Solitude vs. Isolation
THE HOLIDAY SEASON IS ONE that seems to promote gatherings of families and friends, work parties of social conviviality, the great “need” for the shopping of gifts (that almost always involve overcrowded stores and streets) and travel, rightfully dreaded for delays and cramped modes of transit, all to attend those gatherings of families and friends.
I am a self-described (and self-appellationed) solitudinist, a enjoy, and therefore highly value, my alone time.
Inside our heads is usually a very unsafe place for us to be, but it can be a safe place for us to reconnect with our happier selves.
Now, in my active alcoholism, much like my vision and speech, my delineation of what was being in solitude and isolation was extremely blurred. Near the end of my (hyper)active drinking, my head would run to very dark, always depressed, often suicidal thoughts. To counter those thoughts, I would run to any of the nearby NYC bars that I was a regular in, and drink heavily with a whole group of people, assumed dear friends.
Ironically, the efforts to people-please and put of a shiny happy face would exhaust and drain me, which resulted in resentments, both in having to appeal to other people and with my own desire and need to do so.
Instead of spending hours every day in the dark recesses of my head, I spend a few hours being connected to people in recovery and in continually being honest and humble with myself and others.
So back to the apartment to wake up hungover, always sick — throwing up in the morning was an often welcomed daily routine as I believe it would sober me up sooner — and ever ore in those resentments. Resentments that took me right back to those dark places in my head, and eventually to another local regular bar where hopefully no one heard about my previous night antics and where hopefully I hadn’t reached the limit of my ongoing bar tab.
Now, five years and nearly eight months into my A.A. recovery, not only are my mornings far different — far better — but so are many of my friends. Thanks to, what I’ve enjoyed as, a fellowship, as well as a program of steps that have greatly diminished the time and degree in which my brain sinks to low places, my head is a much more comfortable (and comforting) place to be. Likewise is my time spent around others.
This turnaround has been wonderful, and I couldn’t be more grateful. The tricky part now, for me, is to resolve my still characteristic need for solitude, while now enjoying, far more, how restorative it can be. Yet many of the suggestions offered in A.A. warn of the alcoholic’s peril when we spend too much time alone.
So what I find best helps me stay in the “progress” part of the “individual adventure” of many of the aspects of my recovery, is the word that most sticks with me and helps me as I trudge this road of happy destiny: balance.
Though I may still prefer solitude than the company of other people, I find implementing all three “legacies” of A.A. paramount in maintain my emotional, as well as physical, sobriety — Unity (fellowship), Service (service), and Recovery (program).
[The Three Legacies are actually about the Twelve Steps (program), the Twelve Traditions (unity), and the Twelve Concepts of World Service (service), but additionally applying them in a more personal level I finds only boosts my sense of serenity.]
So 67-plus months into my sobriety, I still work a 24-hour practice. I attend a meeting almost every day and reach out to another alcoholic, if not a few, everyday. I do service every week (as I have done since I had 90 days). And I work a few steps (besides just the 1st and 12th Steps) of my program every day.
So instead of spending fifteen awful, dreadful, fearful hours every day in the dark recesses of my head, I spend just a couple hours or more being connected to people in recovery with me and in continually learning how to be honest and humble with myself and others.
The result is a serenity that I can revel in when cozied up in my studio apartment, being far more productive than I ever was in my active alcoholism, catching up on some reading, or — especially difficult for me at first — sitting or lying in silence, even beyond the time I also take each day to pray and meditate.
And I look forward to this holiday time to be no different. I will try — again, just for each day — to use to connect with the people whose experiences I can identify with (which give me strength and hope), to be of service, which takes me out of self and reminds me that my woes are not that “unique”, and to practice any number of steps — some meant to be done alone and some with others, such as a sponsor or someone to make amends to — which will offer me the serenity to accept the parts of life that I can’t change (like traffic delays) and the strength to change the things I can (like leaving my apartment a little earlier or shopping during off-hours or online).
So during the holiday, and hopefully any day, I spend more time looking forward to being content, even happy, alone and with other people, instead of spending every part of every day dreading both.
May your holidays and 24s be filled with peace and serenity, with others and within yourselves.