Recovery52 – Week 31 – Toxic Media Detox

“Don't let the bearers of bad news become the pallbearers of your happiness.”

— Stewart Stafford

My initial thoughts for this week’s post were about revisiting rumination—how dwelling on the past or worrying about the future stirs up shame, regret, and fear. Those imagined monsters can become powerful triggers. But I’ll save that for another post.

Last night, I felt the early stirrings of anger—an emotional rise that reminded me of the kind of mood that once led me toward drinking. It began after I came across a few news headlines that irritated me. Instead of stepping back, I found a recent podcast on the topic, hosted by people I used to find humorous. Within fifteen minutes, I realized my agitation was growing. I shut it off immediately, returned to silence and mindfulness, and eventually shifted into reading for pleasure. I wasn’t close to relapse—I was self-aware.

I credit part of my recovery progress to recognizing the dangers of overindulging in news and social media, especially sources designed to provoke fear, outrage, and division. After the September 11th attacks, I became a news ’junkie,’ absorbing talk radio and cable news for hours each day. My beliefs, biases, and worldview were shaped by constant exposure to negativity.

As social media grew, I dove into the toxic stream—posting, arguing, sharing my ’truths,’ and mocking others’ opinions. I was angry, and I was drinking. The anger fueled the drinking, and the drinking fueled the anger.

In 2007, I created a Twitter account, where I shared links and made snarky comments about news and culture. By 2013, I had posted over 17,000 tweets and had more than 2,000 followers. My drinking was worsening, affecting my family and marriage. I realized I needed to cut my immersion in all that negativity if I hoped to get sober. I deleted my account and haven’t returned. Drunken tweets are never good.

During my lapses last year, I spent too much time with political commentary—podcasts, YouTube channels, and cultural debates. I was often agitated, on edge. Combined with other factors, each lapse turned into a binge, followed by remorse, regret, apologies, and promises to stop. None of it held until my final relapse.

Since that turning point, I’ve deliberately reduced my exposure to news media. Now, I mostly skim headlines, pay attention to what matters, and distinguish factual reporting from opinion. On social media, I focus on photography, food, this project, and the occasional bit of light humor. I still follow local issues now and then, but I try not to be snarky.

My success here comes from knowing my history, recognizing my triggers, and choosing healthier responses when old patterns surface. Recovery requires vigilance—especially now, in another exhausting political cycle and an overstimulating media environment.

Recovery52 – Week 30 – My Coping Styles

Escape or healthy distraction?

“Life is not what it’s supposed to be. It’s what it is. The way you cope with it is what makes the difference.”

— Aleatha Romig, Consequences

As a follow-up to last week’s reflection on defense mechanisms, this week I’ve been thinking about coping mechanisms—what they are, how they function, and the ways I’ve used them in both healthy and unhealthy ways. My goal is to connect past alcohol misuse with ineffective or maladaptive coping strategies while becoming more aware of how I currently respond to stress.

Coping mechanisms are the conscious strategies we use to handle stress, while defense mechanisms are unconscious reactions—deeply rooted, often fear-based, and automatic.

Significant life events—even positive ones—can create stress, and how we adjust depends on our thoughts, behaviors, and emotional responses. Coping strategies generally fall into problem-focused or emotion-focused approaches. They can also be described as active (addressing the issue directly) or avoidant (evading the issue). Maladaptive coping describes methods that may help temporarily but become harmful long-term.

I reviewed several sources this week, including a helpful overview from GoodTherapy, and reflected on which coping strategies I tend to use.

Primary coping styles I relate to:

• Support: Talking with others, asking for help.

• Relaxation: Time in nature, meditation, quiet time.

• Problem-solving: Identifying a problem and developing possible solutions.

• Humor: Helpful at times, but easy for me to overuse.

• Physical activity: Exercise, hiking, and movement reduce my stress.

Maladaptive coping mechanisms I recognize in myself:

• Escape: Withdrawing or isolating.

• Unhealthy self-soothing: TV binges or distractions that become numbing.

• Numbing: For me, binge drinking—my most damaging coping mechanism in the past.

• Compulsions or risk-taking: Not a major area for me, but worth being aware of.

• Self-harm: Not part of my history, but important to acknowledge as a possibility for others.

Even though my recovery is solid and growing stronger, I still slip into avoidant coping at times—ways of ignoring, escaping, or deflecting rather than addressing what needs attention. My recovery tools, especially mindfulness and journaling, help me catch these patterns and shift toward healthier responses.

The work ahead remains the same: breaking old patterns, being honest with myself and others, practicing vulnerability, and choosing coping strategies that support my well-being. Healthy coping is a learned skill, and I’m committed to learning it.

Recovery52 – Week 29 – Defense Mechanisms

Safely locked away.

“By not risking discomfort, you honor stagnation.”

— Paul Colaianni

In last week’s post, I set the intention to look more closely at my avoidant behaviors and evasiveness. Up to this point, many of my reflections have been safe topics—important, yes, but not yet digging into the deeper reasons or emotional damage tied to my history with alcohol. My recovery feels steady and strong today, but I’m aware that lasting change requires more than behavioral adjustments. If I improve my habits but avoid examining the deeper beliefs and emotional patterns that once drove me toward escape and numbing, then the risk of relapse remains.

This week, the concept of defense mechanisms surfaced repeatedly in my reading and reflection. In Freudian terms, defense mechanisms are unconscious strategies that protect us from anxiety, often through distortions of reality. They may shield us from discomfort in the moment, but they also keep us stuck.

As I explored the topic, I found countless lists—five mechanisms, seven, ten, even twenty-five. One helpful overview was written by Paul Colaianni, the author quoted at the start of this post.

I recognize several mechanisms in my own life, especially during active addiction. These are the ones that stand out:

• Denial: I minimized or rejected the idea that alcohol was harming me or others. I pushed away thoughts about my health and convinced myself I could manage it.

• Repression: My adverse childhood experiences left deep fears and patterns. I react strongly to conflict, avoid difficult conversations, and slip quickly into flight mode when my internal alarms go off.

• Distraction: I used pleasant activities—reading, photography, chores—to numb myself instead of addressing problems directly.

• Passive Aggression: I sometimes relied on humor, sarcasm, or cynicism to diffuse tension, but too often it hurt others and left issues unresolved.

Across the sources I explored, several consistent suggestions emerged for working with defense mechanisms:

• Practice mindful awareness when they are triggered, whether the threat is real or imagined.

• Use cognitive-behavioral tools to break old thought patterns and choose healthier responses.

• Ask for help from a therapist or trusted loved ones to identify blind spots and reinforce growth.

I believe meaningful work in this area will make my life and relationships healthier and keep my recovery strong. The path forward involves honesty, vulnerability, breaking old habits of self-protection, and learning healthier ways to cope. I feel fear at this stage, but I also know this work is necessary for true recovery.

Relapse is not an option.

Recovery52 – Week 28 – Avoiding and Evading

“We cannot selectively numb emotions; when we numb the painful emotions, we also numb the positive emotions.”

— Brené Brown

I’m a couple of days late with this week’s post. My Recovery52 schedule—publishing every Thursday—has become a quiet form of accountability. Without goals, I drift; without structure, I slip. The delay came partly from a needed camping trip, and partly from wrestling with a topic too big to fit neatly into a single week’s reflection.

In previous entries, I’ve written about accepting help, working with my therapist, and developing mindfulness habits that support sobriety. Those efforts remain solid, but they’re not the whole story. True recovery, I’m learning, asks for more than abstinence and awareness. It requires honesty, courage, and a willingness to be seen.

The quote above captures where I am right now. I may no longer reach for alcohol to numb discomfort, but I still find ways to go half-numb—through reading, film, chores, photography, even naps. None of these are harmful on their own; the problem comes when they become quiet escapes from self-reflection or necessary action. Awareness is one thing; avoidance dressed as productivity is another.

The second challenge is evasiveness—hesitation to speak difficult truths, especially when I fear they might upset or expose me. Old fears of rejection, conflict, and vulnerability still whisper: Don’t make waves. So I smooth things over, change the subject, or retreat behind silence. Those habits once protected me; now they confine me.

“Lying is done with words and also with silence.”

— Adrienne Rich

Avoidance and evasiveness are deeply rooted patterns, and unlearning them will require sustained attention.

In the coming weeks, I plan to explore the limiting beliefs and self-protective reflexes that hold me back. I’m proud of how far I’ve come—216 days sober—but I know there’s deeper work ahead. Relapse is not an option.

Riffs: Courage, Resilienc

Recovery52 – Week 27 – Trigger Stacking

Beauty in the moment, sunset at a local park.

“Let us not look back in anger, nor forward in fear, but around in awareness.”

— James Thurber

In last week’s reflection, I wrote about “habit slipping” as a factor that can precede relapse. Letting healthy routines slide leaves me feeling unsettled, anxious, and emotionally off balance. With awareness, I recognized another pattern that played a role in past relapses—what I now call “trigger stacking.”

I later learned the term is used in dog-behavior psychology to describe how multiple small stressors accumulate until an animal reacts. The concept applies to people too, especially in recovery.

A trigger in recovery terms is any internal or external stimulus that pulls the mind toward old habits of escape or numbing. In my current sobriety, I do not feel a desire to drink. The memories of past relapses help keep me grounded. But I remain aware of the kinds of situations that once felt like reasons to drink—attempts to avoid uncomfortable emotions or enhance positive ones.

Mindfulness has been essential here. When a trigger arises, I notice it, name it, and let it pass without attaching a story. Staying present allows the trigger to fade instead of building.

In the past, I pushed these feelings away instead of processing them, letting multiple triggers stack on top of each other. Combined with habit slipping, the pressure became overwhelming and led to relapses. A single trigger might have been manageable, but several ignored in a row created danger.

In my recovery now, mindful awareness of thoughts and feelings—pleasant or unpleasant—is necessary. Not dwelling in past regrets or future worries keeps me rooted in the present, where I can make steady choices.

Recovery52 – Week 26 – Habit Slipping

“Be forgiving with your past self.

Be strict with your present self.

Be flexible with your future self.”

 — James Clear

The quote above is from James Clear’s book *Atomic Habits*, an excellent read in my opinion. He explains how to build good habits and dismantle bad ones. One of his key ideas is “habit stacking”: connecting a new behavior to an existing habit so the new habit becomes easier to maintain.

This post marks six months since I began the Recovery52 photography project—halfway through the intended 52 weekly reflections. I initially felt confused about the milestone because I recognized my six months of abstinence a couple of weeks ago. Then I remembered, I started this project after my last binge, once I had stabilized from withdrawal and could think clearly enough to form an intention and outline a plan. What surfaced this week was a familiar danger zone from several past relapses, something I call “habit slipping.”

As I caught up on my daily planning and journaling yesterday, I noticed I had missed a couple of days. I’d missed a few morning meditation sessions. I skipped one of my scheduled gym days. And I had allowed some cheat meals to slip in—comfort foods chosen over healthier options. I can justify these slips: flexibility with my time, understandable interruptions, being of service to others, allowing myself a little grace. I know I can recover from these slips without losing ground in sobriety.

But looking back over past relapses, letting good routines slide for more than a few days left me anxious, guilty, unfocused, and vulnerable. When “habit slipping” combined with what I call “trigger stacking” (which I’ll write about next week), the result was too often a fall back into drinking. Not this time.

I am aware of the slips, forgiving of myself where appropriate, and firmly back on my habit track. James Clear writes well about this process in his “Get Back on Track” guidance. The reminder is simple and empowering: missing once is an error; missing twice is the start of a new (unwanted) pattern.

I also rely on another powerful tool: remembering the fear and pain of relapse. When anxiety builds from slipped habits or stacked frustrations, recalling my most recent relapses is grounding. I never want to experience that suffering—or cause it to others—ever again. I don’t stay in that fear long; it’s only a reminder that moves me quickly back toward gratitude for how far I’ve come and how healthy my life is now.

Recovery52 – Week 25 – Feeling My Feelings

“We cannot selectively numb emotions; when we numb the painful emotions, we also numb the positive emotions.”

— Brené Brown

Unapologetically, I find myself circling the edges of fear again—resistant to diving straight into the deep. Last week I wrote about exploring the fears that hold me back: fears of hurting myself or others, of being hurt by others, and the very human fear of uncertainty. These fears were shaped over a lifetime, living both in the mind and the body. But this topic requires honesty and vulnerability, and I don’t feel ready to reveal more without additional contemplation and conversations with people I trust.

So this week, I’m letting myself lean into pride and gratitude for my sobriety. This has been a good week. I spent meaningful time with others and was able to be of service. I had creative time with photography and contemplative time through journaling, planning, and mindfulness. My meditation practice continues. I’ve rested, exercised, and slept well. I am grateful for my physical health and mental clarity. I am sober.

Of course, I’ve still had moments of moodiness and irritation—everyday annoyances like traffic, discovering sour milk just when I wanted breakfast, dropping my phone irretrievably between the seat and console while driving, or finding my parking space taken by a “jerk.” I felt myself slipping into old patterns of rumination and worry, but I recognized my state quickly and returned to the present.

In perspective, I am very fortunate. My struggles are real but manageable. Others in my life are carrying far heavier burdens—a family member in poor health, a close friend going through treatment for a serious medical condition. And although I see the daily headlines designed to agitate and divide, I try not to dwell on them.

I’ve also been reacting to the “toxic positivity” that seems to dominate quotes, memes, and recovery groups online. I’ll mention “The Law of Attraction” specifically, as its premises feel dubious at best and potentially harmful. Life and recovery are hard and cannot be reduced to forced cheerfulness. Both positive and negative emotions must be acknowledged, validated, and felt.

A quote from a SMART Recovery meeting stays with me: “You have to feel your feelings.” Paired with the Brené Brown quote above, this idea is central for me right now. I used to drink to avoid emotional pain. In doing so, I also numbed joy, connection, opportunity, and meaning. Alcohol froze me; fear kept me from thawing.

My sobriety continues. My recovery work moves forward. And my gratitude grows—for loved ones, family, friends, and the broader recovery communities who walk beside me.

Recovery52 – Week 24 – Trust and Fear

“May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears.”

— Nelson Mandela

I’m writing this week’s post on the Fourth of July. Invitations to parties and potlucks have come in, and there are plenty of events happening around me. But I’ve chosen to stay home—away from environments where alcohol will be present. Two honest thoughts guided that choice: first, would I be susceptible to the old whisper of “just a little, you can handle it now”? And second, would I feel left out or unsettled watching others drink? I even avoided grocery shopping this weekend to sidestep the crowds stocking up for celebrations. It simply felt wiser.

After last week’s stressful but successful moving trip—and my recognition that old patterns didn’t take hold—I’ve found myself thinking about trust. Primarily, self-trust. My long history with alcohol and relapse feels both distant and painfully recent. With only about six months of uninterrupted sobriety, I can’t yet claim full trust in myself in all situations. My past is riddled with “I can handle it” and “forget it” moments that led to relapse and hurt the people I love. Shame and questions about my integrity followed.

This lack of self-trust naturally leads to questions about how much others can trust me. I’ve made promises, felt the strength of the forgiveness offered to me, then stumbled again into another binge—selfishly and carelessly. I’ve chosen numbing over relationships, over responsibilities, over people who cared for me. I’ve injured trust many times.

So how can I expect trust—from myself or from others?

With more reflection, I realized something deeper: I don’t fully trust others either. Old experiences, especially childhood trauma, have left a long shadow. And like many people, I’ve carried the human tendency toward “negativity bias”—giving more weight to painful experiences than positive ones. It’s a survival instinct at its core, but taken too far, it locks a person into a life lived in fear.

Fear. That’s the root:

• I fear hurting myself.

• I fear hurting others.

• I fear being hurt by others.

• I fear emotional pain, physical pain, and the vulnerability that closeness demands.

In the past, I chose the familiar pains—hangovers, regret, anxiety, shame—over the unknown pains of honesty, change, and trust. Alcohol dulled the fear but never solved it.

The real work now is to understand and address those fears. Not necessarily by dissecting every traumatic event from my past, but by using the “pause points” I’ve been practicing—moments of awareness that let me notice when fear is driving my reactions. With recognition comes the ability to respond differently.

This is a broad topic, and I expect to explore it more in future posts. I’ve now reached six months of sobriety with therapeutic support, and I’ll be taking these insights into counseling as well. The work will be difficult, but I believe the healing will be worth it.

Recovery52 – Week 23 – Anticipation, Awareness, and Achievement

“It’s not the destination, it's the journey.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson

I’m a little late with this week’s post because I spent four days on a road trip with a close friend. The first two days were spent enjoying the scenery, stopping for photos, and sharing good memories. The last two days were the real work: loading a moving truck, driving twelve hours with frequent stops, then unloading everything at the end. Knowing the purpose of the trip would be stressful, we planned a slower start so we could savor the journey before the hard labor began.

The details aren’t necessary here, but the mission was a success. Everything in the California storage unit fit into the U-Haul, we avoided breakdowns and injuries, made it back to Portland on schedule, and we captured some great images from the Northern California Redwoods and coastline.

What matters for my recovery is this: I anticipated the stress of the trip. The kind of stress that, in the past, would have given me an easy excuse to numb myself. Long days on the road, loading and unloading heavy boxes, navigating traffic, worrying about schedules, imagining worst-case scenarios—any of these would have triggered old patterns. And yes, I felt stress. But I managed it.

I recognized when my thoughts were spinning, and that awareness gave me a pause—a space to return to the present moment. I noticed when my friend was stressed and did what I could to offer calm and reassurance. I showed up as the grounded version of myself.

The most important moment came during the final drive through Portland rush-hour traffic in a laden and large moving truck. A thought surfaced: in the past, a string of stressful days would have heightened my desire to drink. And even the successful completion of a difficult project would have sparked the belief that I “deserved” a reward—usually alcohol. Maybe there was the faintest glimmer of that old reflex, but I caught it quickly. I felt pride in my clarity and strength. I was solid.

My takeaways: anticipate the journey, stay aware during it, and take sober pride in its completion. And I’m grateful for the new friends who helped load and unload the truck—we couldn’t have done it alone.

Recovery52 – Week 22 – Finding Calm with Intention Meditation

“Learn to slow down. Get lost intentionally. Observe how you judge both yourself and those around you.” — Tim Ferriss

 Here I am, working on the 22nd of the 52 weekly posts in this Recovery journey and photography project. I wasn’t sure which topic resonated most this week—several ideas have been circling in my mind, each deserving more space than a single-page reflection can offer. Themes of self and ego, of a higher power, of addiction and neuroscience—all fascinating, all complex, all still works in progress for me.

 After some contemplation, a session with my counselor, and a few moments that triggered judgment toward myself and others, I decided to return to something that has helped me before: meditation.

 I began a daily meditation practice in the summer of 2020, perhaps prompted by lockdown anxieties, and found it deeply calming. It paired well with other healthy habits I held at the time—exercise, mindfulness, healthy eating, sobriety. But just as I let my fitness routine slip, I let meditation fall away too. The classic chicken-and-egg question arises: did the loss of healthy habits make me more vulnerable to relapse, or did repeated relapses make it harder to return to my healthy habits? Perhaps both.

Either way, insobriety is a dead end.

Mindfulness—the moment-to-moment awareness of thoughts and feelings—has become one of my strongest tools in sobriety. But I believe that going beyond mindfulness and practicing meditation with intention can offer another solid pillar of support. I have the time, and I have the willingness. Now I want to examine my daily routine and make meditation a priority again. Likely, it will be the first thing I do each morning, before caffeine or activity spin me up. That means shifting habits, but change can be refreshing.

My intention for meditation may center on gratitude or concern, or it may be nothing at all—a quiet stream of presence, letting peace settle for a few minutes. I’ll begin with five-minute sessions, using my phone as a timer, gradually increasing as I feel moved. My practice will be silent: breathing, perhaps a gentle body scan, calling myself back to center when I wander. Guided meditations tend to distract me, and even soft music pulls me away from stillness.

Intentional meditation will now be part of my “inventory.” I’ll see how it unfolds.

Recovery52 – Week 21 – Myopic Recovery

“It is great to be introspective, self-analysis can be useful, but only if it results in action.” — Joe Sacco

 I feel solid in my sobriety. But through deeper awareness and the self-inventory work I wrote about last week, I’ve also been feeling a sense of selfishness in how narrowly focused my recovery has been. I’m strong and successful in my abstinence from alcohol. I appreciate the clarity of mind, the physical improvements, and the integrity returning to my life. I feel in control of my addiction.

Yet while my recovery mindset serves me well around alcohol, I can still see echoes of addictive thinking in other parts of my life:

• Food and diet: I generally eat well, but still allow too many poor choices and oversized portions, ignoring what I know to be better.

• Escapism and distraction: Reading, binge-watching shows, listening to podcasts and YouTube, or filling time with low-priority tasks.

• Shopping: Not buying excessively, but chasing the excitement of searching, comparing, imagining how a new item might improve my life.

Of course, alcohol would make all of these areas far more difficult to manage. But my mindfulness practice is strong enough now that I can apply it more broadly—to my thoughts, feelings, and behaviors across the board.

More importantly, I’m noticing something about my relationships: while I’m focused on maintaining sobriety, several close friends and family members are facing serious health challenges. I’m offering support, and I care deeply—but I know I could be more present, more available. I’m also engaged in several online recovery groups, seeing people struggling through relapse or painful early recovery. Compared to what many of them are facing, my own problems feel small.

I remind myself that comparison has limits, but still I worry: if I take my attention away from my own recovery to be more available to others, could I put myself at risk? That fear makes me feel selfish. And yet I know—because others remind me—that if I don’t take care of myself, I won’t be able to care for anyone else.

When I began this Recovery52 project, I intended to keep each weekly post short and focus on one topic. This one is broader, but these areas deserve attention as I move forward. I can work on multiple fronts. I will keep alcohol out of my life while expanding my field of view—addressing lifestyle habits, strengthening my mindfulness, and being more fully present for those who need me. To be of service, with action.

Recovery52 – Week 20 – Taking Inventory

Painterly edit of an original phone photo from a walk along Warrior Point Beach on Sauvie Island, near Portland, OR.

“Ask yourself if what you're doing today is getting you closer to where you want to be tomorrow.”
— Paulo Coelho

In recent posts, I’ve written about using mindfulness to stay aware of my thoughts and feelings, giving myself the chance to choose healthier responses to triggers rather than seeking escape or numbness. I call these “pause points,” and they’re becoming habitual — a very good sign in my recovery.

This mindful awareness has become powerful support for my day-to-day progress. But lately I’ve realized I want to move beyond the familiar “one day at a time” mantra. That mindset is essential in early recovery, but it can’t carry the full weight of a long-term life. The Paulo Coelho quote struck me because I’m not always clear on the second half of the question: if I don’t know where I want to be tomorrow, how can I know whether my choices today are leading me in the right direction?

Recovery requires daily attention, yes — but I also need to return to the bigger questions of purpose, meaning, my why. I feel solid in my near-term sobriety (fingers crossed, thumbs pressed). I have this photography project as a yearlong effort that motivates me each week. But beyond these ongoing successes, I still haven’t built a broader plan for my life.

Yesterday, during a moment of reflection, I began creating a new document — an inventory of my current state of being. My good and poor choices. My helpful and unhelpful habits. My areas of awareness and the places where I’m still avoiding effort. Taking that inventory proved valuable, and I realized that doing this regularly could become a healthy new habit that brings clarity and direction as I continue in recovery and in life.