AN ADVENTURE?

On Auust 2nd 1976 (Simcoe Day or Civic Holiday - take your choice) I was present at the one group meeting held on such occasions in the main lounge at The Donwood Institute.

As usual, there were people there from many different groups representing many different stages of recovery. This mix usually produces interesting and productive discussion. This meeting was no exception.

We got into the business of holidays and, as might be expected, there were two or three in the group who had been thinking in terms of having "a few drinks while I'm on my holidays and get back on my antabuse when I go back to work."

A vigorous discussion led, for the most part, by members who had longer experience in recovery, seemed to bring a logical conclusion - the only way to approach a holiday is to make a decision, well in advance, that you will not risk lousing up another holiday by "experimenting". It was generally agreed that this just does not work.

At this point the conversation took a somewhat different direction - an expansion of scope.

One group member with better than four years in recovery talked about what treatment had meant to him, the difficulties encountered, the changes that he ultimately became aware of and how he viewed himself and his life situation now.

At one point in his stay he made a statement that appeared to be self-contradictory. He said, "I don't like challenges anymore, I just like adventure." Another group member asked him what he meant by it.

I can't quote him verbatim but the general gist of his answer goes like this: "The challenges I refer to are not those that anyone might encounter in day to day living but rather challenges that I created for myself - trying to be a tough guy, when I wasn't; trying to act like a big shot, when I wasn't; trying to show that alcohol wasn't bothering me, when it was. The insurmountable challenge of trying to "catch up" kept me in constant mental turmoil - one day I would promise myself that I would do this and that and when I failed, promise I would do even more tomorrow and fail again."

The group had little or no trouble identifying with some or all of what he was saying, but what about the "adventure" part of what he had said - what did he mean by that? In general terms, he replied this way: "In the beginning I stayed dry because I had no alternative - I knew what would happen if I began to drink again and that added up to disaster. But the longer I stayed dry the better it began to feel. First, physically, I became aware of the simple pleasure of waking up without the pain and confusion of withdrawal. Gradually, I became aware of the changes of attitude of those around me - I sensed a new level of acceptance. Finally, I began to experience the beginnings of self-acceptance and this was the best feeling of all.

"This has taken on, for me, all the aspects of adventure - getting to know and explore the real me, meeting and knowing and being accepted by new people and being just myself with them has been and continues to be, exciting. The challenges that I now have to meet are real and, now, the meeting of those challenges is real adventure... the simple adventure of living as a whole person."

Simple? Perhaps too simple to be fully appreciated, but some how I feel that our friend has found an adventure that will bring excitement and reward as long as he lives it.

MIKE WILSON

DON SAYS: Mike was on the staff of the Donwood when this article was written in 1976. This particularly hit home with me. The real honesty of this man, and the way he now faces his addiction is thrilling. Good for him! I hope he makes it all the way home.