Five Steps for Staying Clean While Taking Medications

From Staying Clean, Taking Medications, free this week on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B001K8MG0S


1) Stop taking anything not prescribed for you.  This includes alcohol and other drugs, over-the-counter medications, and anything prescribed for your spouse or significant other. 

2) Find a doctor familiar with addiction and recovery.  Just because your doctor or dentist has been to medical or dental school, does not mean he or she understands addiction.

3) Work with your doctor to eliminate all unnecessary medications. 

4) Treat whatever still needs treatment, starting with non-chemical treatments and using addictive meds only as a last resort.

5) Take stock and reevaluate the need for prescribed medications.

101. Lessons Learned

Sam completed treatment a few days later. We talked about the lessons he’d learned so far.

“Some things I learned too late, like taking the courts seriously,” he said. “I’m never gonna get custody of my son. On the other hand, I learned some lessons sooner than my friend who had a stroke, or my cousin in jail. My other buddy just found out he got Hep C.  I’m glad I learned my lesson before I did more damage.”

I had done some damage with my own drinking.  I’d learned some of life’s lessons later rather than sooner, but I too was grateful for lessons learned early, learned in time.

  

Today I will be grateful for lessons learned in time.

Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

100. Easier To Than Not To

I went to the gym that night and ran into a guy I knew from AA.  He struggled with his weight, but never missed a workout.

“I’m not a gym rat by nature,” he said. “It’s not easy for me to make myself exercise, but it’s been easier than trying to change my eating habits.” He smiled and added, “Reminds me that it’s easier to stay sober than to get sober. That’s why I don’t pick up the first drink. I don’t know if I could stop drinking again.”

Today I will remember:

It’s easier to sustain a good habit than to break a bad one.

It’s easier to stay sober than to get sober.

Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

99. A Kid Driving a Tank

A week later, Tara decided to leave treatment to take care of business and her husband. He had gotten lost in his own housing plan.  A neighbor kid had found him crying on the swing set in the park and brought him home. She wanted to work from home to be with him and her son.

The dentist she’d had the affair with offered to let her continue managing his practice if they resumed their sexual relationship.  She counter-offered not to forward the dentist’s erotic texts to his wife and/or his wife’s attorney if he never mentioned the affair again. Tara could still play hardball.

 “When I was drunk, I was a train,” Tara said. “Powerful, but stuck on a rigid track.  I would have ignored my husband, plowed ahead with my life without him.  The dentist’s wife would have had those texts a minute after he threatened me.”

“What are you now?” I asked.

“I’m a tank, driven by a kid.  I’m still powerful, I work hard and get things done, but I can change direction. I can go new places.  The kid in me gets out of the tank and plays, mostly with my family.  I like being a kid driving a tank.”

Today I will be a kid driving a tank.

Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

98. Be Reasonable

The next day Phil blew a .07 on the breathalyzer. Per their agreement, The Other Ken called Phil’s wife. Carolyn had told Phil if he drank again, she’d divorce him. He stormed down the hall, looking for someone to complain to.

“Point oh seven?” he said to me. “She’s going to divorce me for .07?  That’s not even a whole drink. She can’t divorce me, I’m not legally drunk.”

“You agreed she should divorce you if you drank again.  Nobody mentioned being legally drunk.  You’re trying to move the goal posts.  She won’t let you.  She’s done enabling.”

“She’s done being reasonable,” he said. “Got nothing to do with goal posts or enabling.” He stormed off. We never heard from him again.  At the time I thought Carolyn was being completely reasonable. Clear headed reasoning told her Phil just didn’t get it, and she had every reason to think he might never.  Being reasonable probably saved her a lot of heartache.

Today I will be reasonable.

Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

97. Flag Day

Sam showed me a picture of a small church cemetery.  A white and/or a blue flag adorned about a third of the headstones.  Sam explained the white flags were people who had surrendered to addiction through death.  The blue were people killed by another person’s addiction.   

Sam said, “Gloria’s boyfriend is buried there.  She convinced the pastor to ask the congregation to mark the graves with the flags. Gloria thought maybe one family might go along.  The flags sat in boxes at the back of the church for weeks.  Then one by one, people began putting them on the graves. Each flag chipped away at Gloria’s hatred for the drunk driver who killed her boyfriend. It was like exposing the depth of the problem exposed her wound to the sunlight.  She started to heal.” He paused. “The more difficult the situation, the more creative she gets. I love that about her.”

Today I will look for creative ways to handle difficult situations and emotions.

Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

95. Moving On

Mick called to say she had officially changed her name to Ashley, no more Mick.  Ashley was thrilled the baby was starting to move around.

“I told my brother he had to stop dealing and stop drinking if he wanted to be in my baby’s life.  He said he wouldn’t drink around her. He’s kidding himself.” She sighed. “I’m moving on, he hasn’t and won’t. I’m going to have to leave him behind.”

Today I will accept moving on may mean leaving something or someone behind.

Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

94. True champions act like champions long after new champions are crowned.

Blondie’s soccer team lost in the semifinals of the regional tournament. They had won the regional title the previous two years, but injuries had kept Blondie out of the final games.  She’d lost her last chance to play in the championship.  She and her teammates were devastated. The coach gave them the next night off. 

The consolation game to determine the third and final team to advance to the state playoffs was scheduled for two days later.  Blondie and her friends got the team together in the park for an informal practice.  Champions act like champions regardless of their circumstances.

AA has a slogan, ‘stick with the winners.’ These winners are sobriety champions.  They work their recovery when loved ones die, disasters hit, people hurt them, and diagnoses scare them.  They act like champions regardless of their circumstances.  

Today I will stick with the winners, I will strive to be a champion.

Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

93. Ready or Not…

Tigger bounced into my office on his way to lunch. He told me was getting discharged soon, he felt prepared, but not 100% ready.  As we talked it became clear he defined ‘ready’ as thoroughly confident and completely at ease. 

I told him how I had hesitated for months after deciding to write a blog.  Home Groupies, my first daily message book, had been written.  I had amassed thousands of email addresses.  I knew how to use the technology.  Completely prepared, I felt totally unready.  I kept waiting to feel confident and calm. Finally I accepted I was prepared and sent out the first message.

“Tigger, I try not to do anything unprepared, but if I waited until I was completely ready, I’d get nothing done.”

Today I will move forward, prepared if not completely ready.

Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

92. Kindness

Tara had a son ten years older than Amanda who was leaving the military to help with his dad. 
Tara said. “Darren loves us, but he really doesn’t owe us anything. We neglected him while we got our careers started. He made his own way. Darren joined the Air Force and put himself through school.” 

“Then why do you think he’s coming home?” I asked.

She smiled. “If I wasn’t there for the birth I wouldn’t believe he was my kid.  He’s a kind soul.  I’m grateful for him.  When the world seems unfair and unkind, I think about my son, and it balances things out.”

Today I will be grateful for kind people.

Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

91. Assuming the Worst

The next Monday I realized we hadn’t heard from Mick the previous Friday. My mind jumped to all sorts of negative conclusions.  She had relapsed.  She had relapsed and lost the baby. She was in jail.  “Dammit,” I muttered under my breath. I emailed The Other Ken.

Mick was fine, the baby was fine, nobody was in jail.  Mick and her mother had spent the weekend with Mick’s grandmother, patching up their relationships.  Her mother wanted to be part of the baby’s life.  Mick forgave her mother for naming her “Glinda Belle.”  Assuming the worst had been depressing, and not very useful.

Today I won’t assume the worst.

           

Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

90. Listen, Friend

The next day I sent an email ad to 2,000 addiction and mental health professionals in western Pennsylvania.  Unfortunately, I was a little rusty on the software. I sent it before I realized I hadn’t changed the template. Instead of my information, they got suggestions on how to write the ad.  The sarcastic little voice in my head said, ‘Look on the bright side, only 70% of your local colleagues got that mess of a message.’

‘That’s harsh,’ I answered the voice.  I asked myself what I might say to a friend who had done the same thing.  I’d say apologize, correct your mistake, and move on. That’s what I did.

Today I will be no harsher with myself than I would be with a good friend.

Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

89. Promises, Promises

The next day Phil complained that his wife Carolyn still wouldn’t let him move back home. He said he had learned his lesson, he was done with booze.  He couldn’t understand why she didn’t see he meant it this time.

I pointed out he had told her that many times. While he might feel differently, his promise sounded just like the promises he had made a thousand times before.   

“Promises kept become lenses through which people see the strength and goodness of their relationships,” I said.  “Promises broken leave shards that cut.  The more times you lie or break a promise, the longer it takes for people to believe you when you are sincere. Most people feel betrayed when someone they love breaks promise after promise.  You’ll just have to be patient.  Lord knows she’s been patient with you.”

Today I will keep my promises.

Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

88. Can’t Win ‘em All

“How’s Amanda these days?” I asked the kids.  Neither of them knew Amanda’s mother Tara was in treatment. The whole family was struggling.  Tara, was working hard to stay clean and sober.  Amanda’s father had been diagnosed with early onset Alzheimers.  Amanda was trying to become a better person, changing the character traits that had earned her the nickname ‘Demanda.’ 

“People are starting to cut her some slack,” Brat Boy said.  “She’s like another person, someone you might actually like.”

“She still hasn’t won some people over,” Blondie said.  “Some she’s never going to win over. Idiots.”

I thought of people who, almost three decades into my sobriety, still wondered why I couldn’t have a beer or two, were insulted I wouldn’t drink with them, or insisted I must be getting chemically altered some other way.  I hadn’t won them over, and lost no sleep over it.

“Tell her you can’t win ‘em all, and you can’t win ‘em all over,” I said. “No sense in worrying about ‘em.”

Today I will remember, you can’t win ‘em all over, so I won’t even try.

Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

87. Think Collectively, Respect Individually

When I got home Blondie was helping Brat Boy with an assignment. He had to come up with a slogan that would make people think about their actions. Then he and two classmates had to act out a scene where the slogan applied.

"It's got to convey a good message in under ten words, Daddy," Blondie said. "Something like
'think globally, act locally.'"

"Think collectively, respect individually," I said.  "You impersonate an actor who claims he supports the working class. That's the collective part. Your friend plays  a waiter the actor verbally abuses.  Your other friend plays a manager who politely asks the actor to respect the waiter or leave. That's the individual part."

"I like it," Brat Boy said.  "Can the waiter and the manager kick the crap out of the actor for being so rude?"

"Better if they don't," I said.

Today I will think collectively, but respect people individually.

Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

86. Pull Ups

"Tim is going to Al-Anon," Tigger said when our paths crossed in the parking lot at the end of the day. "A friend of a friend saw him there."

"Good for him," I said.

"Yep," Tigger said. "Maybe he'll learn not to be played by addicts like me."

"You don't sound happy."

He ground out his cigarette.  Looked away, took out another, broke it in half, and threw it into the shrubs.  "I'm a horrible person," he said.  "I should be happy for him, but I'm not.  I hated how my addictions hurt him, but I .... damn .... I'm not a good person.  Part of me loved manipulating him.  He was so kind and thoughtful, he made me feel like something he forgot to flush.  Making him wonder what he'd done wrong, letting him think he contributed to my drinking, it kinda gave me a feeling of power, maybe leveled the playing field a little. Is that terrible?"

I shrugged. "Sounds human. When we're low we can pull ourselves up or other people down. Pulling them down is easier.  Give yourself credit for admitting you did.  And put all your effort into pulling yourself up."

Today I will put my effort into pulling myself up.

Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

85. Say the Next Right Thing

Mick called us on Friday to say she was nineteen weeks into her pregnancy, the baby was fine, and she was still clean.  She choked up a little when she told us the baby could hear her voice now.
"What if I say the wrong thing?" she asked.  "From now on, my child will be listening."

Miss Rella told her to relax, kids never really listen anyway.  Mick laughed a little, but asked me if I'd ever said the wrong thing at a training or when I was running group.  A long list of bonehead, ill-advised, mistaken, and insensitive comments came to mind.  I decided repeating them served no purpose.

Instead, I said, "It's natural to worry about saying the wrong thing.  I purposely try to say the right thing when I can just in case I say the wrong thing accidentally.  For example,  I say I love you to my family as often as I can. That way when I call Blondie's boyfriend some other boy's name, she's not quite as mad at me.

The Other Ken studied me for a moment. "You call her boyfriends the wrong name on purpose," he said. "Nothing accidental about it!"

"We're fathers with daughters," I said. "It's our job to keep boyfriends off balance."

Today I will say the right thing as often as I can, 

especially if that right thing is 'I love you.'

Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

84. Wings

"You know what's funny?" Sam asked me.  "My sister Gloria has been clean for eighteen months.  My parents are convinced she's miserable and gonna come to her senses any day now.  By 'come to her senses' they mean start getting high again. I wouldn't be surprised if my mom has a bottle of Xanax set aside for Gloria. They tell Gloria they'll always be there for her.  I don't think they even know they're waiting for her to fall so they can take her back to their sick little nest."

"Vultures and angels both have wings," I said.  "When you're really down it's good idea to look closely at whoever comes to be with you. You don't want to confuse one for the other."

Today I will accept help with a little bit of caution.

Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

83. This Side of Reality

“How’s your mother feel about you not seeking custody?” I asked Sam when I ran into him at the end of the day.

“Totally betrayed,” Sam said. “Mom rewrites history making herself the hero. Any time you go against her, she reminds you how her heroics saved you.  You’re then supposed to melt into a puddle of guilt and gratitude.  Do you remember the story of my sister’s accident, how a drunk driver killed her boyfriend? In my mom’s version, Gloria was about to have a heart attack in the E.R.  Just in the nick of time Mom administered a Valium, saving the day.  She says the E.R. medications, not the Valium, almost killed Gloria.  In her mind she saved Gloria and Gloria stabbed her in the back by taking my side.”

“What do you think?”

“Mom loves me to death, but she’s completely irrational and unreasonable.   I have to love her from this side of reality, even if she hates me for it.”

Today I will love someone from this side of reality.

Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

81.Accepting Not Accepting
Tara was sitting in the group room by herself when I walked back to my office after lunch.  She looked like she wanted to punch someone.  As I approached, she said, "Amanda and her father watched that movie about the college professor with early onset Alzheimers. They never do anything together. They don't eat together, they don't talk a lot, and they sure as hell don't share a blanket, laughing and crying over some stupid story!"  

She was shaking with anger. Tara resented her family for dealing with his diagnosis better than she was. Resenting their acceptance left Tara feeling petty and small. 

"Acceptance is not a competition," I said. "Besides, we're all better at accepting some things and not so good at accepting others." It took a while for her to calm down as we talked about things hard to accept. We wound our way from the serious to the silly, from cancer to endless lists on the bottom of every webpage.

"Six ways noisy toys shorten your life," I said. "They left off buying a friend's kid a loud toy could get you killed."

"Ten celebrities who were actually aliens," she added. "Can't accept there were only ten."

Today I will accept some things are easier than others to accept. 

Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)