As you start to move deeper into your recovery, and the patterns you’ve known for years or even decades begin to fall away, you come to understand just how lonely this work can be. But that’s whole point of it.
Everything seems to turn a shade of gray. The places you used to go no longer interest you. Friends become distant or disappear altogether. Or maybe, you’re the one who disappears. You no longer try to hide your feelings behind an obligatory smile or a lifestyle that doesn’t quite fit the way it used to. When you do make an effort to be in their presence, most of the people you once considered an essential part of your life now seem little more than acquaintances. They no longer get you, and they tell you that you’ve changed; that you’re sullen and you’re not as much fun as you used to be.
If you’re feeling lonely, maybe it’s because you’re finally leaving behind the stories that have held you back. You can’t become healthy while remaining sick. You can’t change and expect things to stay the same. You can’t fully take care of yourself and spend the ever-dwindling minutes of your life pleasing others. And here’s the thing: Recovery isn’t about making other people happy. It’s about throwing yourself into the pursuit of your own healing as deeply as you can, regardless of the opinions of others, so that when you choose to step out into the world, you’re able to do so as a more complete, healthier, and far more honest version of yourself…
Bonja the Bodger 
3 responses to “Among the dead leaves…”
I can only imagine how much harder this part of recovery must be. Making new friends was easypeasy for me ages 6-9, still manageable ages 10-13, but became increasingly difficult from 14+. Luckily, I’m a very solitary person and don’t need much human interaction. Having a boo-thing is enough, but without him I’d be a sea of loneliness. I wish I had something to offer you in the way of advice (even though you didn’t ask, you just remind me of someone I used to know – or you’re the type of person I wish he had become). Just know that I think what you’re doing is right and brave, especially on these hard days, because living in truth and being honest with loved ones about it is the best way to live. Our interests grow and change over the years, so maybe you just need to dip your toes in other things, find what sparks joy for sober-you. Good luck, as always.
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Thank you for that. Although, to be honest, my path of recovery is not one of substance abuse or addiction of that nature, unless I were to include food throughout most of my childhood and teenage years.
For me, it’s been working to heal the wounds of growing up in a chaotic and extremely dysfunctional household with an emotionally unstable, binge alcoholic father and a loving, but highly fearful and codependent mother.
My journey has been one of breaking the patterns of response that once kept me safe but now no longer work.
Thankfully, I’ve been part of an extremely vibrant, loving, and supportive spiritual community since somewhere around 2005. Through sweating, sacred dance, and other ceremonial work, I’ve been able to shift a great deal of that. I’ve also been blessed to find some wonderful teachers and Elders who were willing to spend the nonrefundable currency of their time riding shotgun while I somehow managed to fumble my way towards healing, in spite of myself.
They’ve held space for me and allowed me to discover the gifts in all of this at my own pace and in my own time. And by their living example, I’ve also come to understand that for some of us, the wounds we’ve received can serve as the gateway for the healing of others, if they are willing to put in the time and do the work…
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Ah, that’s my bad for making assumptions. I suppose the language you use is similar to what’s used by recovering alcoholics. But I could say the same for myself, and I’m not one either. I’m glad you’ve found such a great community who supports you in your efforts.
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