Early recovery reminds me a great deal of adolescence, that painful transition from our childhood dependencies and beliefs to more mature coping structures and social interactions.

In the text by John Bradshaw, Bradshaw on: The Family, Stage I Recovery is summed up as an acronym. John Bradshaw outlines 14 characteristics toward this goal: Surrendering to pain Trust and telling secrets Affiliation Group support Experiencing powerlessness & unmanageability 1st order change Relavitizing the absolute will Experiencing emotions Collapsing grandiosity Oneness with self Value restoration Externalization of shame Rigorous honesty Yin/Yang balance

Surrendering to pain is its own anecdote. People often say, "If only I had the troubles of a child." The problem is, some of us still do. Had we actually surrendered to the pain of those problems, we'd have learned the coping skills to grow past them. Though growth is painful, the alternative is to hold on to pain and never grow past it. I know: I've spent too many years stuck in adolescent rebellion and the agony that comes with that.

Trusting and telling secrets. When I drank, I never really cared what people saw me do. Funny, when I got sober, I suddenly cared and didn't want to discuss those things that I did.

Trust is about crossing the street and not worrying about getting hit by a car. Some of us will make it; some of us will never even try. I've learned to make that journey because I got tired of the view on this side of the street, and the more often I make it, the easier it becomes. I can only say that it takes a leap of faith to start the process, but it's been an interesting and rewarding trip when I've taken it.

Affiliation is all about finding where we belong. It's natural for us to gravitate toward others of our own social group. In the case of myself, that's other alcoholics. That doesn't mean I like every member of AA. In fact, even those I don't like help me. They show me what I don't want to become. But there are many more who have what I want, and I need to see, listen and share with all of these people to feel a part of this greater thing called sobriety.

Group support is really the embodiment of both trust and affiliation. It's the family unit-- sometimes dysfunctional, but always there, and always an education on what and how to - and how not to - grow up. There are days I sit in a meeting and think, "This is my family; this is where I belong." Of course, there are other days I think, "Am I really one of these fools?" That's family, and they're always there for me, whether I'm in the mood for them or not.

Experiencing powerlessness (and unmanageability) isn't really a new concept to the alcoholic. After all, we used alcohol to do for us what we could not do for ourselves. And unmanageability is the result of that endeavor. The real crux of this stage of development, though, is the ability to feel it, accept it, and let it go. Some days, I live in this stage, and just have to give everyone else the power. It helps me to think of it as letting someone else spend the energy that I just don't have. In fact, I'm a little overdrawn on the energy account, anyway.

1st order change is evolving from not only the physical state of being dry, but from all of the addictive behaviors associated with its abuse. I, for one, leaned on alcohol a long, long time. Finding a balance between giving up control to my new family and maintaining self-identity hasn't been easy - or pretty. It's the self-identity within the family unit, though, that gives me value. It's not my goal to become a cult follower. I gave up alcohol to learn to function the way others do, not to trade in my crutch for a new one.

Relavitizing the absolute will isn't easy for someone who lives for instant gratification. Put simply, it means growing perspective in ourselves. Putting off gratification for now, for even greater gratification down the road. I love to twist living "One day at a time" into "Getting what I want now", but I've learned that what I want and what I need usually aren't the same thing. Focusing on the one thing I want and need today - sobriety - I've been able to keep a healthy perspective on those areas that don't work out the way I want in the process. And believe me, there are a lot of things that don't work out the way I want them to.

Experiencing emotions--"Can we just skip this one?" That's been my drinking mantra. It's also been my drinking excuse. Every part of this journey demands experiencing emotions. That's how I know I'm alive. That may sound trite, but I mean it when I say, that I didn't feel alive when I drank. There's a reason I call alcohol liquid oblivion. Enough said.

Collapsing grandiosity. The hardest thing I experienced in early recovery was the inability to feel joy, or unabandoned laughter. I was too busy trying to control events and emotions, filtering what came in and went out. That's a full time job, and it's hard to feel much of anything pleasant when you're working so hard to set rules for yourself - and everybody else. I am finally learning to give myself permission to lighten up and let someone else do the worrying for me. There are plenty of people out there more than willing to do that. So let them.

Oneness with self is the ultimate state of awareness, trust and acceptance. My early recovery has been marked with the death of my sister, the one person in my life who provided me with absolute unconditional love. There's a problem with that statement. It's the fact that she was the only one who gave me that - I never even gave that to myself. Oneness, for me, is learning to give that missing unconditional love and acceptance to myself. It's neither been an easy process nor a fast one, but the rewards have been ten-fold for the baby steps I've managed to take.

Value restoration has been integral to self-acceptance for me. With every drink I washed away a piece of my moral fabric, or at the very least, severely faded it. That's what I thought. But as I've awakened as a dryer me, I've found that the original cloth I was cut from still exists, save for a few moth holes. It's allowed me to regain some self-respect, self-worth and ultimately is my path toward that unconditional love for self that I seek.

Externalization of shame could be better expressed simply as humility. That's not to be confused with humiliation. Some people have this morbid idea that recovery through self-deprecation is the key. It's not. I'm a valuable human being, and I need to keep that perspective, without confusing that for being better than or less than any other human being. It's none of my business what other people think of me in terms of my past or my moral fiber. It is, however, my business to learn to make sure I don't repeat the past or stray from my own moral framework, while allowing it to grow. It helps to know that I don't have to live my past, I only have to own it, and in so doing, I can grow from the lessons it holds.

Rigorous honesty is the one area that I'd rather not be rigorous about. In fact, I don't know of anyone who is 100%. Thank God this program is about progress, not perfection. Still, seemingly lofty or not, if we're to trust others (which we must), then we must be trustworthy ourselves. Practice will never make perfect, but it goes a long ways toward helping me become the antithesis to the social misfit I was.

Yin/Yang balance. Okay, this sounds a little too metaphysical. I think I can best sum up this and, for that matter, my sobriety this way: Too much of a good thing leaves us unprepared for the journey ahead; too much of a bad thing leaves us unable to start the journey at all. Finding balance through the chaos we once lived in is the key to making the whole thing worthwhile.

-John Slate, February, 2004