Tag Archive for: Alcohol

Four Years Sober

It’s the fourth anniversary. What a sentence to write.

The first year of sobriety snuck up on me. It was September 21, 2014, a day that grabbed me from behind, reached up and wrapped its hands around my throat. It’d been the hardest year of my life, and the thought of running dry for another sixty-or-whatever years threatened to choke the life out of me.

As it went, though, I kept on living, and in that living, I added a few days to that year. Then a few months. The second year passed with less violence. Then the third. Today, the fourth year snuck up on me, but it’s not threatening to choke me. It’s a sweeter day, somehow gentler. Four years without approaching even tipsy, and I’m most grateful. I might even say I’m at peace.

From that well of gratitude, I’ve decided to give away 10 copies of Coming Clean: A Story of Faith to one person. Winner-winner-chicken-dinner, use them however you wish. Use them in a group study. Give copies to friends in AA or NA or SA or any other twelve step program. Gift them to your business or church. Whatever. It’s up to you.

If you want to be entered into the drawing do any of the following (you’ll receive an entry for each):

1. Drop me a line in the comments below, letting me know you’d like your name entered;
2. Sign up to receive my bi-monthly TinyLetter;
3. Become a patron of my work (any level).

All the entries will be sorted in a virtual hat and the winner will be drawn at random.

Thanks again for reading along, for following me in this journey. You’re good folks.

 

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Addiction, Dependency, and The Sacred Enneagram

 

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. We’re all drunk on something. Perhaps this statement is too simplistic, you think. Perhaps you’d claim no dependencies, no addictions, no compulsive habits. But ask yourself this: What is addiction?

In his new book, The Sacred Enneagram: Finding Your Unique Path to Spiritual Growth, Chris Heuertz offers unique insights about addiction. And he’s not writing of the common addictions—booze, pills, porn gambling, whatever. Instead, Chris digs deeper, takes a more holistic approach. Describing deeper addictions, Chris writes:

“It’s important to remember that power and control, affection and esteem, and security and survival aren’t bad needs in and of themselves. The problem arises when in our adult lives we become addicted to one of these programs to maintain our happiness. The word addiction comes from the Latin addicto, which suggests being literally given over to something in devotion. As the term evolved, it took on the legal connotation of enslavement as a form of debt.”

See? Addiction isn’t just about chemical dreams and coping anesthesias. Even if your not prone to lining up rails or knocking down shots, you can become addicted to some underlying basic need. Doesn’t this make sense? Don’t you know control freaks or folks obsessed with security or self-esteem junkies? Don’t you know men who’ll do anything for another hit of power? This, Heuertz argues, is a soul addiction, a place of attachment, a place of soul slavery.

So often, when our underlying soul addictions fail us, the pain comes roaring in. And though Chris’s book is not a book about addiction (per se) his discussion of addiction within the Enneagram framework—a sort of spiritual personality test (though Chris will kill me for this reduction)—gives us some real insight. (As an aside, a working knowledge of the Enneagram isn’t essential, here, though it might be helpful. Stick with me.)

According to the Enneagram, I am a type Five. I’m marked by a need to form thoughtful conclusions based on investigation. So often, my search for knowledge stems from my own hyperactive need for security. So, when my son was ill, when my soul addiction for security couldn’t be satiated, a deep, existential pain set in. Heuertz aptly recasts my story:

“One of the clearest tales of type Five in disintegration is Seth Haines’s book, Coming Clean: A Story of Faith, the heart-wrenching memoir of a young man whose child is facing dire health risks and likely death. Seth knows what to do: he finds the best doctors, has his faith community say all the right prayer, and commits to being a loving and present father as he cares for his son. But nothing works.

And so he wades into the murky waters of [alcohol]. The constant buzz of the booze is Seth’s way of dulling the constant mental activity his mind is addicted to—the continual churning and turning over the problem in pursuit of solutions. In his own disintegration, Seth adopts type Seven’s propensity to overuse or overdo anything that offers pleasure as a way of rescuing himself from the mental and emotional agony.”

With security in short supply, unable to find answers, I felt the pain of scarcity. Where were the answers? Where was the healing? Where was God?  Pain being too much to bear, I turned to the “propensity to overuse or overdo anything that offers pleasure as a way of rescuing” myself. Gin was my anything of choice.

Heuertz’s work is rich on so many levels, but for those of us coming to terms with our own addictions, especially those with some interest in the Enneagram, its richness lies in the fact that he draws us to the deep truth. The true addictions we all battle lie beneath the alcohol, beneath the heroin, beneath the shopping or social media injection. These addictions rise from deeper addictions, the need for power, control, affection, esteem, security, and survival.

Consider it. Doesn’t this feel true? And if it does, ask yourself this: Can I name my deeper soul addiction?

***

Buy your copy of THE SACRED ENNEAGRAM: FINDING YOUR UNIQUE PATH TO SPIRITUAL GROWTH by following this link. (P.S. This is a completely unpaid, unsponsored, un-affiliated post.)

 

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It’s National Recovery Month. Come Clean?

September is National Recovery Month, a month raising awareness for those struggling with addiction, dependency, and compulsive habits. What’s more, September is the month I came clean four years ago. It’s the month I stepped into my own exploration of sobriety. That exploration has led me here, and I couldn’t be more grateful.

Around these parts, we don’t limit discussion of recovery to alcohol or drugs. Instead, we look at recovery as something for everyone, something for the chemical addict and the over-shopper, over-eater, under-eater, video-game freak, or people pleaser. We all have our own bags, see. We all have different ways, different habits of avoiding pain. In part, this is the reason I curated the Recovery Room series years ago. (Check it out. There’s something there for everyone.)

Today, I’m asking you to take an inventory of your life. What are the habits and dependencies you use to numb anesthetize the pain of your life? What are the things you use to hold the presence of God at arm’s length? Can you identify a primary dependency? For me (and many of you) it was drinking. For some, it’s something wholly different. Get alone. Be honest. Jot down your dependency. Then? Get some resources, get a community, and get to work.

And as you move forward in an exploration of your dependency, compulsive habits, or addiction, I’m asking you to participate in my journey (and in National Recovery Month). It’s a journey I’ve written about in Coming Clean: A Story of Faith. There, I share the first 90 days of my own recovery journey with you, and show the practice that helped set me free. It’s raw at times, tender at others, but it’s always honest.

What are some ways you can participate in the journey of Coming Clean? What are some ways you can share the message?

COMING CLEAN RESOURCES FOR RECOVERY MONTH:

1. Coming Clean
Coming Clean: A Story of Faith shares my 90-day journey into recovery. And isn’t it fitting that it began in September (2013). This is my story, sure. It’s your story, too. Grab a copy. Grab an extra copy for your friends.

“Seth writes with a distinctly Southern sensibility—elegant, evocative, lyrical–and his wisdom and honesty shine through every page, gently illuminating our own fears and secret hearts along the way.” ~Shauna Niequist, author of Present Over Perfect.

(Patrons of my work at the $6.00-$10.00 tier receive a free copy of Coming Clean.)

2. Audio Readings
Would you like to listen to sample chapters of Coming Clean? Click on the photos below to listen to the first two chapters. (For more samples as they’re available, join my Patreon Community.)

3. Facebook Group
Would you like a place to discuss recovery from any old thing? Join this little Facebook Group. There are some good discussions there from time to time.

4. Coming Clean Journal
Receive thirty days of email prompts leading you to examine your own addictions, attachments, or dependencies and leading you into your own recovery.

Please feel free to share these resources with others who might need them. And if you have any question about whether someone might need them, remember this: We’re all drunk on something. 

 

***BECOME A PATRON***

Do you like the content here or in my Tiny Letter? Then I’d like to invite you to join my Patreon community. What is Patreon? It’s a way for you, the reader, to become a patron, a person supporting the arts (my art to be precise), and receive behind the scenes content in return. Visit my Patreon page for more information. And, if you enjoy this website and haven’t yet signed up for the bi-monthly Tiny Letter newsletter, feel free to sign up below.

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Recovery Room: A Trippy Experience (an Interview with Steve Wiens)

On Thursdays, I welcome all comers into the Recovery Room, a place where we unpack issues of dependency, pain, and addiction. Today, I’m in the hot seat, and I hope you’ll join in listening to this candid interview with Steve Wiens. It’s just one little click. Go. Really. Go. (And while you’re there, consider subscribing to Steve’s podcast.)

Before you go, though, please know how grateful I am that you keep reading along (or listening along, as the case may be). I cannot say how much I appreciate you.

***Tiny Letter***

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The Art of Sobriety

I’m still in Montana enjoying the big sky and cooler weather. While I’ve been away, Coming Clean entered the world. You can pick up your copy at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Givington’s, or wherever books are sold. In the meantime, today I’m sharing this piece I wrote for addiction.com on the the connection between drinking, sobriety, and creative writing.

Enjoy.

*****

Hi. My name is Seth Haines. I am a writer. I am an alcoholic.

There could be no truer way to begin a piece on the intersection of writing and addiction unless I were to confess that, on par, I have an addictive stripe that runs as true and as hot as the Mississippi River. Alcohol? Yes. Words? Yes. Any old thing? Perhaps.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had a taste for language. My mother was a literature teacher at the local junior high, and she taught me the power words wield in poetry and prose. I took her message to heart, playing with words from an early age. I stretched language like taffy, spun words together like cotton candy. I sold my first short story at the age of 11 to Jenna Kohler on the playground for 25 cents. It was a piece about the resurrection of frogs in the final days of the world’s spin-cycle. It remains, to this day, some of my best work.

My taste for alcohol developed at a later age. I imbibed for the first time after my 21st birthday — a modest two bottles of banquet beer — and in the years following, eased my way into a penchant for liquor. The more I drank, the more I discovered that either God or my family tree, depending upon your view of the world, had gifted me with a strong German tolerance. It was a fortuitous discovery, if not an epiphanic one, and in it, I became a most accomplished drinker.

I cannot point to the moment when I began to combine drinking and writing. When did I put whiskey and words into a shaker with cracked ice and cocktail them together? I do not recall. But in the years leading up to my sobriety, I wrote articles, poetry and what I’d like to call the Great American Novel (which remains unpublished on my computer desktop), all under the influence. Alcohol became jet fuel for the creative fire. It was the medium for the muse.

Continue reading along at addiction.com…

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