Social Isolation
I can’t imagine trying to get sober in this crisis.
Characteristic of my final days of drinking was an aloneness that I had never felt before. You see, in the course of my drinking, my mind gradually convinced me to embrace isolation. Early on, the thoughts were innocent. I always thought myself unique. But this thinking morphed into something more dangerous over time. You’re just not like other people became No one can help you before I could acknowledge the difference between the two ways of thinking.
Addicts and alcoholics are the frog set in water to boil. We don’t die from the scolding. We die because we don’t know how to take the temperature of the water as it rises.
If someone came to me in early sobriety (or late active addiction) and said I had to quarantine myself for a month, I would have been utterly relieved. You mean the state is mandating I do the only thing that makes me happy? I wanted nothing more than to be left alone. And while my mind was telling me it was because no one could ever understand me, the reality was that I wanted no one there to judge the ways I drank and drugged.
I know you are out there. There are people whose calamitous drinking crescendoed when this virus broke and social contact became a misdemeanor. This is cosmically cruel. Alcoholism is not a common cold to be treated with telehealth.
People are abuzz with platforms like Zoom.
I’ve been to a lot of these meetings. I’ve heard people rave about how many more meetings they can get to because they don’t have to leave the house. It is so convenient to just dial in and get that face-to-face.
That hasn’t been my experience.
My recovery requires more than faces on a screen. I can just feel it in my bones. I first noticed this was true after my first week of attending tele-recovery. The host of my first meeting lived several thousand miles away. I didn’t recognize a single face that appeared on my screen during that hour, and there were many. All the recovery talk was there. People were sharing about the same issues I had been experiencing: the caginess, the squirreliness, the urge to take an axe and chop through the bathroom door like Jack Torrance. The words were there. The ideas were there. So what was missing?
I hopped on a video meeting later on that week that was filled with people I know. There it is! It felt incredible to see some familiar faces. I was closer to that feeling of recovery than I have been since the quarantine started. I was so relieved, I felt like sharing.
And then it happened.
I began to talk. The faces of comfort disappeared. I am moving my eyes about the same living room I’ve been in for the past three weeks. The presence of other people has vanished. I am alone. Again.
Zoom feels like an illusionist. Under its hat is a world of people. And just when you feel certain that they are with you, a tap of the wand makes them vanish. Poof.
Look, I am all for online living in a time of crisis.
I get up every day and do my best to teach my students. I hop on the phone and call my friends in recovery. I catch myself breathing sighs of relief that there are options like this that allow us to stay connected with colleagues and clients, family and friends. This is better than nothing, yes.
I am quick to use gratitude as a correct-all. It has saved me many times. I count my blessings that I have a job that can operate remotely. There is a world of people out there worse off than me in the crisis.
But my house is in a state of turmoil. Homeschooling our kids and working full time has created a circus. Imagine opening a nursery, preschool, elementary school, and digital high school all at the same time. And then there’s my wife, who’s trying to juggle the same responsibility while servicing a population of profoundly disabled children. This is not sustainable. And yet, we are the lucky ones. I am working. My children aren’t food insecure. I have years of experience in sobriety to lean on as I navigate the brave new world of virtual recovery. Not everyone is as lucky.
Gratitude is not why I am writing this post.
I am writing this post for all the times that I have heard people say things like, “We should keep this online stuff going after the quarantine is over.” I caught myself thinking something similar just the other day. With Zoom’s raise your hand feature and breakout room capacity, I said, “Why would we even go back to the traditional classroom?”
That’s why I am writing this post.
How do we return from this? How do we land after all this turbulence?
I have been trying for weeks to think of the best antonym for social distancing in the English language. Social Proximating? Socializing? Social gathering? While the right antonym is out there, my point is that it is not as easy to come by. Humans—especially addicts—love social comforts. And this whole in-person but at-a-distance thing, in my opinion, is the ultimate social comfort. You have a veil of intimacy. And unless you have the discipline to focus on the traits of honesty and transparency, it is very easy to let those characteristics take a back seat.
The world reshapes itself through events like this.
It feels to me like there are two ways back to normal. One is the way of relief and gratitude that we get to be in the presence of people again. I know I will be feeling this way. It will be incredible to shake hands and hug—to exchange a pair of expressions with strangers at the checkout line. But there is another road.
That other road is paved with the awareness of how much easier it is to have those groceries delivered. The other road acknowledges that I could get to so many more meetings if I didn’t have to leave home. The other road will be saying we could go a month online each flu season and not lose the momentum of the classroom experience. And the problem is, as much as I have learned the irreplaceable value of in-person contact, I will be feeling that way too.
If there is one fact that united most of my behavior as an active alcoholic and drug addict, it is this: I don’t want what is best for me.
Previous Post
Next Post
Could ‘quality not quantity ‘ . I know what you mean.I have daily zooms(is that a thing) . But it can’t compare with the need for social interaction. Just as I can’t see ME classroom being as good as a classroom. This too shall pass.
I’m glad you can relate, Colin. Yes, I think quality not quantity is exactly what I was thinking on this topic. This too shall pass! Thank you!
Thanks so much for this Mark. As an introvert I rarely am upset about being alone—since I choose that. But loneliness is something no one chooses. We need other people. I need the dopamine hit of the classroom, of a conversation at the mailboxes, of talking with a student in the hall. This is how I construct a life—not apart from others but sharing space, ideas, activities. Good luck in your home schools.
Thanks OG.
I really miss the classroom too. Remote teaching has broken many of my professional boundaries of communication with students. I never thought I’d be offering up my cell phone number—if that’s what it takes—to gather those lost sheep.
Been thinking about your text on Ras. Reflecting on which sides of which characters I’ve neglected this year.
Thanks for the honest analysis. It’s so hard to see around the corner right now. It’s good to hear your take on this.
Thanks Kristi. Appreciate seeing your comment.
Don’t tell anyone… I’m still attending a bandit meeting every week in the parking lot of a church. We meet regs, technically, but barely.
And I wouldn’t enjoy this break as much without it. I need that person to person accountability.
I love this. If I lived by you, Jim. I’d be there. There is a quote by Thoreau about Civil Disobedience that I can’t remember at the moment.
Thanks, brother. We gotta do what we gotta do, man. Recovery comes first. No matter what.
Mark,
I was early in thinking the virus would have a fiesta in an AA meeting so opened up a room for my regular meeting right away. And now there are 100s of them. And I’m going to be so happy to sit in that old church basement and see those faces I’ve grown to love even more during this time. I appreciate your honesty. AA is one place you get that and even if it isn’t good feelings you share, it’s good that you share because a lot of us feel the same
And just saying, having a school, teaching a school happening in your kitchen and living room is not normal or something anyone knows how to do, so if you’re overwhelmed that sounds about right. Best to you and your family. Thanks for taking the time to write
Carol
Thank you, Carol. Yes. Not normal is exactly how this feels. But then again, I’ve always felt that way—haha
I’m do glad you’ve found ways to kee those personal connections happening during the quarantine. Your comment was a delight to read.
Hi Mark. Good read thanks.. The zoom thing got me thinking. I’ve been the Big Book 12 Step speaker a bit too much since the virus took over.
The zoom crowd gathers around me once again, the kind considerate modest and self sacrificing people worshipper with a sharp stick in my eye, the affirmation arranger with everyone’s best interest in mind? How can this be? Operating with no soul yet creating the fellowship I crave. I am nothing without whoever you are. Just another CODA bitch hiding in my mean streak. Attitude adjustment needed.
Hi everybody glad to be here! My self centeredness had arrived like a stubbed toe on a dust bunny. The people were showing up and I had already gone deep into my stage presentation. Come out come out wherever you are? It was time for some Step 4. I am unmuted.
What comes first? The fear or the resentment. Well? I hated my cousin because my father hated my cousin’s mother. I needed my fathers approval so that one was easy. The fear came first. I alone stood for nothing. At best I would steal my self esteem, my emotional security from others. My life of forever arranging people to suit myself. If only there was enough love provided for me I could be happy but there never seemed to be. If only early on daddy accepted me or later my ex-wife could’ve saved me. My job fixed me, taken me away from here. But no, I used them all up and they were gone now and weren’t coming back.
I had fallen into the void of unaccountability. The internet. The selfish nothingness of denial. I had exposed my life living sober as one long unresolved issue..Trapped in the deep dark pit of “what it was like”. I was behind the closet door hiding. Waiting patiently for applause. Pat my head and rub my belly, anybody? My mind went blank. Was I an airline pilot? Could I be? What about my AA host of friends..Where was the hope? I had none.
The zoom meeting was over. I felt terrible, remorseful.. What did I do so wrong? Did I not care enough about myself to care for myself? Again!
Where was the courage and strength? Where was my Spirit of the universe, the God of my understanding underlying the totality of all things? That memorized 3rd Step prayer? Then it hit me square. I never asked for help, prayed for direction. No relax take it easy, meditation. Nothing but me Mr. AA the director, the elder statesman with a stomach ulcer.. More of me thinking I have found an intellectual cure for my Spiritual condition. Well? the day’s not over so I’m starting over.
God direct me to what you would have me be. Show me how to not do or say anything that could be harmful. Don’t let me mix the accountable AA meetings with the unaccountable internet.
Sherp –
Your timing is impeccible. And your thoughts, as always, are appreciated.
Yes, I share your prayer on this one. I am finding it difficult to sort out the message from the “messages” on my screen. I’m glad you started over.
My day is definitely over. I am beat, tired, done. Just finished uploading Monday’s post. Can’t see straight.
Tomorrow I am shutting it ALL down. I will attempt a full day of doing nothing, but focusing on my wife.