Bodhi

My name is Michael (aka Bodhi), and I'm an alcoholic. Born in Sydney in
August 1965 to loving parents, we moved soon after to the Mid North Coast
area of NSW where my parents had grown up. Mine was a typical Australian
middle class upbringing. My father had a senior position in what was then a
government department, and my mother was a housewife. My early childhood
was largely a happy one, despite being quite introverted and shy as a kid.
I was raised in the faith of my parents, who were Catholic, and went
through all the usual rites of passage that entails, including a private
Catholic school education. Despite their best intentions, neither
Catholicism or Christianity ever sat comfortably with me. Even at quite a
young age it raised many more questions than it answered, but not wanting
to upset anyone I just maintained the appearence of doing what was
expected. Looking back, its clear to me now that even at a young age I was
somewhat of a spiritual seeker, someone looking for answers. I just did not
know at the time exactly what it was I was looking for.

Despite all the initial arrogance and denial when I came to my first AA
meeting, there was one thing said that I do remember very clearly. It was
the person who spoke of alcoholism as a dis-ease. That was the first time
that I had ever heard another person describe how I had always felt. Round
peg in a square hole, not comfortable in my own skin, put it any way you
like and I strongly related. The main reason for this uncomfortability in
my case was something that, like my alcoholism, was going to remain in
denial for quite some time. In fact, well into recovery itself. I think I
have always been gay, but it was not until around the age of about 12 that
meant. It left me with increasing feelings of difference and alienation.
Growing up in country Australia as I did, there were no openly gay people
around at that time. Being an introverted kid and not naturally inclined to
sport, I also began to face increased teasing at school which only
compounded my sense of dis-ease and difference. It was in large part this
growing alienation and unhappiness within that in many ways was to set me
up for upcoming addiction. I don't believe for a moment that being gay made
me an alcoholic, but the negative feelings it created combined with the
opportunity for escape that addiction provided nonetheless added a
powerfull and devastating contribution.

I drank alcoholically for 10 years, from around the age of 17 to just short
of 27. There were also drugs involved for 6 of those years, but alcohol was
definately my drug of choice. I was an instant alkie, just add booze.
Drinking to get drunk right from the start, I used to joke in my late teens
that "my favourite drink was my next one". I understand now that my
drinking pattern was that of a primary alcoholic. I found that I quickly
developed a tolerance and could drink ever larger quantities. I also drank
for effect, and for that reason was never much of a beer drinker. I started
out my drinking on top shelf spirits, though in the end I was reduced to
cask wine and flagons of cheap port. What alcohol did for me in the
beginning was nothing short of incredible. I found that all that
uncomfortability and dis-ease was completely dissolvable in alcohol. The
feelings of difference and the pain of schoolyard taunts slipped away. I
went from being a quite and introverted kid to the raging life of the
party. But that so called party was short lived. Within a few short years I
had gone from drinking to feel comfortable, to a necessity for oblivion.
Drinking to socialise became drinking alone, binge drinking became daily
drinking. Along the way a few close friends expressed their concern that
maybe I had a problem with alcohol, but in my arrogance I told them in no
uncertain terms where they could go. As far as I was concered, booze was
not a problem, it was the solution. The pattern of drinking alone and daily
was to continue till the end.

I'm not going to go into a long drinking story, suffice to say that if you
are an alcoholic or think you may be one, you already know the living hell
that active addiction can put you through. Finally walking away from the
Church, any spiritual interest I otherwise might have developed was soon
replaced with the spiritual desert of active addiction. By the age of 21
addiction had robbed me of virtually everything and I was now drinking and
drugging around the clock. I had drunk myself into a grotty caravan
(trailer) , but many nights were nonetheless spent passed out in the
streets. In 1987 at the age of 22, I did a geographical and moved back to
my birthplace of Sydney. I moved on the invite of a girl I had been seeing
for some time. I had been sexually active with guys for some years by this
stage, but there was a few sexual experiences with women too. She was a
beacon of kindness at a very lonely and painfull time for me, and I truly
thought I had fallen in love. She was in fact my first relationship. So
whats a closeted, gay alcoholic madman to do? Marry her, of course. We
married in 1988, when I was 23. At her request I soon thought I managed to
bring my drinking under control, but I discovered in recovery that all that
really changed was the pattern of my drinking. I still drank daily and in
large quantities, but I became a somewhat functioning "top-up" alcoholic.
When my daughter was born a few years later in 1990, I stopped the drugs. I
had started working again shortly after moving to Sydney, and as I slowly
got better jobs and with both of us now working, we got better places to
live. I thought my life was getting better, on the surface it was. But this
disease is not only cunning, baffling and powerfull, its also damn patient.
After some years suddenly any semblance of control I thought I had rapidly
dissapeared, and for that last year before I came to AA I was drinking
myself into unconsciousness almost every night.

They say that alcoholism is a disease of denial, and for me the level of
denial that I maintained during my active addiction was nothing short of
incredible. Not for a minute did I ever consider that I was an alcoholic,
not even at my worse. Every step down that ladder into the abyss of my
addiction, I could justify, rationalise and blame everybody and everything
else. Alone in the insanity of my own self-justified hell. I thought life
sucked, and if only I could get what I wanted then it would not need to be
this way. What shattered this illusion was that in some ways I was to get
many of those very things. For a time it appeared I had attained a much
better quality of life and had some control over my drinking, but then
again it just as rapidly continued on its self destructive path. It was
like my biggest excuse had been pulled from under me like the proverbial
rug, and for the first time I got an inkling that I was standing atop a
mountain of lies. At the end of that year my life was teetering on the
knifes edge of collapse, and in my heart I knew where I was rapidly
heading. My boss was on the verge of sacking me, and my wife was so close
to walking out the door and taking my young daughter with her. Friends and
family had again drifted away, and I was physically very sick and had began
to suffer from panic attacks for the first time. I honestly though I was
having a breakdown, or even loosing my mind. Faced with incredible fear, I
just could not do it anymore. I was the cliched sick and tired of being
sick and tired.

Despite it being the last place I wanted to be, in May 1992, at the age of
26, I came to my first meeting of AA. Despite the overwhelming
identification I now see, I still did not think that I was an alcoholic. I
certainly didn't want to stop drinking, but I wanted to stop hurting.
Despite myself, I kept fronting up to meetings. The gift of desperation
meant I did not know where else to go or what to do. For just over two
months I kept coming to meetings, often drunk. When I did eventually get
sober on 15th July 1992, around a month short of my 27th birthday, it was
initially on fear alone. I was your classic Rebel without a Clue in early
recovery. I did the absolute minimum that I thought necessary and
appropriate for me. All I really clung to was to stay away from the first
drink one day at a time, and to keep coming back. Neither detox or rehab
were part of my recovery, so I had this very nieve but what at the time
seemed logical idea that an alcoholics problem is just alcohol. I was to be
in for a rude shock. Left without my aneasthetic of booze, I was forced to
face life with my spiritual, emotional and mental baggage sober. Life on
lifes terms, it was a nightmare from which I could no longer escape. At a
year sober I came extremely close to drinking, and easily could have lost
it. But one night after literally walking away from a bar back to a meeting
I heard another newbie share on his recent bust, and suddenly in his
insanity my own became very clear. He said nothing new, but that night I
was willing to hear it. Suddenly it was like a light had switched on inside
my head illuminating that fact that booze was but a symptom of my disease,
but that ultimately I was the problem! Being sober was one thing, but if I
wanted to be happy about it and maintain a quality of life then I was going
to have to face and change the very thing I had tried to drown in a sea of
booze and drugs - myself. I was suddenly aware thats what the steps that I
had been so dismissive of were all about, a blueprint for personal change.

Gradually I did nothing but simply become willing to do the suggested
things. The Rebel without a Clue became teachable. The biggest battle I
faced in early recovery continued to by myself, but I tried to forge ahead
as best I could. There was no going back now, I knew all too painfully what
the alternative was. I worked the steps to the best of my ability, got
involved in some simple service work, and got myself a sponsor. I started
to read and re-read a lot of the literature, especially the Big Book and
the 12 x 12. I shared when I was asked, tried to truly listen, and stuck
around after the meetings for a chat. After coming so close to loosing it,
I was to learn that if really does work, IF you work it. As I slowly began
to awaken to the program and those old layers of denial gradually peeled
away, the battle with everything in my head began to fade away. It was a
very gradual awakening, but I was to be completely transformed. In time I
got the respect and love back of my family, friends and colleagues. For
some years my marriage actually went from strength to strength. My young
daughter grew up to be the joy of my life, without knowing a drunk as a
father. My career bounded aheads in ways that I would have once never
dreamed possible. Externally, recovery blessed me with so many gifts. But
all of this was really just an outward manifestation of the true benefits
of recovery, what I like to call the inner gifts. That kid that never felt
comfortable, largely became comfortable. Much of my anger and emotional
baggage was dealt with and dropped away. But most importantly I was to find
a peace and serenity that I have never known. To me, these are the real
gifts of recovery. External things are great, but ultimately they alone
will not bring hapiness. But if I maintain inner peace, no matter what goes
on in my life, good or bad, I remain content.

Like everyone, my recovery has had both it good times and its difficult
times. Whilst my overall life has gotten immeasurably better than it was,
recovery is not so much about attaining a perfect life, but slowly getting
better at dealing with an often imperfect one. I have faced many
difficulties in recovery including ongoing health concerns (pancreatitis,
from my drinking), retrenchments from jobs, and death of family and
friends, just to name a few. But one of the biggest came in May 2000, when
after a total of 13 years together my marriage ended. The previous couple
of years I had been increasingly unfullfilled in my marriage, secretely of
course I new why, but I was too scared of loosing the one person in my life
that I still very much cared about to say anything. In the end we were both
confronted with the truth of my sexuality and although it was initially a
painfull process for both of us, it was also ultimately the best thing that
could happen. We parted as friends, and she could get on with her life
(since re-married) as I could get on with mine. My daughter lives with my
ex, but stays with me on a regular basis and is very much a part of my
life. You would think my new found freedom would have given me the perfect
opportunity to come out as a gay man, but it was not to be. For whilst I
had somewhat personally come to terms with my sexuality, the fear of
loosing others through disclosure was still a big hurdle. Obviously my ex
was aware, and I did confide in my sister-in-law and one good friend in
recovery, but aside from these small steps it was still the one area of my
life that remained hidden.

Final acceptance of my sexuality was to come some years later at the age of
37, and in a most unexpected place. A few months after my marriage ended in
July 2000, I found my spiritual home in the Friends of the Western Buddhist
Order. Recovery had reawakaned the spiritual seeker in me, and some years
prior my journey had led me to Buddhism, and now finally to the community
through which I could centre my practise. Deeply commiting myself to the
Buddhist path, by September 2002 I had formally asked for ordination within
the Western Buddhist Order. It was in January 2003 during a two week
retreat that is part of the ordination process that it happened. Part of
the retreat was studying the precepts (ethics) of Buddhism, and one of
these was about abstention from false speech, or truthfullness. When
another person brought up in discussion that non disclosure of the truth
can be as deceptive as a lie, it hit me with profound impact. Honesty was
something I had strongly worked on in recovery, but it was my thoroughness
and commitment to Buddhism that finally made me face my last big hurdle. I
came out as gay to two Order members on the retreat, and made the decision
that I would come out to others as soon as practicable. Making the decision
to come out on retreat meant that is was a deeply reflective and largely
private inner process, but I believe this stood me in good stead for the
days and weeks ahead. As I came out later to selected family and friends,
as well as others in my spiritual community, I encountered acceptance and
support. All those old fears prooved to be unfounded. A renewed sense of
self soon made me realise that if anyone does had a problem with me, then
its just that, their problem. I'm not the type to wear my sexuality of my
sleeve, its after all only just one part of who I am, but I feel liberated
now that I can finally embrace the full truth of who I am.

 The ordination process very much continues, and its with renewed faith and
purpose that I walk towards what will be both a culmination of a long
spiritual journey, but also a new and exciting chapter in my life. When I
came into AA an angry young man at 26, I was an athiest who believed in
nothing. These days I remain an athiest, but that anger is gone and its
with an unshakable faith, a faith that once so eluded me, that I take
refuge in my concept of a higher power. I take refuge in the Three Jewels
of Buddhism, the Buddha, the Dharma and the Sangha. In a similiar but much
simpler way I also took refuge in AA's Higher Power, Program and
Fellowship. Without a belief in God this connects me with something greater
than me, somewhere to put my faith and trust. God had nothing to do with
getting me sober, it was through my own karma and choice that I brought
myself to that first meeting. But I also know full well that while I had to
ultimately get sober for myself, I did not get sober by myself. The
12-steps enabled me the freedom to awaken to a faith in a higher power "of
my understanding". My path eventually led me to Buddhism, but the
brilliance of the 12-step program is that it can cater for all beliefs.
Like 12-step programs, Buddhism provides me a path of engaged practise and
transformation, a way beyond. A spiritual blueprint that enables me to find
contentment and peace in the here and now, a journey of discovery towards
serenity and enlightenment. This seeker has finally found what he was
looking for.

Whist I fully understand and appreciate the invaluable part that AA and
other 12-step meetings play in the lives of literally millions around the
world, I also believe that recovery from addiction is a process that ends.
I consider myself recovered, though never cured. It was with this
understanding that I made a decision in July 2002, after 10 years of
regular attendance and active AA, that I would greatly reduce my meetings.
Since then I have attended meetings only occasionaly. What does not have to
end however, is the opportunity for continued maintenance and growth in
regards my spirituality, which for me is anything that enables and
encompasses both an inner journey of self knowledge and improvement as well
as a connection with other or higher power. I could just as easily rest
comfortably on my work thus far, but I prefer the challange and growth that
comes from further striving. To this end I work on my spiritual condition
through both continued application of the 12-steps, and my Buddhist
practise. I am fully aware of the service aspect of the 12-step program,
but that too I can maintain these days without the necessity for meetings.
Many choose continued meetings as a context and focus for this spirituality
(including service), but its not the only way.

I remain abundently and immensly gratefull for what AA has done for me,
without a very necessary solid grounding in the fellowship none of this
would have been possible. I feel incredibly liberated from so much greed,
ignorance and delusion that for so long held me back in this life. Having
said that though I am still dealing with me, so that means that I always
have an opportunity for futher work. But this is also the human condition,
not a market cornered or unique to people in recovery. Personal
enlightenment is a long way off, so I suspect its progress not perfection
for some lifetimes yet. One day at a time, the journey continues.