randomdrake

Photo: Håkan Sundblad from Unsplash

How I replaced the noise of addiction with the silence of creation.

Lately, I’ve been getting up around 5:15 or 5:30 am. I don’t know if that’s a shift in who I am or if I just really enjoy the moments of the morning where there is no distraction.

It’s 6:12am.

The silence in the house.

Getting the dog up and out of bed and that look of earnest love on her face when she peers up at me, wanting the skritches.

I’ve been reading Stephen King’s book, On Writing, and it’s definitely been giving me a lot of ideas about what to write and how to write. I need to stay in the practice of it — that’s the main thing that keeps ringing out to me.

1,000 words per day is a lot, but it’s totally doable. I just need to put in the time. Mostly, I need to ensure my wife will actually let me put in that time.

You see, I’m a creative person. I need to create. It’s in my blood—no, my soul.

I’ve never been one who could sit still for very long without something taking up those compute cycles in my head. When I was drinking, I’d just quiet the cycles — standing idly in the corner of the kitchen, scrolling through dopamine-laced feeds of social media, pounding drink after drink to get to some state that wasn’t me.

I was like a Bitcoin mining machine where the cycles were flying, but they were just processing a feed of brain-chemical-fueled stimulations.

There was a lot going on and nothing going on at once. That’s not me, or who I want to be at all.

At some point, I wrote down my mission statement and values and put them on the wall in my office above my computer monitor. They were reminders every day about who I wanted to be. But my journal was full of regrets for not living those missions and values. Over and over I would pour pages and words onto the screen, beating myself up about the fact that I wanted to stop drinking but I just wouldn’t.

“I never suffered from alcoholism until I got sober.”

— Unknown

I heard this quote recently from Steve-O on a podcast and it hit me really hard.

It’s such a true statement in so many ways; you don’t realize what the alcohol is doing until you get sober and see the life you’ve been missing out on.

I was never a nasty drunk.
Scratch that.

Writing is honesty, and I was most often not a nasty drunk. I was generally pleasant and fun, but it wasn’t me. I was always distracted. I wasn’t processing right. I wasn’t living up to my potential. I certainly wasn’t living up to my values or mission statement.

Now I have practices in my life. I meditate daily. I journal daily. I’m marketing my book and getting it out there to try and help others.

“The function of freedom is to free someone else.”

— Toni Morrison

I’ve found a bit of a calling here in my life and I’m so here for it. I’m helping people one Instagram quote, one Facebook post, one TikTok reading, one book sale, one website visit at a time.

Bringing people along on the sober journey seems a righteous journey to take in life. But mostly, I’m thankful for finding creative practices again.

I’m thankful for each meditation that I take. 10 minutes just for myself and no one else to sit and listen to the sweet sound of Tamara Levitt’s soothing voice atop the sound of ocean waves crashing.

Leading me to silence.
Leading me to quiet.
Leading me to a mindful state where I watch my thoughts go in and out.

I had a streak of 60-something days of meditating every day. Then I got sick and missed a day.

Previous Me would’ve been a bit grumpy at myself, perhaps spiraled a bit into beating myself up: “How could you miss a day you idiot? You were doing so well!”

Instead, my very first thought was: “Oh. Well, I guess I’ll have to start again and get that streak going. I’ll see those numbers again in a few months. This time I’ll make it 90.”

Then I realized the incredible shift and growth from that simple, positive, and reaffirming statement I was able to give to myself. That’s right: I’m able to give myself presents now in the form of thoughts, reassurance, and self-love — something that was always at arm’s length.

I always heard you couldn’t truly love others until you love yourself.

I definitely love myself now in so many ways. I love who I’ve become. I love who I show up as in the world. I love my calling in life that I’ve found as a writer and sharer of thoughts and feelings. I love being a husband, a father. I love my job that I have managing, leading, and inspiring others. I love my home. I love the person who gave me all these things.

And that person is me.

So now I sit here, 17 minutes away from when I started and I’ve closed in on that 1,000 words already. Here I go again impressing myself and being surprised at my abilities. I thought for sure I’d have to sit for an hour or two to get some words out on a page. But the truth is: I just have to start typing and things just start flowing out of me.

Caffeine is my drug of choice these days. I’m thankful for it in a lot of ways. I’m glad that it’s not something that alters me too much, but turns me on to show up. I guess it’s worth mentioning that I quit the regular habit of vaping cannabis as well.

I’m living life each day and enjoying all of the moments — from when I wake up and have this time to myself to when I go to bed and read.

Speaking of reading, I’ve got more books to get to, and I’m at my thousand words. Time to edit this post and get it out on Medium because sharing the writing is part of the journey.