To Remove Addiction is To Wake Up To Presence

I've always believed in God.

When I was a kid, I used to talk to God alone in my bedroom. He was my best friend. He understood me. He knew I was a good person with a good heart.

When I became old enough to understand religion, I learned I was going to Hell. The criteria to get to Heaven was laid out and I didn't meet it. Case closed. I did what I did with anything I felt was a futile effort: I ignored it. No more God.

In my early 20s, I met someone who "shared the good news" with me. She was a non-denominational Christian and told me that I could come to church and that I would be forgiven. I didn't understand the idea of forgiveness, despite growing up in the Catholic church. Yes, I was baptized and confirmed, but didn't know that Christianity teaches that Jesus died on the cross for the forgiveness of sins.

I ended up going to that woman's church. It was a "mega church" -- one of those with stadium-style seating and coffee bars and full bands. I soaked it up, and soon I was a mega Christian going to a mega church.

I went every Sunday (and sometimes Wednesdays), joined a Bible study, bought more than one Bible and a cross necklace, listened to faith-based podcasts, attended chapel service with the Detroit Lions, and spoke to anyone who would listen about my newfound faith. To some, I inspired them to go back to church. To others, I was a nuisance, attempting to impose my sanctimonious will on them.

I did have good experiences from my time in that church.

The all-women's Bible study I was a part of truly changed my life, teaching me how to be friends with women.

I also had not-so-good experiences, which acted as a mirror. These experiences showed me who I really was and that I didn't fit into this new way of being I had adopted.

Why am I telling this story?

It's not to offer perspective on organized religion or faith in God.

It's not to tell anyone or any group of people what they should or shouldn't believe in.

I'm telling this story because it is indicative of what I was experiencing inside of myself.

As a young person, I desperately needed someone to lean on. I needed a confidant. Someone to accept me for who I was. At that time in my life, a relationship with God filled that role. The song, "Maybe There's A Loving God" by Sara Groves illustrates my experience perfectly and beautifully. I'm still moved every time I listen to that song.

As a young adult, I recognized that the things I'd done in my life didn't fit the "going-to-Heaven" criteria. I had to distance myself from that criteria to avoid the pain of recognizing I didn't match up. I wasn't good enough. Believing you aren't good enough and that you are inherently bad is a painful reality.

When you have to distance yourself from yourself, you numb. You check out of life.

One way I did that was by drinking.

When I was introduced to the non-denominational church, being "saved" was my way of checking out.

The organized religion was just as intoxicating as the alcohol.

The checklist of what I had to do to get into Heaven was just as numbing as wine or beer. Both distanced me from myself and and the fact that I believed I was "wrong." Both acted as a way to "fix" the discomfort I had with myself.

Addiction is transferrable. We have our "pet addictions" that we turn to innately, but remove one of those and it's easy to find another one.

The addiction cycle can only stop when we're present to ourselves.

When we can sit with who we truly are and accept ourselves with humility and compassion.

I've removed drinking from my life and I'm no longer a part of organized religion, but I still have to watch for signs of latching on to any one thing to avoid being with myself.

We're all capable of numbing to avoid ourselves; some mechanisms are simply more culturally acceptable than others. People numb with alcohol, drugs, religion, sex, work, technology, entertainment, spending. We can even numb with things like self-help and exercise. The key is to see where we're focusing as a way to check out of being present.

If you've ever seen the movie City of Angels with Nicholas Cage and Meg Ryan, you've seen a great illustration of waking up to presence. In that movie, Nicholas Cage is an immortal angel. He can't feel pain, but he also can't feel pleasure. His journey in the movie is the inner battle of whether it's worth it to wake up to pleasure if it also means waking up to pain.

Removing addiction is opening yourself up to peace and pleasure that can only be experienced through sobriety and presence.

Yes, you'll go through a flooding of pain and emotion as you learn to sit with yourself, but it will all be worth it in the end.

About First and Sober

First and Sober is about living life with presence. For some, that means first getting free from the hold alcohol has on their lives. For all, it means getting real about living each day wide awake and on purpose. If you believe you have a problem with alcohol you can't overcome on your own,?please reach out for help.