Yesterday I held a talk in my community for adults who were preoccupied with how their (and other people’s) children could best manage stress. Prevention is the best way to solve problems, and I hoped to give the audience insight into, and tools for, preventing further anxiety, depression, addiction, etc in their and other people’s kids. I was pleased with the turnout and I received some great feedback, and overall, I am really happy I put myself out there this way. I plan to hold more similar workshops, but in the meantime, I wanted to write about something that I think contributes a lot to the issues I listed above, both in kids and in adults.

A few years ago, I went to a friend’s house. She had just moved into this gorgeous mansion and had invited me to lunch. It was a beautiful spread of super healthy food of various shades of green (my fave!) and we ate at her dining room table, with heavy silverware, all posh and civilized. After lunch, she asked if I wanted a tour of the house. Of course I did! So she led me through room after gorgeous room, everything super tidy. Then we went upstairs and she showed me all of the bedrooms. They were a mess. Her kids were teens, so it was that kind of mess that teens innately know how to create, and somehow seem to survive in without coming unhinged. Oh wait… Anyway, I was shocked. Not because of the mess (my kids weren’t teens yet so I didn’t know this was super normal), but because my friend never apologized for the mess. She never did that thing we all tend to do: “I am so sorry it’s a mess - I’ve asked him to blah blah blah…” Nope, she took me through each inhabited room on the 2nd and 3rd floors and never said anything about how, well, lived-in they were.

That day, my friend gave me one of the best gifts another woman has ever given me. She gave me permission to not be (as) worried about what others think about my domestic diva-ness. Or lack thereof. (Note: I am a never-ending work in progress). By not killing herself over picking up everything, or fighting with her kids to do so the night before, or denying me the opportunity to see the “real” parts of her new home, or apologizing for the lack of perfection - she allowed me to own my imperfection. I became more aware of when I would do all of the above. I began to reflect on WHY I did all of the above. Did I think someone would feel uncomfortable with my lack of domestic perfection? Did I think they would scorn me? Dislike me? And then I thought about the fact she didn’t apologize, which was actually the most amazing part to me. Because I would certainly have good friends over even if the house was a mess, but I would always barricade the doorway until I had blurted out an apologetic warning. What is that about?! My friend, that day, showed me what acceptance is about. Acceptance of herself, of her kids, of imperfection.

At yesterday’s event I did not tell this story, but I told other stories because I know that I connect best when someone shares a story, and if it’s a personal one, all the better. All I really know in life is my own life experience thus far, so when people ask me things like, “How do I handle it when my daughter is so anxious she doesn’t want to go to school?” or “I am really worried my son is falling behind at school and I am overwhelmed, what do I do?” or “I am terrified that life is so crazy and chaotic that I am never going to feel in control again, what do I do?” - I may not have experienced their exact situation. But I do know that our children are feeling lots of pressure from all kinds of places, and the best we can do for them is to be a non-anxious presence, and guide them from a place of love and acceptance (which, by the way, is the intention I set before each meeting with a coaching client). This is where our own self-care comes in. When we prioritize our self-care, and do the things we need to do in order to feel somewhat rested, fit, purposeful, creative, and connected, we are more likely to like ourselves, which then translates into a person who can show up for someone else with love, acceptance, and the patience to not react to every button-pushing moment.

A few of the young adults I have worked with who are in recovery from addiction (and if you don’t know this, alcohol and other drugs are usually if not always a way to avoid uncomfortable feelings and thoughts, which often include anxiety, grief, anger, loneliness, boredom, frustration, fear, etc), have told me, “Something I love about being in recovery is that I get to talk with people who are being real. We talk about the hard stuff. I finally feel like someone hears me and gets me.” I have often told my kids, “I wish there was AA for you guys and your friends and peers, without you needing to be afflicted with anything, just a place where you know you can show up, share your problems and fears, and know you are heard and accepted and no one is trying to fix you. Because the thing is, this stuff you are going through, I guarantee most of your classmates are going through, and you all think you are the only ones who feel this way. Trust me, Little Miss Popular has a lot of stuff going on and you have no idea. If you all had a space like this, AA and NA would be far less needed, sigh.”

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This type of connection is powerful and it is a gift. And for people in recovery, it is an enormous source of gratitude. It is such a relief to be able to invite someone in without having to make all of the beds and fold all of the clothes and apologize for anything that would be a “Before” segment of the Mari Kondo show, or to have to relate to someone on that surface level that is so exhausting.

The thing is, one of the reasons that perfection and its pursuit is so pervasive, is that it is yet another socially-acceptable and even revered addiction. (Other socially acceptable addictions are workaholism, workout & diet addiction, and to a large extent alcoholism - as long as you don’t go “too far” with it).  What is the definition of addiction? To me, it’s when you do something that you know is stunting your growth, your wellness, your relationships, and yet you keep doing it. You experience detrimental consequences yet you do it again. And again.

So what does this have to do with our kids? Well, as I pointed out yesterday, we, the parents/primary caregivers, are our kids’ first and most profound influencers. Studies have proven that when our kids are in certain situations with substances, and there is a choice to be made, their parents’ attitude toward substances will be the strongest filter for the decision. This is the same filter through which many of their attitudes and choices go through, even though they may not realize it and even though it seems like they are not listening to us or all they do is fight us. So, as their primary influencers, if in our actions, we are showing them that we are only satisfied with perfection - with our house, our car, our clothes, our skin, our hair, our weight, our work performance, our friends, our Instagram posts, etc. - it must be terrifying to them when they know (or believe) they are incapable of perfection in our eyes.

We do not do this on purpose. As I pointed out at the talk yesterday, I don’t think any of us gets up and says, “I am going to be Little Miss Perfect today!” I think what we do is we get up, and we do what needs to be done, throughout the day, to keep things going, to put out fires, to avoid the fires, and to (on the good days) look presentable and do a pretty good job. And what we may not even realize is that we are not creating moments to connect with friends and peers, or with our family, in ways that are a tad more vulnerable. Unless we are on a retreat with our friends, or in a self-help meeting, we are probably not often sharing some of our deepest fears and daily frustrations. Not because we don’t want to show that side of ourselves as much as, we don’t want to be debbie-downers or the annoying complainer. And that is probably a good thing, by the way (constantly complaining without trying to change anything is a total turnoff for most healthy people). But it can get to the point where we have erected barriers to real connection, because we may not even realize that we have now created this appearance that we are doing super awesome all of the time, that we never make mistakes, that we can single-handedly take care of what needs to be done. We know that nobody is perfect, that the perfect mom down the street probably has unresolved daddy issues or hates her cellulite, but maybe we are not even aware that others, especially our kids, fear that if they are real with us, we will not like them any more because we obviously worship perfection, and their imperfection is something we would reject and want to fix.

So, you know how on that job application, when you were asked what your greatest weakness was, and you wrote, “Perfectionism” because you believed it was a weakness that your prospective employer would love? Perhaps it is time to update that part of you (your inner critic?) that misguidedly hides behind perfectionism to avoid vulnerability. Notice when, in your day, you are doing what needs to be done, and in that moment, hit the pause button. Does it really need to be done? Does it need to be one exactly like that? Will life unravel if some things are done half-assed or not at all? And when you do this, share it with your family over dinner. Revel in the shocked looks on the kids’ faces when you admit you told your boss you refuse to answer emails after 6pm, and you are no longer going to police their rooms each week. Drop an authenticity bomb next time you go out to lunch with friends who normally stay on the surface. It’s amazing what happens when you share, “I am really scared my sophomore is not making any friends.”

Welcome to the Real World :)

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This week at rehab, I felt God. I was completely clean and sober, so it’s not what you think. In fact, this week marked three years since I have touched alcohol. I go to a treatment center for alcohol and other drugs twice a week, because I felt called to bring whatever wisdom and skills I have picked up along the way as a Life Coach, Sober Coach, and Yoga instructor, to people whose collection of choices, whose dis-eased brains and bodies, have brought them to seek recovery. I absolutely love this work.  Every day, before I walk in the door, I pray to God: “Please help me get out of your way, so that you can speak through me, so that I may be a bridge for these beautiful people to reconnect with their healthy, powerful selves.” Often, the clients tell me how much they appreciate my coaching - yes, even after they have been grumbling through my planks and hamstring stretches, or after I have in my blunt manner reminded them that it is up to them, today, to rewrite the story of their lives. But in reality, I get as much from them as they do from me.

During each 8 hour shift, I witness first-hand, miracles in the making. It is an intense environment. Underneath the external comforts - a chef to prepare healthy meals, art therapy, private therapy sessions, guided mindfulness, fancy interior decor, loving therapists and other staff - there is the knowledge that this is life or death. And while we can help the clients in incredibly profound ways, they need to make the effort. They need to do whatever it takes. And many of them do. Because I only work there twice a week, I get to see the transformation the way grandparents who only see their grandkids sporadically see the astonishing growth that parents don’t notice as they see their kids every day.  Sometimes the transformation is physical, especially if someone was detoxing when they first arrived. That detox phase, especially from heroin, is brutal - I wish everyone could see it, and think of it before popping a painkiller (opiate). The mental and emotional transformation is beautiful to behold, as a client who once was timid is now sharing with the group, or who started off resistant, having been “forced” by a judge or a parent into treatment, has gone from hating the world as expressed verbally and through body language, to “I really want this. I need this.”

This week, as I have reflected on what these last three years of first hesitatingly testing the waters of removing, for a “bit,” alcohol from my life, to now, three years later, having zero desire to ingest a substance that recently was declared by the World Health Organization to be dangerous in all quantities, for every person, I was filled with awe. I have learned the incredible power of transformation that comes by basically just doing the next right thing. It is so simple, not easy, but just doing this, over and over, creates enormous change. And the thing is, everything is changing, Nothing stays the same. And as John Maxwell stated in the podcast I listened to the other morning during my run, if we are not preparing, we end up repairing.

We all have really great examples before us (sometimes in the mirror) of what happens when we live on autopilot. Addiction, depression, heart disease, obesity, autoimmune diseases, cancer, chronic pain, the cycle of abuse, financial disaster, Alzheimers - none of this happens in a vacuum. A lot of suffering develops because we don’t know what we don’t know, or we don’t act on what we do know. At this point, we know that we become what we have eaten, drank, smoked, feared, and identified as over and over, for days, weeks, months, years. Our children are a reflection of all of the above too, as they are the canaries in the coal mine. The other day I was hanging out with a young woman who is newly in recovery, and I pointed out that her choices and her mother’s choices and her grandmother’s choices are having a direct impact on her children. I shared with her how, pain that is not transformed is transferred. “You have the choice, today, to end the cycle, by working on transforming the pain. Do the next right thing, today. And if it works, do it again tomorrow. Everything you do has a ripple, a compound, effect.”

I was also talking with another person, who is still in the early stage of change (contemplation), about the proverbial rock bottom that many people wait for before figuring out what the next right thing is and then embarking on their personal transformation. “You do not need to become a trainwreck in order to start to change. You can choose, right now, today, to not drink. You do not need to waste more money, put more poison in your organs, or crash a car. You can choose, today, to try out a new lifestyle that will make cancer, Alzheimer’s, heart disease, and further heartbreak far less likely. If nothing else, at least you know you did your best.” By the way, this applies to anything - you do not need to have a diagnosis, a catastrophic health event, a bankruptcy declaration, a divorce, employment termination, etc., to pivot your choices, your attitude, your life.

Three years ago, I had no idea that my “break” from the most popular, glamorized, money-making, addictive, statistically harmful drug in the world would lead to where and who I am today. In fact, if you had told me so I would have run in the opposite direction. Just like when I ran my first 10k, if you had told me that a decade later I would be doing my first Ironman, I would have told you you were absolutely nuts. In fact, I may never have had the cojones to do the 10k. Future-tripping to an Ironman would have been so overwhelming that my “who the hell do you think you are?” part would have taken over.  In terms of alcohol, the part of me who is great at justifying the comfort zone, would have said, “you are only doing what everyone else is doing. Do you really want to leave the herd? I mean, nothing catastrophic has happened. You are an athlete, a coach, you have good self-discipline, you just need to set some more limits.”

But then, as I started to learn more about the science, the health effects, and testing it all out on my favorite guinea pig (me), and simultaneously meeting more people who also wanted to live this way, and deepen their self-awareness and let go of their ego as much as possible - I realized that those parts of me that wanted to protect the status quo had given way to the part of me that lives in love, joy, real connection. The part of me that is a rebel, adventurous, risk-taking, is thrilled to be up front and center because she is the one that reminds me every day, “I GET to live alcohol-free. I GET to pause and respond, rather than react. I GET to hang out with friends who work every day on their own self-awareness and therefore show up in a way that is real, accepting, and loving.” As I often point out at the rehab, being clean and sober is the ultimate act of rebellion.  

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I witness miracles all around me every day, and in them, I see and feel something that is far greater than me, than us. I am so grateful to be aware of this, and for the invitations I receive each and every day to hit the pause button and soak it all in. We are all invited, every single moment, yet so often we are so busy looking for the wrong thing we don’t even realize the invitation is right in front of us.

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You left a warm, predictable world and were born into an existence where you relied on other humans to keep you safe, warm, nourished and alive. These humans did the best that they could with what they had at the time. They told you stories, and without questioning, because you did not know any other way to be, why would you, you absorbed the stories and you made them your own. You did your best, every day, with what you had, to keep going forward. You learned to crawl, to walk, to giggle when you were tickled and to scream when you needed something - physical or emotional nourishment. You learned that some things hurt - falling off a bike, touching a hot marshmallow, a bee sting. You learned that people help us, hurt us, lead us, teach us, punish us, love us, abuse us, disappoint us, thrill us, challenge us, bore us, protect us, react to us, guide us, run away from us, trust us, need us.

Along the way, you started to learn how to be in the world. Like a baby bird who first tumbles out of its nest, and gingerly begins to take its first steps, and learns to fly. First a few flaps of the wings, then longer flights, looking for food, moving with the gusts of wind. You, too, learned to adapt to the environment you were moving through - at home, at school, in all of your activities, with people you thought of as friends, acquaintances, enemies. Now you look back and realize you were a master chameleon, adapting to the environment in a way that kept you safe. Sometimes blending in so you looked and sounded like everyone else, sometimes invisible because there was, is, comfort in blending in with the background view and noise. Somewhere along the way, you may have lost touch with who you are, because you were so busy becoming what others thought you were, who they wanted and needed you to be, who you thought they wanted and needed you to be.

And then one day, you started to wake up. You started to get this feeling that something wasn’t right. You started to feel that maybe this stuff that you were doing, or not doing, saying, or not saying, thinking, or not thinking, maybe this was not how you wanted to be. Maybe your body started to give you hints - you were more tired, more achy, got sick more often. Maybe you had noticed that no matter how much you ate, you were still hungry, no matter how much you drank, you were still thirsty. Maybe it was a void you were trying to fill with physical things - but a soul-level hunger cannot be sated by ice cream, chardonnay, forbidden lust, pills, JImmy Shoo or Pinterest. So you started to explore the idea that maybe, just maybe, those things were not working any more. At one point, they were working, and you know this, because you are here today. The masks you created and wore, the coat of armor you enveloped your body and heart in, the stuff you built around you like a wall to avoid intimacy - into-me-see - it all worked. Because you are here, maybe broken, maybe a heart that has been pierced, maybe a soul that has been suffering - but you are here.

And in showing up today, you are taking the most powerful step in recovery. Because showing up is the hardest thing to do and you are doing that. You are showing up, for your body, your mind, your soul. You are showing up for your sisters in this room, for your loved ones back home, for your community and the world. Because the world needs you to show up. The world needs you to choose to remove the masks and the armour that no longer serve you. The world needs you to step into your power, the power that comes through acceptance. Acceptance that, who you are today is because of who you were every day leading up to this day. The power that comes through surrender.  Surrendering control over other people, over the past, over the future. The power that comes through knowing, that today, you can choose to do the next right thing, knowing that if you do that, and only that, the rest will fall into place. And you are not alone, you are never alone, because it is through whatever brought you to your knees, and to this place, that you are showing up ready to connect, to discover, to remember, to recover. It is in this state of willingness that you realize that you are finally, in this moment, and only in this moment, home.

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We may have witnessed or been victims of a violent attack, or have been raised in a chaotic household, or been molested over a period of time, or fought in a war. We may have experienced deep loss of love, of financial stability, of a sense of belonging. In fact, if our parents, and/or their parents, experienced trauma, this can affect us today.

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Trauma affects the central nervous system.  The human brain and central nervous system begin to develop at about three weeks’ gestation - leading experts to believe that any trauma experienced by the pregnant mother at this point is having an impact on the developing brain. The central nervous system basically takes in cues from the environment via the senses and these cues are interpreted by the brain. A traumatized brain is sort of like a toddler - impulsive, reactive, makes no sense to those of us with common sense. For someone who has endured trauma and has not engaged in healing and recovery, chances are, the rational part of the brain that makes wise decisions (we would hope), and the emotional part of the brain that among many other important things supports relationships through empathy, trust and attachment, get hijacked by the part of the brain whose sole purpose is to ensure survival, no matter what.

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Explaining how yoga can help with brain and body imbalances would take too long for this already lengthy blogpost, but in a nutshell, working with a trauma-informed instructor can help you learn tools for those inevitable times in your day and life where you feel triggered, helping you become less reactive, more even-keeled, less irrational, more tranquil. Which is what happened to me when I felt restored after my post-dog-attack yoga class.

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If you would like to learn more, I urge you to check out the following resources. YOU can make a difference.

Books/Articles:

Mindful Policing: The Future of Force
The Body Keeps Score by Bessel Van der Kolk, MD
Overcoming Trauma Through Yoga by David Emerson and Elizabeth Hopper, PhD
The Body Remembers: The Psychophysiology of Trauma and Trauma Treatment (Babette Rothschild)
The Mindful Way Through Stress by Shamash Alidina
How Yoga Works by Geshe Michael Roach
In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts by Gabor Mate, MD
Lost Connections by Johann Hari
The Biology of Belief by Bruce Lipton, PhD
Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma by Peter Levine
The Deepest Well: Healing the Long-Term Effects of Childhood Adversity by Nadine Burke Harris, MD
​Molecules of Emotion: The Science Behind Mind-Body Medicine by Candace B. Pert, PhD


Videos and documentaries:

How childhood trauma affect health - TED Talk by Nadine Burke Harris, MD: https://ed.ted.com/on/iOyQVfhd
Code 9 trailer and film:  http://www.thecode9film.com/

Recently, I had the privilege of taking a friend to see an endocrinologist as she needed an adjustment in the medication she is taking for her autoimmune condition. I waited for her in the waiting room and as we rode down in the elevator after her appointment, I asked her if she liked the doctor. My friend hesitated and then quietly said, No. After some prodding, she finally admitted that when the doctor saw the evidence of her drug addiction, which is healing now but still a relatively fresh track record on her arm, the doctor’s demeanor instantly changed. The doctor’s words and tone felt condescending, judgmental, shaming.

When my friend shared this with me, I was horrified. I think she was still in shock, and I think that being so early in her recovery, she is like a timid little bird who is not quite sure of her footing, her view of the world, or most of all, her view of herself. I know enough about the disease of addiction to know that nobody gets to that level of self-destruction (and other-destruction) because they were blessed with good things and relationships and genes and all that stuff. Chances are, they are struggling with some level of trauma, and chances are pretty high they have inherited pain and suffering that their parents, grandparents, and other ancestors endured and never transformed - so they transferred it to the children they raised (or abandoned). In recovery, we build ourselves back up, and this is done with the help of people and a network who operate from a place of compassion.  Ideally, this compassion eventually seeps into the blood and soul of the person in recovery, and one day they start to believe that they are worthy. But it is a long process, and my friend is in the early stages.

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As we rode in the car I was driving, I helped her process what had just happened. I explained to her that the contempt she had just felt from the doctor was unprofessional, and my friend deserved better treatment. I said, “if you had told her that you had diabetes, or cancer, or heart disease, I am pretty sure she would have treated you with more dignity.  The fact that she didn’t is a reflection on HER, not YOU. In medical school, doctors take the Hippocratic Oath, which states that they will first, do no harm. Unfortunately, doctors still are not taught about the disease model of addiction, nor are they taught, or given refresher courses, on how to treat someone who struggles with this awful disease.”

A friend of mine is a nurse in an ER that is on the frontlines of the disease epidemic in the U.S., and she is horrified by the way the doctors and nurses treat, and speak about, the patients who come in with every level of injury, disease, and overdose due to addiction. These medical professionals are exhausted, and understandably frustrated, especially when the “frequent flyers” show up - again. And again. I get it. It must be incredibly triggering of every medical professional’s fear that no matter what, they cannot fix this person. And they are on the front line of a medical establishment that is absolutely inadequate when it comes to addiction and other mental health dis-eases. So, their lack of compassion is in many ways understandable - it is a side effect of caregiver burnout.

And medical professionals are just one segment of the population that is ignorant and ill-equipped to effectively help people in active addiction, as well as in recovery. I have Fakebook friends (just a couple, phew) who share stories in the media that effectively shame people with addiction. Every time I see one of those posts (eg couple overdoses in car, kids in the back seat) I am deeply saddened. How can this be helpful? Again, I return to what I stated earlier - when a person becomes this sick, it is something that is beyond their control. And it is rare that someone is shamed into changing, and I am quite sure that shame does not lead to positive change in systems or in society, but rather, builds up and strengthens everything negative, from the individual to the global levels.

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When my mom was facing a premature death due to a cancer that was ravaging her body, she told me on one of our drives to her radiation appointments that she had urged my dad to mourn her for a year after she was gone, and then to find another wife. She told me that she was sorry she was so sick, and that they had had a beautiful life together and that he deserved and needed a companion. So, on the one hand, she regretted the pain and suffering that she felt in a way she may have caused (through years of smoking). On the other hand, she so very graciously and generously was giving him permission to honor what they had had, and to start a new chapter.

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A couple of years after my mom had passed, my dad met Janet, after a friend urged him to create an eHarmony account. I remember when he created his profile - I think it took about three hours! - and he asked me to read his answers. It was thorough! My dad was a catch - apparently widowers in their early 60s are a hot ticket item in a demographic that tends to be largely female. He communicated and dismissed his share of women who were not intellectually and culturally satisfying to him (apparently “shopping” is a common hobby), and eventually Janet appeared. After a few online messages and phone calls, they met in person (she lived in VA, he in SC).  A few months later they were engaged, and a few months after that they married. That was over ten years ago.

I remember during this time, well-meaning friends saying things like, “Susanne, aren’t you upset? Don’t you think this is rather soon for him to be dating/getting married?” Quite honestly, I did not know what they were talking about. Soon after they started dating, Janet flew up on her own to CT just to meet me, my husband and my kids. From the beginning, I sensed and now know that she is kind, authentic, and truly cares about my dad. And she is intimidatingly smart! They have the same obsession for opera, classical music, classical literature and art museums. They both dislike shopping, love to travel, cook, walk on the beach. Janet has taught at various universities including Georgetown and Howard U, and I think this may have been a factor in my dad’s decision to get his Master’s at the age of 69, and embark on a new career in teaching (he is now the head of his school’s language department!).

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I realize that my mom paved the way for me to find acceptance, and this was perhaps one of the greatest gifts she could have given me. And my dad. He and my mom had a wonderful, adventurous three decades or so together, raising two children across four countries. And, that part of the journey ended for them, for our family. When my dad met Janet, he started a new journey, that did not take away from his time with my mom. Janet takes good care of my dad and I do not have to worry about him, knowing he is in loving, attentive hands. Sure, there was a transition when his new love distracted him from doting on his daughters and grandchildren, but that was a temporary adjustment and it gave way to a new normal.  And they certainly dote on their five grandchildren!

As I was running yesterday and thinking about motherhood, and the often mixed feelings around Mother’s Day depending on where we are as mothers, daughters, wives, and how we are managing our expectations, I was thinking about how this day may feel for stepmoms. I imagine being a stepmom, even when you are entering a family with adult children, the way Janet did, is a scary adventure, with lots of potential for conflict and drama. I am grateful that my dad lucked out/chose well, and that my mom paved the way for acceptance and gratitude. And my hope is that on this Mother’s Day, as I think of my mom with love, sadness, and longing, and I also feel so much gratitude and love for my stepmom, Janet - that if you are a stepmom, or are struggling to accept a stepmom, that you feel love and compassion. In this morning’s yoga class, the teacher pointed out that we most fear external forces, but the truth is that the greatest sources of pain are within us. So, may we all just soften into this messy, brutiful existence, stay present, and accept that we are doing the best we can, right now.

Happy Mother’s Day :)

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I knew that alcohol was keeping me from showing up for the people I value the most, including myself, and from feeling my best. And yet, one of the main reasons I delayed sobriety beyond the point where I knew it was a poison, was this: based on the evidence before me, people who don’t drink are about as fun as a traditional church sermon. And I may be allergic to alcohol, but I am DEFINITELY allergic to uptight, boring, conformity, rigidity, [apparently senseless] rules.  As far as I knew, people who didn’t drink fit into one of three camps.  They were either 1) uptight, boring, conformists, rigid, the opposite of curious, not interested in taking risks (ie the opposite of interesting and exciting); or 2) train wrecks since adolescence, making one terrible decision after the other, and basically coming to the realization (or imposed by a legal or medical or social intervention) that they needed to sober up; or 3) they were fun, adventurous, curious, wild, interesting, risk-taking, and similar to #2, came to the realization (freely or forced) that they needed to sober up – and were now living an uptight, boring, conforming, rigid life. I did not relate to #1 or #2, and I did not want to be a reformed fun girl (#3).
 
Now, 2.5 years after I started my “break” from alcohol, I realize how skewed my perspective had been. I think it’s understandable, because the stigma and tradition of anonymity in the recovery world meant that all I saw were examples of the three “types” I listed above. I had no evidence of someone living their recovery out loud in a way that showed how fun and exciting sobriety can be. In my journey since Dec. 6, 2015, diving into my own stuff as well as what has become a professional journey in the area of recovery, I have learned that living without the poison of alcohol (I heard recently that if alcohol were invented today, the FDA would never approve it) actually does NOT have to mean that we may as well become boring losers.  Of course, there are many times that we may decide to skip certain events, occasions, trips and people because if we really think about it, we feel more connected and at peace in another environment – home in PJ’s with a cup of tea, or in a room with a bunch of other people who don’t drink, or sweating it out at the gym. But that is a choice we are now making freely, based on a desire to practice and prioritize self-care, not because it is what is expected of us, or because we are operating automatically and out of habit.
 
Recently, a sober friend of mine remarked that people in recovery are more fun to her than people who never really drank or used drugs. I found that an interesting thought, as it echoed an impression I had had when I first “took a break” and then started connecting with others in the sober world, online and in person. I found that people in this space were intriguing to me. They were more curious, awake, and authentic, than I had found in other milieu. And I have wondered, what is it about mind-altering substances and behaviors that attracts the type of person I best connect with – the high-achievers, the creatives, the super-curious, the boundless?  Is it that our current lifestyle and culture, with its rigid rules that begin when we start school (or daycare) and end on our deathbed, pushes us to seek relief from boredom and restlessness? 
 
Shortly after I initiated my “break,” I wrote a blog about the vacuum. When we give up a habit, we need to fill the vacuum with other activities, because Mother Nature hates vacuums (I don’t blame Mother Nature, nor does my dog-she hates it when I vacuum). You can read what I wrote here: http://www.therebootcoach.net/blog/get-rid-of-the-vacuum . Substance misuse disorder treatment professionals and self-help groups prioritize helping people create a structure in life that fills the vacuum with activities, a network, goals, etc. This seems like a pain in the ass, and there is always the “I don’t have time, I need to work/feed my kids/water my plants…” and especially for non-comformists who like to fly by the seat of their pants and go with the flow, structure and what seems like selfishness (but is really self-care) can be a tough pill to swallow (pardon the pun).  I get it. Especially when a lot of this stuff seems soooooooo boring.
 
My kids are teens now, an age that many people fear and dread, but I actually could not wait for this phase of parenting.  Babies are cute but boring, toddlers are cute but I can’t reason with them, and then kids (to me) become more interesting as I can talk with them and ride bikes and play Frisbee. When they are teens, I relate to them. I relate to their curiosity, their desire to explore, challenge, question, to rock the boat. That is my language! 
 
I moved to the U.S. from Mexico when I was entering my 12th grade of high school, and was rather shocked and dismayed by what to me seemed like a very bored teenage population, whose main outlet was alcohol and promiscuity. It was clear to me that they were acting this way because these were their options for having fun: 1. Play sports 2. Play music 3. Be in the school play 4. Eat at Friendly’s (the more interesting restaurant, Bennigans, required you to be 21 to eat there after 8:00pm) 5. Go to the YMCA and workout. Oh, and 6. Find out whose parents were going to be away and go to that house and binge drink and hook up.  I came from a vibrant, cosmopolitan city (Mexico City) that did not have many rules (many were ignored or you could bribe your way out of them), had plenty of things to do (social connection was such a cultural priority that many of us didn’t even have time for afterschool sports), and there was this expectation, culturally and from most of my peers, that you were to stay classy. I remember going to Acapulco with my family dozens of times, returning even after we moved to the U.S., and noting that the classy nightclubs were where the Mexicans hung out, while the Americans and Canadians went to the cheesy, trashy bars and clubs where there was no cover and girls drank for free (excess was the name of the game). Totally different vibe.
 
Now, as someone who is parenting teens, as well as working in the recovery space, I constantly think about all of this, especially because my main interest has always been in prevention.  How do we prevent problems from happening, especially today, when the stakes just seem so much higher?  How do we go about creating a home, school, lifestyle, society where kids, and adults who relate to kids (impulsive, risk-takers, intense, adventurous, curious, etc) feel accepted, challenged, engaged, connected?  My kids are super cool (I know, I am their mom, but still). They are fun, curious, love to dance (as in, with a DJ, not in a class), have good grades, go on adventures. But we often scratch our heads, because it feels like our culture (U.S.) is not really set up for a child to be well-rounded and live a wholehearted life. It seems that that is not really encouraged or supported until they fuck up (and then suddenly, if the kid is lucky, adults realize the child needs to be connected physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually). I often think of the movie The Breakfast Club, with the stereotypes. The jock, the goody-two-shoes rich girl, the nerd, etc. My kids don’t fit any of those stereotypes. They want to go out and have fun, dance, connect, be creative, be challenged intellectually, do sports. They don’t want to specialize in the way that our culture requires, which basically is telling kids, shoot for varsity sports, AP madness, join band, and there is not much room for rest, for doing things just for fun, for dabbling (not to be confused with dabbing).  Oh, and the cool kids don’t do church stuff, that’s the socially awkward kids, and if you want to socialize and you’re not on a team (where you have to be good enough to make the team), you have to go to parties where responsible adults are not present.  Yikes. And then we wonder why all these kids are suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, vaping.  My unscientific, anecdotally-based theory, is that this is a way for our teens to express their desire to be risk-taking, curious, non-conformists.  To satisfy their desire to be part of something bigger – which they seem to be getting via the vaping craze and the Fortnight obsession.  Of course, we as adults know how ill-founded the vaping thing is because of the health risks, and the fact that they are actually conforming (to wanting to be like their peers).  Oh wait – aren’t we doing that too, by buying the Mommy Timeout wine and wearing the Rosé All Day t-shirt? Hmmmm…..
 

 
As I have often said, our children are the canaries in the coal mine.  We need to pay attention to what they are telling us, and listen, rather than react with punishment.  They are mirroring our own hang-ups, issues, sources of anxiety, choices.  What does this say about our parenting, teaching, coaching?  About how we are structuring our priorities, from the individual, family, and community point of view?  And with this question and the gut feelings it evokes, how can I be the change I wish to see in the world?
 
So, how do I, as a teenager-at-heart proceed in this world, now that I have chosen not to alter my brain chemistry and pickle my liver?  How do I continue to feed my need to be fun, adventurous, non-conformist, wild, curious, risk-taking? First of all, at some point I realized that everyone and their grandmother is drinking booze, so the most non-conformist, counter-cultural, badass thing I could do was to say, to hell with booze. Then, I realized that being sober actually feeds my innate need to connect deeply with others, because in my personal and professional connections in the recovery space, I am, on a daily basis, having real conversations and impact, which is far more fulfilling to me than any conversation that could happen in an ethanol-induced cloud. I have continued to do my athletic stuff (teaching Yoga4Sobriety, running/triathlon stuff), which deepens my connection with others in a way that involves my physical senses, and deepens my gratitude for my health and resiliency. It is also a way to satisfy the part of me that longs for intense sensual connection, involving physical movement and challenge, and discomfort. I believe that the recovery world today needs to provide more opportunities to connect this way, and that treatment programs and centers need to focus on this more (ie move away from accepting that recovery entails tons of cigarettes and instead, guide sober people into mindful sweat-and-adrenaline-boosting movement).  The possibility of creating a Meet & Run or Meet & Ride group (a group run or bike ride immediately following a 12 step or other self-help group) is fun to me, certainly more interesting than the typical paradigm of a running group that then goes out for beer (canceling many of the running benefits including calorie-burning). Sweat-out trumps blackout.
 
I do not know how to make this a better place to nurture teenagers, but I figure that if I give myself what I need, and keep showing up in the way that feels right, and authentic, to me, then perhaps things can fall into place on a grander scale. I hope.
 
Sober really is the new badass.