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I heard a speaker at a meeting recently who said something so profound I am still thinking about it. He said the real tragedy once active addiction has begun is that it kills your imagination. You begin to think that life cannot go on like this… but also that a life without drugs and alcohol is not possible. You cannot see a life with or without drugs. There’s no imagination left.
Oof. I bet there are some heads nodding right now, because I so get that. I was terrified of taking away the thing that was killing me, and I was even more terrified of what life would be like without the substances. I remember thinking that even if I managed to not drink or drug for awhile, there’s no way I could do it for very long. What a terrible prison cell to be put in.
And with no imagination, that meant I had no hope, either. And no hope means the candle is just about to burn out. In one piece of sober literature, that moment of total despair is described as “pitiful and incomprehensible demoralization,” and that is a perfect summary of active addiction with no imagination left looks like. Again, oof.
I remember those days all too well. There was so much darkness, and I had so much light around me in my life. I had a good job, a great wife and two awesome kids who were little. They were nothing but imagination at their ages when I really was at the bottom.
When I think about that time in my life, November 2008, as I went into rehab, I don’t know what my imagination levels looked like. I do remember a funny conversation I had after my first 12-step meeting, when I announced that I had a few days sober and was new. A guy came up to me and gave me a warm hug and said, “Make sure you stick around for the cash and prizes.” I remember thinking, “Oh cool, they must do some kind of raffle here for new people. I hope it’s a lot of cash and prizes, because I am broke.”
I got pretty close with that guy over the coming weeks, and he was one of those guys who oozed hopefulness and optimism. He was the kind of person who lifted others up just by being him. I eventually asked him, “Hey, what actually are the cash and prizes?” He smiled and said, “This right here is the cash and prizes,” and he pointed from himself to me.
The cash and prizes were the intense, beautiful connections that alcoholics and addicts make with one another. Honestly, I don’t know if there is a price tag I could put on some of those relationships that I have had, including that one.
They’re worth more than a million dollars, because those are the relationships that turned my entire life around. Those are the relationships that started to spark up the old imagination machine. Those are the people that I looked at and thought, '“Hey, maybe this is possible.”
I guess that means the way to pay it forward is to be that person for somebody else. I have met quite a few people over the years that are newly sober and just can’t see it yet. But then they do. Sometimes it takes a few weeks or even a few months but they get there. I’m going to try to be one of the imagination revivers today.
This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke:
An AA member is walking along the beach, savoring his sobriety. He comes across an old bottle that has washed up on shore. Curious, he pulls out the cork. Out of a puff of smoke, a genie appears.
"Thank you for saving me," says the genie. "It seems as if I was a prisoner of that bottle for ages. Now I am free."
The drunk considers the genie, reflects, and replies, "Thank you for sharing, I identify!"
(Credit: AA Grapevine, August 2005, by Donny B. of Wurtsboro, NY)
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