Reports From the 2002 LifeRing Recovery Congress, Berkeley CA March 15-16-17

Thanks   Letters   Report   Minutes   Program Materials   Photographs

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Craig Whalley was the Congress delegate representing the LSRmail email list

Part 1

As your official delegate to the 2nd annual LSR Congress, held in Berkeley, CA, on March 15-17, 2002, I've prepared a ridiculously long and hopelessly self-indulgent report on the event. After considering posting the whole thing as a file at Yahoo, which nobody in their right mind would read in its entirety, I decided to post it in parts on the regular list over the next few days. It moves back and forth between the event itself, some of which I actually report accurately, and my own impressions of it, and also my own inner experience, which I can never leave out of anything I write here and which, in this case, actually produced some sobriety-related -- or at least mental-health-related -- material.

Almost all of the first draft of these reports was composed in long hand in a cheap notebook during the trip, particularly, of course, during the actual travel time. Writing it down this way helped me very much in understanding things better, especially some of the personal stuff I'll cover. It also made the plane rides and airport time go faster.

I'm not a traveler. Through my years of drinking I structured my life to include as little deviation from my daily routines as possible. The routines were comfortable to me, as was the drinking, but they were also severely limiting. I was aware that my life was extremely constrained, and I had difficulty understanding why I didn't change, especially after I became sober seven months ago. I thought maybe it had to do with fear of women, sparked by spending way too many years with my, um, “colorfully eccentric” ex-wife. That didn't really seem right, though, because I avoided almost all activities, including ones that had nothing to do with women or the romantic quest. But what else was there? “My marriage damaged me, possibly beyond repair,” makes a certain amount of superficial sense, and I didn't have a better explanation. And anyway, my life has been comfortable, if dull, and I have a very rich life on the internet (and not only on LSR).

Anyway, I decided to attend the LSR Congress because I wanted to meet in person, at last, a couple of the LSR friends who've been instrumental in saving my ass and getting me sober. And I was very intrigued with meeting all the other characters that I've come to know here. And I wanted to see if my newly sober wings would support a little adventure.

So, with my anxiety levels rising steadily, I bought tickets, made hotel reservations and paid my registration fee. My die was cast. The anxiety sort of surprised me since it was supposed to be a fun vacation, among other things, but I figured it was just that I was out of practice at having adventures.

I arrived at the Port Angeles, WA, airport an hour before my flight (none of that two hour stuff at Podunk International Airport) and was astonished to see a nearly-full parking lot and a jammed terminal. It seems that the monthly “Gamblers' Special” charter flight to Elko, NV, was set to take off at about the same time as my flight. The counter was clear though, and I quickly got my boarding pass after answering the detailed, searching and highly intrusive security questions. I couldn't actually hear the questions because of the raucous gamblers behind me, but I found that everybody was happy if I just said “no” whenever there was a pause.

I did have to produce picture ID. The ticket guy gazed at my driver's license photo and said, “Gee ... you look like that famous singer, whatshisname.” I thought, “hmmm...he probably doesn't mean Paul McCartney, or even Sting ... maybe he's thinking of the “mature” Elvis, with white hair and a beard ...” He handed the license back and I looked at my picture and froze.

“Oh shit!!! He means ...” I thought to myself.

“I know!” he said.

“Don't say it! Don't say it!” I thought. `

“Your picture looks just like Kenny Rogers!”

As I slunk away from the counter, my face burning, I briefly considered changing planes and joining the brainless geezers heading for the slots.

The sound system said something unintelligible, although I did catch this: “ ... Oh yeah, and don't leave your bags unattended or they'll be confiscated and destroyed.” Fly the Friendly Skies.

I got through the metal detector fine, but the security person did go through my knapsack, seeming particularly interested in some goat milk soap I had brought as a gift. Possibly he thought it was from an Afghan goat..

This trip is a real change for me. My first weekend off in many years. My first full DAY off since about three years ago when I was trapped at home by snow.

The flight was uneventful and I arrived at Oakland Airport on time. From there, I had to figure out the shuttle to the BART rapid transit system, and then the BART system itself. New transit systems are always a challenge for me. When do I pay? How much? Where? Which train or bus is the right one? I always fumble around a lot, holding up lines and dropping things, unsure of what I'm doing. It only takes one trip to get mostly proficient, but that first one is tough, since all transit systems do things differently.

Eventually, however, I figured BART out and headed for Berkeley. This social-isolate, anxiety-ridden, newly sober non-traveler had strayed 800 miles from his rigid -- yet comfortable -- routines and landed at the LSR Congress.

Part 2: Friends for Life

When last we saw our stalwart delegate to the 2002 LSR Congress, he had arrived at the BART station in downtown Berkeley, rendered partially brain dead by the rigors of travel and the lack of familiar surroundings and routines. Our story continues ...  

I made my way out of the station and onto the streets of Berkeley. There was some comfort in the fact that I had actually been here once before. I was here, in fact, the last time I took a trip. It was a few years ago and I had flown down to San Francisco for a weekend with my very first internet friend (a.k.a., “email babe”), Katherine, a law professor from Pennsylvania. We visited Berkeley so we could walk through the University and the law school there. That trip hadn't seemed nearly as anxiety-filled as this one, probably because it involved only dealing with one person, whom I already knew and trusted (and still know and still trust, by the way), rather than a group and a situation that were much more of an unknown quantity.

I carried my bag and knapsack to the Hotel Durant, checked in and went to my absurdly expensive room (“this is your vacation,” I had to keep repeating to myself, “it's okay to spend money on yourself.”). There were two messages from Betts, whom I'd never met, regarding Jacquie, whom I'd also never met but am close to, what with her helping save my life and all. Jacquie's plane was delayed, or changed or something and she was going to be late, but Betts was supposed to pick her up at the SF airport and there was confusion about which flight was she on, which airline, what time. It got straightened out, thanks to Betts's flexibility, Marty's and Marjorie's message conveying (I'd never met either of them, either, of course), and a nice guy that Jacquie sat next to on the plane who sent an email via his cell phone. By the time I'd done what I could about all this (nothing), it was time for the get-acquainted reception downstairs.

This was my first LSR f2f (face to face) event; in fact, it was my first f2f “recovery” event of any kind. I'm not sure of the correct definition of a “fugue state,” but I was in my own version of one when I entered that room. Things, however, got off to a very auspicious start when the entire Asian delegation to the congress jumped into my arms and gave me a hug unlike any I'd had for years. It was, of course, CA from Japan. CA, who, I think, founded the LSRbody list to deal with body and weight issues among our more “well-rounded” members, turned out to be tiny by any non-Japanese standards. She assured me that there were any number of extra pounds hiding under her clothes somewhere, but they remained elusive throughout the weekend (not that I got the opportunity to do any extensive searching, darn it).

The room was filled with LSR folks, many from f2f groups in the Bay area, but many others from the list. It was overwhelming and my cognitive functions sort of shut down even more. Seeing the real people behind the names was intensely moving. The names floated in my head, along with the screen names used in the emails, and now they mingled with the actual people. Mingled, but didn't actually attach to one another very securely.

The reception was a charming event, with a wonderful jazz duo and an excellent array of light food, which did fine as dinner for me. The introductions flowed by -- Marty, Marjorie, Tom the Listmeister, Chet, Don -- and I couldn't keep up. I yearned for name tags. Glo and Ben came in. Then Richard. I tried to cling to CA, but lots of other people wanted face time with her, too. I hope I'm being clear that this was a wonderfully positive event; it's just that it was sort of overwhelming for me (as was the whole weekend).

I left a bit early to man my phone and help make sure Betts and Jacquie linked up. It was just as well that I got away for awhile. I was surprised at my own disorientation, but it had begun to occur to me that maybe things were stirring in me that I'd better pay attention to. LSR, and the people on this list, carry a lot of emotional weight for me, as they do, I think, for many members. Immersing myself in it for the weekend was clearly going to be pretty powerful stuff.

Back in my room, after getting and making a call or two, there was a knock and CA was there. She'd come for a book I had told her I'd bring for her from my shop. (She thinks I'm going to charge her for it. Fat chance.) I gave her a little gift (remember the goat milk soap?) and tried to tell her how much gratitude I felt for her friendship, and how important it had been to me in overcoming my misuse of alcohol. I didn't cry then, but I'm doing a little of that now as I write this.

There was another knock on the door. It was Jacquie and Betts.

My life was complete. 

...more to come...

Craig

Part 3: Learning and Playing

Our intrepid delegate is in a reverie, surrounded by people he credits with helping save his life, whom he is meeting for the first time. As he comes to, he resumes his report...

The point isn't to embarrass my friends CA and Jacquie (although that is kind of fun), or to make them sound in any way special (although they are to me). Rather, the point is to stress the importance to me of building relationships with sober people who understood exactly what I was going through. I might have struck up a dialogue with any number of successfully sober LSR members and had similar results. It's the one-to-one version of what we try to practice as a support group, and it can be especially effective at the point when one is seriously moving towards sobriety but is still struggling.

 I have lots of good acquaintances in my “real” life, but no friends; no one with whom I can talk honestly and at length about my inner world, much less my struggles with drinking. Part of the beneficial power of these virtual friendships, for me, is the nature of email-only relationships, where there is an absence of the non-verbal communication that I find very confusing and distracting, even though I know it's supposed to be important and filled with information. This, plus the absolute openness regarding the greatest shame in my life (drinking, in case you didn't know), and the willingness never to judge but only to gently advise, was exactly what I needed, even though it still took months and months, and many failures, to get myself together. These are very hybrid relationships, unique to the internet age, but they have been absolutely crucial for me.

After a night's sleep hampered by being too keyed up, I awoke Saturday morning and headed for the day's events at the Alta Bates Hospital, about a mile away, hitching a ride with Betts. She, by the way, is just as amazing in person as she seems from her posts. I could go on at length, but it would probably just make her squirm and blush and start denying everything.

The day was devoted to an assortment of workshops on various topics of interest to people like us, plus the headline event, a presentation by Lonny Shavelson, author of “Hooked.” The workshops I attended were consistently excellent, with some emphasizing imparting information and others more devoted to participatory dialogue. All of them, for someone like me who hates reading books on this subject (except for “Hooked,” which was stunningly excellent), were informative and reinforced strongly my desire to stay sober.

Particular mention should be made of the workshop on “Sex in Recovery,” led by Lin (Sockermom). However, I'm not going to be able to write about it due to rules regarding sexual content on the internet. Contact me for the 900 number at which you can gain further information. Be prepared to answer the question, “what would you do if you woke up tomorrow in the other gender's body?” Those at the workshop know what I'd do.

Shavelson's presentation was as rich and intense as his book. Afterwards I asked him when the paperback was coming and he said a couple of months. Those who can't afford the hardcover will have no excuses then for not buying the book. For actual information about the book, see my and Marty's reviews at unhooked.com.

Saturday night was the banquet held at the Durant Hotel. The area we used was, ironically, immediately adjoining the Durant's bar, which was packed with drinkers laughing and yelling and carrying on. I haven't hung out in bars for 20 years, but the noise was familiar. Now, though, it seemed a sad and empty sound to me. Since I was sitting with Betts in the back of the room next to the bar, we couldn't hear much of the entertainment provided by LSR members. This did change, however, when CA sang a couple of songs. That kid's got a hell of a set of pipes on her. There was another irony that evening: the dessert was “brandy-soaked cake.” Way to go, Durant Hotel! I ducked out a little early, so I missed the later entertainment, although I heard it was excellent.

Throughout the day's and evening's events, I was able to talk with and observe the people I'd come to know from reading their messages faithfully. Glo was a hit at the banquet reading one of her poems, although I'm sorry to say that I couldn't hear it. I talked with Ben and Ang about what's involved in starting an f2f meeting. I only talked briefly to Richard --just long enough to horrify him with the idea that LSR might get serious about nicotine addiction. I knew by then that nothing much was really going to happen, but it was fun to torture him a little. He took it pretty well, waiting almost a full 30 seconds before taking out his cell phone and starting work on an email.

The events of the day unfolded very smoothly, testifying to the first-rate job that was done preparing the Congress. There wasn't much free time, which was just fine by me, for reasons I'll deal with a little later.

...stay tuned...

Craig

Part 4: Official Stuff

Refreshed by California's comforting sounds, sea air and sleep's soothing balm, our erstwhile delegate begins a new day ...

I slept like shit last night. Strange bed; no noise machine; funky pillows; raging anxieties. Why was I here? Who are these people? Do I belong with them? Today, Sunday, is the day of the official meeting of the Congress, when I get to perform the solemn duties of a delegate (i.e., vote “yes” on everything). I've met my “friends for life,” learned a lot, talked about nothing else except “recovery” stuff and I still feel like an outsider, playing at being something I'm not. Sigh.

Yesterday, and again today, I came face to face with my extreme dysfunction in social or other gatherings. I can perform competently whenever I know the rules for the situation I'm in. But I completely fall apart during unstructured time spent among strangers. At the workshops, I was an active participant: glib, lucid, even outgoing. Between them, though, in the hallway or at lunch, if all of my few close buddies were off somewhere else, I experienced waves of insecurity and anxiety, totally fearful of approaching anyone I didn't know well. I thought, “after all, they're talking to other people so I'd be intruding. I'd have to stand there like a geeky lump trying to slither, unwanted, into the conversation.” Logically, I knew this made no sense whatsoever. These were the kindest, most accepting and supportive people I'd ever met. But that didn't seem to matter to my feelings.

At lunch on Saturday, I actually went outside for awhile, too afraid to enter the cafeteria because I wasn't sure I'd see anybody I could sit with. Finally, I got it together enough to buy an orange and go in. I figured with just an orange I could nonchalantly wander back out if I couldn't summon up the nerve to find a place to sit. Fortunately, I saw a couple of reasonably familiar faces at a table with an empty chair. I ended up having a great conversation with a San Francisco LSRer, Raphael. But the feelings returned, as they always do, as soon as the next unstructured moment arrived.

So on Sunday morning I was feeling like there's more to being a complete mess than just drinking -- drunk or sober, I can't enter a room full of strangers without dying a little. And my definition of “stranger” seems to be pretty strange itself.

But as soon as the Congress started, with all two dozen or so of us sitting in a large circle, I felt fine. I can do meetings! I was in my element! I knew my role and what the “rules” were! My comfort level soared. The anxiety retreated; still there, but keeping it's mouth shut.

There were delegates, convenors and Board members there. We began by going around the room reporting on how our various groups were doing. The people who spoke before me gave actual information about their groups, so I had to abandon my original plan to report that LSRmail was doing “Okay, I guess.” I scribbled some fast notes and, when I spoke, tried to lend some significance to my vague memory of number of members and number of posts. I also mentioned that the tone of LSRmail had been greatly improved by the creation of the “sober coffeehouse” list and the resulting vast reduction in arguments and flame wars. (Whoever it was who thought of that ought to take a bow). In recent weeks, I said, the list has had a particularly supportive feel to it. Other delegates were very polite and receptive, as I reported on stuff they already knew perfectly well, since most or all of them are on the list.

Delegates from f2f meetings reported on their experiences. With some significant exceptions, attendance at many of the meetings is low, with quite a bit of turnover. Some expressed feeling discouraged at times.

But, after one convenor of a locked ward meeting talked of feelings of futility because she only saw most people once and then they disappeared, another spoke up: “It's NOT futile. I had a person in my meeting [at a different treatment center] positively light up when she heard we were from LifeRing. She remembered clearly and very warmly the meeting she had been to at” the locked ward. Everybody got a little misty after hearing that, or maybe it was just me.

I woke up early (very early) the next morning thinking about those reports from f2f convenors. Those people are doing a totally pain-in-the-ass job arranging these meetings and then sitting there, sometimes alone, sometimes with a handful of people many of whom won't come back. I think they are heroes. Now, I realize that being a hero is somewhat overrated as a virtue. Robert “Itchy” Bradley has made clear in a number of posts that he gets more than he gives sitting in a room alone, offering an opportunity for someone who might show up. But Damn! It's still not easy: there sure as hell is no money being made; no fame is bestowed; the recovery community either doesn't care or thinks they're satanic atheists; the larger community is oblivious, and yet, week after week, they go back.

When LSR is rich and successful and ubiquitous, there ought to be a memorial built to these people.

...we'll be right back...

Craig

Part 5: More Official Stuff  

The official meeting of the LSR Congress has been unfolding as it should, a sterling example of democracy at work. Our determined delegate, fulfilling his campaign pledge to report events faithfully and accurately, describes the second half of the meeting...

After the conclusion of the reports from delegates and convenors, we turned to the really fascinating stuff (snore). We dealt with 2 or 3 amendments to the LSR by-laws. The amendments were, without a doubt, of absolutely vital importance; unfortunately, I can't remember what they were about. I'm pretty sure they aren't going to affect LSRmail. Your delegate voted “yes” enthusiastically, after he was awakened from a brief eye-resting episode.

Then came the big decision of the day: who would be elected to the Board of Directors? It was a fierce, hard-fought battle among the 3 candidates (incumbents all) for the 3 open seats. Eventually, the “Berkeley 3” pulled off a stunning upset and swept to victory unanimously, although Glo was seen sitting on Itchy to prevent him from voting against himself.

There was also agreement to assign Mark Connors the task of producing a quarterly LSR newsletter. A budget of a couple of thousand dollars was proposed by Mark for printing and mailing and, after the howls of laughter died down, it was agreed to go ahead with the newsletter but to offer it online in PDF format, rather than paying anything for it. That way, the convenors of each meeting could download it, go to Kinko's and get copies, and pass it out at their meetings. This succeeded in passing all costs to the bulging coffers of the f2f groups. The bunch of cheapskates on LSRmail will, of course, be able to read it for free at unhooked.com. Don't get excited yet -- it'll be a few months before Vol. 1, No. 1 sees the light of day.

There was, in the packet sent out ahead of time, a “proposal” to set up a committee to explore ways to get LSR and it's members more involved in nicotine addiction issues and to figure out how to make LSR a “smoke-free” group. But as it came time for this subject, and the smokers in the room began pulling Uzis and Kalashnikovs out of their bags and sighting in on the chairman's desk, it was explained that it was merely a request for volunteers to explore the possibility of perhaps looking into maybe someday doing something about writing a recommendation to tentatively discuss a study on the subject. It was NOT, we were assured, a step towards declaring smokers as not-addiction-free (yet). Marty flashed his sweetest smile, gave an “aw, shucks” worthy of Jimmy Stewart, and managed to escape with his life. Barely.

And that's good, because if I was right yesterday to suggest that the LSR convenors are heroes, then Marty, along with Marjorie and Tom and, I bet, a few others I don't even know about, deserve double-hero status for tackling the organizational matters of LSR, plus being convenors, plus, to bring off the Congress, doing huge amounts of the most mind-numbing sort of work imaginable. Think arranging chairs; think hauling boxes of books and pamphlets; think endless hours sorting out who will conduct what event where.

Marty is not only a hero, but an absolute master of tact, too. As when he told the Congress that a remarkably high percentage of treatment professionals were what Dave Barry would call “Geraldo Rivera.” He waited to say this until the treatment professionals attending the Congress had left.

The final event of the Congress was the Board of Directors meeting, the one time our leaders actually sit down together in the same room to shape the future of the organization. This was apparently such a momentous event that it intimidated everyone else, because the room emptied rapidly just before it began. Ever faithful to my duties as your delegate, though, I attended, the only non-Board member there. It was fascinating. Or it would have been if, searching in my pocket for some urgently needed caffeine pills, I hadn't come across a handout from Lin's Sex in Recovery workshop. It was entitled “Have you ever:” and then listed dozens of, uh, er, um ... “varietal pleasures,” one might say. By the time I finished a thorough study of the list, the meeting was over. Next year to Florida!

By the way, Tom Shelly, our own personal listmeister, really does exist. He looks like the young Clint Eastwood from one of those old Sergei Leone spaghetti westerns, complete with duster and cool cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes. He had to give up the skinny cigars, though, to keep Marty happy.

Marty looks like a young Spencer Tracy, playing a lawyer who defends the downtrodden against the forces of darkness. I looked around for Katherine Hepburn, and by god there she was! It was Marjorie!! The spitting image, I swear.

Wait a minute ... I wrote this on my way home while sitting at the Oakland Airport (motto: “Arrive 2 hours early! Go through security in 54 seconds! Wait!”). I'm very tired and it may be that I've confabulated my pre-Congress images with the actual persons. I'll have to check back next year in sunny Florida and find out.

...only one more to go...

Craig

Part 6: Dark Night of the Soul"

The Congress has drawn to a close, and our exhausted but still diligent delegate is left to his own resources as departure draws near ...

The Congress ended early in the afternoon on Sunday. I wasn't leaving until Monday so I had the late afternoon and evening free. I was very tired and hitched a ride with Marty back to the hotel. I arrived at my room and realized that everybody I knew well or felt comfortable approaching was gone, either heading home or off having fun with others.

Suddenly I was faced with rapid decompression from the intensity of the past few days. I was plunged into a mental state that was extremely disconcerting. I worked on the report I was preparing, but the relatively straightforward and light-hearted approach I had been taking in my early drafts seemed all wrong. Emotions kept rising to the surface, imperfectly formed and lacking a name, but very strong. Why did I feel this way? Why was this event and these people affecting me so strongly? I wrote frantically, and then re-wrote, trying to find my way through my own emotions. I had to force myself to slow down for fear that even I wouldn't be able to read my handwriting. I longed for my computer, but wondered if I wasn't better off with the human-scale act of writing with a pen.

The one thing that broke up my afternoon was some time spent with Tom, the Listmeister. It was a welcome return to reality, as we discussed some thoughts I'd had about LSRmail. When we parted he gave me a hug, which was more welcome than he could possibly have known.

Back in my room, I tried to avoid my tumultuous emotions by watching TV, but everything seemed even more stupid than usual. I tried to read the thriller I'd brought with me, but that was even dumber. The paper and pen kept drawing me back, even though I was still not able to articulate my emotions clearly. My lunch had only been an orange, but it never occurred to me to go get some dinner.

By 9 o'clock I was reduced to sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at nothing, merely letting myself feel, without even pretending to understand what the feelings were. I felt sad, but whatever was happening to me wasn't actually painful, just intensely disconcerting. Eventually, I slept a little.

In the morning, I gathered up my stuff, with my notebook on top, and headed home. At every opportunity I wrote, fully aware that I still wasn't in touch with the feelings I was experiencing or even why I was having them. The journey home took place without incident. I had forgotten to pay in advance for my parking spot and was worried that I'd be towed, but instead I had a parking ticket on my windshield. I should have paid $10; the ticket was for $10. Small towns are great.

As I write this, it's been a week since I arrived in Berkeley. I'm sitting in the same blue chair I always sit in, but the television is off, as it has been all week. I weigh five pounds less than I did a week ago. I made a simple tofu stew the other night and am going to have salad for dinner tonight. I have to make myself eat. I went for a fast walk last night, and a speedier walk/jog tonight. I've been sleeping 6 hours a night, straight through, instead of 9 all chopped up. At the end of the day I resist going to bed. Today I finally got up the nerve to check my blood pressure, which is always high -- it had dropped substantially. I've been writing not only these long reports, but posting madly to the list and also emailing friends. I've left work early every day this week so I could get back to the writing, and thinking. At work, I've been flirting with everything in a skirt, and drawing customers out even more than usual about their books and their lives. I bitched at my employees for leaving a big mess of undone work to greet me upon my return, letting them know I wanted changes made in their work habits so I could leave more easily.

I cannot tell you how utterly revolutionary, and uniformly positive, each of these things are for me. Everything on that list is something I wanted -- longed for, even -- but could never seem to bring about. I have no idea if any of it is permanent; I do know that it has been absolutely effortless. As I've taken each action, whether cutting out meat or going for a jog (a jog! me!), or acting like a real boss, it was what I felt like doing at the time.

If I were a better writer, I would have telegraphed this sudden reversal at the end of this narrative so it wouldn't seem so disjointed. But disjointed is exactly how I've felt for the past week. It was only in the last day or two that I realized that virtually every effect of my angst-filled journey was both totally unanticipated and entirely positive.

I still have no certainty about what happened to me, although I have bits and pieces of theories. Getting away from home and breaking my routines was important. So was being forced to confront my social phobias, which I had literally forgotten about because I had so successfully structured my life to avoid dealing with them. But clearly there were two major factors in jarring my psyche loose from its moorings so it could sail more freely on the seas of life (for however short a cruise).

First and foremost was the fact that I was sober. Really sober. Sober like someone who really does choose not to drink. On Sunday, when I felt totally wigged out, the only thought I had about drinking was to wonder why I didn't feel like drinking. Part of what has happened to me is, apparently, the reward for not drinking; I had no idea -- none -- that so sudden and far-reaching a change could be a result. I expected only slow, painful, incremental growth. Of course, I'm very aware that what I'm reporting is based on only a few days experience. Maybe it's some sort of “pink cloud” phenomenon that'll be gone next week. But I can't leave this report unfinished indefinitely, and what I'm experiencing right now was the biggest result of the LSR Congress for me, so into my report it goes. Maybe, just maybe, it's all true and real and permanent.

The other major factor was LSR. Not the actual organization, important though that is, but the people and the connections and the incredible openness and the relentless honesty and the sense that YES! somebody else DOES feel this way, or has had that experience, or is as much a mess as me. A never-addicted email friend told me she was jealous of “recovering” alcoholics because they got to be part of a close-knit and caring group. When she wrote this, I was taken aback. Not for a minute would I choose to have utterly wasted so much of my life, no matter what the “reward” was. But upon reflection I saw the deeper point and understood how lucky I am.

So, I'm ending this report on a far more optimistic note than I started with. This shocks me as much as it must shock the extremely few -- and very patient -- readers who will have made it this far. But there you are. Writing this has been wonderful for me. I promise not to indulge myself -- and sorely test your patience -- again in this way for a long, long time. On the other hand, I highly recommend the “long form” to others who might want to try it. It works for me.

Craig

Top  Reports Index Page