The Fourth Step & My Son

For those readers who don't know, I am a psychotherapist who specializes in, but is not limited in my scope of practice, to sexual addiction.  I meet with people who often are powerless over their "inappropriate" sexual activities and whose lives have become quite unmanageable as a result. If that wording seems vaguely familiar, it is a paraphrase of the First Step of the Twelve Steps to Recovery.

From 2009 through 2012, I was involved with the LDS Church's Addiction Recovery Program (ARP).  Similar to Alcoholics Anonymous, Sexaholics Anonymous, and other addiction recovery programs, the ARP ultilizes in its group meetings the Twelve Steps to Recovery that the "Anonymous" world uses, only with an LDS spin. During this time, I led multiple "addicts" groups.

It was while I was involved with leading ARP groups that I came to really understand the Twelve Steps of Recovery.  Although the LDS Twelve Steps are slightly different than those used by AA, NA, SA, etc., the basic ideas are the same.  I came to understand the importance of the Twelve Steps, be they LDS or not.  I came to understand how important and necessary each Step is.  I came to understand the importance of their sequence. Perhaps most importantly, I came to understand their power in the lives of those who really "work the Steps."

This latter understanding was reconfirmed once again as I recently spoke again with my son about his recovery from chemical addiction (specifically heroin). I am so proud that he has four years' sobriety, as of last week. I know that sobriety does not always mean recovery; real recovery occurs when when the "addict" comes to understand the reasons underlying their addictive behaviors, and takes measures to deal with those issues. In his case, real recovery is occuring.

Happily and gratefully, my son is gaining ever increasing understanding about those underlying reasons.  He was ignorant of them during his thirteen years or so of chemical addiction, and it wasn't until he reached "rock bottom" and checked into the rehab in San Pedro, California, called Beacon House, that he was really introduced to them.  It wasn't until he fully opened himself to them that significant progress was made. He opened up to the possibility that his best thinking wasn't working; that he didn't have the answers; that if he didn't change course soon he would either be in prison or dead. (His words!)

He credits his intense work with the Twelve Steps, the literature of recovery, the staff and director of the Beacon House, his therapist, and God, for his progress thus far. He also credits being able to serve, and work with, new arrivals for helping confirm his new path.  But any recovering addict will tell you, however, that recovery is "one day at a time," and my son understands that completely. 

Because he and I share a great love and appreciation for the Twelve Steps, our recent discussion for me seemed to center on the importance in his recovery (and may I say, it must be in every Twelve Step adherent's recovery) of a fearlessly honest Fourth Step.  That step reads in the LDS Twelve Steps (it's almost identical to the non-LDS Fourth Step):

Make a searching and fearless written moral inventory of yourself.

It involves being brutally honest about yourself, beginning in one's early years and continuing to the present.  It involves introspectively looking at one's behaviors, one's thoughts, one's environment, one's poor choices, and writing it all down. Done correctly, one's life is laid bare in all its dysfunction, and the painful scenarios almost always begin in one's childhood.

With the help of others who had been through the process as "addicts" themselves and who knew when someone wasn't going "deep enough" into their Fourth Step family of origin issues, he came to realize just how dysfunctional he had become as an adult as a result of unresolved childhood issues.  He came to understand how deep those issues were.  He came to see that this process was his chance to make a significant change in his life. He also came to realize that ultimately he could not effect this profound change without God's help, because his own best thinking had not produced a good life.

That brutally honest Fourth Step made all the difference for him.  It helped create a kind of road map for him to follow on his journey to recovery. He finally began to reconstruct his life with God's help and the help of supporters at the Beacon House. 

The Beacon House staff encouraged him to have very limited contact with his mother and me--and for that matter, his siblings--because of the dynamics uncovered in his Fourth Step. That work involved putting me and the rest of our family dynamics "under a microscope."  Even after four years, my contact with him is on his terms, rarely more than once a month, as he continues to work through his family of origin issues that powered his addiction.  

Our recent conversation about the Fourth Step and family of origin issues was somewhat difficult for me because I felt that even though he was ultimately responsible for his addictive acting-out, I was part of the dysfuction. I had to own the concept that I had my own inadequecies as he was growing up--my own stuff--and that my own stuff sometimes got in the way of being the father that he needed me to be. I have beaten myself up about this in the past, and even though I have forgiven myself, it sometime still hurts to recognize what I did or didn't do for him. 

He owns the fact that, at the end of the day, he was/is responsible for addiction. Only he can do the heavy lifting of recovery work.  Only he can continue humbling himself and listening to veterans of the road to recovery. Only he can make wise, correct choices going forward.

But what a turn-around he has made!  His future is bright.  He is in the last semester of a four semester course at California State--Dominguez Hills University to become licensed to be a Drug & Alcohol Rehabilitation Counselor. 

I thank Bill W. and Dr. Bob for acting on their inspiration and authoring the Twelve Steps of Recovery so many years ago, ideas that have helped literally millions of people, and in particular, one person so dear to my heart. 

I'm Physically Fine

Yesterday I had a physical.  Thank God, I am in pretty good shape for my age.  I am trying to embrace the "Wabi-Sabi" of my body.  In light of Jason's death, I feel very fortunate indeed.

I am intrigued by the genetics of our bodies.  Most every health issue I discussed with my physician seemed to be related to what I inherited from my parents or because of my gender.  In my case, my skin, digestive tract, cholesterol, and heart issues are all bad cards I have been dealt by life.  So I am saying the Serenity Prayer and letting them go.

The Ultimate Transition of My Friend Jason

         My friend Jason Akers passed away last Sunday.  His wife Christine asked me to speak at his memorial service. I tried to memorialize him in a respectful, heartfelt way.  It was very hard to talk because of my profound sense of loss, but I managed to get through it.  Since learning of his death, I've kind of been in a somber mood.  This loss has been an affirmation of my knowledge of how fragile my existence is and of the importance of living in the moment.  So here is my funeral talk.

Jason and I were friends.  I was very open about my life and he was open about his.  As such, we would sometimes discuss very personal matters.  Because I opened up to him and he to me, I came to have a sense of who he was and what was important to him.  I felt privileged that he trusted me enough to share his inner thoughts and feelings.  Whenever he would open up with me, I felt I was on sacred ground.  I came to really understand this man, my friend.

As he pondered his mortality and impending death, we would sometimes talk about his life on a macro scale.  In other words, we talked about what he felt he had accomplished and hadn’t accomplished, and what he had become and what he hadn’t become.  He lamented to me that he felt that there was so much he hadn’t accomplished and hadn’t become, and that he was trying not to be bitter about being deprived of the balance of a lifetime to accomplish and become.

I would like to share with you this solemn day what I saw that he had accomplished and what he had become.  And even though ultimately his life was cut even shorter than he expected, I would propose that he leaves a legacy of accomplishment and becoming.  Accomplishing in life does not necessarily equate to becoming.  A person can be very accomplished in their work or career, or even in responsibilities in their church congregations, without becoming a good individual with good values and character.  Jason would say that he didn’t accomplish much. I choose to focus on what he became, and I only wish (and I’m sure he would agree) that he had been given more time to become even more.

The first becoming I would like to share is how he became a good and caring man.  It would be a great understatement to say that His upbringing was challenging.  He would sometimes share with me how his family of origin was full of dysfunction and abuse and it would have been easy for him, and understandable for him, frankly, to live in that dysfunctional world for the rest of his life.  Instead, he made the choice to escape it and to try to have a meaningful life.  He used his upbringing as a bad example, as something not to allow himself or his family to become.  Sometimes, that can be a huge motivation for us and it certainly appeared to be a great incentive for good in him.  He became a caring man.  I marvel at how he was able to become so caring.   I knew he was a caring man because he cared for me, and I will always hold that caring in my heart.

The second becoming I am witness to is how he overcame challenges and adversity.  He was blessed with a dogged determination, or even, a stubbornness of spirit.  Perhaps his family would occasionally see a stubborn father or husband, but that same tenacity was useful in stoically sticking with changes he wanted to make in himself.  Once Jason put his mind to do something, it was eventually going to happen if it were in his control.  He obviously had many challenges and adversity, especially near the end of his life.  But for me, his determination was something to behold.  I have learned more about determination from his example than I have learned from just about any other person.

The third becoming would be how important his family came to be for him.  Having had such a challenging childhood, with an absence of family role models other than a kindly grandmother, he could have believed that life’s cards were stacked against him and given up.  But being the fighter that he was, he determined to give his children what he had not received.  Did he always do the right thing in his child rearing?  Nobody always makes the right decisions in the excruciatingly difficult job of raising children, except for God.  But he tried the best that he could.  His intention was be the best father possible.  He would tell me how deeply he cared for Aaron and Linnet and Mallory.  Christine was his childhood sweetheart and the key to a more normal family life than what he had experienced.  She was and is very important to him. And now that he is in heaven, I must think that he deeply misses them all.

The fourth becoming I would like to touch on was his great, insatiable thirst for knowledge.  He always seemed to be reading something.  He never seemed to get enough.  He loved to learn and anybody who talked with Jason for any length of time would soon understand that he was well-read.  He could wax eloquent on any number of subjects and not superficially.  He was always open to new ideas, new concepts, new ways of looking at things.  Even in the last difficult time of his life, he seemed hungry to know about what was happening to him.  It is a humble person who realizes that he or she does not know it all and wants to become better informed, and Jason personified that humility.  I have to believe that part of Christine’s attraction to Jason was that desire to learn more and use that knowledge to benefit himself, his family, and others.

Living each day to the fullest would be the next becoming I perceived.  This was something that became important to Jason in the last few years of his life.  He came to appreciate being alive and being completely aware of those around him.  He grieved over not having been more awake and cognizant of each day.  Especially at the very end, when he knew that his time here on earth was drawing to a close, he sincerely wanted to enjoy each day and to experience life as fully as his failing body would allow.  His pain would sometimes get the best of him, but that determination and positivity would kick in.  No wonder that he went to Disneyland last Friday.  That alone speaks volumes.

Lastly, the becoming that might be the most important was his embrace of the Gospel plan.  Even though he was quick to downplay his knowledge of Gospel doctrine and scriptures, he knew that what he had been taught was true and eternally important.  He believed in the power of prayer.  He knew that Heavenly Father lived, that Jesus was His Son, and that the Savior had performed the Atonement, and Jason was determined to live Gospel principles the best way he could.  He took pride in belonging to the Church, and dearly wanted his children to be blessed by its teachings.

So you and I are left with this great legacy of this good man.  Funerals are not for those who’ve passed on but for those who remain.  What shall do we with his life?  Or perhaps more importantly, what shall we become because of Jason Akers?  Shall we not be more good and caring?  Shall we not overcome adversity and challenge with dogged determination as he did?  Shall we not hold our families close to us and put them as the highest priority in our lives?  Shall we not hunger and thirst after knowledge?  Shall we not live each day as if it were our last—because it might be?  Jason’s untimely death reminds us of that fact.  And finally, shall we not seek truth and determine what God’s plan is for us?

Let us hold close and sacred his memory and allow those memories to influence us to be better people—better parents, better children, better citizens, better disciples of God.  What will be said by others at our funerals of our becoming when we pass through the veil and embrace Jason? 

   

Passive-Aggressiveness and Me

One of the challenges in my adulthood and in particular to my 34-year marriage to a strong woman has been to transition from being passive-aggressive to more open about my feelings.   My passive-aggressive nature was nurtured in my family of origin where at times my feelings were not honored or appreciated, and sometimes manipulated, and then perpetuated through the years of my adulthood as I would be passive in many of my interactions with Ann.   Passive aggressiveness is composed of two words: passivity and aggression.  Passivity originates when we do not value what we are wanting or feeling and place more value on the wants or feelings of another (usually someone close to us) and as such do not give voice to our wants or feelings.  Aggression manifests when the unexpressed, non-assertive feelings are “set off” by an event, and anger or rage comes out.

In my marriage, I used to feel that Ann was superior to me in many ways and that her truth was, indeed, superior.  Even if I felt that her truth may not be correct, my shame (not valuing who I am) kept me from saying what I wanted or felt.  

The aggressiveness would manifest itself in me with anger that often would be out of proportion to the event that triggered it.  It wasn’t that I would rage; I’m not that kind of person.  But my fuse was short and it didn’t take much to set me off and become angry.  That anger came out at times toward my children, probably because I was in a position of power—a vertical relationship—and as the saying goes, “water runs downhill.”  It ran downhill onto them. That anger has been a source of guilt and shame for me.  It would also occasionally come out in as I drove in traffic.

Complicating matters, I perceived that my religious values taught that anger was not appropriate; that somehow keeping your feelings to yourself was some kind of a virtue.  It was almost a source of pride that I didn't see myself as an angry person—most of the time.

So as an adult married to a strong, assertive woman, with an upbringing of stuffing feelings, and a system of values that I thought valued such behaviors, I was not open about what I felt.  I got to a point where I realized that I had a short fuse.  I got to a point where the scope of my anger would surprise me.  I got to a point where I realized that stuffing feelings was not in my best emotional interest, and that for me to be a better husband and father and a psychotherapist—and be effective in those roles—I needed to be more forthcoming.

Now don’t get me wrong.  Anyone who gets to know me realizes that I do have feelings, and that I often wear my emotions on my sleeve.  I am quick to cry if I am touched by someone or something.  I see myself as being very empathetic, a necessary attribute for a psychotherapist in my opinion.  But the passivity was a blind spot for me.

I have learned that passivity was very damaging for me.  I am learning that I can be assertive and give voice to my feelings without blasting Ann or anybody else out of the water.   I am learning that it is okay to want, to need, to be okay with conflict, to be okay with disagreements.   I am learning that if there is a divergence of opinion on a subject, even delicate subjects, that it is important for me to send an “I message” to the effect of “when you say/do this, it makes me feel ____,” or “I feel strongly that we should ____.”   I am learning that when I do that, I feel freedom, and freedom from shame.

As I have gotten better at doing this, I have noticed more peace and serenity in my life.  I have noticed that I rarely get angry, and when I do, it is okay to feel it and to express it in a forthright but respectful way.  My fuse is much longer these days.  I still wrestle with some strong emotions at times while driving, but I am noticing that more often than not, I am the person who did the wrong action and deserved the toot on the horn.   

I admit to being in transition with this part of me, to being a work in progress.  But I have noticed significant progress and change in my life.  Yay for me!!!