Tag: shame

Courtesy Flush

Addiction, Alcoholism By Matt Salis, MPS 6 Comments

Courtesy Flush

Audio version now available.

 

There are only two bathrooms in our house, which means sharing sometimes. Occasionally, the sharing is delightful, like when I am brushing my teeth as my wife steps out of the shower. More often, sharing involves one person sitting down as another person tries not to gag while attempting to identify a new pimplish bump just far enough back on the shoulder as to make the mirror a frustrating accomplice in a fruitless attempt at diagnosis.

 

My wife instinctively demands, “Courtesy flush, please,” even when she walks into a miraculously unoccupied bathroom.

I Might Be Getting Fired

Alcoholism, Intimacy, Unashamed By Matt Salis, MPS 16 Comments

I Might Be Getting Fired

I might be getting fired.

 

I’ve never been fired before. Now that the likelihood looms, I actually feel guilty that I have made it 51 years without doing anything important enough to threaten the narrow minded among us.

 

***

 

My first job was scooping ice cream one town over from where I lived in high school. I was eventually promoted to ice cream maker, and it was probably the best job I’ve ever had. I ate unlimited ice cream and made my own hours with one guiding responsibility: never let the freezers run out of any of the flavors. I tried to stir the thick, sweet rum syrup for the rum raisin ice cream into cups of fountain Coca-Cola. It tasted like shit, and I had to slurp it more than drink it, but it gave me the naughty little kick teenagers brag about to their classmates. I left that job to work at Sam Goody, a music store selling CDs and tapes. Even though I had to wear a tie and work in the mall, music was way cooler than ice cream for a high schooler. Drudgery quickly replaced coolness as I was tasked with alphabetizing all day, everyday. Put out the new shipments, restock returned CDs and tapes and fix the disorder created by careless shoppers who clearly didn’t know their ABCs. That job sucked, and it made me feel like a criminal when the manager patted me down after every shift, or even when I went to the food court for a Wetzel’s Pretzel.

Penis Burning Chili

Alcoholism, Family, Humor By Matt Salis, MPS 4 Comments

Penis Burning Chili

Have you ever eaten chili so hot that it burned your penis? Well, I have. In fact, I not only ate it. I made it. And I tried to serve it to my family. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s start this story at the beginning.

 

For several years, my wife received a subscription to Martha Stewart’s magazine for a Christmas present. I’m not really sure how much Sheri got from the monthly compilation of food, crafts and home-decor tips, but I loved it! Every month, the morning after it arrived, Martha accompanied me into my tile and porcelain office, and I examined all the seasonal recipes with great delight. I was more enamored with the savory than the sweet, but even a simple sugar cookie recipe from the queen homemaker, Martha, deserved a cursory glance.

 

One autumn, maybe a decade ago, I opened Martha’s mag to find it staring back at me in all of its simple and authentic glory: The “Cowboy Chili” recipe that would leave an indelible mark on my manhood.

Evolution Series: Fear, Shame, Knowing and Growing

Alcoholism, Evolution Series, Marriage By Alma Botero 4 Comments

Fear, Shame, Knowing and Growing

My mom’s alcoholism instilled in me a core belief that I was different, inadequate, and deeply flawed. I developed a belief that there was something wrong with my family, and there was something wrong with me. My parents were divorced. We didn’t have a lot of money. My mom was an alcoholic, and no one explained to me what that meant, or how she struggled with an illness.

 

Instead, it was normalized to smell whisky and see an adult passed out or wobbling around or urinating on the carpet in a half-asleep, half-drunk stumble. I didn’t understand, but I knew that this was my life. I didn’t know that my fight or flight system was in high gear, probably most nights. I developed a subconscious defense mechanism crafted from perfectionism and high achievement.

I’m Awfully Proud of That

Alcoholism, Sobriety, Unashamed By Matt Salis, MPS 8 Comments

I'm Awfully Proud of That

“You’re awful proud of yourself,” he scoffed. “I’ll save a seat for you at a meeting for when you relapse.” I’d just met this AA lifer at a church service that catered to people suffering from addiction. He had asked me how I got sober. When I told him Alcoholics Anonymous wasn’t part of my solution, I guess he didn’t like my answer.

 

I couldn’t possibly count the number of times I’ve heard that pride leads to relapse. From the best I can surmise, the idea that “pride is dangerous” is a foundational tenet of twelve-step philosophy. There’s just one problem.

 

The concept is total bullshit.

Sobriety Season: Is it “if” or “when?”

Alcoholism, Sobriety By Matt Salis, MPS 4 Comments

Sobriety Season

For us imbibers, the calendar can be divided into three drinking seasons.

 

The holiday season starts about mid October for most. I am an overachiever, both as a lush and as a lover of scary movies, so my holiday season starts on October first, sharp. The holiday season runs through the fourth quarter of the college football national championship game when one SEC team that I don’t care about crushes the year’s eager victim. Between the bookends, the excuses to drink line up in an organized, dependable, evenly spaced out succession making sobriety unthinkable, and moderation a celebratory faux pas. Drinkers have plenty of reasons to drink during the holiday season.

Tainted Love

Alcohol, Alcoholism, Recovery, Shame of Sobriety By Matt Salis, MPS No Comments

Tainted Love

This is a family week, if such a thing exists. In the United States, Thanksgiving marks time spent with, or at the very least thoughts about, family. Joyous times. Painful times. Sober thoughts. Intoxicated memories. Family is complicated. The grip they have on our emotions comes and goes, often in correlation to our geographical proximity. But make no mistake about it – on a week like this one, the family-o-meter is pegged in overdrive.

 

I recently challenged my friends in our SHOUT Sobriety program with this writing prompt: “Describe the stages of knowing that alcohol had no place in your life.” Sarah wrote the response to the prompt that follows. As we navigate the messiness of a week with family in the spotlight, I thought it particularly appropriate to share her experience. And yes…there is a bit of irony to featuring the lessons of a Canadian on U.S. Thanksgiving week (in my defense, she wrote it very close to Canadian Thanksgiving last month).

 

***

 

I can’t remember not knowing that alcohol was likely to be a danger in my life – that the number of alcoholics on both sides of my family tree meant I was at high risk. I was lectured to. from a young age, about this by my mother, the same person who insisted I have a glass of wine with dinner the day my first child was born. Because that drink was safe.

Alone in the Crowd

Alcohol, Alcoholism, Family, Marriage, Recovery By Matt Salis, MPS 1 Comment

Alone in the Crowd

If you think reading about the impact of alcohol and recovery is therapeutic, you should try writing about it.

 

If you are battling a compulsion to drink, or if you are the loved one of a heavy drinker, you are probably protecting a closely guarded secret. It is the kind of secret that will eat you up from the inside while the poison does mental and biological damage to you, the drinker or second-hand drinker. The erosion of self-esteem, relationships and capacity to manage are all universalisms, yet we protect our secrets like we are somehow unique in a nation with over 15 million alcoholics.

 

And we protect our secrets because we can’t find a safe place to let them out.

The Drinker Returns from Rehab: Now What?

Alcohol, Alcoholism, Marriage, Recovery By Matt Salis, MPS 5 Comments

Time to Feed the Bison

A little over two years into my sobriety, I chaperoned a week-long church youth mission trip to a Native American reservation. We fed a huge bison, built a fence, learned about the culture, and met a lot of interesting people (side note – if you want to see the impact of terrible government policy resulting in rampant alcoholism throughout a community, chaperone a church youth mission trip to a Native American reservation).

 

I returned feeling really good about myself. I had given my time and energy to two of my kids and the teenagers in our church community. The kids got an exposure to addiction that no amount of talking could have equaled, no one was trampled by the buffalo, and no digits or limbs were lost to the novice operation of power saws. The worst thing I did all week was eat at McDonald’s. Twice.

 

I felt really good about myself. That is, I felt good until I reunited with my wife.