The Process of Recovery

I am connected to others. I am not isolated. My identity is not a fixed identity but it is fluid and

flexible. I am embracing the void and accepting it as part of who I am. I am not filling it.

I would summarize the narrative of my recovery in six movements. In the first

movement, which is really the beginning of the story, there is an awareness of an injury. The

second movement is the death of my mother. This loss makes me question the meaning of

life. One of my employees gave me the book the Road Less Traveled. The first phrase of the

book "life is difficult" captured me. Through the book I began to recognize the possibility of

change. The third movement is when I met Jim who became a mentor to me. I trusted Jim

and Jim believed in me. I could receive help because I respected and believed that Jim was

able and willing to help.

The fourth movement in the story is when I entered into a variety of workshops,

personal counseling, and began having hard conversations with my dad. Through the

workshops I began to experience emotions in a new way. I became emotionally expressive,

developed internal skills of self-awareness, self-reflection self-regulation, and developed

external skills like communication and conflict resolution skills. This forth movement was

emotional. As my anxiety dropped my ability to feel close and present to others increased. I

experienced intimacy in a way I never knew possible. This was because I learned to express

my emotions especially

my anger more effectively. I became more integrated with my sadness and I learned how to

connect and received support. In the fifth movement of the story I became more capable of

making my own choices. I explored a variety of different kinds of transformational

techniques. Some had profound changing effects and some didn't but my anxiety continues

to drop.

The sixth movement is where I see myself now. I'm in a place where I can live with

shit when it happens. In the beginning of my story I am in a boat in all the windows are

sealed, it's dark inside, all the lights are out, and there's a storm raging outside. I can feel it

because the boat is being pushed and rocked and the wind is raging. Then it's like the blinds

are taken off and I can see out the windows. I can see the storm raging. I can start to navigate

the boat through the storm. But now it's like the weather has changed. I can see where I'm

going and the storm is no longer raging. I still see the odd squall but their small storms and I

can manage my way through them.

ROBERT

The Injury

I was born Jan 9, 1975 in the blue collar town of Windsor, Ontario. As a child I

remember fearing my dad. He did many awful and sad things during my childhood and my

adolescence. Early in my life, maybe when I was around ten years old, I remember being

angry with my dad for his drug use. Often his excuse that money was unavailable or tight

would make me angry because I figured he was spending lots of it on alcohol, drugs, and

partying. On one occasion I stole some money. When my father found out he made me bend

over a chair, pulled my pants down and beat me with his belt. It was a severe beating. I know

he learned that from his father/mother but still that doesn’t make it right. I remember him

being out of control once and I was thrown into a lake when I was screaming and scared

begging for him not to. Threats

were common with bursts of raging language from my father. When I cried things were said

like, “I will give you something to cry about” with a threatening hand, or I was often sent to

my room to cry alone. I can feel myself getting angry and reactive writing this. Even now

when I remember these things I want to be aggressive and use aggressive language towards

my father. I wish I could tell him how I am still affected by these memories. I still feel a wall

or a block as a result of the emotion and I imagine this is what keeps me from connecting with

people when I have a real or perceived threat happening. When I feel this rage now though I

don’t feel so stuck and it can move me to sadness when I am in a place of safety and am

grounded.

I feel as though I grew up quite independently, for instance, by the time I was in grade

three I had my own house key to return home after school and wait alone for my mother to

get home. My dad was supposed to be home but was unreliable. (Thanks for the

independence dad - I appreciate it.) I know that because of neglect I shut down emotionally at

an early age so that I would not need to rely on my parents, especially rely on my father. That

made it hard for me to accept help from others. I would not want to ask for anything out of

fear of owing them something or because I should or could do it on my own.

I was so neglected that I recall desperately wanting attention from my parent(s). At one

point, around age ten or eleven, I threw myself down a flight of stairs and hoped that someone

would notice. When no one noticed I walked back up and through myself down again. I know

now this was my voice asking for some kind of attention. I did the best I could to ask for what

I needed and it didn’t work. What I mean is I just didn’t roll over and die. I was fighting for

what I needed. I needed love and attention and I tried to get it. When I write that now it makes

me feel like a pretty capable child. I am still that way as an adult. Around this time in my life I

was sexually abused on two different occasions by two different neighbourhood men

(strangers to my

parents). As I grew up I held my parents to blame for not looking after me better and allowing

this to happen to me. Now I recognize that the neglect was their fault but I know they didn’t

want the abuse to happen to me. I still feel angry at the failed system and destructive family

dynamics I faced as a little boy. I feel now more that society as a whole let me down rather

than my parents. My problems were a lot bigger than just them.

My parents moved around a lot and my dad was boozing, drugging it up, and

sleeping with hookers so my mom finally left the family. From there it went downhill. We

went from crashing this car to the next, from losing this house to another. I just went on a

tear. I started doing drugs, drinking, and sleeping around. I was about 15 years old. Even at

that age I was looking for something.

We moved to a different province and my sister and I lived with him. He was smashing

up cars and drinking. I was doing the same, stealing, drugging and living self-sufficiently but

still managed to stay in school. When I was almost 16 the family got split again because my

dad got into trouble with the law and I was in trouble with the law, so we packed up quick and

got out of the province. The trouble is my sister who was 17 got left behind and she was

pregnant. When we were on the road he met up with a woman in Vancouver. My dad was

drunk and she was drunk. Anyway he tried to get me into a threesome with them. I was so

angry and disgusted!

We got into a huge fight. Drove back east and stayed with a stripper he knew. Lots of anger

and we got kicked out of there. Then we lived with another woman but she died of a drug

overdose within months. Finally, at that time my mom called me and said she had found a

place and wanted to know if I wanted to come to her. I jumped on a plane and came here

(crying). Since then my relationship with my dad is still estranged. I worked hard here, even

arranged for him to come out here. I sent him the cash but he kept it and never came.

The Process of Recovery

So I am an alcoholic sober for five years. After I got sober and I got a clear head I got

started on recovery. I know that part of my recovery is because I have had an inner resiliency

that has kept me going and keeps me from giving up. It was in AA that I saw some models of

other people and saw their support. I found healing in the love and the connections I have

learned to have with others. Since getting into AA I have done some EMDR and group stuff

and two chair. I also did a process group and I am in school training to be a counsellor.

When I first entered group therapy I found it refreshing that others would speak so

truthfully about themselves. My parents gave me this gift of search because of their neglect.

I know how to look for what I need and I don’t give up. Even though this is a result of their

dysfunctional parenting I am pretty grateful for that. In therapy, I found it awkward to have

all the focus on me, especially in a room full of people where it was not a cross talk of

chaos.

In therapy, I soon realized that I had an emotional “shut off valve” that was connected

to some belief and fear that if I opened up I would get hurt and exposed. I had this belief that

as a male I should not cry because that was a sign of weakness. What kept me coming back to

therapy were the difficulties I had with life including interpersonal relationships, intimacy

problems, commitment, and the lack of a sense of my authentic self.