.”
Keeping you and your sister in my prayers — Janice in Ukiah, CA
Sending your sister and YOU love and light, Casey.
xxxx
Very powerful! Love wins. One day, one moment at a time.
YES! In January I celebrated 15 years sober and Phillip Seymour Hoffman’s death shook me!
“And I absolutely love being a recovering alcoholic, friend. I am more proud of the “recovering” badge I wear than any other.” This sums it up for me… All the other stuff, I know I would throw it away if I drank, so this is the one–the one I am so proud of– the one that lead me to God, and the one that gave me a WHOLE life. It didn’t happen over night, but it happened one right action at a time <3 Thank you for Sharing your heart!
Day 2 of withdrawal. was on pain meds for legitimate pain, started having BIG problems with my teen son. Long story short, started over using meds to cope. I don’t know if I can do this. I am so sick and I know what will make me feel better
Praying for you today. Lifting you up…
OK – I’m trying again. I had 31 days before Christmas. Then a lot of not-sober days. And I don’t WANT to try again, but I know I NEED to try again. Tonight will be my first big test. Having friends over with whom I usually share a bottle or three of wine, and I’m going to try to drink tea. I’m a little scared. And when I look at the next big chunk of time without my safety net, I’m a LOT scared. But for my daughters, I know I have to try. Why couldn’t I be addicted to working out, or broccoli?
Day 32 right here 🙂 get/buy/download the book
Sober mercies… Heather kopp…. You’ll thank yourself!
Praying for your journey today. Lifting you up…
Get new friends! There are plenty of people who can respect your life by not drinking around you. If you’re having trouble finding them, spend more time in AA meetings. We all need friends.
This is a great encouragement to a great many I am sure. I am celebrating my son’s 37th day clean from a heroin addiction today and he is “walking through sobriety.” And he loves it! He has more peace and hope in his voice than I have heard in years. It is such a blessing to have him back! We love him so much!
“The sky will remind you how big God is”
This is something I want to put on my body in ink some day. I have read that essay before, and the first time and every time since the first words make me start bawling. I don’t know why, but probably because I always read it just when I need to.
Dear Glennon,
It strikes me that your words can help me, someone who is not an addict. I am, however, drowning in grief. My beloved, beautiful, best friend and older sister died three months ago, on my birthday. Every day I want to call her. Every day something makes me start sobbing again. Every day feels like a horrible, shitty day. I sometimes feel like I can’t breathe without her.
But, I am pretty good at following directions. I think you’ve laid out a blueprint for me to follow. I can shower, I can sing, I can keep doing the next thing. I can pray, “help” and “thank you”.
Today I got a haircut. Afterwards I cried for an hour. I was supposed to call her on the way there and tell her I was on my way to get a haircut. Later she would call me and ask all the haircut details. I don’t know who to share my haircut details with. This sucks.
I feel alone. I don’t know anybody who has lost their perfect sister and soul mate. I don’t know anyone who has lost their Very Important Person on their birthday. I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this.
Tomorrow I’ll start by getting up (I never want to, so this is a good start) and taking a shower.
Thank you Glennon.
Andrea.
I can’t even take this in, but I promise to try today. I will let me heart break open for you today. If you need to sleep all day after that shower, do it. 3 months is nothing. It’s just nothing. Please take time.
I love you, sweet sister.
Glennon
Thank you.
Andrea, I lost my beautiful sister Feb. 7, 2013. I still am in mourning. I got new sheets a few weeks ago and wanted to tell her. I feel as you do, who do I tell these little everyday things? She was my best friend, soulmate, confidante, advisor. We had plans for our old age. I never even considered that I would need a plan B. I still cry. I feel guilty if I’m having any fun. I miss her terribly. My prayers are with you. I know I need to stop drinking, but I’m just not ready.
Andrea, I can completely relate to how you feel. I didn’t lose a sister, I lost my mom. She was my best friend, my rock, and my biggest supporter. She was also my husband’s only cheerleader when it came time for him to sober up. I can promise you that things will get easier, but the pain will never go away. You’ll find that you have stopped forcing yourself to shower, but the tears will come like clockwork. There are things that bring me to my knees on a daily basis, and they usually involve my kids. I would talk to my mom first thing in the morning, at least once in the afternoon, and we always called to say goodnight and that we loved her. If my kids were sick she would always call and talk me through the situation, or just keep me company. There’s NO ONE else that could do the same. It’s just not the same.
My prayers are with you, and please know that you’re not alone!
I know this post is over a year old, and no one will probably see it – but I want you to know I understand, Andrea. On July 21, 2014, I lost my brother. He was my best friend, my mentor, my hero, my confidante. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of him, miss him, want to pick up the phone and call him. We talked/texted/emailed probably 10 times a day. We were so connected. He was my person.
I don’t cry all the time, every day now. But I get sad. So, so sad. There is a hole in my heart as big as Texas. I try and remember the good times, how very blessed I was to have him for 52 years. That helps – most of the time. At least now I can see him in my mind before he was sick, before cancer stole him from me.
Sending love and hugs from one who understands,
Susan
Susan, just so you know. I saw your post. I read it. I am sending you hugs across the miles. I am so sorry for what you lost and I am wishing you a good day today.
Susan, I saw your post too. I’m sending love and prayers for you across the miles as well. XO, Virginia
The post is over a year old, and I see it. Grief is not linear. It has an ebb and flow. I try to share it with someone I love. I try to understand what part of my grief is for me, for losing part of me. I try to understand what other people in my life love about me. When I can’t understand, I ask them. I’m surprised often.
Thank you once again Miss Glennon. As always, it hit home. I replied to a few of the posts here, then I realized that I was going to have to reply to them all! Each and every one. If only I could. I know these stories. I mean, I KNOW these stories. I have lived a couple of them personally. More than once. I guess you could say that now I am one of those who is on the other side of things now. Life is alright. Some days it’s even better than just alright. Occasionally there are even flashes of—-dare I say it?—-joy. Real, deep, and profound joy. It takes your breath away too, but in a good way. A very good way. But alright is alright too. 🙂 And I want each and every person who is here and still fighting the fight to know that they are not alone and that they can do this. They can get to the other side too. I am here and lots of others are here and we are cheering for you and reaching out to you. My life is not perfect. I am not perfect. And those things, all the bad things they haven’t really gone away. They flutter like bats, always just on the edge of sight. Some days it feels like one tiny misstep and they’ll be back—not just fluttering on the edges of my consciousness, but flooding it and blinding me to everything else. But I know that’s a lie. I have not exorcised my demons, but I have shown them who is boss. 🙂 They can flutter there in the back of my mind all they want to; difference is that now I realize I am strong enough to fight them. I was all along! I just didn’t believe it. I was the most unbelievingest person you ever met. My pet name for myself was “Fuckofnature”. I truly thought I was. Everyone was better than me. Everyone in every way. The entire planet. I am not kidding. It’s not true. Because there is no “better than” or “less than”. Sure, there’s people out there that will tell you there is. And you can believe that there are. It’s just not true. Some people are invested in “better than” because they need to be better than. They feel a lack in themselves so they shove that lack off on you and YOU ACCEPT IT. Don’t. Because it’s simply not true. There’s no better or less than, there’s just people. Everyone loves something, fears something, has lost something. That’s the great equalizer. We are all fighting, we are all loving, we are all afraid. The pain you are running from is the pain we all feel. It’s not unique to you, although it feels that way. It’s just part of the human condition, same as the joy. So running from it doesn’t do any good anyway. You can’t run from your bats, they just fly right along side you. What you have to do is learn to say “Okay bats, that’s enough. I’m shutting you up in the closet now.” Sure, they’re going to sneak out from time to time; they are as slippery as a toddler sneaking out of the time-out chair! But they can’t all get out at the same time, what with being stuck in that closet. Just maybe one or two at a time, not in an overwhelming herd or flock or gaggle or whatever it is a group of bats is. 🙂 You can handle that. Maybe not at first, which is totally okay, but you learn. Just a teeny little bit at a time. But you learn. You don’t have to learn it all at once, or in 30 days or by the time this or that recovery seminar is over. No time table luvs, you are where you are while you are there. So work on that part and don’t worry about the rest. It’s not like it’s going anywhere til you get time to deal with it. So one step and when that one’s done, then the next. One. That is all. Oh, and btw, EVERYTHING counts! One breath. One getting out of bed. One 30 seconds—someone’s husband said that; sheer genius and God bless him. If that’s what you got, that’s what you got. Congratulate yourself. Mean it. Maybe tomorrow you can breathe again AND get out of bed. Then breathe, get out of bed, and brush your teeth. Those all count. They all add up over time, like pennies in a jar. The more you do, the more you’ll have and if you get it one penny at a time, so what? It is enough. You are enough. You. Can. Do. This. That is all. You don’t know me. I don’t know you. But I about you. And you are all children of God even if you don’t believe it. Even if you don’t believe in God. Child of the Universe then. Whatever, I don’t care. In the words of the inimitable Crosby, Stills, and Nash, “We are stardust, we are golden”. We are. You are. And because you are and for absolutely NO OTHER REASON WHATSOEVER, you are worthy. And just because you don’t feel all golden and star-dusty will never take away from the fact that you are and always have been. You just have to re-learn it is all. I will hold each one of you in my heart. I mean it. We do hard things together. Glennon knows how, so listen to her, ‘k? Love always to you all.
Wow. That was beautiful. And loving. And profound in its simplicity. I wish I had found Glennon and people like you when I was digging my way out of depression . . .exactly like addiction . .
Six years ago. Did all these things with just me and my angel of a mom. Then lost it for reasons to lengthy to mention. Lots of painful reasons. And I don’t think I am strong enough to do it all over again at 50. Too hard and too late. But good for you for bein v so kind
“To those of you tethered to drugs or booze or food or snark or perfection or work or shopping or any other life pain killer I would say this: You must stop running from your broken heart. A broken heart won’t kill you, but running WILL. If it doesn’t kill your body, running takes your soul.
You must Be Still. You must stand still long enough to feel it all. The only person on Earth you must answer to is Yourself in the Stillness.”
Some of the truest words I’ve ever read.
Also watched your “Refusing to Dance” clip on the The Work of the People site. You made me cry. In a good way.
Thank you for sharing.
Glennon,
I am starting over my recovery after recently having a relapse….tomorrow will be day 30…30.long.days….sigh…I feel the need to add extra… So …………………………………… 🙂 you words are single handedly helping me stay sober yesterday, today, and tomorrow….actually your words are telling me not to worry about tomorrow…just today! 🙂 so THERE tomorow! Ha! Keep doing stuff that matters… I hope you see this comment today and smile! God bless
30 days is awesome! You got this.
we can do hard things – just one day at a time. heck, one moment at a time!
Smile. 🙂
CARRY ON, WARRIOR. Just the next right thing.
G
You can do it. You can. One day. One moment. One breath at a time if that’s all you can manage to start with. Just breathe. You can do this. You are not alone.
My heart aches and soars for you, kW. You can do this. I am so proud of where you are and where you want to be and where you’re going… A beautiful righteous woman, wife, daughter, and mother.
Praying for your journey today. Lifting you up…
Hey there! I just wanted to ask if you ever have any trouble with hackers?
My last blog (wordpress) was hacked and I ended up losing
months of hard work due to no backup. Do you have any methods to prevent hackers?
Thank you Glennon. You are such a beautiful writer.
I am a recovering bulimic/anorexic, I’ve been semi-sober for two years. My farter is still an active alcoholic and I have no idea what to do. He is 70 years old and I just don’t have the courage to confront him once again about the drinking. I know we are loosing him to alcohol-induced dimencha and having lost my mother at 22, this scares me so.
I am still struggling with my own sickness, focusing om being a good enough wife, mother and midwife, and I feel like I can’t do much more.
I just really wish that I could.
Your words have really helped me and my sister (also sober bulimic) and we repeat your words to eachother for comfort: “Show up, be kind, be brave”
We live in Stockholm, Sweden. Your words have carried far my friend.
Once again, Thank you so much. All my love
Wow. Thank you for your powerful words. I am so grateful for women like you who are not afraid to talk about the parts that hurt, and the healing that is possible. A little scary to embark, so thank you again.
Alcoholic myself, sober 9,329 days today. When someone public, especially someone who was talented and (as far as I know) brought a gift everywhere they went, dies of this thing, it IS a reminder that death and misery are daily options for me too.
BUT
For all those who are trapped at the bottom of the well, freedom and life are daily options too. They might not feel wonderful at first but they are there. I drank alone in a dungeon I could not escape. But that dungeon was as fragile as a soap bubble.
My sobriety feel like a granite foundation beneath me. But given a bad enough spiritual condition, it could vanish like a soap bubble too.
In the midst of life, we are in death.
And:
In the midst of death, they are in life. Just a thought, a phone call, a friend away.
Somedays, it can be too hard to stay awake and pay attention when the brokenness you find might just ruin what’s left of you…. I mean, how do you stop running when it’s all you’ve ever done and the only way to get through? Standing still, and much more running towards that brokenness, takes the breath right out of me…
Dear friend, don’t focus on how or tomorrow, just be still today. Do today and that’s all. And when you stand still, don’t look at the brokenness, just breathe. Close your eyes, focus on the filling up and pushing out it takes to breathe and that will keep your breath from being taken away today. Just stand and breathe. Tomorrow has enough stuff of its own so don’t think about tomorrow yet. Just Today. Just Still. Just Breathe. Saying a prayer for your today, your standing still, your breathing…for you. All shall be most well.
Thank you for this. I will try and start with just standing, eyes closed, breathing…..and maybe there will be a day when I can look at the brokenness. And still breathe. Thank you.
You learn, luv. You learn that even though running is all you’ve ever known and all you’ve ever done, that it isn’t the ONLY way to get through. It’s just the way you have always done it. You learn to stand still and let all the things you’ve run from simply come at you and wash over and away. Like standing in the ocean and just letting the waves go around you. Have you ever accidentally walked into a group of oncoming people? If instead of dodging and dancing, you simply stop and stand still, they will go around you. Automatically. Standing still does not make the things go away. But neither does running. The thing is, running is what takes your breath away. Fighting takes your breath away. Then you are too tired. So don’t. Stand still. Just breathe. The things will be there. The things will hurt. A lot. For awhile. But then the wave crashes and it simply flows around you and away. And you have your breath because you didn’t run. So when the next wave comes, and it will, you will have enough strength to withstand it as well. And the next one, and the next one, and the one after that. Then after a little while, you realize that the waves aren’t so big anymore. They aren’t as terrifying and not only do they not knock you down, you realize they WON’T knock you down. And even better, that even when they were big waves they didn’t knock you down! How do you know? Because YOU ARE STILL STANDING. And those waves are just little lapping wavelets. Because the storm is over. And you are on the shore. Just start with standing still and breathing. It is enough.
You are right, things hurt. A lot. And what I’ve always managed to do is run and fight and put things into boxes so I could keep running. I want to hope that someday I will be able to stand and face those things, without being crashed over. It’s near terrifying to even think about the possibility. Thank you for taking the time to respond to this. Maybe someday we will all stand together on that shore with the ocean around our feet.
Really wonderful post. xo
Thank you for sharing this. I’m just a tiny bit over six months clean & sober. I drink a LOT of coffee, go to a LOT of meetings and smoke a few too many cigarettes. But, just for today, I am not a galactic source of wreckage and humiliation to the collective, sometimes fragile, human experience. Some days, like today, that’s the best I can do. And by the grace of God, I believe it’s enough. I almost ran last week when I had a little upset at work. I called my sponsor and asked “What do I do?” She gave me this piece of enlightenment: “You go back in and do your job”. Who knew? lol I’m also a little shook up…as I read that one of the prescription drugs I was abusing to keep my drinking going was found with Philip Seymour Hoffman. It’s quite a realization to understand that, yes, I was that bad.
Thank you for sharing – AGAIN 🙂
Funny I thought of you when I read about this tragic loss. I wondered if you thought about how lucky you are and if you would reflect on it. You have, of course. Thank goodness for your recovery, and all that you do to share your process!!!!
Glennon, your words always speak very powerfully to me. And as I read this today ( forwarded to me by a very dear friend) I am overcome by grief. I. Just. Can’t. It’s too much! I have an eating disorder that has dominated my life for nearly 30 years that has recently gotten out of control and I am currently quite anorexic. And I drink excessively daily. And I have a marriage that is shakey at best. A 41 year mother of 4 boys with no ability to sit w me. Everyday I try to do the next best thing…I fail. Stillness scares the shit out of me.
Hi Amie – you don’t know me, and I don’t know you, but why does that matter? I just want to let you know that IT GETS BETTER. do not give up on yourself. believe that things can get better, wake up every morning and remind yourself that God gave you the morning to open your eyes and SEE. don’t just look at your reflection in the mirror, try to SEE yourself. look past the fear, the hatred, the worry and the hunger, try to SEE the beauty of what makes you YOU. there is something beautiful inside of you Amie – I know it. God makes no mistakes, He made you strong and powerful and BEAUTIFUL. you just have to Be Still to realise that. It’s okay to be scared. life is so terrifying, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a gift too. try to SEE it all. just SEE one thing every day and i know that you’ll learn to Be Still without even noticing it anymore. never forget – YOU ARE NOT ALONE.
Amie, this sounds honest and brave to me, and maybe writing this was your success for today. Stillness takes practice for some of us. Be patient with yourself. Keep trying. You’re worth it.
I like what Tricia said: “…maybe writing this was your success for today.” Sometimes success means simply getting out of bed. Been there, done that. In the midst of months of postpartum depression, I once mentioned to my husband that I had felt ‘normal’ for about thirty seconds one day. He said “Hang on to that thirty seconds. It’ll grow.” And it has.
Do you have a in-real-life person you can talk to, Amie? Someone to help you, watch your boys, etc?
Praying for you amie. You are not alone. You may have had a crappy hand of cards dealt to you… But you are not your past. You are a big beautiful soul underneath all that shakiness. xoxo
Praying to an imaginary figure in the sky has never helped anyone!
Actually, praying to whatever/whomever people pray to has helped a lot of people. As a person of faith, I have my own beliefs about what I’m doing and who I’m doing it with when I’m praying and how it helps me. But beyond or outside of that, the act of prayer itself is an act of letting go—letting go of control, letting go of ego, letting go of fear. That alone can make be a big help to people, regardless of whether what/who they are praying to is “real” or “imaginary.”
one instance where science can back up faith, studies have proven people who pray are generally healthier than those who dont.must be helping 🙂
Hi, Josh –
I am an atheist, and while I don’t believe that “an imaginary figure in the sky” created me and the life on this Earth, I do believe that the universe is greater, and leaving your fate out of your control has wielded much better results for me than I could’ve ever dreamed.
For me, “God” is “a peace of mind.” And I completely agree with Annie in that sense: when I’m feeling down, afraid, or out of control, I try to ask myself why I’m feeling that way. A lot of times, the “why” is a lack of control, an entitled ego, or a fear of what’s ahead. What I can control is my peace of mind. Taking a step back, relaxing, meditating, whatever it is…just realizing that things may have ups and downs, but for the most part, life always works out the way it’s supposed to.
Being negative in a place where people are trying to share support and positive thoughts has a much lower record of success than praying. 🙂
So beautiful and encouraging. Thank you and prayers for healing especially for Lori, god bless you.
So powerful… But how do you stop running when you don’t know what you are running from or why!? 🙁
sit down for five minutes a day in a quiet spot and breathe. see what comes up.
I just can’t.
G….girl, this is so beautiful and I so badly want to stop running and be still, but I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.
Then do just that! but physically. Run outside, Join a gym, get a work out video. I promise this will help.
You can start by walking a mile, then you will go to 3 miles and before you know it you will enjoying a new addiction. Please just try! It works!
Thanks, Wendy! I do run, and it definitely can help sometimes. 🙂
you just did. you were still enough to write this- the truth.
“So even if the hot loneliness is there, and for 1.6 seconds we sit with that restlessness when yesterday we couldn’t sit for even one, that’s the journey of the warrior. (68)”
― Pema Chödrön, When Things Fall Apart: Heartfelt Advice for Hard Times
Oh wow, I need to get my hands on that book, like, yesterday…that quote is almost too painfully beautiful to read.
Thanks, as ever. Really. You are a wonder.
G, thank you for this — it’s so timely. I wrote this just last week: “Today is day one with zero caffeine. None. No more drug of choice. In a gradual withdrawal process, I’ve used up every bit of caffeine in the house. I’m doing this because I’m tired. I’ve been tired for a long time, but I’ve refused to know this. Instead, I’ve been using caffeine to prop me up. For some time now, my body has been telling me to stop. To let it heal. To please get out of the way and stop fueling up.
It’s hard to let go of our drugs. It really is. When I read Glennon Melton’s statement that we are all in recovery from something, I thought, really? And then I thought about it some more. I let it settle in. And I thought, Yes. Really.
The truth is, I am in recovery from a host of potent drugs: caffeine, stress addiction, people-pleasing, perfectionism, workaholism, and superwoman syndrome.
And I expect a lot from myself in recovery. I expect to be able to write brilliantly, to grow my blog, to be present in relationship and see the bigger picture.
But sometimes, all we can do is show up. All we can do is be honest about what’s broken. All we can do is say, ‘No, I’m not all right, not right now.’
And strangely, that’s where the healing starts. Because even if everything else has gone to ground, an honest answer is like a root sprouting, like something alive.
If we’re being honest about a problem, at least we’re not hiding. And coming out of hiding is usually the hardest step to take.”
XOXOXO
G – I can’t stop crying about the death of Philip Seymour Hoffman. 23 years sober – TWENTY THREE YEARS! “Even after all these years – there I am going about my business and then: Oh yeah. That’s right. That thing that could kill me.” That’s it! That’s what rips my heart out about all this. But for the Grace of God, there go I.
I’ve been following you for a long time. The first time I read this post was way back in the day, back on the old blog, back before you became huge. I remember how it touched me then. I fact, I recall that it was the second post of yours that I ever read. I’ve followed you ever since that day. Your strength and ability to climb out and heal yourself are both remarkable and inspiring. I’m still struggling but still inspired. Some day …
I read this post and went to comment but couldn’t find the words to type from my heart. I came back and read this a couple more times and here I am. I am a recovering drug addict and all of your words are so right on target. And I cannot thank you enough for sharing them. Today they hit me between the eye’s because today I woke up overwhelmed with this gnawing in my soul that won’t go away no matter how much I pray. My husbands drinking. There I said. These words I don’t dare speak out loud to anyone. The tears are falling from my eye’s and my soul as I write this. My heart is broken over this…his drinking from the time he gets home to the time he goes to bed. He is not mean. He works every day. He doesn’t go out drinking. He drinks alone and in silence. While I can have a beer or a couple and have no problem with it, I rarely drink because I have come to hate it so much. I hate it because it makes him numb and shut down. He doesn’t connect with me or our little’s. We are raising his daughters 2 children as our own. We have had them since they were both babies and now they are 7 & 8. He is or can be a good daddy but much of the time relies on me to lead the way and to carry the brunt of raising them.
I talk to him now and then when the burden gets to be too much and he will say that he is going to do something about this. He admits there is a problem. He say’s all the right things to me and then. Nothing. I encourage. I say many of the things you write in this post. I build him up. I ask him to drink less or to stop all together. I beg him to get help and to do something about his disconnect. I end up being silent because my talking or actions seem to fall on deaf ears. He knows this is hurting me. When it affects our little’s in way’s that are obvious I speak out. I am praying constantly. And I wonder sometimes if God is listening or cares.
This is a burden I carry alone. We so seldom have people here or go anywhere and I just can’t seem to get myself to speak out loud these words that I am typing to you to any of my friends. They would be so disappointed and honestly I feel like I would be letting so many people down. I have 5 now adult children that I think they kind of know. They know he drinks and know he is quiet by nature but I don’t think they know it’s like it is. Because he isn’t mean, still works, doesn’t hit me or swear at me or go out to the bars or cheat on me, how bad can it be? Why am I complaining if he’s not doing any of those things????
I am so alone and I don’t know what to do. I called him after reading this and talked to him once again. I told him I can’t keep living like this and that I am afraid of what his disconnect and drinking are doing to our future together. I told him that he is numbing himself for a reason and that he needs to find out the why’s. He say’s he knows this is a problem and that he needs help. I told him that I can’t be the only person that helps him. And then there was silence. The silence is killing me.
The thing is it feels like he is sucking the life out of me by always depending on me to be the strong one, to be the care giver, the lover, the one that cares and does and does and does…ect….his drinking is drowning me. His silence and not caring about me is hurting my soul. I’ve cried out to God with this all morning. I’ve laid it at his feet and here I am writing to a stranger about my husbands drinking. Not sure what to do but maybe I will find some comfort after speaking these words of truth. Thank you for speaking the truth. I am always blessed by your words.
Lori Love, I hope you can find your way to an Al-Anon meeting. It is a support group for those who are bothered by someone’s drinking. You are not alone. Nearly every local chapter has meeting location info online and a phone number to call. Be Strong. Call that number and someone who knows exactly how you are feeling will answer the phone and listen. Go to a meeting. You don’t have to speak, just listen, and you will be home.
Lori, I will pray with you. I will add your family to my prayers for my own family. God does listen, please don’t ever doubt that. He is our Heavenly Father, our Parent, and sometimes He lets us fall so that we can pick ourselves up and walk. We may only take one step, but that one step is a start. I pray that whatever burden your husband carries will soon become the weight of a feather. And I pray the same for your burden. Much love to you.
Lori, my husband drank just like yours for nearly 20 years. We have three children. I suggest you get a copy of “Codependent No More” as well as attend Al-Anon meetings. My husband did give up drinking about 6 years ago. It wasn’t a dramatic event, he had just finally agreed that he couldn’t stop at one, ever.
Best of luck to you. It can get better, Lori. I promise.
Lori,
There is a wonderful book that you two should read together. “His Needs, Her Needs” written by Willard F. Harvey.
Dear Lori,
I agree, Al-Anon is the place where you can tell all of this to everyone and you will not be letting anyone down, you will not be judged, you will not be anything other than a loving wife in great need of support from others who can relate. You’ve not done anything wrong. You are simply in need of support, love, comfort, counsel, insights. Please find a meeting near you. Do not let yourself down by NOT getting the support you need. Your husband will hopefully do what he needs to do for himself, you and your family, but even if he doesn’t–you getting what you need is not dependent on him doing the same. You are loved and you are an important piece of God’s puzzle.
My heart has been broken since I can remember…childhood filled with great great memories yet always there was the sadness….your comment to Candace was an epiphany to me…..really…I am having a lightbulb moment and I actually felt a touch of peace…..thank you ever so much
Thanks for this, G. I recently came clean with my husband about my shopping addiction/ debt. He and my DA friends could not be more supportive or wonderful. As of last weekend I am, for the first time in 20 years, credit card free. And it is SO FREAKING HARD. This weekend I was in a horrific, terrible mood and realized I was experiencing my own symptoms of withdrawal. And you were right there in my head – telling me that it was OK and that I could do it and that I would be stronger on the other side. I put myself to bed at 8:30 and am still shaky, but much better. THANK YOU for making addiction something we can talk about. It makes such a difference.
Wow! I lost my brother to alcoholism nine month ago. How I wish he’d had a friend like you to guide him.
So sorry for your loss, Allie. My sister has been fighting this disease for 16 years and it’s hard to watch your sibling suffer. I am so scared to lose her someday. Love to you.
Thanks Casey, I really appreciate your kind words. I really hope your sister gets better, losing sibling is so, so hard. You just never really et yourself go there…
G, I swear you’ve been on fire lately. I can’t thank you enough for sharing your words with me and with the world. I take your words and share them with other women, some sober, some not there yet. I hang onto the thought that at least I’m planting the seed.
Sobriety is not the easy road for us….but it’s the only road we can walk. I’ve been sober for a few twenty-four hours, but my recovery did not start until I started doing the things I didn’t want to do. The painful things. The hard things. Defrosting. Look at the alternatives. ANY of us can be Philip Seymour Hoffman. Any of us.
Absolutely soul-touching. G, thank you for giving each of us a key to unlock the cage we’ve locked ourselves in, no matter how big or small our locks are or what our cages looks like.
Thanks for the encouragement….do you ever discover what really broke your heart? I’m always trying to understand my addictive personality…and to love my “too sensitive” self! I have stuffed feelings down for 40+ years (bulimia)…gonna take awhile to “peel the onion” but, oh, how I want to be brave and REAL…and BELIEVE that I am loved…painful past, present imperfections, and ALL of me!
Candace,
I think that anyone who is really awake, who is really paying attention, has a broken heart.
I think a broken heart is something to strive for, to run towards. Everything beautiful begins with a broken heart.
Love,
G
I think that a heart that hasn’t been broken hasn’t been used very much….and isn’t that a terrible waste…
I read this chapter in your book at least once a week to remind my self of how strong I must have been those first hours, days, weeks, months of sobriety. To remind my self that the strength is there. I keep choosing Joy. I push to do the next right thing. But I am in the midst of such great struggle with my eating disorder. The struggle pulls tight and though I feel too weary to run, I’m too scared to let go. I want to scream- “oh God, help!” I’m so afraid of admitting how hard it is right now. I’m weary. And I’m afraid. I’m grateful for this post yet sad it’s on the heels of the death of a fellow addict… God give me the strength to cry out in my weakness! Big LOVE
Glennon thank you so much for sharing this. I want to say that this is great advice also for someone working through a divorce, or death, or probably any tragedy, whether they’re addicted to something illegal or not. I’ve come to realize similar truths in my own journey. The strongest lesson I learned in my 44 hour labor- homebirth with my daughter, is that you feel like the pain will swallow you whole…it’s the most powerful thing, ever. But the reality is that the pain of childbirth is only as strong as the strength of your own body. So it can’t kill you, because the pain is coming from within you, not without. I’ve found the same thing to be true as i’ve navigated an unwanted divorce this past year. The pain cannot kill me. I’ve learned to be “comfortable with the discomfort”… and on the really bad days, i just have to DO. Great article. I think anyone could benefit from it.
Beautiful!