After meeting S in the early summer of 1983 and hearing her talk about the disease concept of addiction, I began to realize that my use of pot was addictive, not recreational. By mid-summer I had made the decision to stop using, but did not believe that I was actually an addict. I remained abstinent for about 60 days, got stoned, and then stayed abstinent for another 60 days.
In the meantime, S and I began a relationship. We were seeing each other almost daily by the early fall. One day in early November we were out on a Sunday drive when S casually mentioned that she believed recovery from addiction depended on ceasing use of all mind-altering substances. I was not ready to accept this. I was not ready to quit drinking. Instead, I ended our relationship within a month.
I was miserable through the holidays. I didn't feel much better in January and February. But I was determined not to give up my beer before bed every evening nor my bottle of good wine on the weekend. I did, however, continue to meditate every morning for 20 to 30 minutes.
I had several teeth pulled in mid-March. The dentist gave me half a dozen Tylenol 3 for use when the anesthetic wore off. He directed me to take 2 every four hours. I consumed all of them within an hour of getting home, went out to buy a 6-pack of beer, which I drank within a couple of hours, and then went out to buy some pot from a street dealer.
Upon awakening, I knew I was (and am) an alcoholic-addict. There was no doubt in my mind about the truth of that realization. And there was no doubt in my mind that abstinence from all mind-altering substances was the only way I was going to recover my sanity. And, finally, there was no doubt in my mind that I loved S deeply and wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.
At least, I had the wisdom to wait a few weeks before calling her to see if she would be willing to resume the relationship. During those few weeks, my heart would say yes each morning in meditation when I would check in to see if I still felt the same about her. Although I was ready to return to the relationship we had had 6 months earlier, S had the wisdom to suggest that we take it slowly. We did, and in doing so, we laid the foundation for a marriage built to last.
Meditation played a critical role in awakening to the reality of my addiction. Meditation is about bringing attention to the contents of our mind, about being mindful. As we sit looking at our thoughts and feelings with open, nonjudgmental attention, we begin to see truths about ourselves and the world about us which are obscured by our ceaseless judgments and evaluations. The mindfulness we cultivate by meditating creates the conditions for significant transformations.
Just as 12-Step programs use the acronym HALT* to help someone in recovery avoid relapse, Western mindfulness retreats use the acronym RAIN to remind meditators about the 4 basic principles of mindful transformation. R is for Recognition, of seeing what is happening in the moment. When I recognized the reality of my addiction, I stepped out of denial. When I recognized the truth of my love for S, I could no longer pretend I didn't want a close relationship with her.
A is for Acceptance. Acceptance makes it possible for us to open to and begin to work with the reality we have just recognized. Once I accepted the reality of being an alcoholic-addict, the source of many of the problems in my life was clear and I could work effectively to change them. Accepting my deep feelings for S gave me the courage to go back and ask for a chance to develop a healthy relationship with her.
I is for Investigation. I had begun investigating the nature of my addiction after my first meeting with S. I read several books about the disease concept of addiction. I answered yes to too many of the questions about my use of pot (but didn't want to ask those questions about my alcohol use.) Once I awoke to the reality of my addiction, I could investigate my feelings about S more clearly. They were strong, they were real, and they didn't go away.To this day, investigating the feelings that come up in relation to S has been critical to the health of our relationship.
And N is for Non-identification. An article in the New York Times several weeks ago described some research in which students were asked to recall a bad memory, whether an argument or a failed exam. Half the students were asked to recall it in the first person (e.g., "I failed my calculus exam.") The other half were asked to recall it in the third person, as if they were watching themselves in a movie. The researchers found that those recalling bad memories in the third person were significantly less upset by them, which gave them the ability to focus more on the why and how of what made them upset.
This is what happens during meditation. As we recognize, accept, and investigate our thoughts and feelings, we gain some distance from them. When I awoke to the reality of being an alcoholic-addict, I was not overwhelmed by feelings of shame and self-hate. Doctor A cannot drink or use pot without losing control, but that reality does not constitute the entire reality of who Doctor A is. When S and I get into an argument, the argument comes to an end when I am able to step back from my anger, disidentify with it, and remember how much I love her. Letting go of "I," "me" and "mine" always makes for a better relationship.
Meditation is about developing mindfulness. And mindfulness is about using recognition, acceptance, investigation, and non-identification to transform our difficulties. These are invaluable tools both for recovery from addiction and for relationships in recovery. They are universal tools, belonging to no particular religion or spiritual path. They do not conflict with the 12-Step emphasis on turning our will and our lives over to a Higher Power. Most importantly, they work.
*HALT stands for not getting too Hungry, too Angry, too Lonely, or too Tired
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Saturday, May 26, 2007
My Story Part II--Spiritual Beginnings
I grew up in the Fifties going to a quasi-fundamentalist church every Sunday with my parents. By the time I was 14, I wanted no part of that and stopped going. For the next 20 years, religion and spirituality played no part in my life. I felt no interest and saw no need for anything spiritual.
That began to change when I was in my mid-thirties after a series of experiences while I was stoned. One Saturday afternoon I fell into a trance out in the woods and felt at one with the universe. Several weeks later, I was sitting stoned in the park and felt the ground begin to shake--the next day I read that China and India had begun firing at each other in the Himalayas about the time I felt the ground shaking. A month later, stoned and drunk, I stood transfixed by the incredible beauty of the early morning sun shining through an old growth forest in a state park on the Oregon coast.
These experiences opened up a hunger for more of them. I spent five more years trying to recreate them with pot. That never happened. I had been given a glimpse of something, but I didn't understand what it was. It was a spiritual opening.
Six months later my emotional world collapsed. My girlfriend left, saying she no longer wanted to put up with my use of pot and alcohol. I was alone and in deep emotional pain. Soon I wasn't sleeping or eating as I slid into a major depression. By the end of three months I was beginning to feel suicidal.
And then one day I spotted a book in my supervisor's office--The Myth of Freedom written by a Tibetan Buddhist named Chogyam Trungpa. For some reason, I picked it up and began reading. In the midst of my insanity, his writing seemed the sanest thing I had read in some time. (I didn't know then that Trungpa was an unrecovered alcoholic-addict himself--so maybe that's why his writing seemed so sane to this alcoholic-addict.)
I started meditating every morning. Slowly I began to feel better, sleeping through the night and regaining my normal appetite. I read other Buddhist writings, finding a wisdom and understanding about life for which I hadn't even realized I was hungering. The spiritual opening from a year earlier began to grow.
But, of course, as I began to feel better, my denial about my addiction remained intact. I continued to get stoned and drunk, seeing no contradiction between my craving for substance-created altered states and the Buddha's teachings about craving as a major source of suffering. In fact, I often believed I understood the Buddha's teachings most profoundly when I was stoned.
Nonetheless, the seed of spirituality had been planted. I am still meditating more than 25 years later. I believe it was my meditating and reading Buddhist literature that prepared me for my awakening from denial one morning in 1984, understanding I was (and still am) an alcoholic-addict, and making a decision to turn my pot and alcohol-conditioned mind over to the power of the Buddha's teachings. And, I'm convinced, it has been this spiritual practice that led me to N and that has sustained our relationship over the years.
So over the next month or so I want to turn my attention in this blog to the topic of Buddhism and relationships in recovery.
That began to change when I was in my mid-thirties after a series of experiences while I was stoned. One Saturday afternoon I fell into a trance out in the woods and felt at one with the universe. Several weeks later, I was sitting stoned in the park and felt the ground begin to shake--the next day I read that China and India had begun firing at each other in the Himalayas about the time I felt the ground shaking. A month later, stoned and drunk, I stood transfixed by the incredible beauty of the early morning sun shining through an old growth forest in a state park on the Oregon coast.
These experiences opened up a hunger for more of them. I spent five more years trying to recreate them with pot. That never happened. I had been given a glimpse of something, but I didn't understand what it was. It was a spiritual opening.
Six months later my emotional world collapsed. My girlfriend left, saying she no longer wanted to put up with my use of pot and alcohol. I was alone and in deep emotional pain. Soon I wasn't sleeping or eating as I slid into a major depression. By the end of three months I was beginning to feel suicidal.
And then one day I spotted a book in my supervisor's office--The Myth of Freedom written by a Tibetan Buddhist named Chogyam Trungpa. For some reason, I picked it up and began reading. In the midst of my insanity, his writing seemed the sanest thing I had read in some time. (I didn't know then that Trungpa was an unrecovered alcoholic-addict himself--so maybe that's why his writing seemed so sane to this alcoholic-addict.)
I started meditating every morning. Slowly I began to feel better, sleeping through the night and regaining my normal appetite. I read other Buddhist writings, finding a wisdom and understanding about life for which I hadn't even realized I was hungering. The spiritual opening from a year earlier began to grow.
But, of course, as I began to feel better, my denial about my addiction remained intact. I continued to get stoned and drunk, seeing no contradiction between my craving for substance-created altered states and the Buddha's teachings about craving as a major source of suffering. In fact, I often believed I understood the Buddha's teachings most profoundly when I was stoned.
Nonetheless, the seed of spirituality had been planted. I am still meditating more than 25 years later. I believe it was my meditating and reading Buddhist literature that prepared me for my awakening from denial one morning in 1984, understanding I was (and still am) an alcoholic-addict, and making a decision to turn my pot and alcohol-conditioned mind over to the power of the Buddha's teachings. And, I'm convinced, it has been this spiritual practice that led me to N and that has sustained our relationship over the years.
So over the next month or so I want to turn my attention in this blog to the topic of Buddhism and relationships in recovery.
Monday, May 21, 2007
A Distancer-Pursuer Relationship in Early Recovery
D and J came to see me when D had been clean and sober for six months. D had tried to quit drinking and drugging a number of times, but he had never gone without alcohol or drugs for more than a month until he finally surrendered and began attending AA regularly. D and J had been on the proverbial pink cloud for the first three months of his sobriety, believing they were well on the road to healing their relationship. But after that pink cloud dissipated, as it inevitably does, D and J found themselves falling back into the old unhappy pattern of their relationship. D began to spend more and more time either away from the house or holed up with his computer, while J angrily demanded that D be more involved with her and the household. By the time they got to my office, both of them were feeling hopeless about their relationship.
At first J had been thrilled about D's involvement in AA. She was happy he was attending meetings regularly and going out for coffee after the meeting with his new sober friends. She had not gotten involved in Alanon because she saw D as the one who had problems that needed fixing. She believed it was her job to make sure that D went to meetings regularly and stayed clean and sober.
J also expected D to be much more emotionally available and involved with her after he stopped getting drunk and loaded. When that didn't happen, her protest took the form of angry tears and statements that D was selfish and uncaring about her needs for love and support. Even when D brought her flowers to show he cared, she interpreted his effort as an effort to appease her, to "get me off his back."
D responded to J's distress and need for closeness with either pity or disdain. He had bought flowers for her when he was feeling sorry for her and wanting to show her he did love her, but that feeling changed to disdain when she failed to thank him properly. He self-righteously claimed he was doing all he could do just to stay clean and sober. Indeed, "her whining about how I don't pay attention to her gets me upset and just makes it necessary for me to go to more meetings!"
D and J were embroiled in a classic distancer-pursuer relationship. The more D was unavailable, the more J angrily pursued him. The more J pursued D, the more he made himself unavailable. So round and round they went, each blaming the other for all the problems in the relationship.
The foundation for this kind of relationship had been laid long before D and J met and got involved with each other. D had grown up in a family with a distant, alcoholic father and an angry unavailable mother. Early on he had learned to isolate as a way of coping and comforting himself. By the time he was a teenager he saw himself as a strong, self-reliant guy who didn't depend on others and didn't need close emotional ties. His use of alcohol and drugs only enhanced his denial of a need for closeness.
J had grown up in a family with an angry, verbally abusive addicted father and an unhappy mother, who alternated between intrusive involvement with J and bouts of depression when she was completely unavailable. J took on the role of being a compulsive caregiver in the family trying to keep her father from blowing up and her mother from falling into depression. J grew up believing that she could only find acceptance by gaining the romantic approval of others whom she valued more highly than she valued herself.
It was no surprise, then, when D and J fell back into their old pattern after several months of D's sobriety. My primary job as a marital counselor was to encourage J to get involved with Alanon, where she would learn how to detach from her pursuer role, and to support D getting a sponsor and working the steps as a way of learning how to be more dependent on others for help. My office became a safe holding environment for them to work through basic issues such as clearing up their financial chaos and working together as co-parents. Developing a more intimate emotional and sexual relationship would come later.
At first J had been thrilled about D's involvement in AA. She was happy he was attending meetings regularly and going out for coffee after the meeting with his new sober friends. She had not gotten involved in Alanon because she saw D as the one who had problems that needed fixing. She believed it was her job to make sure that D went to meetings regularly and stayed clean and sober.
J also expected D to be much more emotionally available and involved with her after he stopped getting drunk and loaded. When that didn't happen, her protest took the form of angry tears and statements that D was selfish and uncaring about her needs for love and support. Even when D brought her flowers to show he cared, she interpreted his effort as an effort to appease her, to "get me off his back."
D responded to J's distress and need for closeness with either pity or disdain. He had bought flowers for her when he was feeling sorry for her and wanting to show her he did love her, but that feeling changed to disdain when she failed to thank him properly. He self-righteously claimed he was doing all he could do just to stay clean and sober. Indeed, "her whining about how I don't pay attention to her gets me upset and just makes it necessary for me to go to more meetings!"
D and J were embroiled in a classic distancer-pursuer relationship. The more D was unavailable, the more J angrily pursued him. The more J pursued D, the more he made himself unavailable. So round and round they went, each blaming the other for all the problems in the relationship.
The foundation for this kind of relationship had been laid long before D and J met and got involved with each other. D had grown up in a family with a distant, alcoholic father and an angry unavailable mother. Early on he had learned to isolate as a way of coping and comforting himself. By the time he was a teenager he saw himself as a strong, self-reliant guy who didn't depend on others and didn't need close emotional ties. His use of alcohol and drugs only enhanced his denial of a need for closeness.
J had grown up in a family with an angry, verbally abusive addicted father and an unhappy mother, who alternated between intrusive involvement with J and bouts of depression when she was completely unavailable. J took on the role of being a compulsive caregiver in the family trying to keep her father from blowing up and her mother from falling into depression. J grew up believing that she could only find acceptance by gaining the romantic approval of others whom she valued more highly than she valued herself.
It was no surprise, then, when D and J fell back into their old pattern after several months of D's sobriety. My primary job as a marital counselor was to encourage J to get involved with Alanon, where she would learn how to detach from her pursuer role, and to support D getting a sponsor and working the steps as a way of learning how to be more dependent on others for help. My office became a safe holding environment for them to work through basic issues such as clearing up their financial chaos and working together as co-parents. Developing a more intimate emotional and sexual relationship would come later.
The Ninth Step and the Process of Healing Relationships
W used his time during a couples session today to do a Ninth Step with his wife. It was an excellent Ninth Step. He didn't just say something like, "I did a lot of bad things and I'm sorry." He had reviewed his Fourth Step and had given a lot of thought about the character defects that step revealed. He then thought about the specific ways in which he had acted out some of those character defects, recounted them to his wife without defending or rationalizing his behavior, apologized for his hurtful actions, and committed himself to cease continuing them in the future.
W has been clean and sober for more than a decade, so this Ninth Step was not about all the harmful things he had done to the marriage when he was drinking. Instead it was about the many ways in which he has not been present to his wife and children during his years of sobriety. He was clear about how this emotional distance has damaged his marriage and the relationship with his children. He recognized the need for significant changes and recommitted to continuing working toward those changes in the future.
When he was finished, he waited expectantly for his wife to accept his amends, forgive him, and signal a readiness to move forward. She did not meet his expectations. She thanked him for making the amends and acknowledged that he has begun making more of an effort to be present and involved. But then she went on to say that she anticipated feeling a lot of pressure from W to "get over it" and be done with her hurt and anger. She tearfully said she just isn't ready to do that.
This is such a common situation for couples in recovery. 12-Step programs stress the importance of "cleaning up the wreckage of the past" by doing an inventory, recognizing and changing character defects, and making amends. Unfortunately, many people in recovery expect that the wreckage will be cleaned up by the time they have completed making the amends. They are often frustrated and impatient with their partners and children who aren't miraculously freed of their hurt and anger as soon as sincere amends have been made.
During the session we talked about how healing relationships is a long process, not a specific event. Making amends and taking responsibility for one's hurtful behavior is an essential part of that process, but it is still only a part of it. Living the amends by becoming a more loving, caring, and available partner is also a vital aspect of repairing relationships in recovery. Another critical aspect of the healing process is recognizing, accepting and being willing to listen to a partner's need to talk about their pain and frustration, oftentimes repeatedly, until those feelings are resolved. So although the Ninth Step is the last of the six "action" steps in 12-Step programs, it is also usually just an early step in the long, complex process of restoring a relationship to sanity. It is important to keep that in mind when making or receiving a Ninth Step amends.
W has been clean and sober for more than a decade, so this Ninth Step was not about all the harmful things he had done to the marriage when he was drinking. Instead it was about the many ways in which he has not been present to his wife and children during his years of sobriety. He was clear about how this emotional distance has damaged his marriage and the relationship with his children. He recognized the need for significant changes and recommitted to continuing working toward those changes in the future.
When he was finished, he waited expectantly for his wife to accept his amends, forgive him, and signal a readiness to move forward. She did not meet his expectations. She thanked him for making the amends and acknowledged that he has begun making more of an effort to be present and involved. But then she went on to say that she anticipated feeling a lot of pressure from W to "get over it" and be done with her hurt and anger. She tearfully said she just isn't ready to do that.
This is such a common situation for couples in recovery. 12-Step programs stress the importance of "cleaning up the wreckage of the past" by doing an inventory, recognizing and changing character defects, and making amends. Unfortunately, many people in recovery expect that the wreckage will be cleaned up by the time they have completed making the amends. They are often frustrated and impatient with their partners and children who aren't miraculously freed of their hurt and anger as soon as sincere amends have been made.
During the session we talked about how healing relationships is a long process, not a specific event. Making amends and taking responsibility for one's hurtful behavior is an essential part of that process, but it is still only a part of it. Living the amends by becoming a more loving, caring, and available partner is also a vital aspect of repairing relationships in recovery. Another critical aspect of the healing process is recognizing, accepting and being willing to listen to a partner's need to talk about their pain and frustration, oftentimes repeatedly, until those feelings are resolved. So although the Ninth Step is the last of the six "action" steps in 12-Step programs, it is also usually just an early step in the long, complex process of restoring a relationship to sanity. It is important to keep that in mind when making or receiving a Ninth Step amends.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Step 8 and Repair Attempts
Hearing something new in one of the steps is one of the things that keeps me coming back to AA after being clean and sober for more than 20 years. This morning N, who was celebrating his 20th AA birthday, read the following words about Step 8 from the 12 Steps and 12 Traditions: our defective relations with other human beings have nearly always been the immediate cause of our woes, including alcoholism... So more than 50 years ago, Bill W recognized what has become clear to people who study attachment---alcoholism and addiction are a form of attachment disorder, a response to our defective relationships with other human beings.
N went on to talk about how he sees Steps 8 and 9 as tools for repairing relationships, especially close relationships. He said that after 20 years of sobriety, he has learned how to avoid messing up relationships with coworkers, casual acquaintances, and other people he meets outside his home during the course of the day. But he still finds himself getting into quarrels often with his partner and his son. When that happens, he uses Step 8 as a way of a taking a look at his part in the quarrel and then taking responsibility for that part. Making amends for his role in the difficulty begins the process of repairing whatever damage has happened in the relationship.
N's experience of needing to use Steps 8 and 9 most often in his closest relationships is true of all of us. We are not saints. We are not going to be perfect in such relationships because our partners, our children, and our parents tend to evoke our strongest emotions, both positive and negative. As a result, we will find ourselves involved in conflict with those closest to us, especially our partners, over and over again. Thus we need tools for repairing and healing our intimate relationships.
Marital researcher, John Gottman, has found from studying thousands of couples that marital satisfaction does not depend on the absence of conflict, but on what couples do when conflict arises. Couples in satisfactory marriages do two things when they are quarreling. First, one of them will make an effort to deescalate the negative process that is developing and, second, the other partner accepts this bid in some kind of positive manner.
These behaviors, which Gottman labels repair attempts, are any statement or action that works to keep negative emotions from spiraling out of control. Acknowledging our responsibility for our piece of the argument and making an amends is certainly an example of this. But Gottman points out that there are all kinds of effective repair attempts. A smile, a friendly touch, a humorous (but not sarcastic!) comment are also ways to reduce tension and make things better.
Gottman goes on to say that all couples, even the most unhappy ones, use repair attempts. What is equally important is the response to a bid to repair the relationship. In happy marriages, couples not only make bids frequently and easily in order to dampen the negativity, but they also accept each other's bids. In unhappy marriages, however, partners do not accept the effort to move away from negativity. Instead, partner B responds negatively to Partner A's expression of dissatisfaction, and they are soon locked into escalating conflict. Both partners come away from such quarrels even more unhappy and more discouraged about their relationship.
Steps 8 and 9 represent a powerful attempt to make things better when we and our partner have become unhappy with each other. But it is also incumbent upon those of us in recovery to be on the lookout for our partner's repair attempts and to respond positively to them. When we do so, we will find that we are no longer caught up in the kind of defective relations that have been the cause of our woes. Instead we will find, as Bill W says at the end of his chapter on Step 8: this step is the beginning of the end of isolation from our fellows and from God.
N went on to talk about how he sees Steps 8 and 9 as tools for repairing relationships, especially close relationships. He said that after 20 years of sobriety, he has learned how to avoid messing up relationships with coworkers, casual acquaintances, and other people he meets outside his home during the course of the day. But he still finds himself getting into quarrels often with his partner and his son. When that happens, he uses Step 8 as a way of a taking a look at his part in the quarrel and then taking responsibility for that part. Making amends for his role in the difficulty begins the process of repairing whatever damage has happened in the relationship.
N's experience of needing to use Steps 8 and 9 most often in his closest relationships is true of all of us. We are not saints. We are not going to be perfect in such relationships because our partners, our children, and our parents tend to evoke our strongest emotions, both positive and negative. As a result, we will find ourselves involved in conflict with those closest to us, especially our partners, over and over again. Thus we need tools for repairing and healing our intimate relationships.
Marital researcher, John Gottman, has found from studying thousands of couples that marital satisfaction does not depend on the absence of conflict, but on what couples do when conflict arises. Couples in satisfactory marriages do two things when they are quarreling. First, one of them will make an effort to deescalate the negative process that is developing and, second, the other partner accepts this bid in some kind of positive manner.
These behaviors, which Gottman labels repair attempts, are any statement or action that works to keep negative emotions from spiraling out of control. Acknowledging our responsibility for our piece of the argument and making an amends is certainly an example of this. But Gottman points out that there are all kinds of effective repair attempts. A smile, a friendly touch, a humorous (but not sarcastic!) comment are also ways to reduce tension and make things better.
Gottman goes on to say that all couples, even the most unhappy ones, use repair attempts. What is equally important is the response to a bid to repair the relationship. In happy marriages, couples not only make bids frequently and easily in order to dampen the negativity, but they also accept each other's bids. In unhappy marriages, however, partners do not accept the effort to move away from negativity. Instead, partner B responds negatively to Partner A's expression of dissatisfaction, and they are soon locked into escalating conflict. Both partners come away from such quarrels even more unhappy and more discouraged about their relationship.
Steps 8 and 9 represent a powerful attempt to make things better when we and our partner have become unhappy with each other. But it is also incumbent upon those of us in recovery to be on the lookout for our partner's repair attempts and to respond positively to them. When we do so, we will find that we are no longer caught up in the kind of defective relations that have been the cause of our woes. Instead we will find, as Bill W says at the end of his chapter on Step 8: this step is the beginning of the end of isolation from our fellows and from God.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
A Miracle
Last night one of the members of my men's group celebrated his first year of recovery from sex addiction. He was also celebrating the survival of his marriage. Both his year of recovery and the survival of his marriage are miracles. A year ago none of us would have been willing to take a bet on either outcome.
P is a middle-aged professional with a lovely wife and two young adult children. He has been quite successful in his work and lives a luxurious life. Everyone saw him as a great guy--good husband, loving father, caring of others.
You can imagine the shock when he confessed to us about 18 months ago that he had been leading a secret life for several years. He had begun an affair several years earlier with a woman he had met on one of his business travels. They often traveled together. On several occasions she spent the night with him at his home when his wife was out of town.
P let us in on his secret after his wife found out about the other woman. He insisted to us and to his wife that he did not want to end the marriage and that he would end the affair immediately. Several weeks later, he confessed to us that he was still seeing his paramour because "I need to end it my way--I don't want to hurt her by leaving abruptly."
All of us knew he was headed for trouble, but P assured us he could bring the affair to an end without his wife being the wiser. He talked about how the secrecy and illicit nature of the relationship heightened his sexual excitement when he was with this woman. He knew he needed to end things with her if he really wanted to keep his marriage, but admitted how hard it was to let go of the relationship entirely.
Of course, everything blew up several months later when his wife found an article of clothing the other woman had left behind while she was out of town. His wife was livid, but said she wasn't ready to give up on the marriage even though their children and friends all advised her to throw him out immediately.
P surrendered. He called the other woman to tell her he would have no further contact with her. He has kept that promise. He entered therapy with a man well-versed in the power of sexual addiction. P acknowledged to this therapist that he had been leading a secret life for a long time, having been involved with a half dozen other women at various times in his past.
And, finally, P began attending Sexaholics Anonymous meetings on a regular basis. Through the program, he admitted how out of control his behavior had been and how unable he had been to control it.
P's wife is an extraordinary woman. She insisted that P tell her the truth about all his sexual acting out. And he did. Despite her enormous hurt and anger, she hung in there. There were several setbacks when P held back information out of fear of her reaction (it took P a while to understand that his wife was even more upset about his secrecy and dishonesty than about what he had done), but P and his wife were able to work through them. As P was celebrating his sexual sobriety anniversary last night he said that he feels closer and more deeply in love with his wife than he has at any time during their 25 years together.
So why has their marriage survived? How is it possible for P to feel that he and his wife are more deeply connected, emotionally and sexually, despite his compulsive sexual acting out?How can there be trust and openness in the face of such behavior?
I see a number of reasons. First, P totally surrendered to the reality of his addictive behavior and made a decision to do whatever it would take to recover from it. Second, both P and his wife did not try to deny, rationalize, minimize, or otherwise hide the truth of what had happened. Third, and most important, they turned toward each other again and again throughout this past year.
Although P's wife had to take a timeout from the relationship several times when she felt so overwhelmed by the knowledge of what P had done, she always turned back to him and the relationship. And P stayed present over and over again with his wife as she cried out in deep pain or lashed out in intense anger. Despite his strong feelings of guilt ("I know she's in such pain because of what I did") P did not become defensive nor did he try to shut down his wife's powerful emotions.
P has come to recognize that his sexual addiction was an attempt to fix "the hole in my soul." But no matter how exciting the affair was, the hole remained. It is only in the last year, as he has opened up entirely and let his wife all the way in, that the hole has begun to close. So long as he continues on this path of sexual sobriety, the hole will continue to heal.
P is a middle-aged professional with a lovely wife and two young adult children. He has been quite successful in his work and lives a luxurious life. Everyone saw him as a great guy--good husband, loving father, caring of others.
You can imagine the shock when he confessed to us about 18 months ago that he had been leading a secret life for several years. He had begun an affair several years earlier with a woman he had met on one of his business travels. They often traveled together. On several occasions she spent the night with him at his home when his wife was out of town.
P let us in on his secret after his wife found out about the other woman. He insisted to us and to his wife that he did not want to end the marriage and that he would end the affair immediately. Several weeks later, he confessed to us that he was still seeing his paramour because "I need to end it my way--I don't want to hurt her by leaving abruptly."
All of us knew he was headed for trouble, but P assured us he could bring the affair to an end without his wife being the wiser. He talked about how the secrecy and illicit nature of the relationship heightened his sexual excitement when he was with this woman. He knew he needed to end things with her if he really wanted to keep his marriage, but admitted how hard it was to let go of the relationship entirely.
Of course, everything blew up several months later when his wife found an article of clothing the other woman had left behind while she was out of town. His wife was livid, but said she wasn't ready to give up on the marriage even though their children and friends all advised her to throw him out immediately.
P surrendered. He called the other woman to tell her he would have no further contact with her. He has kept that promise. He entered therapy with a man well-versed in the power of sexual addiction. P acknowledged to this therapist that he had been leading a secret life for a long time, having been involved with a half dozen other women at various times in his past.
And, finally, P began attending Sexaholics Anonymous meetings on a regular basis. Through the program, he admitted how out of control his behavior had been and how unable he had been to control it.
P's wife is an extraordinary woman. She insisted that P tell her the truth about all his sexual acting out. And he did. Despite her enormous hurt and anger, she hung in there. There were several setbacks when P held back information out of fear of her reaction (it took P a while to understand that his wife was even more upset about his secrecy and dishonesty than about what he had done), but P and his wife were able to work through them. As P was celebrating his sexual sobriety anniversary last night he said that he feels closer and more deeply in love with his wife than he has at any time during their 25 years together.
So why has their marriage survived? How is it possible for P to feel that he and his wife are more deeply connected, emotionally and sexually, despite his compulsive sexual acting out?How can there be trust and openness in the face of such behavior?
I see a number of reasons. First, P totally surrendered to the reality of his addictive behavior and made a decision to do whatever it would take to recover from it. Second, both P and his wife did not try to deny, rationalize, minimize, or otherwise hide the truth of what had happened. Third, and most important, they turned toward each other again and again throughout this past year.
Although P's wife had to take a timeout from the relationship several times when she felt so overwhelmed by the knowledge of what P had done, she always turned back to him and the relationship. And P stayed present over and over again with his wife as she cried out in deep pain or lashed out in intense anger. Despite his strong feelings of guilt ("I know she's in such pain because of what I did") P did not become defensive nor did he try to shut down his wife's powerful emotions.
P has come to recognize that his sexual addiction was an attempt to fix "the hole in my soul." But no matter how exciting the affair was, the hole remained. It is only in the last year, as he has opened up entirely and let his wife all the way in, that the hole has begun to close. So long as he continues on this path of sexual sobriety, the hole will continue to heal.
Monday, May 14, 2007
King-Baby
My last treatment program supervisor once characterized himself as "King-Baby" before he got clean and sober. One moment he would behave in a grandiose manner, believing he was superior to everyone around him, demanding perfection from them, and acting as if he were entirely self-sufficient. But at another moment, filled with resentment and self-pity, he would be having a tantrum because he felt others were not responding positively to his demands.
Both the King and the Baby were defense mechanisms to cover up painful feelings of shame and low self-worth. The King and the Baby enabled him to deny his need for intimacy and attachment. As long as he continued to drink, his false self kept those painful feelings at bay.
Treatment and participation in AA provided a safe holding environment to manage such feelings when he no longer had alcohol to push them away. With the help of his sponsor and others in the program, he was able to contain the negative, destructive impulses which had done so much harm when he was drinking. But the feelings themselves did not go away.
That did not happen until he had been sober several years. Then he fell in love with a woman who was capable of being in a healthy and healing relationship. She admired and encouraged him. She valued his recovery. At the same time she was clear about her boundaries and her unwillingness to be treated badly by him.
This relationship was very healing for him. It gave him the opportunity to experience and internalize a positive sense of himself that had been lacking in his childhood. Although several fourth and fifth steps had given him an understanding of the reasons for his feelings of shame and inadequacy, this understanding did not change them. It was the emotional engagement with his wife that ultimately dissolved those feelings.
Over the years I have learned that insight is rarely, if ever, an agent of change. Indeed, I have come to conclude that insight is usually the result of change. And change comes only when a person is willing to take the risk of being emotionally engaged. When we are emotionally engaged with someone, our old patterns of attachment are activated. When that happens, we are presented with an opportunity for a new experience that can heal the old dysfunctional pattern. But we have to be willing to take the risk.
Both the King and the Baby were defense mechanisms to cover up painful feelings of shame and low self-worth. The King and the Baby enabled him to deny his need for intimacy and attachment. As long as he continued to drink, his false self kept those painful feelings at bay.
Treatment and participation in AA provided a safe holding environment to manage such feelings when he no longer had alcohol to push them away. With the help of his sponsor and others in the program, he was able to contain the negative, destructive impulses which had done so much harm when he was drinking. But the feelings themselves did not go away.
That did not happen until he had been sober several years. Then he fell in love with a woman who was capable of being in a healthy and healing relationship. She admired and encouraged him. She valued his recovery. At the same time she was clear about her boundaries and her unwillingness to be treated badly by him.
This relationship was very healing for him. It gave him the opportunity to experience and internalize a positive sense of himself that had been lacking in his childhood. Although several fourth and fifth steps had given him an understanding of the reasons for his feelings of shame and inadequacy, this understanding did not change them. It was the emotional engagement with his wife that ultimately dissolved those feelings.
Over the years I have learned that insight is rarely, if ever, an agent of change. Indeed, I have come to conclude that insight is usually the result of change. And change comes only when a person is willing to take the risk of being emotionally engaged. When we are emotionally engaged with someone, our old patterns of attachment are activated. When that happens, we are presented with an opportunity for a new experience that can heal the old dysfunctional pattern. But we have to be willing to take the risk.
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