If youโve ever spent any time in a 12 step program then chances are youโve come across the โSerenity Prayerโ. Even if youโre not the religious type, like me, itโs still a damn good prayer. It goes like this: โLord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things that I can and the wisdom to know the difference.โ At first, serenity in recovery meant nothing to me. I couldn’t associate serenity with life.
I often think about the idea that for many people, myself included, life is something that happens to them. That we have no control over the world and therefore, no control over our own lives. Itโs an all or nothing mentality. For me, I always felt like a victim of circumstance. Growing up, I was tall, but not inherently athletic. I needed to work hard to be good at sports and always wished I was one of these other kids who seemed to move so effortlessly. Language was something I excelled at, but was seriously stumped by mathematics. I made friends easily, but was never too popular. Nothing felt natural to me, like I came in a box without instructions and pieces missing.
The Perfect Me
I had this idea of who I should have been even as young as 6 or 7 years old. This perfect me was strong in all the ways I was weak. The guys loved him and the girls adored him. He was funny and witty, but also kind and benevolent like a cross between Zack Morris and Jesus Christ of the 3rd grade. The problem was, I was only sometimes funny and witty. I could be kind but not benevolent.
For some reason if I could not be everything I needed to be, then it would devastate me. Most of the time, I was trapped inside of myself, unable to move in fear of letting people know that I wasnโt perfect. I wanted perfection, meanwhile I was a B and C student who never lead the class in anything, yet I was holding onto the idea of perfection. You know, Iโm starting to think everyone knew I wasnโt perfect. ;I
The Beginning of the End
In my late teens and early adulthood I began to lean heavily into alcohol. If I wanted to appear calm and collected, I drank. If I wanted to be clever, witty and funny, just add alcohol. When I needed to clear my mind of all the negative chatter, I drank. Most of the time, it worked. The plan was to use alcohol only when needed. I had these visions of becoming my best self who didnโt need alcohol to feel secure and confident, but the problem was always the same. In between working and drinking, I had no time for anything else. If I wasnโt working, I was drinking. In fact, the only thing I looked forward to was drinking, so thatโs all I did. I think I just assumed that eventually, everything would simply fall into place.
In my late 20โs it became clear my life was not going to fall into place on its own. By this point I had gathered up brand new insecurities to go along with my old ones. Goodbye insecure actor/writer/director and hello insecure failure. I had gained weight and kept it on. Around this point in time, alcohol no longer worked for me the way it had for so many years prior. Before, it gave me the confidence I needed to get through difficult times, but all of a sudden my insecurities had become insurmountable. It was then that I needed alcohol to disappear.
Retreating From Society
Slowly, I retreated from society. It wasnโt overnight. Heck, I didnโt even realize it. It started as feeling nervous around new people. I told myself I didnโt need any new friends, I barely had time for my old friends. Going out is too expensive, itโs cheaper and safer to stay in. Drinking alone was already something I enjoyed immensely so why not double down on it? So I stopped going out unless it was the occasional get together with the guys I grew up with. Besides, I thought, “I love LA, but I hate the people.” I told myself they were shallow and not as real as I was. Apparently, being real means being a lonely drunk.
Then I started to get anxiety when I went shopping for food or to run other errands. I used to love being in a crowd of strangers, but I grew to hate it. I couldnโt stand it when someone looked at me. I would try and read their expression. They always seemed to be saying โlook at this fucking loserโ and โdamn that guy is ugly.โ Or, sometimes it would be the opposite like โlook at this tall asshole, I hate himโ and โthis guy thinks heโs godโs gift to the worldโ. The voice I gave to all of these anonymous faces always hated me for one reason or another. More often than not I would go home and drink – numb myself to the cacophony.
And Then Sobriety
This went on for years until it became the norm. I couldnโt remember a time before it. To cope, when I wasnโt drinking, I developed a hard outer shell. If I wasnโt looking down as I walked I wore a scowl on my face. I was always angry, but the anger morphed into a general disgust of the world. I was bitter and it showed. Of course, when I was around people I knew I pretended I was fine. But for everyone else, I hated them. I lived like this for years until I got sober.
After two months of sobriety I realized my world had gotten really small as a drinker. I began to see how my need to control everything had isolated me. If someone on the street looked at me in a certain way I would be pissed off or offended. If someone cut me off in traffic Iโd think about following and assaulting them. If someone I was meeting for lunch was late I’d stew in resentment.
I was worse to myself. If I said something stupid to someone or I came off as anything but smooth, I would hold onto that moment and terrorize myself with it. When my plans fell apart, I yelled at myself for not making better plans. I could get away and hide from society, but I couldnโt get away from myself. I didnโt just hate everyone, I especially hated myself. If I couldnโt be this perfect version of me then I couldnโt bear it.
Finding Serenity in Recovery
That was the crux of it; I hated me. The insanity of it was that I drank to soothe the pain of all that hate, but the drinking was making sure I would never change. I needed to let go of that model I was holding myself up to. I can never be perfect, I can only be me. Perfection is not an option, itโs not on the menu. Serenity in recovery is understanding that. Serenity in recovery is being free of that angry judge inside me that scolds and belittles over every embarrassing detail. That is serenity. I am not there yet, not all the way, but I do feel the relief of not having to be something I am not, and its serene.
Click Here for addiction and recovery resources
SAMHSA – Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration
One response to “What is Serenity in Recovery?”
[…] have previously written about the Serenity prayer. Even though I am agnostic, I very much love that prayer. I love it because it perfectly summarizes […]