Self-Sabotaging

“SELF-SABOTAGE COMES FROM WHAT’S UNFAMILIAR

Human beings experience a natural resistance to the unknown, because it is essentially the ultimate loss of control. This is true even if what’s “unknown” is benevolent or even beneficial to us.

Self-sabotage is very often the simple product of unfamiliarity, and it is because anything that is foreign, no matter how good, will also be uncomfortable until it is also familiar. This often leads people to confuse the discomfort of the unknown with being “wrong” or “bad” or “ominous.” However, it is simply a matter of psychological adjustment…

We are programmed to seek what we’ve known. Even though we think we’re after happiness, we’re actually trying to find whatever we’re most used to.”

From pages 17-18 of The Mountain Is You by Brianna Wiest 

I’ve referenced this passage in about three different conversations in the last 24 hours, so I figure it’s a sign that I should go ahead and share it in an email, too.

Sometimes, we have a friend, or another loved one who makes decisions that we don’t believe are in their best interest. For example, after infidelity in what is supposed to be a monogamous relationship, we may see our loved one choose to take the individual who betrayed them back. In our minds, we might be thinking, “What the f*ck are you doing? You deserve so much better!” And as a result, we get angry and disappointed. We’re basically taking it personally that our loved one did not choose what we thought was best for them. 

Here’s a reminder. First, nothing other people do is because of you, ever. You may be the most supportive friend, and you may have all the evidence in the world as to why your friend may want to leave a job or partner who doesn’t treat them well, but let me offer you the idea of putting yourself in their shoes first while keeping this passage I quoted in mind. Especially that last line, “We are programmed to seek what we’ve known. Even though we think we’re after happiness, we’re actually trying to find whatever we’re most used to.”

So to you, it may be frustrating to see a loved one continue to drink, continue to go back to a workplace that treats them like garbage, or stay in a relationship where they are not valued or respected, but remember that to them, the idea of something unknown may be more terrifying than their current situation. You know that saying, “Choose your hard?” Everyone has to do just that: choose their hard. For some, choosing the hard of what is familiar may be all they can handle rather than opting for the challenge of diving into the unknown. 

It’s not up to us, and it’s not up to you.

The second thing I wanted to do regarding this passage is to invite you to do some self-reflection work. Take a few minutes and think on or journal these questions after re-reading the passage: 

What is a familiar pattern you keep diving back into because you’re scared of what might happen if you enter unknown territory?

What do you think is the worst that could happen in this unknown realm? Seriously, what’s the worst that could happen? ANNNND, so what if it did

What is the worst that could come from you staying in the pattern you are in today, from staying in the familiar? Compare this “familiar” worst-thing-that-could-happen to your “imagined” worst-thing-that-could-happen from diving into the unknown. What do you notice?

Feel free to write back and let me know! Have a great rest of your week, and if you want to have these conversations 1:1, please note that I am open to taking new coaching clients again as of this month, so sign up for a free consultation here! https://www.bottomlesstosober.com/coaching-services/

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I couldn’t do this for you. It was work you had to do for yourself.

“How was I going to explain this to Mami?

You see someone on a train track. You see the train is coming, and that person just will not get out of the way.

No matter what you do.

You can’t pull them off. You can’t push them off. All you want to do is get them out of harm’s way, but you can’t. It’s hard to watch. You want to make them better. Stop the hurt. Me, being your older sister, being in that second mom role, made that hard.

It’s difficult letting someone you love go through that process, but I had to accept that I couldn’t do this for you. It was work you had to do for yourself.” 

Sofia Dueñas

I interviewed my sister, Sofia, on her experiences dealing with me while in my active addiction for episode 10 of Bottomless to Sober, the podcast. I wanted to pull this line out and discuss it in a greater context: I had to accept that I couldn’t do this for you. It was work you had to do for yourself.

Two and a half years into this new life I live, as I listened to my sister’s words, two questions came up for me for self-reflection, which I’m sharing with you in case you find them helpful:

  1. What do I want for myself that I keep waiting on some external force to accomplish?
  2. Is there something I continue to try to do for others that they really should be doing for themselves? 

I’ll pick question one to reflect on here:

What do I want for myself that I keep waiting on some external force to accomplish?

I started a book, a non-fiction self-help/memoir hybrid. I wanted to finish it, but I had been waiting to get picked up by an agent and a publisher. In my mind, I told myself the story that that is the only good reason to finish a book. I had gotten TONS of rejections from agents with no feedback and had stopped working on my book because I felt discouraged. Then, recently, I had a kind book agent who corresponded with me and gave me valuable feedback. 

She enjoyed what I presented and encouraged me to consider self-publishing because her inside scoop is that publishers are looking for people with longer-term sobriety if you aren’t strictly writing a memoir. After reading the email from the agent and reflecting on my sister’s statement, “I couldn’t do this for you. It was work you had to do for yourself.” I realize that I don’t need an agent to write a book. I don’t need a publisher. I don’t need anyone’s validation to finish what I started. I just need to finish what I started. So I’m formally declaring that I will refocus on writing my book! How it gets published isn’t relevant, the point is that it gets done.

So back to you, start the week with these questions:

  1. What do you want for yourself that you keep waiting on some external force to accomplish?
  2. Is there something you continue to try to do for others that they really should be doing for themselves? 

Updates and Opportunities:

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Dating While In Recovery

“Don’t date in your first year” is what I often heard many folks with long-term recovery say over the years that I tried to quit drinking. I’ll start by letting you know that is not my story.

One of my earlier attempts at getting sober ended tragically when I lost my boyfriend as a result of his relapse back into his addiction. That loss triggered an eight-month bender filled with much heartache and chaos. Once I finally stopped drinking, I knew I wasn’t ready to date yet.

However, a few months into my current sobriety journey, I had a romantic interest, and he lived in Louisville, KY. I was here in Tampa, so nothing could happen, which was good for me because it forced me to focus on myself. As I approached the one-year mark of my sobriety, I felt ready to pursue a serious relationship. Yet, when I told him what I wanted, he was not ready for a relationship, so I wished him well and let him go. 

He was bothered by the fact that I decided to pursue something serious and that I was willing to move on and not wait on him, to which my response was, “If you’re not ready, someone else will be.”

So lesson one from me to you is if the person you want is not ready for you, someone else will be prepared to receive you.

Since it was time for a fresh start, I decided to try online dating and quickly learned another lesson. There was someone I matched with early on, and I purposely didn’t say anything about being in recovery. We talked for hours and had the best connection. I had all the initial butterflies of excitement and hope. As we started to make plans to meet in person, I decided to disclose about being in recovery. 

His response, “My mom is an alcoholic, and I don’t want to deal with that.” 

He then blocked me.

That rejection knocked the air out of me. I ugly cried for what felt like years, wondering if my recovery would be a scarlet letter of some sort, wondering if I should settle for the guy who wasn’t ready because at least he knew my story and gave me attention.

After doing some work around my feelings about this situation, I came to the following conclusion, which is lesson two: I won’t be for everyone, but for the right person, my recovery will be an asset and not a liability. I won’t feel a need to hide any part of me for the right person, neither do I need to lower my standards in dating because I am in recovery.

Once I had my mind clear, I felt ready to try again. This time I played around with my profile and how I would disclose to find what felt right and worked for me. Sometimes I put that I was “sober,” and sometimes, I wrote that I was a “non-drinker,” but one thing I did pretty quickly was disclose that I was in recovery if we got to the point of having a real conversation. It didn’t come from a space of lack, like me asking, “It is okay if I don’t drink?” Instead, it came from a place of confidence, “I’d be happy to answer questions if you have them, but just so you know, I’m in recovery, and I don’t drink, so let’s do (insert non-alcohol based date) instead of meet up at a bar.” 

If I felt in my heart that a person wasn’t a good fit while getting to know them, I would let them go. Once again, I trusted in numbers. There are 8 billion people on this planet, and if someone isn’t a fit today, someone else will be later. This leads me to lesson three: There are no rules. Try different ways of sharing about your journey to see what feels comfortable for you, and if someone isn’t a good fit, someone else will be.

So here’s a quick recap of the three lessons I got in my years of dating while sober:

  1. If the person you want is not ready for you, someone else will be prepared to receive you.
  2. I won’t be for everyone, but for the right person, my recovery will be an asset and not a liability. I won’t feel a need to hide any part of me for the right person, neither do I need to lower my standards in dating because I am in recovery.
  3. There are no rules. Try different ways of sharing about your journey to see what feels comfortable for you, and if someone isn’t a good fit, someone else will be.

And if I can wrap up my lessons into one, it’s this: There will always be someone else, so don’t ever think you need to settle for less as a result of being in recovery.

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“You’re fat, honey, you’ve got to take care of yourself.”

My mom approached me while I brushed my hair and said, “Esta gorda Mamita, tiene que cuidarse.” [You’re fat, honey, you’ve got to take care of yourself.]

I’ve been visiting my mother with my sister and boyfriend in Costa Rica this past week. As I recently wrote, I love, admire, and embrace several of my mother’s traits, including her generosity, quickness, and preference for keeping a small social circle. I see all of these in me and plan to continue to nurture these qualities. 

However, body shaming’s grasp is something I’ve been working on releasing myself from slowly. My grandmother practiced it, and my mother did, and sometimes with good intentions (but terrible results). In my life, I’ve decided that I won’t let body shaming be a reason to drink or eat emotionally, neither will I do it to others simply because that’s what I was taught. Our elders don’t always have it right.

I am a grown 38-year-old woman who has been sober for over two and a half years, doing lots of work to care for myself, and generally feeling pretty good about myself. Yet, when my mother called me gorda the other day, I STILL felt the same physical sensation of shame that I felt when I was yelled at for grabbing second servings of food as an overweight kid or whenever I was caught drinking too much and feared being outed as an alcoholic as an adult. It was brief, but I went back there.

As Bessel van der Kolk says, “The body keeps the score,” No matter how much work I do or how long it’s been since my last drink, my body has not forgotten those physical sensations of shame. And when it feels them, it thinks it’s being threatened and grasps at whatever quick way to escape the discomfort of those sensations.

For me, it feels like getting the wind knocked out of me and then a rapidly sinking feeling in my stomach. It’s like going down a roller coaster without going to an amusement park.

So, in the past, old me would have done several of the following options:

  1. Gotten defensive and argued with my mother. “But I DO go to the gym! Don’t you see my muscle.”
  2. Started crying REALLY hard right in front of her so she could feel bad.
  3. Started crying really hard and gone into the old narrative of not being good enough.
  4. Overate or consumed alcohol to “show her.”

This is what I did instead:

  1. I walked away from her and went into another room. She’s 84 and more delicate, so I wasn’t going to sit there and tell her not to talk about my weight because she’s older and very much has a fixed mindset. Also, a reminder that when we set boundaries, we don’t change other people’s behaviors. We address our own in response to an undesirable behavior, so I left the room.
  2. I allowed myself to feel uncomfortable and felt the roller coaster sensation in my stomach because I knew it’s just a feeling that’s temporary and it can’t hurt me.
  3. I used self-talk to soothe myself, and this was some of what I thought: I’m safe. There is nothing to be ashamed of. My weight isn’t a reliable measure of health because when my weight was at its lowest, I drank a fifth a day. I am heavy because I am strong. My mom is projecting old thinking passed down for generations that she hasn’t unlearned. 
  4. I celebrated my win by telling my sis and boyfriend how I didn’t lose my mind. Woooooooo!

Another win was that I didn’t drink or eat emotionally due to this interaction which was an old trigger of mine. Also, I reminded myself why I practice intentionality when speaking to others and choose not to comment on others’ weight.

Family dynamics are so complicated, and what worked to keep me sober may not work for you. Still, I invite you to try the following if you feel emotionally set off by a family member’s comments about you:

  1. Set and hold a boundary by either saying you’re not accepting what they said or removing yourself from the conversation. 
  2. Remind yourself that the unpleasant sensation is just your body perceiving a threat and that you don’t have to drink or use some other maladaptive coping strategy to deal with it. 
  3. Use self-talk to debunk whatever nonsense your loved one just said, or use a somatic strategy like breathing or grounding to soothe your body. 
  4. Share your win of not reacting how you usually do with someone else!

I hope my lovely uncomfortable situation was helpful to you. It’s hard. It sucks sometimes, and we have to get through it to show up for ourselves how we deserve.


Upcoming Opportunities:

Free Writing for Healing Workshop. July 8th. Register here.

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My Mother’s Love Language

“When I was married and needed a new car after a wreck, my ex didn’t want me to purchase it. I felt so stuck, controlled, and frustrated. When I called my mom crying, she said, ‘Te mando algo de dinero para que puedas comprarte algo.’ (I’ll send you some money so you can get yourself something.) She empowered me to get a car without my ex-husband’s permission,” I told my boyfriend over lunch at the airport.

My sister added, “No matter how grown we are, our mom has had our backs. She’s the most generous person I know. It’s like her generosity is her love language. She’s not mushy, but if she loves you, she’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” 

In the recovery/wellness world, I’m guilty of being the first one in a conversation or in a meeting to chime in on ways that my childhood impacted me and played a part in my addiction to alcohol as well as my challenges with body image and food. 

While having this conversation with my sister and boyfriend waiting to board our next flight to go to Costa Rica to see my mother, I realized two things in the middle of our conversation:

One, I am exactly like my mother. 

Two, that is a beautiful thing. 

Now, anyone who has heard me speak and share my story knows that when I talk about my parents, I always share, “They did the best they could with what they had,” which implies that they tried their best, and yes, there was still some harm done. 

Sharing that I am just like my mother doesn’t negate either of those statements. 

However, from this conversation, I wanted to invite myself to open up to this alternative thought, “I am just like her, and it’s a good thing.” It’s a thought that I realize that I owe to myself, future me, and even to little girl me. I deserve to welcome an occasional pause from the mental labor of constantly identifying which generational cycles I need to break and, in turn, point out a few patterns I have inherited from my mother and will continue to embrace. These are the gifts from my mother that I see in me: 

  1. She’s generous. As I said before, from helping me with a car to my home, books as a kid, and anything I ever needed regarding a roof over my head and financial safety, she’s ensured I could have it. She grew up living in poverty in Costa Rica and worked so hard as an immigrant in the US. Her mission was to guarantee that her children didn’t struggle as she did. If she could take the shirt off her back for me or anyone in need, she would. You need something, and I have it? Let me share it with you. <3 
  2. She’s so bright. My mother has always been excellent with numbers and budgeting, especially when she and my dad were small business owners in Brooklyn. They could save, buy the house I grew up in, and travel. Her mental math matches any whiz kid I have ever taught, and the more I learn about numbers since starting my own business, the more I realize that I have my mother’s strong number sense. 
  3. She’s fiercely loyal to the people she’s close to and doesn’t care to force relationships. The few people in her circle are IN HER CIRCLE. I used to want to push myself to have more friends and maintain all sorts of relationships with extended family, but now, I embrace the few intimate relationships I have as gifts to nurture. I am confident in who I have connected with because I trust there is a reason they are in my life. 

If you’re reading this and have a complex relationship with a parent or guardian, I invite you to look at the positive things you’ve inherited from them IF you are open to that. If changing your perspective, even temporarily, will put you at risk of disregulating yourself, don’t. But if you are open to this shift in perspective, even as part of an exercise, ask yourself to reflect on these things:

  1. What traits does this person have that are helpful to others?
  2. What qualities does this person have that lit them up?
  3. How do any of these traits show up in you?
  4. How does recognizing these traits in yourself make you feel? 
  5. How can you continue to nurture these qualities about yourself? 

I’m go grateful to have had this opportunity to reflect before getting on my next flight. Sending you warm love.


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If you don’t have your own back, who will?

“The term good enough comes from the psychological concept of “the Good Enough mother,” which was coined by Dr. Donald Winnicott, an English pediatrician and psychoanalyst. This concept proposes that the role of a parent is to provide their child With a background environment that allows the child to develop the ability to tolerate their own distress…
Coming from Good Enough means that you acknowledge your humanity and give yourself the generosity that you would extend to others. You trust that the people you care about can tolerate small discomforts and mistakes.
Here’s what coming from Good Enough means to me:
-I am okay with making mistakes. (I don’t need to listen to the cruel voice in my head.)
-I am not defined by being selfish or selfless. (I am allowed to consider myself along with those who I care about when I make decisions.)
-I can extend the compassion I give to others to myself. (I believe that we all deserve compassion, myself included.)
As you practice Good Enough ask yourself:
-How does my fear of being selfish prevent me from accessing
Good Enough?
-What are the costs (physical, emotional, spiritual) of being selfless?
-In which areas of my life do I feel most convinced of being Good Enough? 
-Can I bring the conviction that I am Good Enough to other areas of my life, in which I am less certain of my inherent Good Enough quality?
You are the only one who can give yourself the permission of starting from Good Enough. Be careful about getting caught up in wishful thinking that other people in your life will gift you this skill; self-compassion cannot be air-dropped–you have to build it yourself. By cultivating a mindset of Good Enough, you will naturally bring more compassion into your internal narrative.”

Selected parts from Real Self-Care by Dr. Pooja Lakshmin, pages 140-142

I shared this quote with several spaces in the sober community this week. This excerpt resonated with me because I had to apply a boundary in my personal life, and as the author states, even though I’m not a mother, and the person I was setting a limit with is not a child, I had to believe in this person’s ability to handle the distress from the disappointment as a result of the boundary. I had to trust the process because in trusting the process of setting a boundary, I’m inherently trusting myself to make the right decisions to protect my mental health and sobriety. 

Hard decisions lead to the results we seek in our recovery, and we aren’t getting there by people-pleasing. Saying no to someone you love now is better than becoming resentful over a yes that should have been a no. 

If you have a boundary that you need to set with someone and the idea makes you want to go throw up, consider this:

  1. Trust that the disappointment they will feel will not kill them. Yes, we, as lovely humans, don’t handle negative emotions well. However, they are a part of the human experience, and in the same way that we allow kids to be disappointed by telling them “no,” and time and time again, they move on, so will the adults in our lives who we say no to. 
  2. Ask yourself: What do you stand to lose by saying yes to something you don’t want to do? If you are a person in recovery, this is a critical question to ask yourself. Is it worth risking a slip? 
  3. Remind yourself that if you don’t have your own back, who will? As much as others love us, our responsibility to protect and nurture ourselves ultimately falls back on us. 

Upcoming Opportunities:

Free Writing for Healing Workshop. July 8th. Register here.

Six-Week Writing for Healing Program. July 15th. Register here.

Summer Soul Mid-Year Check In: How Are We, Really? July 16th. Register here.

Free Support Group for Educators. August 3rd. Register here.

Coaching 1:1 is open. Schedule a free consultation here.

Counting drinks and ticking boxes: A letter from an ex-teacher

Guest Submission By Jackie

I quit my high school English teaching job the first week of January, 2023. I clung to the idea that the space and rest I got during winter break was what I needed to finish the school year, but I knew deep down that I needed to quit. Just take it one day at a time until June, I thought.

But after getting ready for school the morning of January 4th, I physically could not get myself out of my apartment door. I tried to figure out what I needed to do to just get myself on the subway, but my mind kept coming to one conclusion: stay home.

The same exact thing happened Thursday the 5th. That afternoon, I called my coteacher. She somehow knew what I needed to say without me saying it. “I knew this was going to happen… I just didn’t think it would be this fast,” she said. “But your health comes first, and we’ll be okay.”

My school wasn’t a safe place for me, physically and mentally. I’ll leave it at that for now. I tried my best to control what I could, and it wasn’t enough.

I called my supervisor next and tried to explain what was going on in my mind and body. After ten minutes of rambling, she stopped me. “Is it fair for me to say that you need to quit?” I said yes, and began to sob. “Okay. Next question — it sounds like you’re past the point of giving two weeks. If today is your last day, do not feel guilty; we’ve got it covered. That being said, are you coming in again?”

My shoulders loosened in a way they hadn’t in a year in a half. “No, I don’t think so,” I sniffed.

“Okay. Remember, no guilt,” she repeated over and over as I continued to cry into the phone.

When people say “listen to your body,” it’s usually implied that we have a choice not to. But I truly believe I didn’t have a choice in quitting my job that week, whether that was a result of divine intervention or a collaborative highjacking mission between my brain and body.

My body knew that quitting my job would mean quitting the poisonous cocktail of habits and survival tactics that would literally kill me if they continued. Now, five months later, I can’t possibly imagine taking a sip of that cocktail again.


I’ve always been a box-checker. It’s so satisfying having a to-do list that gives me a reliable dopamine rush at the end of each day.

This is part of what drew me to getting Reframe, an alcohol habit-changing app, in the spring of 2022. I loved that the app immediately gave me daily tasks, gentle reminders, and bouts of wisdom to center me each morning as I tried to finish a tumultous school year. But with the daily motivation came daily shame and embarassment as I logged the drinks I’d had the night before.

I averaged about 20 drinks a week up through August 2022. Each time I came to the end of a week, I made a plan for cutting back for the following week. Instead of following through, though, I created a new habit of allowing my excuses to take the reins.

I stopped tracking my drinks altogether in the fall of 2022, but I know I was averaging 25–30 drinks a week. I’d hoped for 12 drinks or less each week throughout the fall, but my excuse-following habit was amplified by taking a coaching position, being given a special education caseload, and reviving a club at school.

If I could summarize why I drank as much as I did as a teacher, it was to stop thinking.

They say teachers make approximately 1,500 decisions a day, and ask an average of 400 questions a day. So each day, when I finally got home after 8–10 hours of deciding and questioning, I wanted nothing else than to watch shows I’d already watched and drink my mind into silence.

What’s ironic is that, on paper, I was doing great in the fall. I was on top of it with my work. I had started coaching Girls’ Soccer, and they grew tremendously, from not knowing how to kick a ball to winning their last two games. I had just started becoming a more involved and prominent staff member.

I went to grab a few beers after work one day in December and spotted one of my coworkers, who was the STEM department chair. He told me, “You know, at our last department chair meeting with admin, we talked about you, and everyone agreed that you’re kicking ass.”

You know when you start playing with the idea of something—say, quitting—and a single event makes you question everything? (Or is that just how teachers are trained to think, since we’re told it’s normal to have a horrific day-to-day experience, with the occasional silver-lining moment that “makes it all worth it”? …I digress.)

My coworker’s comment made me think, Wow, maybe I am kicking ass; maybe I’ve been overthinking and just need to keep doing what I’m doing.

Right before winter break, I was in the same bar, grading papers over a beer. Two coworkers came in and I sat with them for a few minutes before I headed home. One of them complained about various events from the day, as per her usual, and concluded, “I just keep telling myself, it could be worse.”

She had been at the school for about six years. In my year and a half as her coworker, there were at least five times that I held her while she cried at that bar.

I got on the train knowing I had a choice to make over the break.

The first few months after quitting consisted of scrolling through TikTok and Instagram; drinking; smoking & eating edibles; and taking naps for the entire afternoon. I had no idea what to do with myself; numbing was the only way I knew how to operate in my free time, but now I had all the time in the world for anxiety, depression, and a lack of direction to fester.

Sure, I also started writing more frequently, continued training for my upcoming half-marathons, spent a lot of time with my partner, and went on various adventures throughout the city—but I didn’t know how to have a relationship with myself outside of cyclically working and numbing.

Jackie. Provided by the author.

Counting drinks and ticking boxes was never going to fix my dependence on alcohol, although I’d held on to hope for years. The turning point for me was realizing that I was numbing — and finding the courage to explore why I was numbing. We can’t help ourselves if we don’t know what we’re doing and why.

But more than anything, I can attribute my personal motivation for cutting back to being so. fucking. tired. of being a shell of a human. It’s simply gotten too old feeling shitty every morning, checking texts and posts to see if I said anything stupid, and sleeping the sunshine away. I know I’m very lucky to be burnt out on substance abuse, as many people want to drink themselves to this point but can’t.

So, if I’ve learned anything about myself in the past five months, it’s that I know I want to live well. I don’t know what thriving looks like yet, but I’ve known numbing, surviving, and pretending, and I won’t be going back.

About the author. Jackie was born & raised in Southern California and is now a Brooklyn-based writer, an ex-teacher, and a coffee shop enthusiast. You can find her in her writing journey at @jackiehubbardwrites on Instagram, or eating sushi in Prospect Park.

Submissions:

To submit your own blog piece about your journey, email Jessica at jessica@bottomlesstosober.com

Resources Mentioned:

Learn more about The Reframe App.

Want to work on your own writing?

Join the upcoming Free Writing for Healing Workshop.

Spoiler Alert: Guilt Remains When You Set Boundaries

“The goal is not to stop feeling guilty, but instead, to turn down the volume and not let guilt control your decisions. It means seeing the guilt not as a giant red flag but as a faulty “check engine” light–something that’s always there but operates primarily in the background. You don’t want to let it take up extra energy or have you running to the mechanic in a panic. Sure, it means something–but it doesn’t mean everything.

In other words, guilt does not need to be our compass. It can just be a feeling in the background while we learn to reframe the discomfort as a signal that we’re taking responsibility for our own emotions.”

Dr. Pooja Lakshmin, discussing the discomfort of setting boundaries in Real Self-Care, page 101

I’m currently facilitating conversations around The Book of Boundaries by Melissa Urban to the Reframe App’s Book Club. Though we’re primarily focusing on Melissa’s writing, I had to bring this excerpt into our conversation from a different author, Dr. Pooja Lakshmin, because I LOVE how she frames dealing with guilt. 

It’s just a faulty check engine light that is always there.

I wanted to add to this idea and connect this “guilt as a faulty check engine light” concept back to drinking and alcohol recovery. For years, as active problem drinkers, when we felt guilt, it often made sense. The Oxford Dictionary defines guilt as “a feeling of having done wrong or failed in an obligation.” So when we drank and felt guilt due to our alcohol-fueled decision-making, like when we promised our loved ones we wouldn’t imbibe only to embarrass ourselves hours later, or when we said we wouldn’t drink only to drink ourselves sick and have to spend a whole Sunday recovering instead of enjoying our weekend, the guilt we felt made sense, and it was such a terrible feeling that we often were triggered to drink more to numb it.

We feel emotions in our bodies, too, so when you felt guilty all those times, where did you feel it in your body? How did it feel?

For me, it was a rapidly sinking feeling in my stomach, similar to how you feel going down on a roller coaster. That’s how I felt guilt. It is still how I feel it today. It’s a graspy type of feeling where my arms want to reach out and hold onto something to ease that internal feeling of falling. 

Here’s the thing, now that you’re sober, when you practice setting boundaries, as Melissa Urban and Dr. Pooja Lakshmin state, you’re going to feel guilt, 100%. So for me, when I set a boundary, I already know I am guaranteed to feel that sensation of going down a roller coaster I just described. However it is that you feel guilt, it will come up for you too. Be prepared.

In recovery, we must understand that guilt for doing the RIGHT thing will feel the same in our bodies as when we drank. We have to pay attention to the fact that now the shift is that the guilt is not a signal that we’re doing something wrong. It’s a sign that we’re doing something right. 

In The Body Keeps The Score, Bessel van der Kolk states, “In order to change, people need to become aware of their sensations and the way that their bodies interact with the world around them. Physical self-awareness is the first step in releasing the tyranny of the past.” So with that being stated, when you start to feel the guilt manifest in your tightening chest when you tell your friends you’re not drinking this weekend and that if they try to push it on you that you will leave, your tight chest is letting you know that you’re doing something right. You just have to remind yourself of that as soon as that sensation comes up. 

Your brain will interpret your chest tightening and start to scream, “Something is terribly wrong here! You need to drink to avoid feeling this uncomfortable sensation!” That’s how we get triggered. You can stop and tell your brain, “I’m safe. I’m not making any bad choices. I’m setting a boundary. I hear your panic, but we’re good. I’m taking care of us. You can relax. We’re safe.” 

Doing the right thing takes work. Growth is uncomfortable, but as the authors mentioned in this piece state, it’s also difficult to remain where you have been and be unhappy. 

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“El objetivo no es dejar de sentirse culpable, sino bajar el volumen y no dejar que la culpa controle sus decisiones. Significa ver la culpa no como una bandera roja gigante sino como una luz defectuosa de “revisar el motor”, algo que siempre está está ahí, pero funciona principalmente en segundo plano. No querrás dejar que consuma energía extra o que corras al mecánico presa del pánico. Claro, significa algo, pero no significa todo.

En otras palabras, la culpa no necesita ser nuestra brújula. Puede ser simplemente un sentimiento de fondo mientras aprendemos a reformular la incomodidad como una señal de que estamos asumiendo la responsabilidad de nuestras propias emociones”.

Dr. Pooja Lakshmin, discutiendo la incomodidad de establecer límites en Real Self-Care, página 101

Actualmente estoy facilitando conversaciones sobre El libro de los límites de Melissa Urban para el club de lectura de la aplicación Reframe. Aunque nos estamos enfocando principalmente en la escritura de Melissa, tuve que traer este extracto a nuestra conversación de una autora diferente, la Dra. Pooja Lakshmin, porque ME ENCANTA cómo enmarca lidiar con la culpa.

Es solo una luz defectuosa del motor que siempre está ahí.

Quería agregar a esta idea y conectar este concepto de “culpa como una luz de control del motor defectuosa” con la bebida y la recuperación del alcohol. Durante años, como bebedores activos con problemas, cuando nos sentíamos culpables, a menudo tenía sentido. El Diccionario de Oxford define la culpa como “un sentimiento de haber hecho algo malo o haber fallado en una obligación”. Entonces, cuando bebimos y nos sentimos culpables debido a nuestra toma de decisiones impulsada por el alcohol, como cuando prometimos a nuestros seres queridos que no beberíamos solo para avergonzarnos horas después, o cuando dijimos que no beberíamos solo para enfermarnos. y tener que pasar un domingo entero recuperándonos en lugar de disfrutar nuestro fin de semana, la culpa que sentíamos tenía sentido, y era un sentimiento tan terrible que a menudo nos incitaba a beber más para adormecerlo.

También sentimos emociones en nuestros cuerpos, así que cuando te sentiste culpable todas esas veces, ¿dónde lo sentiste en tu cuerpo? ¿Como se sintió?

Para mí, fue una sensación de hundimiento rápido en mi estómago, similar a cómo te sientes al bajar en una montaña rusa. Así fue como me sentí culpable. Todavía es como lo siento hoy. Es un tipo de sensación de agarre en la que mis brazos quieren estirarse y agarrarse a algo para aliviar esa sensación interna de caída.

Esta es la cuestión, ahora que está sobrio, cuando practique el establecimiento de límites, como afirman Melissa Urban y la Dra. Pooja Lakshmin, se sentirá culpable al 100%. Entonces, para mí, cuando establezco un límite, ya sé que tengo garantizado sentir esa sensación de bajar en una montaña rusa que acabo de describir. Sea como sea que te sientas culpable, también te surgirá a ti. Estar preparado.

En recuperación, debemos entender que la culpa por hacer lo CORRECTO se sentirá en nuestro cuerpo igual que cuando bebíamos. Tenemos que prestar atención al hecho de que ahora el cambio es que la culpa no es una señal de que estamos haciendo algo mal. Es una señal de que estamos haciendo algo bien.

En The Body Keeps The Score, Bessel van der Kolk afirma: “Para cambiar, las personas deben ser conscientes de sus sensaciones y de la forma en que sus cuerpos interactúan con el mundo que les rodea. La autoconciencia física es el primer paso para liberar la tiranía del pasado”. Entonces, dicho esto, cuando comience a sentir que la culpa se manifiesta en su pecho apretado cuando les dice a sus amigos que no beberá este fin de semana y que si intentan forzarlo, se irá, su pecho apretado está dejando sabes que algo estás haciendo bien. Solo tienes que recordártelo a ti mismo tan pronto como surja esa sensación.

Tu cerebro interpretará que tu pecho se contrae y comenzará a gritar: “¡Algo anda terriblemente mal aquí! ¡Necesitas beber para evitar sentir esta sensación incómoda!” Así es como nos disparamos. Puedes detenerte y decirle a tu cerebro: “Estoy a salvo. No estoy tomando malas decisiones. Estoy estableciendo un límite. Escucho tu pánico, pero estamos bien. Me estoy ocupando de nosotros. Tú Puedes relajarte. Estamos a salvo.

Hacer lo correcto requiere trabajo. El crecimiento es incómodo, pero como los autores mencionan en este artículo, también es difícil permanecer donde has estado y ser infeliz.

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Coming Home To Yourself After a Relapse/Slip

Suggestions for coming back home to yourself after a relapse/slip:

  1. Avoid individuals or groups who make you feel like sh*t because you drank again: Those are not your people. There are people with long-term sobriety who will love you when you can’t love yourself and will welcome you back. Find them. How do you find them? Watch for how people treat others when they struggle, that will give you all the information you need for who to go to for support. 
  2. Learn from the drinking event: Either journal it or record a voice note detailing your thoughts and feelings before you drank. This is an opportunity for data collection for yourself rather than dwelling on feelings of guilt or shame. Identify the triggers or situations that contributed to your drinking and create a plan to have a different outcome in the future.
  3. Learn about the neuroscience of addiction to make sense of why your behaviors make no sense sometimes and so you can feel less like hating yourself: “Failures in recovery-and so-called relapses-can easily be explained by the exhaustion of self-control, when now appeal (immediate rewards are always more compelling than long-term rewards) and ego fatigue (exhaustion of self-control) work together…attempts to suppress the attraction of immediate rewards amplify ego fatigue, so we give in to desires we might otherwise circumvent.” – Dr. Marc Lewis, The Biology of Desire, pages 198-199.
  4. Ask yourself if your current level of care is enough: It’s okay to need more support than you have been utilizing. Our toolboxes sometimes require new tools. Do you need to consider a support group, a therapist, a coach, or medical assistance?

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Sugerencias para volver después de una recaída:

  1. Evita a las personas o grupos que te hagan sentir mal porque volviste a beber: Esas no son tu gente. Hay personas con sobriedad a largo plazo que te amarán cuando no puedas amarte a ti mismo y te darán la bienvenida de nuevo. Encuéntralos. ¿Cómo puedes encontrarlos? Esté atento a cómo las personas tratan a los demás cuando tienen dificultades, eso le dará toda la información que necesita para saber a quién acudir en busca de apoyo.
  2. Aprenda del momento de beber: Escriba en un diario o grabe una nota de voz que detalle sus pensamientos y sentimientos antes de beber. Esta es una oportunidad para recopilar datos para usted mismo en lugar de insistir en sentimientos de culpa o vergüenza. Identifique los desencadenantes o las situaciones que contribuyeron a que bebiera y cree un plan para que pueda tener un resultado diferente en el futuro.
  3. Aprenda sobre la neurociencia de la adicción para entender por qué sus comportamientos a veces no tienen sentido y así puede sentir menos ganas de odiarse a sí mismo: “Los fracasos en la recuperación, y las llamadas recaídas, pueden explicarse fácilmente por el agotamiento de la auto- control, cuando ahora el atractivo (las recompensas inmediatas son siempre más convincentes que las recompensas a largo plazo) y la fatiga del ego (agotamiento del autocontrol) trabajan juntos… los intentos de suprimir la atracción de las recompensas inmediatas amplifican la fatiga del ego, por lo que cedemos a deseos que de otro modo podríamos eludir”. – Dr. Marc Lewis, La biología del deseo, páginas 198-199.
  4. Pregúntese si su nivel actual de soporte es suficiente: a veces necesita más soporte del que ha estado utilizando. ¿Necesita considerar un grupo de apoyo, un terapeuta, un coach o asistencia médica?

Para una consulta de coaching, programe una sesión gratis aquí.

What cultural or family norm(s) do you need to release to survive?

I am at a conference in New Orleans, and one of the questions for discussion at a session I attended was, what cultural or family norm(s) do you need to release to survive?

My grandmother, Sofía, was a child bride who was taken from her family in Nicaragua at 14 and brought to Costa Rica. Her abuser claimed she was his daughter at the border in order to traffic her into Costa Rica, then married her there against her will. For years, he beat her as she had child after child of his. Abuela Sofía couldn’t speak up because for her to speak up was to risk her safety and that of her children. She was in a foreign country with no rights and no resources. Recognizing and advocating for her mental health needs was not an option, and the day she finally summoned the courage to take that risk, her abuser threw her and their children into the street, leaving them to survive without his support.

My mother, raised in the aftermath of my grandmother’s choice to speak up, migrated to the United States from Costa Rica years later. From my grandmother, my mother learned that speaking up for herself could lead to grave consequences, and being an undocumented and unwelcome immigrant in a foreign country where she did not speak English, she too avoided making many waves. 

Most of my family who migrated to the United States followed suit. As they arrived, they carried silence with them into this country. 

We did not discuss many things, mental health being a topic not up for discussion. Sure, if someone drank too much, they were labeled a “borracho” (drunk) or a “vago” (lazy person), but that was where the conversation ended, at a label: no discussion, no digging, no examination, no reflection.

So when I found myself in the throws of addiction, I continued the family tradition of silence. However, the silence was stifling, and I slowly lost my breath. I was suffocating. Silence may have worked as a tool for survival for my mother, grandmother, and the women before them, but it was killing me.

For years, I didn’t step outside of myself to examine my situation and realize that I was not in my mother’s shoes or my grandmother’s. I was born here in the United States. At the peak of my addiction, I had a job with access to medical benefits that I could use to help me treat my yearning for alcohol. No one was putting me in danger but me. 

The longer I carried the weight of the cultural tradition of silence, the farther I distanced myself from help. Rapidly, I was starting to drown in the midst of my alcohol use until suddenly, in November 2020, I opened my mouth. I used my voice and stopped comparing what I needed to do to live to those before me. 

I tapped into the power that my family’s silence had stifled for generations and asked for help.

I had to release the norm of silence to save my own life, and now, I’ll make it my mission to always speak openly about this journey because I know that silence can be deadly.

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