by Nikki Russell, CBHPSS
March 19, 2024
My story is under eternal construction; another layer reveals itself as soon as I assemble it. Writing my recovery story is compelling and something I would like to present in a way that an audience would understand transformation. I immediately reverted to childhood, to one of my saddest moments, and began from there. I revisit emotional wounds that blend into this NOW moment and start composing. I realize the pattern of my life as I attempt not to retraumatize and dull the harsh edges of my traumatic childhood. I retell the same sad story I have uttered thousands of times, one that imprisoned me in unworthiness.
My first lesson in writing came from my therapist, who used narrative therapy, where I documented my past and became an expert in my own life. I had constructed stories that showed my unworthiness and influenced how I saw myself. I observed my life in this exercise, writing it as an on-looker. I could see this person as a characteristic of trauma, somebody I had created not to feel pain; her name is Gertrude. Some of Gertrude's patterns would take years of writing to unravel because they were so engrained that I could not separate them from myself. I learned a lesson in writing that inspired change and would become an instrument of healing in my life.
I had a mountain of journals when I entered recovery. I spent hours writing about the things I was unwilling to change. My journals had my deepest and darkest secrets; they held the pain of my past that regulated my current life. Step four of Alcoholics Anonymous taught me a new way to write. It recommends taking a personal inventory and conducting a fact-finding and fact-facing process. My sponsor told me to pray and meditate before I write, to put my pen on the paper, and to write until I lift the pen off the page. This process influenced a higher power to join me in writing, rather than Gertrude writing alone to ease the discomfort. I wrote for weeks, thinking about all the people I had resentment against and how it affected me. It was a systematic form of writing; I was not to believe, only pray and write. I could feel the weight of the world slowly lifting off my shoulders. This writing technique taught me that writing my story can connect me to something bigger than myself, and when I let that take over, my life transforms.
Meditation and journaling were my recovery routine. I would wake up at 5 am every morning to start my day. After a few years of this practice, one morning, I began writing, but it wasn't me; something was reaching through me as the words poured onto the page. I recognized my pen was not the instrument of a message, but it was I. Reading what I had written on paper but reading it for the first time was an awe-inspiring experience. I researched what had transpired and learned that automatic writing is a form of channeling where you allow a higher power to guide your words. Looking back through my healing process, I expanded my consciousness and cultivated creativity through meditation and writing. Automatic writing began a new path of spiritual exploration that led me home. Being in the flow of writing is what some call a runners-high; you lose yourself in the process, and something beyond the physical person takes over. The automatic writing technique combines being the observer, which I learned in narrative therapy, and systematic writing, which I learned in my fourth step of AA.
It's all about patience, precision, and trust; honing a skill can sometimes take a lifetime, and we may only understand the process once it all comes together. At that moment, you realize the reason everything happened in the exact order it was meant to. Today, I utilize all three forms of writing; they offer different perspectives at different points in my life. As I pondered my "under-construction" recovery story, a poem came to me; when I finished and read it through, I recognized my life as the recovery journey meant to be told through me, not from me.
See, I will tell you a sad story and patterns from my past, but a higher self sees potential and creates poetry from trauma.
Breaking Free
It is hard to break free
Mentally,
Once your THERE the damage is done
The destined path; unsung.
Society blames you for not conforming,
Being your own person breaks norming.
Alcohol and drugs free the pain,
but your soul cannot be tamed.
A mental health disorder labels this disdain
that keeps you trapped without a flame.
The prognosis is grim, and the ache remains
as recovery whispers your name.
Healing is only a dream
as you are enslaved mentally.
Through the prison bars, you try with all your might
to see the sun that's lost its light.
Convincing your free,
you move around your cell willingly.
Hopes and dreams are told to you,
luring you to a sun that reflects the system.
To be truly free,
one must move beyond recovery.
Where the wild unknown unleashes truth,
but the world views you as aloof.
Remaining true, you break the chains of conformity.
Kicking and screaming, yet singing your song
Finally, ending up where you
Belong.
The sun, you realize, was a fluorescent light
that lit the path of society's expectations so bright.
At once, you turn around and finally see
the essence that is truly me.
Abandoned dreams that fueled this life
were internal voices screaming with strife.
They meant no harm, you see,
for they were reacting naturally.
The light that lives inside was buried in a hole
I was filling with external soul.
The journey unknown, I tread lightly
uncovering layers that suppressed my brightly.
Uniting with life creates a storm of emotion,
the system never taught to hear.
Their beliefs so loud, they planted them with fear.
Diving deeply inward I go, following the voice of my KNOW.
The shackles of life, trap me
when I believe in their destiny.
But there is a place within
an unlikely entrance to freedom.
Stand in your truth; let it be known
Use your voice and sit on your throne.
Listen to the echoes that blow in the wind
they are your truth from far within.
Looking through the window of the soul
I see the bars put there that kept me from being whole.
This truth holds the key,
for the sun always lived inside me.
Let it be known that shining bright is to stay true,
not to dismiss you.
An essence I discovered
you may believe to be untrue.
Yet, for me, I live this life beyond recovery
standing tall and empowered by all
who are breaking free
and living a life of integrity.
-Nikki Russell