I love you. I am listening.

For as long as I can remember I have kept a quote journal. I enjoy filling page after page with words that bring light to dark times. Back in the spring of 2016 while in rehab, I carried around a notebook and wrote down what I thought were nuggets of wisdom from Twelve Step meetings. A few days ago I pulled that old journal off my bookshelf to find this quote:

Reading this quote six years later makes me scratch my head in confusion and concern. Does this mean my thoughts are unsafe? Does this mean I am not to be trusted with my own emotions? Does this mean I am supposed to live in a constant state of dissociation?

I believed this quote was true for many years. I believed continuous distraction was the only way to survive without allowing my thoughts to implode upon my life. I kept waiting for something external to “fix me.” But now, after 17 months of practicing a more self-compassionate version of sobriety, I can’t help but call bullshit on that quote.

My favorite antithesis to that common Twelve Step way of thinking is a guided meditation led by Sarah Blondin called, “I love you. I am listening.”

Blondin says: “When we live in a state of distraction, we often forget that there is a heart and self within us that needs love and attention. We are often so busy showing up for others in this way that we neglect to care for our own hearts. This creates a type of separation and alienation from our source of love. One of the most potent and powerful ways to realign with our hearts and our deepest self is by saying - I love you. I am listening.”

The first time I heard this 13 minute meditation I wept. It was like someone had finally given me permission to connect with my truest self for the first time in my life. I felt a tenderness and a sorrow for the girl inside of me who was taught that living here - in between my own ears - was not only dangerous, but also to be avoided if I wanted to get sober.

For me, recovery from an eating disorder and alcohol addiction are not possible when I believe it is unsafe to be with my own thoughts. In order to heal, I need to love and listen to the parts of myself that I have been numbing for 20 years.

Today I am going to rip out that page in my old quote journal and burn it. I am going to buy a new journal and write this on the first page:

The safest place for me to build a home is between my own ears.

Danger lives in constant distraction.

I love you.

I am listening.

I am compassionately curious

For the past several months I have been experiencing vivid flashbacks. The type of flashbacks that remind me of the terrible, relationship-ending things I did while drinking. When these flashes happen, I lose grip of my surroundings. I get stuck in a quicksand of self-berating thoughts. For about five minutes, until I am able to regroup, I am short-tempered, sweaty, emotional, and unable to focus on the present moment.

Everyone knows that drugs make people do things they wouldn’t otherwise do. Ambitions and cognitive functioning are lowered. Anger and suppressed emotions are heightened. Chaos ensues. It makes sense that after a ten year span of alcohol addiction, I experienced and caused several traumatic events.

I imagine flashbacks are a common occurrence for most people in sobriety. It’s almost like addiction causes its own unique type of PTSD. Losing relationships, being labeled an alcoholic, and being criminalized for my pain are all deeply traumatic experiences. The problem is, all of this is considered normal. No one teaches newly sober folks about the magical powers of practicing compassionate curiosity while healing from trauma. Instead, I am expected to somehow manage PTSD symptoms below the surface after being told I am powerless and filled with shameful character defects.

In a TedTalk called Understanding PTSD's Effects on Brain, Body, and Emotions, Janet Seahorn describes PTSD symptoms, like my flashbacks, as a hidden wound, a silent scream. Seahorn doesn’t believe PTSD is a disorder, but rather a reordering of neural and sensory pathways. Parts of the brain - the prefrontal cortex, hippocampus, and amygdala - actually change during traumatic events. The sensory system is overloaded and stress hormones are released causing the brain to reset neural pathways as a survival mechanism.

Seahorn says trauma can manifest in our lives as hypervigilance, nightmares, night sweats, panic attacks, insomnia, physical pain, and of course, flashbacks. All of this makes it extremely difficult to figure out how to soberly function in the real world.

When I choose to look at my flashbacks with a compassionately curious gaze, I can’t help but wonder these four things:

1. What if these flashbacks are actually a perfectly normal response to all that has happened in my life? 

2. What if I stopped beating myself for responding this way?

3. What tools can I use to reroute this deeply engrained trauma groove in my brain?

4. What if compassionate curiosity is the birthplace of healing?

According to Seahorn, a few common ways to begin healing from trauma include: trauma-focused cognitive behavioral therapy, EMDR, meditation, yoga and tai chi, service dogs, harm reduction, and grounding practices. Books and documentaries can also help. It is impossible to have a conversation about addiction, trauma, and compassionate curiosity without Gabor Mate's book In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts and docuseries The Wisdom of Trauma. Oprah's empathetic approach to trauma in her recent book What Happened to You? is another great resource.

Additionally, in recent years, countless articles and studies* on the life-altering effects of psychopharmacological medicine have become impossible to ignore. One of my favorite writers and researchers of all time, Michael Pollen, recently released a book and a four part docuseries on Netflix called How to Change Your Mind. Although I personally have never tried psychedelics, this documentary has removed previous stigmas and judgments I held towards those who have. Pollen's work sparks compassionate curiosity. Contrastly, my shero Holly Whitaker summed up her therapist guided psilocybin experience on this podcast episode as, “Fucking terrible. I threw up twice.” Plant-based medicine might not be for everyone, but I do think it is worth exploring if other treatments fail.

In my opinion, mainstream institutions of recovery and incarceration don't work because they completely miss the mark on trauma-informed care. In fact, I believe the system itself causes trauma because my worst flashbacks involve handcuffs. Luckily I am learning this is not a me problem, it is a societal problem. There is nothing wrong with me or other addicts. The problem lies within the criminalization of pain and trauma.

Unresolved trauma is a heavy burden to carry. But when I look at my trauma through a compassionately curious lense, I can see my flashbacks are a normal biological response and nothing to be ashamed of. Best of all, as the shame lifts, the magical healing powers of compassionate curiosity begin.

I am compassionately curious.

***Here are a just a few psychopharmacological medicine articles and studies:

Ketamine – Guernica (guernicamag.com)

The Next Big Addiction Treatment - The New York Times (nytimes.com)

What is Microdosing, and Does it Work? - The New York Times (nytimes.com)

Mental Health Startup Journey Colab Aims To Develop Mescaline As An FDA-Approved Treatment For Alcohol Use Disorder (forbes.com)

Could psilocybin mushrooms help with depression? | The Independent