This is the fifth in a series this year we’re covering in my weekly Y12SR session (Tuesdays 7 pm ET). Each month, I explore one of the 12 Steps through my own experience as a Yoga practitioner. What I’ve noticed over the years is that even if we may not identify as a person in recovery from addiction (of any kind: substance, process, behavior) it is a useful framework for looking at any behavior from which we seek freedom.
“Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.”
Carrying painful memories and secrets, it is said, keeps us sick. The amount of mental energy needed to repress, compensate for, or hide difficult truths depleted my vitality. Yet in recovery I realized early on that it wasn’t possible to be completely open and honest all the time, so the instruction that I only admit to God, to myself, and to another human being the exact nature of my wrongs was a big relief. It turns out this was a protective mechanism for my spiritual life too. Living all my truths completely open can start to feel performative. I’ve witnessed various forms of what I sometimes hear called “Traumalympics” and anytime I’ve fallen prey to that, I can feel it. There’s a sharing hangover that can happen. The body always lets me know. I’ve learned to speak my truth, as it says in the 12 step literature, “in a general way.”
What I’ve come to know, though, is that for any meaningful recovery to take root I need a release valve through which I can share all the parts of myself- if not, irritability, anxiety, remorse and depression can take root. Over the years I’ve heard many recovering people share social awkwardness, a lack of belonging, and painful feelings of isolation from others. As humans we’re social animals, and while some of us are more oriented to a few close relationships, others thrive in larger groups. Whatever our nature, introvert or extrovert, it’s important to have supportive spiritual friendships. In 12 Step recovery it’s a sponsor who usually fulfills this primary role; but anyone we trust can listen to us share our story.
In sharing the details of my life before getting sober, I began to see that what I thought was so terrible was really not that unusual, and that what I felt was shameful was really quite understandable given the circumstances. Many things that I was sure were wrong could become possibilities for insight and, often, amended behavior. The overwhelming truth I arrived at is that I didn’t really know myself, and this process of unveiling the past was absolutely necessary to move toward building a hopeful future. How would I have been available to help others if I didn’t have a model for how to do that?
The first sponsor I had was so incredibly compassionate and kind. For a time I was uncomfortable with that depth of acceptance. It was foreign to me, and for a time, I rejected it and all loving suggestions that came with it. But over time I became comfortable with the idea that I needed that listening ear, that offering of perspective, and especially, that space of non-judgement. That was one of my first examples how to offer that space to others, too.
I know I could have done some version of recovery on my own, but today, I know it wouldn’t have worked very well. And today, I’m grateful that I didn’t have to and I would not want to try going it alone.
As I found my voice in recovery, I found that the shame of carrying secrets of a painful history began to lift. I found the right balance between openness and oversharing. I found support in my new friendships in recovery. And I found that just talking and listening to others was healing in and of itself. Talking things through allowed Spirit to emerge in the space. I began to feel the presence of a power much greater than my own taking over. I often was struck with the sensation that whatever was coming up was exactly what needed to be heard or said. And most times, I could not have planned or directed what unfolded. That’s how I began to see that Spirit works. I didn’t even need to formally address “God” - just holding the intention, while sharing, to serve a higher purpose became a catalyst for more openness, freedom and possibility.
I could begin to see that when the time was right, whatever was needed would arrive and I could trust that I’d know what to say, or not say; to do, or not do. This took time and lots of mistakes, but I began to feel more at ease and less constricted. I breathed easier, and felt more and more grounded- which made me want to grow even more in my recovery. It’s true that repetition can breed familiarity (and in my case, ease of heart).
I found myself writing more because the insights would come faster than I could remember to share them. I filled notebooks with stories, narrative streams of consciousness, and poems. Most of what I’ve written would be unreadable to the outside person, but it didn’t matter. There was an opening of the voice that made it possible for me to go forward and trust that the way would become clearer and clearer. Working Step 5 was an important piece of that. I’ll never be able to properly express my gratitude for that time- as uncomfortable as it was, it changed everything and made it possible for me to change, too.
Every second Wednesday from April through July, we practice and write together in community. If you are interested in joining us for Yoga, Writing, and Recovery, sign up here for more information.
