Apr/100
“Back Problems”
I’ll be honest, when I finally made it to my first meeting, I was there for one reason, and one reason only…back problems. My wife was on my back, my boss was on my back and I had a two ton gorilla on my back. Of course, at the time none of this occurred to me. In fact, very little occurred to me then.
In the beginning, having to go to “those meetings,” was just another way that I tried to protect my addiction. I didn’t want to stop drinking. I just wanted you and everyone else to leave me alone about it. What I really needed was to buy a little time to figure things out. I was sure that with enough time and planning I could find a way to control what had been controlling me for years.
I have to laugh. I can’t even write that without seeing my sponsor’s wry little smile and hearing him ask me, “How’d that work for you?”
Not very well. I was as miserable as I had ever been in my life. Over the years, I had exhausted all my “easier” or “softer” solutions. I had been a master apologizer. I had begged for forgiveness and asked for another chance time and time again.
Toward the end, I got people off my back by going to therapy. Don’t get me wrong…I love therapy and am convinced that the process was instrumental in my journey to recovery. My Higher Power’s sense of humor was definitely working overtime, however. Little did I know, my therapist had not only dealt with alcoholism in his own family, but had been treating people in recovery for over 15 years. I remember telling him one day that I thought I had a problem with alcohol and might be…an alcoholic. I asked him what he thought. He took a page right out of the recovery handbook and replied, “Matt, I can’t tell you if you’re an alcoholic.” Now, what I heard was “Matt, you’re not an alcoholic.” I got a few more weeks out of that one. Of course, it’s laughable today. He was just waiting for me to figure out the obvious. He knew, like the rest of us, that you “get there when you get there” and not one minute sooner.
On the way to the bottom, here’s where I found myself: 39 years old, about to lose my family, my job and everything else I claimed I held dear. But, no worries…I had a plan. I’d go to those meetings long enough to get everyone off my back. Eventually I’d get myself together and everything would be back to normal. I’d be back hanging with my best friend, Mr. Dickel, in no time – just like always. There was one major flaw in my plan…after the first couple of meetings I went to…well, you know the story. I mean, you recovery people seem a nice enough bunch of losers but this recovery thing is not for me. I was glad it was working for you, but I’m unique…special. So, instead of going to meetings, I just drove around in a panic. Not the I’m late for a meeting panic. It was more of the what in God’s name have I done to my life I think I’ll drive into an embankment panic. Usually, I’d drive around a little over two hours – long enough to make anyone who cared think I had actually attended a meeting and stayed a few minutes afterwards to soak up the fellowship. I had even learned enough of the lingo to be able to make up what might have been discussed at the meetings I never attended.
This all sounds reasonable doesn’t it? Sane, right?
There was another flaw in my plan, too. One I couldn’t lie my way around…there was not enough time in the world for me to ever “figure it out.” I could no more stay sober than I could keep a promise. It was no longer in me. No matter how hard I tried or how good my intentions were, my disease, the insanity, was too much. All those things that I was on the verge of losing were about to be gone – all those people on my back – now didn’t care enough to even bother with me. I was alone – just me and the gorilla.
It is at this point, I imagine you are asking what in the world does this have to do with yoga.
Now, after a few 24 hours, I’ve got back problems. Seriously, back problems. In fact, the x-rays showed several fractures in one of my vertebrae (the doctor said they had been there for some time) and it seems I’ve got a pesky little disc that after years of abuse has had enough.
I mean, c’mon, I practice yoga, I’m in fairly good shape, I’m not old, this is not supposed to happen to me, I don’t have back problems. (God, this is sounding pathetic…and familiar.)
After consulting with several yogis, websites, chiropractors and a witch doctor (ok, I made that up), I understand there is a solution, but I don’t like it. It seems I need to take a thorough inventory of my body and my practice. I need to go back to the basics, start over and take it easy. I have to realize that there are certain poses I can’t do today and other ones I have to do every day. I must drop my expectations of what I think I should be able to do and do what I can today – in the moment I am in.
Once again, yoga and recovery meet.
Namaste – one day at a time.
Matt ~ a YogaVibes Ambassador
Dec/093
“It Finds You”
It was a crisp November day in New England. At least, that is what New Englanders call it – “crisp.” Being from the South, it was colder than most winters I had seen. The trees had already let go of their colors and were barren and stark against the gray sky. Not unlike how I felt about my life. It seemed as though it, too, had purged itself of its colors. Everything I had thought to be real about my life was as distant that morning as an old photograph – you know, the ones you find in a forgotten box in the corner of an antique store. Portraits of weddings or family reunions – once important events generations ago, now brittle, faded and cracked.
It was on this morning I found myself driving South, ironically, trying to outrun my circumstances. [Now, here's the thing I've learned about my circumstances, no matter what they are: A) they always change and b) my circumstances are not my life. As of right now, I can write those words and believe them. Of course, this is only because I currently like my circumstances today.] But, on that “crisp” morning, not only did I not like where I was, I couldn’t see any way out. It was the first time since early recovery that I had felt like that – broken, powerless – desperate.
This time, however, it wasn’t alcohol that drove me to this place. No, this time I was powerless over my circumstances (people, places and things). No matter how hard my twisted little mind tried, I couldn’t find any way around what was happening to me. This was life – on life’s terms and I didn’t know what to do.
Actually, in retrospect, I guess I did know what to do. I had put enough time together in recovery to realize that everything my friends in the program and sponsor had told me was true – both good and bad. When I work the 12 steps and apply the principles in the day that I am in, my life gets better, regardless of my circumstances. And for no other reason than the gift of desperation, I continued to follow the suggestions I was given by those who knew where I was. It was by the grace of my Higher Power that I was staying sober – and mostly sane.
Now, where was I? Oh yea, I’m driving South trying to outrun my circumstances. It was Saturday morning. The men’s meeting in town at the church with the blue door was over and it was two hours until the noon meeting at the Catholic church. Honestly, I didn’t want to go to either of them, I was in ‘escape’ mode.
Riding shotgun that day was a brochure from the yoga studio in town. I had picked it up earlier in the week on my lunch hour from work. I had toyed with the idea of taking yoga for several years but never followed through. I wasn’t sure even what yoga was or why I had thought about trying it. I think I assumed it was going to be another fitness regimen and I needed something to do indoors, as those New England days would be getting shorter and “crisper.”
Brochure in hand, I checked my phone for the time. Perfect – I had 15 minutes until the next class. I had 15 minutes to make it to the sporting goods store, buy some clothes I thought would be yoga appropriate and make it to class. No problem. Besides, I had nothing better to do and needed something to occupy my fractured mind.
I remember few specifics from that first class. I don’t remember the sequences of the poses. I had no idea what style of yoga I was practicing (although, I did realize I needed a lot more practice). I can’t recall any other people who were there.
What I do remember is the space – beautiful in both look and feel. It was warm and calming. There were candles and fragrances – a picture of the strangest elephant I’d ever seen. It made me smile and think of my two girls and how fascinated they would be by ‘Ganesh.’
I remember breathing. I don’t think I had ever been as acutely aware of my own breath. It felt as if my soul were being nourished.
I remember savasana. I remember my teacher, Kristina Berano, saying “let your thoughts pass like clouds.” I remember how hard that was – how full my mind was of the circumstances which had led me to class.
But most of all, I remember the feeling of peace I found there. It was a peace I had only experienced in recovery – one I usually found in a meeting or a conversation with my sponsor. The peace I had vainly searched for in a bottle – always out of reach.
Maybe it was because I was ready for it. Maybe it was the calmness of the space, the stillness of the meditation. Perhaps, it was that I was just ‘being’ and not ‘doing.’ Whatever the reason, my serenity began to grow that day. My recovery became a little deeper, found a little more space. I had been given a gift – another tool in my toolkit I could use to help me get through the circumstances of my life which were beating me down.
After class was over, I quietly rolled up my mat and let the other students exit the practice space. Then, in all my calmness of being…
I rushed over to Kristina, told her it was my first class, how amazing it was, how excited I was, how I was going through a really difficult time and how much I needed this, how I just happened to have the brochure in my car, asked when the next beginner’s class was – all in one breath. You know, I showed all of the restraint and moderation of an addict.
Kristina looked at me like I had three heads and politely remarked that not many students have such an ‘aha’ experience their first time in class.
When I told her how grateful I was to have yoga, she said something that summed up what had just happened – and helped me undertstand my journey was just beginning.
“You don’t find yoga,” she said. “It finds you.”
There is no higher recommendation I can offer for any yoga class on YogaVibes. Whether you are just beginning or need to breathe some Spiritual space into your practice, I recommend you experience Kristina’s class, Beginner’s Moderate Kripalu Flow at YogaVibes.com.
One day at a time,
Matt, a YogaVibes Ambassador
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