Recovery is a cultural phenomenon

On July 4, I was having one of those days. Not a bad day, just one of those days with too many options, and too many people to try to accommodate, and an inflexible schedule of my own to boot. By the time I had finished with my obligations, I had only a couple of hours to get ready and make it to several barbeques before darkness fell. I drove by the first party twice, all the way up into the canyons, back through and down another ,and back up again. The valet was full and the parking was terrible, and I was already spun- like most alcoholics, I don't do well under pressure. I was inclined to just go home and read a book.

I got a call from a friend who was at the party that asked me to just park and come up. Okay. That helped give me some direction. So I found a parking spot, except it said No Parking, but it was the only place to put a car in a half mile vicinity. And so, I was gripped by indecision again. Ug! I think we all know what this is like. TO top it off, I had just had a big chocolate-y coffee drink with whipped cream. So I sat, thinking.

Suddenly a little hummingbird came whipping up the road and landed. It sat right in the middle of the road. And sat. Until I got out of my car, and began walking towards it, at which point it flew off. But it got me out of my car, out of my indecision, and walking towards the party.

And what a party! Over 300 sober people, all having a blast. Its amazing to see, all these people having the time of their lives without alcohol. And not just 300 people in one space; most of us know each other. That is the beauty of recovery in LA; its a close knit tribe. When I was using, I would know a few people at any gathering, but not like this. Not to the point that it takes two hours to say hello to everybody. Honestly, in my using days, this is what I wanted. I often drank and popped pills to quell the anxiety of walking into a party. Why anxiety? Fear of rejection. 

In recovery, there isn't rejection by the tribe. Its complete inclusion into the life I always wanted. Its a large group of people who are there to help and love each other, and who have helped and loved me. The LA tribe not only know me; they know my two daughters as well. We gather for holidays; tree trimming, Thanksgiving, New Year's Eve. My kids call several of my recovery friends when they need to talk. They have dozens of uncles and aunts. This is the village that is helping raise my children. What a beautiful thing for them to get to experience!

Bottom line of this blog is this- because I am sober, I am able to walk through indecisiveness that used to cripple me into total inebriation. I didn't drive by the party once and go home; I drove back again. I picked up the phone, which I didn't do in my using. I sat and paused while sitting at the only parking spot. I was aware enough to see a sign when it was given to me. I recognized the hummingbird to be a more important sign than the one that said 'no parking.' And I got to have, as a result, a beautiful night surrounded by my tribe. I got to see two friends who have been struggling for almost 20 years celebrate their first 2 year mark of recovery in all that time. 

I love my life in recovery. The whole point of the upcoming channel is to be able to show others what we have; we know it isn't like this all over the country, and that we have a really special set of circumstances here in LA. But the main thing is that people who are considering getting sober see what is possible in sobriety, which is EVERYTHING. Anything you want can happen. It is anything you want it to be. We also want to show the cultural movement it is becoming; it is no longer a thing of shame, but a thing to be proud of. Surviving the addiction and thriving in sobriety is like coming home from war. Its a thing to celebrate, every day. And its the celebration that is the energy behind the recovery movement. Its exciting to think of how world views are changing as a result. Its beautiful to think of all the families healed, the kids who get their parents back, the parents who get their kids back, the relationships rescued, the hurts amended....as I stood at that party, with all those 300 people, I thought about all the lives that have improved as a result of their sobriety. Lets just say for argument's sake, 50 people, and that is a low number. That's 15,000 people who's lives have been positively impacted by recovery. 

That is the most exciting thing I can think about. Now I think about the number of people on our facebook fanpage, 4800 fans. If we again say that for each one of those people, 50 peoples lives have been improved- that is 240,000 people. Really think about this for a minute. Seriously, what could be more miraculous? We, who were destined to wrap around a tree, land in jail, we who couldn't leave our house without a handful of pills, who lost our jobs, woke up not knowing where we were- WE ARE CHANGING THE WORLD NOW! This is miraculous. MIRACULOUS. Amazing. Beautiful. Stunning. Breathtaking. Poignant. I challenge anyone not to agree that this is one of the most significant movements in history, and I am honored to be a part of it.

May the force be with you

Many years ago, I bought a weird little religious plaque that said- "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." I got it for its tongue-in-cheek value; it seemed morbid and morose, but the words were written in a very romantic, flowery font. I put it next to a triptych of three open coffins and above my collection of animal skulls. Just to re-iterate, this was many years ago, and I have thankfully lost my fascination with the moribund. 


In sobriety, I unearthed this plaque during one of my archeological expeditions in my storage. I laughed at my own expense, but then it hit me. We use words like repent without ever really looking them up, and I have learned in sobriety not to simply assume that my version of anything is THE version, the only version. When I do that, then I am disappointed when the rest of the world does not act in accordance. So, I looked it up.


re·pent ¹  (r-pnt)v. re·pent·ed, re·pent·ing, re·pents
To make a change for the better as a result of remorse or contrition for one's sins.


I had previously considered repent to be a state of being deeply, almost suicidally, sorry. And the whole saying- Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand- to mean, "you better be really, really sorry, cuz you're gonna die soon, mother f*cker!" 


When I looked up the word repent, I realized how close it is to making amends. Not just to consider one's previous actions deplorable, but to take accountability and change them for the better of all. That altered everything for me. I realized, suddenly, what that plaque now meant, given the new information (bestowed on me in a moment of clarity and grace, allowing me to make the distinction between MY version of reality, and another possibility, which was infinitely more profound )...and it is this-


"When you realize the error of your ways, and set about making them right, then the kingdom of heaven IS at hand." Heaven here and now is available when we are able to repent, to make amends, to set the record straight. I personally don't believe in a heaven hereafter, or a hell down below, I believe it is right here, right now. (See previous blog) And when we live right, we experience the kingdom of heaven here on earth.


In one program of recovery that applies an amends process, that requires it in the work that is done, it says "you will be amazed before you are half way through. You will understand the word serenity, and you will know peace." When we seek the people we have harmed and set the record straight, clean up the wreckage and own our part in it, we heal our little corner of the world. And the more of us that do it, the more we heal the entire world. For each of us that has gotten sober and made amends, I like to think of all the hurt that has been transformed. Thousands of people, maybe even millions, healed by the power of recovery. What happens in recovery doesn't stay in recovery; it ripples out into the masses and creates a better planet overall. That is why I like to call it a movement; its growing and expanding, affecting many people who are not having trouble with addictions, changing music, art, literature, movies with its message of hope. Recovery is light in  a dark world. Its a force to be reckoned with, its truth and healing and love...and if that isn't heaven on earth, I don't know what is.  (Ashley D)

Heaven and Hell/ sober at the soul level

I am reading a book right now that, while much of it seems far fetched, has parts that resonate with some ideas that have been forming with me since getting sober. It was talking about 'the other side', where souls go when they die, and how certain souls enter into a sort of never ending hell because they take their intricate control dramas over with them- even in death they are not able to let them go, and they recreate them on the other side, and thus are in hell. But what struck me is that if that is hell, then they were in it before they died, too. Depicted in this were very much addicted people- drugs, sex, rage and manipulation of others...and it is like that, when we are in our using. We are in hell. We are trapped in the narrow hallways of our own twisted control dramas.


I read also (another book- I like to read) that one description of hell, called Sheol, is "the realm of diminishing awareness". That being said, the opposite would be heaven, 'the realm of expanding awareness."  When I got sober, I made a choice to start walking towards heaven. (Crawling would probably be more apt.) My ever shrinking world was going to end, as they say, in jail, institutions, or death. My using (pills, coke, alcohol, that few years) had me in several ERs for tremors through my shoulders and arms, heart palpitations, profuse sweating, panic attacks. I had doctors sending me to neurologists for the tremors, and cardiologists for the racing heart-not to mention 7 ODs under my belt previously- meanwhile i was losing everything around me, my condo, my career, my relationships,  my self. Eventually I didn't want to leave the house unless I could help it. I needed to be able to control my environment, and my ability to cope was so compromised the the environment had to shrink, to fit my ability to manage it. I had to take a certain number of pills just to get from one hour to the next, the exact cocktail of pharmaceuticals, and vodka, (but never in a glass, always in a bottle in the freezer, a million trips to the kitchen, as if no one would notice) This is most definitely hell. I got to where I couldn't actually chew and swallow food. My children were frightened for me. I didn't smile for a full year. 


I say this not only because doing so liberates me (the truth sets you free!) but also to illustrate how using is so very much about control. Controlling how we feel, what we feel, what we do. The rituals. The habits. Its all based on Fear. And fear makes us puppets to the ego. Fear of feeling, fear of dying, fear of living, fear of not being loved, fear of being loved, fear of failure, fear of success...this is the opposite of living.  And sometimes we never wake up to this, that we are in a hell that we have created. Instead of waking up we take the red pill and stay in the Matrix, living the lie, numbing ourselves to death. I can't think of anything more tragic. 


When I came to Recovery, I had spent a month detoxing in a room by myself. I crawled in, shaking and pale and emaciated. Hollow. And immediately my awareness began to expand, I became aware of HOPE, and that was my first step in the direction of heaven.  And heaven opened up for me, because I sought it. It was always there, waiting for me to realize that I was in hell. And I acquired faith, through doing the work.  The ego lost steam as I put principles into my life and lived by them. And miracles started kicking in, at first shocking, and then they became something I could rely on, as long as I was doing the work. Heaven became, and is, exactly where I am standing. Wherever I put my feet is holy ground. I have come to know heaven and hell to be states that exist right here and now. Every moment we get to choose one, every choice opens up one reality or the other. The power of that, and living organically from that point of reference, is awe inspiring. Heaven is waiting for us to choose it. Grace is ours if we only see it always has been and always will be, infinitely, ours. This isn't only true of people in recovery or trying to or need it, but it seems more critical, pertinent and relevant,than not, for us. 


That is the crux of Contrary Action. It goes waaaaay beyond mere abstinence. We are hell bent (pun intended!) on creating chaos and destruction, despair and suffering, when we are in self will. No matter what manner of sheep 's clothing that crafty ego wolf is wearing, it means to do harm to us, ultimately.  It is our first impulse, as alcoholics and addicts. But to pause, breathe, and then do the thing that is contrary to our comfort zone is where true liberation from the bondage of self happens. And to live by principles, actively being of service to others, is the key to a miraculous, adventurous, epic, and extraordinary life. Or, as Tom Robbins says-


"...More immediately, by waxing soulful you will have granted yourself the possibility of ecstatic participation in what the ancients considered a divinely animated universe. And on a day to day basis, folks, it doesn't get any better than that."

Willy Wonka and the chocolate Factory: Pure Imagination

What 8 months sober felt like

I found this in my journals today- I wrote it when I was 8 months sober. I have 3 years and four months now, but I feel largely the same way. Perhaps even more so.

How odd that in my sobriety, these elastic 8 months of crushing bliss I have lost the language to articulate the depth of my regard. My regard (period.) To regard means to have a point a view, to have a point of view means to have a place where one stands from which to view. And to commit to standing in a place long enough to regard (with appreciation and focus) a person, place or thing requires a tenacious serenity that has rendered me speechless. I have discovered that all my years of reading dictionaries left me with none but a vocabulary for chaos, angst. I find I have no such arsenal for intimacy and sincerity. And to have a point of view from a solid place means to see with eyes that are not looking for a certain outcome. Eyes which simply take in what is, which do not constantly scan for what is not. Eyes which are not distorted by renderings of superficial nourishment that the soul does not ultimately require. These things are things of the ego, that cagey old wolf that forever lurks on the edge of serenity. That shapeshifting old bastard, so handy with the smoke and mirrors wants all good things of the spirit to meet a fatal end. I would be foolish to think I have defeated him. I will step to this creature every day for the rest of my life; I will wake up with the hot stink of his grinning mouth close to my face- on a good day. On a bad day, it will smell like the most fragrant and attainable thing, and I may weaken with desire. I know my cunning enemy because it is what provokes me into any thoughtless action. I will know my enemy after the fact, when I have not thought my actions through and reacted reacted reacted like a godless puppet, an impulsive animal, a spineless anemone shrinking in the wrong direction. I will know my enemy when I taste regret for my thoughtless actions and even still when I react to that regret- react, distract, regret, etc. I know that life. I had that life. It is the life without god. And now the armor with which I suit up every day is not to protect the weak, philandering ego, the commitment phobe, the hater, the fiend, the monger, the opportunist, the narcissist.It is for the silent, constant vigil for which I have been preparing my entire life, my first true act of rebellion, my first REAL attempt at living gracefully. I had a plethora of words for disappointment, heartache, and all rest of it because words justified it all, or so I thought. Words made it all worth while. Words made an entire life material for the greater good of art; it could all be shaped into an arc of trancsendence, even as I was plummeting to a certain end.

I was once told, when I was young, that a writer at 20 is 20, but a writer at 40 is a writer. I didn't understand it at the time; I was 20. But the proof is always embedded firmly in the pudding. LIfe gives birth to itself as it goes. You either show up for it, or you don't.

Sober is as sober does

Funny things happen in life. And when one is sober, one is really present to them. I find there are more and more 'a-ha!' moments in a day. If you haven't had an 'a-ha!' moment, I wish you one. I wish you many. If you just get the one, though, you'll become a fiend for more. Its when you feel, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you just got let in on a big secret. A divine secret. And then you are laughing along with God.


God is a concept that some people can't or won't digest. I know that, for most of us, we either ran from religion, or felt abandoned by God, or had it shoved down our throats as kids, or some variation on that theme. At some point, the whole God thing didn't work. Our higher powers became the things we craved; we worshipped these things, be it alcohol, drugs, love relationships, etc. We shaped our lives around the acquiring of these things. We loved the ritual of the worship. Little shot glasses, spoons and fire, loading a bong, etc. We were obsessed. I was obsessed. 


When I got sober, I didn't mind the God talk so much, I just didn't think it applied to me. I had done a lot of spiritual research, and I felt there was something.  It wasn't that I felt there was a lack of something greater than me, I just didn't have access to that. Other people did, and that was good for them. 


And then, perhaps because I was open to a different experience, I was able to see the miracle of this thing, this ineffable benevolence that surrounded me. It began to prove its existence to me in various ways that left me speechless. I will recount the first time, and I will recount the last, and suffice it to say there have been hundreds in between.


The first time I experienced the grace (that I took notice of, mind you) was at the end of my first year sober. I had been renting a car (literally, from a rent a car place) for nearly a year at $600 a month, since crashing my car in the first month of sobriety. I couldn't afford this, but I didn't really know how to buy a car, and register it, and all that sort of thing. But then I seriously couldn't make it work anymore and afford rent, so I panicked. Old ways of thinking came into play. Having been a burlesque dancer in the early 90's ( and what I mean is not the kind of exotic dancer you see today; this was old school, pasties and g-strings, long gowns and gloves) it was natural to assume that this was a viable source of income for me, here at the age of 40. With a year sober. So me and my brilliant idea went to a local strip club and and observed the hijinks that happen in such places. Obviously the vibe had changed; girls walked around in what we used to strip down to, and climbed all over the men. The smell of alcohol was overpowering. I knew this was not going to work. So I surrendered, absolutely. No more big ideas in my back pocket; I was out of ideas completely, and I said so to God.  "God, okay, I give up. I have no idea what to do next. I would love some guidance. I'm done." So about ten minutes later, an old friend from ancient times came up to me. It had been many years since I had seen him. He sat down to catch up on things, asked about my kids, my life, and of all things, what kind of car I was driving.  I told him about the rental, and that being why I was there, and how I realized I couldn't go back to that way of making money. And he said this- "Ashley, I've known you for a long time. I want to help you. Let me help you get a car." And he did. Two weeks later he bought me an old Infiniti. He said, "don't even try to repay me. Just pray that I find a pretty young Eastern European wife!" Because I no longer had to pay for the rental, I dind't have to find a second job, which was good since I was already working full time. And I believe that, when I fully surrendered, God realized that was a good time to show me exactly how effective that stance is in communing with him and doing his will. After this, I strove to surrender every chance I realized I wasn't, and I still do. 


And the last time- Just last week, I woke up and realized that I was really about to be in trouble financially. I have a great part time job at the channel, but its not enough to cover my life with two kids when their dad isn't paying child support. So again, I surrender, "God, my life is yours. Show me what to do, who to help, what your will is, and help me to stay open to the next indicated action. Thank you for my life. " I pretty much say this all day long anyway, but this was when I felt a particularly strong wave of financial fear wrap its icy fingers around my heart. And that day, I went to a place where people in recovery meet, and met a person who I help through recovery to drive with her on an errand, and on the way we spotted a squirrel writhing on the ground. My friend called her dad while I held a t shirt up to protect it from the baking hot sun. Her dad said it sounded like its back was broken and we'd have to kill it. WHAT?!? No way. No effing way. But there it was. And so I looked around for a rock, then I thought I would drive over it, my heart just breaking about the whole thing. I looked at the little guy, his shiny black eye watching me closely, and said, "little guy, shit! I don't know what to do, I can't leave you like this, forgive me, okay? I want to help you." And then he started to die. I could see the death throe and knew I didn't have to kill him. I sat there, holding Scott Weiland's t shirt as shade for the poor little thing, and cooed gently to him as he died. Then I went to walk a friend's dog; her ankle was broken, and we had a nice long visit. I hadn't known her very well and it was nice to make a new friend. She had married someone that I absolutely had a crush on in the 80's; I hadn't known that when I met her, but when it became clear, it was such an interesting view, thinking of his poster on my wall, and talking to this woman about our exes. Somehow, regardless of the status of her ex, we had married the same man. Or the same type of man. It was clear that fame and fortune do not matter one iota when it comes to addiction, narcissists, ex-husbands, co-parenting issues...we are all the same. It hurts the same. It destroys the same. We recover the same. Then I left and got a call from a friend, who said, "Ashley, I have a check here with your name on it. A token of appreciation for bringing us our first client." 


At this stage in the game, I skip over the panic and drama of scrambling to fix stuff, to scam, plan, scheme, go into desperation...I ask God to show me what next, and then I do it. If I had gone into overdrive, I would not have been there for my friend who I went on the errand with, wouldn't have been at the place where people in recovery convene to meet the girl who asked for my help, wouldn't have been there for that squirrel as it died, or my friend with her broken foot and her dog that needed walking. That is what God wanted of me. 


When I show up and do God's will, its all provided for. I don't get bells and whistles, but I also don't want or need them. Wait. I do sort of get some bells and whistles- this year, I posted on facebook that I needed a cosigner for a car. I now drive a 2006 Lexus. My first almost new car. My first really safe car. I was able to give that old Infiniti to a sweet young couple in recovery expecting their first child. I don't tell any of this to say, yay for me, I do good for others- I say this to show that THIS GIVES ME MY LIFE. This is my life. Others are my life. And they look out for me. That is what recovery is all about- a loving tribe of people who have woken up out of their stupors, ever seeking either God, or more clarity, helping others, working to uphold their community and to live from principles. If that isn't a utopia, I don't know what is. Its a growing movement, and I am honored to be a part of it. 

Recovery is sexy!

So we've had some people wondering why our trailer is so sexy. And it is! No doubt about it. A lot of the trailer was shot on the day we did our print ad campaign photo shoot. The idea behind it is simple; we are going to post the banner ads on websites where people who are at home, isolating, and f*d up hang out- gambling sites, dating sites, facebook, myspace, celeb gossip sites, etc. I know from experience that if there was a picture of a sunset, or people holding hands, or any of the typical recovery images we have all seen, I wouldn't look twice. A person in their disease is in ego, and ego likes sexy. So if even one person clicks through because there is a sexy man or woman saying "sober is sexy!", then watches a show on the 247 Recovery Channel and hears the message of hope, if even one person makes it into recovery as a result, then we have done our job. 


We know we are doing things a little bit differently, and we know there will be controversy. We know we are bound to make mistakes, and we are willing to do that in full view. Its part of recovery, and part of life. But we mean to save some people, damn it, and we will leave no stone unturned. Alcoholics and drug addicts in the grips of their disease need to know that there is life after addiction, and that is awesome- sexy, smart, hip, playful, and most of all, fun. One day at a time, 24 hours a day. You are not alone!!


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