[dfw]

I am rereading Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace, for obvious reasons. Here, from an old Salon interview:

I get the feeling that a lot of us, privileged Americans, as we enter our early 30s, have to find a way to put away childish things and confront stuff about spirituality and values. Probably the AA model isn't the only way to do it, but it seems to me to be one of the more vigorous.

And further:

It seems to me that the intellectualization and aestheticizing of principles and values in this country is one of the things that's gutted our generation. All the things that my parents said to me, like "It's really important not to lie." OK, check, got it. I nod at that but I really don't feel it. Until I get to be about 30 and I realize that if I lie to you, I also can't trust you. I feel that I'm in pain, I'm nervous, I'm lonely and I can't figure out why. Then I realize, "Oh, perhaps the way to deal with this is really not to lie." The idea that something so simple and, really, so aesthetically uninteresting -- which for me meant you pass over it for the interesting, complex stuff -- can actually be nourishing in a way that arch, meta, ironic, pomo stuff can't, that seems to me to be important. That seems to me like something our generation needs to feel.

Good God, yes.

[qualification]

Last night I went to the Tuesday-night SAA meeting for the first time. It was by far the largest twelve-step meeting I've been to, with something like 25 people filling the room. In some ways that's good — it certainly made me realize I'm not alone in my addictions, and there was a kind of organizational crispness — but it was also a bit impersonal, and not everyone got a chance to share.

The third Tuesday of the month in this group is a Qualification Meeting, which means that someone gives a 20-minute share on why he or she qualifies to be a member of SAA — in other words, on the nature of his or her addiction. It's what's known as a First Step presentation, and it takes a certain amount of bravery to lay out one's whole addictive past in front of a group of people, many of them strangers.

There were parts of last night's Qualification that I identified with and parts I didn't, but it certainly raised a lot of questions. I have a long sexual history, much of it exotic, and it seems facile and dishonest to label as addictive behavior or "acting out" every part of it that wasn't connected to a long-term relationship. But what was healthy and what was not? What was addiction and what was not? I suppose a starting point is to begin writing the story of my sex life and see how it plays out, see what emotions are connected with the different phases and events. I'm a little afraid of writing Portnoy's Complaint, but there are worse things one could do (and I have done worse things in the thrall of my addiction).

The Qualification also raised questions about admitting my powerlessness, surrendering and handing things over to a Higher Power. I'm acting as if — pretending I believe in a Higher Power, more or less — and hoping that works, but I don't know where I really stand on the issue. Nor, I think, have I fully accepted my own powerlessness over my addiction, in part because the borders of that addiction are still not fully clear.

But then there's a lot I'm uncertain about right now. There is a Zen exhortation, "Just don't know," that I need to embrace. There are a lot of things I need to stop knowing: my views on God and church and synagogue, my views on sex and drugs, my sense of who I am and what I'm capable of. It's a long journey to achieve anything like genuine acceptance of ignorance.

[working the steps]

So I have now read the section on the First Step in the SAA book, and I want to start working it. Do I just start on my own? Do I get a sponsor? I've got this nebulous sense that I'm going to do this wrong, and I'm not sure how to begin asking that question, or who to ask it of.

There's an awkwardness, a fear of rejection, in asking for a sponsor, and I'm not sure I've met anyone yet who would be right for the role. The SAA group I've gone to offers "temporary sponsors," so I might try that approach.

I suppose all of this is ultimately about fear of actually working the Step. But looking at the book again, I see it says that "we get help from someone in the program, usually our sponsor, to work the First Step." And that makes obvious sense: doing it on our own is exactly not the point.

I need a sponsor, which means I need to go to enough meetings to find one.

[marijuana anonymous]

Yesterday I went to my first Marijuana Anonymous meeting, and I just barely made it.

Ever since last Saturday night, when I went looking for the NA meeting that was supposed to be at a church on Schermerhorn and was told it wasn't there, I've been suspicious that any new meeting I try to attend won't be happening. So when I got to the New Church on 35th Street and saw that it was under renovation, my heart sank. I saw a worker go in the door, and beyond him I could see serious construction going on: a saw table, equipment strewn everywhere, paper covering the floors. I turned to leave, then hesitated, and finally spotted an older white woman going in: definitely not a construction worker. So I decided to push past the entryway and see what I found.

Fortunately, there was in fact a meeting, upstairs, in a room still heavily under renovation as well. During the opening 12-minute meditation, we had the added distractions of saws and hammering from time to time, but despite the dust and the chaos, it was actually a really good meeting.

There were a few differences from the S-Fellowship meetings (S-Fellowship is a catch-all term for the various 12-step groups that deal with sexuality). For one thing, there was way less shame in the room, which gave the proceedings a different flavor. Pot is very socially acceptable, and most of the addicts had a history of sharing it with those around them rather than hiding it and living in secrecy, though one guy shared that he had kept his daily use clandestine from his kids for years. For another, there were two women — still heavily outnumbered by the men, but I liked their presence. And potheads tend to be people I like anyway, so it was pleasant to be in a room full of potheads in recovery. (A cute feature of MA: some addicts introduce themselves as, "Hi, I'm [Name], and I'm a pothead." I'm not sure it's a strong enough admission for me — I've been an admitted pothead for years, but the word "addict" is still hard to say — but it's certainly cheerful.)

And although marijuana is not exactly the monkey on my back, and I am more convinced than ever that my focus needs to be on the sexuality and secrecy issues, it was good to be able to identify and share about the marijuana withdrawal process. I found their brochure on marijuana detox to be helpful; even though I'm not facing most of the symptoms listed, I have been having intensely vivid dreams, and it's interesting to discover that that's a common effect of quitting pot. (I had similarly intense dreams during my first, pot-free week in Bombay when I went to India for the first time, and I blamed that on the malaria drugs. I can't remember having such dreams early on in Korea, though, or when I was staying with my wife's parents before the wedding.)

After the main meeting, there was a quick business meeting, the first I've attended. The only real purpose was to get approval for paying the room rent, which only required special approval because there hadn't been the usual business meeting in February, because the box of paperwork and cash had been buried in the construction rubble. (Amazingly, it turned up again with the cash intact.) It was interesting to see a little bit of that side of the Fellowship, and I think the business end of things is something I'll probably get more involved with as I go further in my recovery.

As things wrapped up, we were invited by the facilitator to join him for a bite, so I went with him, along with a woman from Long Island City who'd been clean for all of seven days. It was nice to talk outside of a group and get some more insight and just basic human contact. We headed over to a deli on Fifth Ave, where St. Patrick's Day paraders were still streaming past, and talked about our sobriety issues mostly. The facilitator, A, had shared at the meeting that he was feeling nervous about going out to a bar with friends later, so he thanked us for keeping him connected to the world for another hour instead of lost in his own head. Then he and I rode the F train back to Brooklyn together, and he assured me that the Brooklyn MA group really does meet on Wednesdays at 7:15 like it says on the website, so maybe I'll check that out. (He was also very keen to write down the name of the novel I kept mentioning, Infinite Jest.)

On a different note, I had been stressing out over when, how and whether to talk to my parents about my addiction and recovery. I asked my therapist about that, and his response was unequivocal. "I don't normally give direct advice," he said, "but I think you should wait — wait at least until you've been sober for 90 days and you're more settled and have some perspective." That was similar to the advice I got when I called F from the SAA Thursday Group phone list, but it was a relief to hear it from a professional. It means I'm off the hook for a while. And there's sense to it: as F said, you need to make sure you only tell people who will support you — I think my parents would as best they could — and you need to be sure you're not harming others, a much more difficult question in the case of my parents (or my wife's).

Indeed, the first 90 days seems to be an important concept in 12-step groups. I've been advised to really focus on my basic sobriety during this period — staying away from pot, alcohol, porn, non-marital sex and sex chat, in my case — and not go too crazy trying to do everything else, like avoiding substitutes or trying to work all the steps at once or whatever. It seems sound. So far the sobriety has been a blessing, and I have no desire to go back, but it hasn't been that long yet (today is Day 11).

As for today, I will stay sober and not act out, one day at a time.

[a place to get clean]

So this is my first post in this new blog. Let me start it out right: I'm a sex addict and a pot addict, and I'm working on my recovery.

I guess I wanted a place where I could post about my experiences with the recovery process, from my thoughts on different Twelve-Step Groups to links to things that relate to my recovery. If reading this is a help to you, that's great. But really it's just another way of opening up.

I do have a regular blog, but it's very public and associated with my name. I like the anonymity of this blog, which obviously fits the ethos of the Twelve-Step communities. The name of this blog is [staying honest] because I believe that the root of my addiction problem is not sex or pot, but dishonesty and secrecy, and I am working to live a more transparent, open, honest life — one in which I do not delude myself and others about fundamental aspects of who I am.

I have chosen the lotus as a visual icon because of its symbolic meaning in Buddhism, where it represents purity of body, speech, and mind floating above the muddy waters of attachment and desire. The Buddhist path and Buddhist techniques are important to me as tools for sobriety, honesty and moral living, and I will try to integrate them into my work on the Twelve Steps.

At this point, I've been sober and free of acting out for eight days. I have begun to take the first step.