“Some events mark us so deeply that they find more force of presence in their aftermath than in their occurrence. They are moments that rankle at becoming past, and so remain contemporaries of our beating hearts. Some events are not remembered – they are relived.”
-R. Scott Bakker
I always think back to my conversation with Samuel in the car, when I hear people talk about asking for help (you can read Part I here).
If you didn’t catch it, I’m trying to make a particular point by relaying that story: reaching out is never a certain thing, regardless of one’s experience.
Take Samuel and I for example (I know it’s a little extreme, but bear with me). You have two people at entirely different ages, that have both been through multiple detoxes and rehabs – I’m essentially sitting in that car with myself, and a younger version of myself. Each have also been through extensive therapy and 12-step programs.
There is no doubt that they understand addiction. They are substance abuse veterans.
Yet when the question of asking for help comes up between them – pure uncertainty greets that age old conundrum…
Would you tell? Would you reach out? Would you take that leap?
It’s a trip to say that.
But it’s the truth. There’s no easy answer as to why some people can ask for help and others struggle so much with it.
And that was a real conversation we had. I distinctly remember getting home that night and being shaken, questioning if people were being truthful with me or hiding things.
Now, if I had relapsed, would I have ever told anyone? Honestly, I don’t have an answer to that question. I’d hope I would. But my plan is to live a life in which that question never becomes a reality.
I’ll cross that bridge if the chasm ever presents itself.
Yet, I’m coming up on almost 5 years clean and I’ll tell you, reaching out and asking for help, is still not an easy thing for me.
You’d think I’d be humbled and have this down pat by now. But I don’t. It’s still so comfortable for me to slip into my ego and believe I can solve things on my own.
That’s one of the hardest habits to ever break. Kick that crutch out from under you that has supported you your entire life. And some people can’t. Unfortunately, that’s what usually costs them the ultimate price.
However, I have changed in some ways. When I was in my twenties, I used to think asking for help was a weakness. Just suck it up and be tougher. Who needs a therapist, who needs meds, only the weak succumb to their faults.
But I’ve come full circle since then. If there’s a way to help, if there’s a way to alleviate some pain, then why not try it – whether that relief may come from social or pharmaceutical means.
So whenever I hear, we’re addressing mental health as a society – just ask for help. That’s a catch 22 in my mind. Asking for help sounds so simple, yet it is much more complex once you start to look under the surface.
And I don’t think people realize how difficult it is.
When you’ve known your pain for so long, entwined in it as cruelly yet intimate as an abusive lover, it’s the hardest thing to finally let go. You just don’t even know how.
It’s become a part of you, lodged within your skin. It has no beginning, and it has no end. It just exists within.
There came a point in my addiction, when I knew it was over. But even with all my intelligence, understanding and suffering, I still couldn’t figure out how to ask for help. All I knew, was it was going to end badly, and whether I’d die or not, was a risk I didn’t know how not to take.
I’ll give you my specific example that still sounds crazy to me, but this is what happened, a perfect mirror of how insanity manifests to reflect that twisted image we can become…
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It was early morning, maybe 7:30-7:45am in September 2016. My wife had just left for work, so I was standing in our pantry/laundry room making my morning drink. It had become a ritual for me, that morning drink. The clink of the ice, a pour from the bottle. A depressing formality, yet necessary. A self-fulfilling prophecy whispering of the frenzied demons yet to come.
Sometimes I’d need one in the middle of the night as well, to fend off the shakes (for those less familiar you can look up DTs and wet brain). But this particular morning hadn’t been too bad.
When I’d finished, I took a few sips, felt the poison take effect almost immediately and stepped toward the backyard door.
The details still stick out like splinters in my mind. I can’t forget them.
I opened the door but didn’t step outside. Why? I don’t know. I just stood in the doorway, leaning there with drink in hand like a painting on the wall.
The sun was shining. It was the beginning of a perfect Southern California day. Birds chirped in a nearby yard.
Yet, I felt like shit. Standing there alone. Not doing anything. Simply staring out the door at our house’s grey-green paneling like some long-lost soul stranded in the nether life. Neither dead nor alive. Simply being.
No job. No anchor. No direction.
Drifting.
Then I slowly looked down at the drink in my hand, the glass catching the crystalline light as if winking some diabolical grin, and I remember thinking… this is bad. This is real bad. I can’t stop.
And in that moment, a single question pricked my thoughts like a needle in the arm – that question which eventually haunts every addict had finally come: How had I arrived at this point… this crossroads? How did I ever let it get this bad?
And the crazy part was how I answered myself. I told myself I only had two options.
The first was to carry on as is. I know I’m fucked; I know I can’t stop. But this is all I know how to do – scratch and claw, do whatever it takes to prop up the façade. I’ll keep on lying until I’m caught and forced to do something. Never admit defeat on my own. Maybe I can still fix this somehow?
Pure delusion wrapped in the heart of my disease.
And the second option was, well, if my liver gives out and I die. My wife will be fine with our finances. She’ll be taken care of. At least I have provided for her.
I had done my duty.
But what duty had I done? Money isn’t an answer. It’s a tool. It can’t un-erase my existence and fill a wound that will never heal.
Yet, that was it, those were the only two options my inebriated brain could fathom.
Never once did it cross my mind, that I could stop what I was doing and ask for help. I could put down that drink in that exact moment, take action and change my life for the better. Nope. It was either keep on drinking, and maybe I get discovered, or keep on drinking until the end.
Asking for help was never even an option.
It terrified me more than dying.
I want to say this again in a different way to be clear, because I think that line is very powerful. It reveals a lot…
I was more scared – petrified – of approaching another human being and admitting defeat, than I was of taking the risk of going to sleep and never waking up. I would have taken that tradeoff every single day and twice on Sundays as the old me.
And I want to stress that I have never been suicidal. You get a lot of those people in detox/rehab, but that was never me. I had an insane zest for life, yet when it came to something as simple as reaching out. I would take my chances with the great leveler, rather than swallow my pride, face my fear and accept my denial.
Life had not prepared me how to fail in this magnitude before.
In my mind, there was no coming back from this.
There wasn’t a single ounce of my being that knew how to ask for help. When we’re so proud, we honestly don’t know how.
I mean, looking back at it now, it’s almost comical. It’s fucking crazy. Insane. Utter stupidity.
How could I have not reached out?
To someone who has never struggled with addiction this is probably baffling to them.
But that was reality. That was the chemical prison I had built for myself.
Why didn’t other friends see it? Why didn’t other family reach out?
There’s nothing that blinds people more than achievement.
It’s as simple as that.
When it comes to gauging others, all we can see is all that they have – the outside show, rather than what’s really going on inside. When you don’t know what to look for, it’s so easy to be deceived.
As long as you’re moving and shaking, doing things, people tend to look the other way with your character flaws. They give you more leniency… more rope to hang yourself with. What shortcomings in a normal person might cause concern, yours are brushed aside as necessary eccentricities rather than cries for help.
Look at all he’s accomplishing. Of course, he’s stressed out. He’s pushing for greatness. It takes sacrifice to win the game. He’ll slow down at some point.
But do we ever?
I don’t know. I have no answers when it comes to mental health.
But what I’ve experienced, is life can get better, but reaching out never gets easier. You must work at it.
Is there a way to help someone you see struggling?
That’s the million-dollar question. Isn’t it?
Here’s what I’ve found to be true…
You do what you can, when you can, with what they’ll allow. Everyone is different. Each of us processes pain in our own unique way.
But if someone does reach out, be there.
Lending that shoulder to lean on can sometimes be more comforting than having the answer.
And always remember, life is zig-zagging pattern of connections.
You are not alone.
We are all in this together.
-Q-FI
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How comfortable have you been with asking for help in your life? Do you find it easy? Or when push comes to shove, do you retreat inside? I know, it’s a personal question that many would rather not ask.
Hey. I was curious where you were going with this after part 1 last week. It’s a powerful story to share and I can imagine not always easy to write.
From my own experience, it seems this is so often the way. The ego needs to be stripped down before you can build it back up again – ideally in a better way with the wisdom and knowledge gained from the experience. The harder we cling to the old, the longer it takes us to accept and change. And the more painful it is.
I’m a natural retreater but personally I have got sooooo much better at this as I’ve gotten older. Once your sense of self is way less dependent on external validation it’s all much more peaceful inside. Reaching out for help doesn’t feel like a weakness, more like the obvious thing to do as you say. It may still chafe at times but it doesn’t stop me now.
I hope sharing your story encourages others to have the strength to reach out too. And even more, that someone is there to listen for them. It makes the biggest difference.
Nicely done Q-FI.
Hey Michelle and thanks for both the kind and thoughtful words.
I can tell you have some experience in this realm by your perceptive insights.
“The ego needs to be stripped down before you can build it back up again – ideally in a better way with the wisdom and knowledge gained from the experience. The harder we cling to the old, the longer it takes us to accept and change. And the more painful it is.”
Very true and I couldn’t have said it better myself.
You and I are very alike in our journeys Michelle. As a natural retreater myself, I’ve also found I’ve improved so much w/ age and experience. It’s almost like night and day. Probably never easier as per say, but an acquired skill the more grounded and comfortable I have become in my own skin as that external validation has fallen away.
Yes… “it’s all much more peaceful inside.” Haha.
You and I have agreed on this before – there is so much power in just having someone listen. Doesn’t matter if you have any answers, simply sharing in someone’s pain by acknowledging it, can be a difference maker.
Great insights as always Michelle and thanks for sharing your perspective. Much appreciated.
Excellent set of articles, dude! Eye opening and thought provoking. As always, I appreciate your candor and courage in sharing your past.
I was similar in my youth in seeing asking for help as a weakness or some personal failing. That changed fairly quickly when I got my 1st mentor. It made me re-frame the way I saw things and that asking for help was actually a great thing to do. Moreover, I’ve found the people are generally willing and excited to do so. Looking back objectively, most of my achievements, favorable aspects of who I am and my personal growth have almost always involved asking for and receiving the help of others.
Hey Mr. Fate. I always appreciate your support. Yeah, like I mentioned in my first tweet, these two posts came out of nowhere, and that’s what I’ve learned to do, roll with it. Haha. I don’t know if I was watching the Olympics or the Simone Biles stuff (whether anyone agrees w/ it or not), and I was thinking about my own situation. But I hope I captured some of the insanity that can happen to us. Usually when people most need help, that’s when they are most likely to not seek it – like in my case. It’s counterintuitive to the normal Joe, but that’s just what I’ve found to be true.
Maybe someone gets something out of it, maybe not. But it’s what interested me in writing at the time.
Also like you, asking for help has led to some of my greatest personal growth as well as achievements. It’s always interesting seeing how our perspectives widen with age – or at least we hope so… hahaha.
Great comment bud and insight.
like you, i would probably take my chances with the reaper. as a long time somewhat booze bag i surely can relate to the habits and routine of the bottle. thankfully we stick to wine and only during the civilized hours normally between 5 and 9pm. a bottle of whiskey lasts a year or more in our house usually (unless people show up on ketucky derby day).
do we drink more than medically recommended? absolutely! you really nailed it when you mention the wide berth given to those drinkers who appear to have their shit together and are achieving things outwardly. “they really have it together!” the strange phenomenon about being inside all this activity is that it can be hard to tell when you are flying too close to the sun. our wings haven’t melted yet but we’ve lost some friends that way. anyhow…good post.
I try to mention once in a while in these posts that drugs and alcohol are not bad. They worked for me for a long time. And not only worked, but worked very well. Just like money, they are tools, a means to an end, an enhancement along the journey – it’s the person using them and in what capacity that matters. I was able to have some amazing times and push myself to achieve some pretty cool things by self medicating. However, unfortunately my body isn’t a machine and I got hooked and had to change. But I’ve always believed, there is nothing wrong with being a boozehound or drinking heavily. It’s like sweets. Life is short, enjoy and indulge. Rage it up and have fun. Of course we take things too far, or drink too much, that’s being human. It’s when that line permanently crosses into physical and mental dependency that change will probably become necessary at some point.
For me, it all boils down to consequences. If you’re able to drink a ton and have minimal consequences. Friggin’ great. That’s the line I wish I would have been able to tow. However, if those consequences start to outweigh the benefits, then maybe it’s time to take a little look under the hood and see if any changes might be beneficial.
I’m a big fan of harm reduction. Do what works for you. A lot of people in sobriety, only believe in abstinence. From my history, that’s my path and what works for me. A harm reduction/moderation method never would have worked for me. But who’s to say it can’t work for someone else? And if there is any improvement to be had, I think that’s still a step in the right direction. People can still live amazing lives by self-medicating. Just like how our FI journeys are unique, so is how we live our lives and what we choose to indulge in.
Great perspective Freddy. I loved the “flying to close to the sun” and “our wings haven’t melted yet” references. Spoken by a true student of someone who’s been there and done that.
Yeah, at some point the chickens come home to roost. And as you know you can’t imagine life with booze/drugs etc and you can’t imagine life without it. There’s no choice but get help. It’s still tough for me asking for help or trusting that person I ask
When you mix together, self-sufficiency, pride, achievement and simply downright privacy – reaching out never gets easier. It’s that age-old cliché, play with fire enough and eventually you’ll get burned.
That shift you mention is kind of funny how it works and I agree with you. At fist you can’t imagine life without drugs/alcohol. But then you slowly change and can’t imagine life with drugs/alcohol again. You’ve become an entirely different person.
Thanks for chiming in Glincoln.
Wow! Crazy story man. I like last weeks post as well. Hats off to you for sharing your personal story and diving into this difficult subject.
Drinking is so normalized in our culture that it’s hard to pick out someone who’s struggling internally with it, I mean of course I can see the whacked out abusers, but there’s plenty who hide it well. And we chalk it up to having fun. When I stopped drinking it really hit me how much alcohol surrounds us on the daily. As a drinker, I didn’t see it so acutely. But man we’re inundated by it. And I can see how this line can be blurred between having fun and struggling, both for the user and those around the person.
I struggle for asking for help in all sorts of things. Luckily it’s mostly been avoiding help for BS stuff like moving or doing my fence. I’ve been able to somehow delve into drugs in my teenage youth and make it out. If I had a drug problem or drinking one, I’m not sure I’d have the guts to ask for help. I have first hand experience trying to get others to get help for drugs and drinking and it can really feel like an imposition if the user isn’t ready to get help.
Bravo for this post. Great writing as well. I felt like I was there with you on that SoCal morning.
Thanks for commenting Noel.
I agree that not only is drinking normalized, but there’s also still that prevailing typical stereotype of a drunk – brown bag in hand and homeless on a park bench. However, as you and I know, there are many highly functioning people that abuse substances.
The funny part is when you stop drinking and then start to notice how many beer commercials are on TV. You’re like holy shit, I never paid attention to this before… haha.
I think also, the more self-sufficient we are, which tends to be many FI people and Alpha personalities, the harder it is to ask for help as well. Good to hear you were able to leave those drugs behind to your youthful experimentation.
Your firsthand experience in trying to help others is realistic. Very hard to make someone stop using unless they want to. Same goes for recovery. It can’t be forced, it needs to be desired to have any useful effect.
Thanks for the kind words Noel and sharing part of your own story.
Such brutally honest writing – I love it! Like you, I’ve had to learn to ask for help, and I feel like it’s something I’m still learning. Who ever thought it was a skill anyone has to learn? But for some of us it is exactly that. The funny thing, you sound like you might be like I am: always willing to help another person, but the least likely to ask for help.
My situation was different in that I learned to take care of myself while growing up with an addict in my family. I always did the caretaking of the addict and figured out life in many respects for myself, so I knew how to help others, but that made it impossible to ask for help. You’re right that it feels like weakness at times, but it’s not. I hope you never have to cross the bridge of needing to ask for help after a relapse. You sound like you’re on the right path now. The addict in my family has 20 years sobriety now and has no interest in revisiting those self-destructive behaviors. I think you’ll be the same. 🙂
Brutal honesty, just honesty, musings, ramblings, simply gibberish… haha. Not sure what to call it.
Hopefully it was some food for thought and makes people think.
I’m glad it resonated with you Katie.
Unfortunately, the assumption, is that if someone is in trouble, then they will simply reach out. However, we tend to live our real lives like social media, presenting a pretty picture on the outside while trying to hide the blemishes underneath. It takes great strength to acknowledge you cannot do something alone. I equivocate it to the FI principle of knowing when enough is enough. It takes that same kind of strength to go against the grain and not accumulate more… to understand when you have enough and can remove yourself from the game and simply enjoy it. You’ve shed all the externalities like an old pair of dated clothing.
To your point, “you sound like you might be like I am: always willing to help another person, but the least likely to ask for help.” I’ve seen that some of the strongest people also are the best at hiding things. When you’re busy taking care of others, you are often neglecting yourself. Once again, balance riding the teeter totter of our lives.
Your experience of being the caretaker – watching, helping, enduring and learning – while on the surface looks very different, it actually can be much the same. You’re going through it all on almost two separate fronts – the family support side as well as living it painfully vicariously on the addict side. That level of involvement can be just as draining and demanding as the work the addict must do themselves.
I’m glad it sounds like it all worked out. 20 years is a ton of time.
As for me, one day at a time. And today hasn’t been so bad. =)