GUEST POST: An Alcoholic's Perspective

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The following is a Guest Post written by my friend R, the subject of a prior post on alcoholism. I think it speaks for itself.

An Alcoholic's Perspective

I am R.

Jack invited me to read and contribute to this article a few days ago. When I finally read it, I was extremely touched and also awakened. I guess the main message I would like to communicate here is that a disease such as alcoholism--as with any other infliction--is extremely difficult to truly understand unless one experiences it first-hand. I know I'm a great person...as was mentioned by Jack, successful, traveled, educated, all of that. But I have this evil little devil sitting on my shoulder at all times. I hate this part of my life and wish there was a way to just hit the "off" switch. But through personal experience and extensive research, I've learned that there is no easy fix. It takes time, determination, support and constant adherence to daily goals.

To draw an analogy: it is like trying to convince yourself to not drink water...you get thirsty, then thirstier, then even worse...and you finally convince yourself that you need to drink water in order to survive. Well, granted, water is in fact necessary for survival, and alcohol is not, but in the mind of an alcoholic it is.

Another thing about this condition is that alcoholics often don't even realize what is happening when they are drunk. They don't comprehend reality in the same fashion as others. Hence they make irrational decisions, such as prolonged drinking. Sometimes when I am drinking, I find myself having a dialogue in my head, "I don't want to drink, but I will anyway. Why? I don't need to. I know it is destructive. There is absolutely no reason for me to drink. But I will anyway."

This is an example of irrational thought that pervades my mind. So in an effort to combat this, I set little daily goals and stick to them. For example, I will not allow myself to have a drink before X time of day. I will limit myself to X number of drinks. I've found that I cannot go without alcohol completely, but if I set little goals like this and regulate my drinking, I am OK from day to day.

And also here I must mention my indescribable appreciation for Jack and his selfless graciousness. He hauled my butt to the hospital more than once when nobody else was around. Who knows what might have happened if he hadn't. Not only has he done this, but, through conversations (a kind of informal counseling), he has extended a whole world of insight and compassion for me to embrace. On the surface, it's friendly dialogue between two friends about a problem. Deeper, it has had a profound effect on me and my outlook on life. Thank you for this Jack -- it is appreciated more than you will ever know.

In closing, I guess I would just like to extend this entire blog post and responses to others who suffer from the same infliction. Just remember that life is too beautiful to let oneself slip to such lows. And, as one poster here mentioned, sometimes it is necessary to hit rock bottom before recovery. I feel like I'm pretty much there currently, so I'm looking forward to a big rebound. I have many great things in my life right now, and I look forward to getting back to enjoying them.

GUEST POST: On the Body

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[NOTE: NSFW]

The following guest post was written by Rhiannon, a regular reader of Adventures in Voluntary Simplicity. I think Rhiannon's post shows that embracing simple living goes beyond de-cluttering your house and eschewing materialism and consumering. It can be a process as internal and personal as embracing the person staring back at you in the mirror.

ON THE BODY
I, like you, have a story. And it can be told... but how best to get my point across? You see, some people’s story can be told by the company they keep. Some by the place they reside or the car they drive. Some by the job they hold or the degrees they display. Some by the photographs of family sitting on the mantle piece. Some by the way the walk or talk. Some by the words they write.

Me? I guess mine can be told by my clothing or, rather, the lack there of!

My story may sound similar to a soap your mom watched at home each afternoon while you were at school: mom and dad become alcoholics, mom and dad begin swinging, mom leaves dad, dad divorces mom, dad dies of cancer, their daughter gets married, has a few kids, husband has affair, husband leaves wife,
ex-wife/daughter, well... gets fat!

I guess it’s fair to say, my story can be told... in my thighs! The swell of my breasts. The girth of my waist. The movement of my curves.

Because within this story, within these full folds of flesh, between these lines. I fret. I fret about my health. About my looks. About the example I teach. Fret... Fret... Fret...

And... I doubt. I doubt myself being true to who I really am. That others will truly be able to see me. That I’ll ever feel beautiful enough, worthy enough, sexy enough, to get out into that big fish bowl of men again. Doubt... Doubt... Doubt...And... I am mean. Mean to my soul. Mean to my heart, my lungs, my knees. Mean... Mean... Mean....
And I wonder. Does all this, fretting, doubting, meanness, serve me?

A healthy self image is something everyone talks about. Something everyone wants. A sexy body is something women want and men desire. I'm no different than everyone! But there seems to be two of these images. One others see and one I see. The two merging would seem to benefit, would they not? But they won’t. No matter how hard I try, the me others see (confident, funny, strong willed, self assured, woman) just will NOT merge with the me the mirror sees (chubby, unsure, scared, selfish, single mama). And although I only see this other me when I happen to be standing in front of a mirror or looking into a photo or in a room full of "pretties," it's still there, looming!

So one day, as I stand in front of the mirror I begin to wonder. Is this image I see in front of me the same one others see? And I already know the answer. So then I question, how can I take away all this fluff? How can I see ME? Just ME?

And the thought hits me. Could it really be that SIMPLE?

So as I stand there in front of the mirror... I begin to peal. Peal off my shirt. Peal off my socks. Peal off my pants. And as I peal, I look! I look and I look. And then I do it... I take off the little bits. (Okay not so little!) And I stare! I examine. I poke. I prod. And I enjoy! I enjoy this piece of art, this vehicle of mine. I spend the rest of the day, walking around the house, cooking meals, doing laundry and I realize I LIKE MY BODY! I like me a lot! Is it super model? No. But it’s mine! My very own story... of making it through.

Will it ever change? Sure! Hard work has proven that. Will I like it even more. Probably! But this body, the one I have now, it’s served me. Because I've lived and I've loved and I've cried and died a million times over. And my body has enjoyed and hated it all, right along with me. My spirits vehicle, will do my every bidding. So for sure I can! I can love me for who I am right now at this moment. The me I see, the me others see. They are all, after all, just me!

Would YOU dare take it all off and see? It is Voluntarily Simple!

GUEST POST: A Critical Reader’s Take

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Below is a guest post from Anonymous, a Biglaw attorney and regular reader of this blog.

Let me just say that I generally agree with Anonymous´ overall critique. I actually don´t see a great deal of conflict between his argument and the content of this blog. How his critique fares against other facets of the Simple Living/Voluntary Simplicity movement is, however, another matter. But that is for you, my dear reader, to decide.

On a separate note, I have to say that I am a bit disappointed with the lack of critical guest blog submissions. I´ve received tons of submissions focusing on (1) the benefits of pursuing a Simple Living lifestyle, and (2) incredibly positive commentaries about me and this blog in particular. While I appreciate the enthusiasm it would be great to publish posts with a much more critical perspective. Nothing kills ideas faster than group think and intellectual complacency.

Bottom line, if you have ever been pissed by something written on this blog, or just generally disagree with some specific aspect of this nebulous yet wonderful thing called Simple Living, drop me a line.

A Critical Reader’s Take

I read Jack’s blog because, as I suspect is the case with most of its readers, I identify with Jack. My life often feels cluttered and weighed down by unnecessary STUFF. I yearn to spend my days hiking mountain trails rather than trapped behind my lawyer’s desk. I attempt to alleviate my depression by purchasing a new jacket, drinking an extra drink, taking home a new girl, thinking that THIS time when I get what I want I will be happy. But of course, when the newness dies away, I find I need something else; the brief moments of satisfaction do nothing to quench my desire for more. The cycle continues, until I find I have accumulated an apartment full of crap I no longer want and certainly never needed, a hangover I can’t shake and a phone full of the numbers of young women whose faces I can’t recall.

So yes, I certainly identify with Jack. And I thank Jack – I have done so in a personal email to him – for sharing his adventure with us. It is inspiring to “witness” his courage and boldness in forsaking the life of temptation and luxury. And moreover, I think Jack has stumbled onto something that is – at least in part – profound and wise. I agree that this life that we have been geared to build with our higher education and white collar jobs does not necessarily hold the key to happiness.

But though Jack and I agree on the diagnosis, we disagree on the cure. Or at least I believe that Jack’s only found the half of it. Jack seems to think, and from the comments it looks like most of his active readers agree, that the answer to the problem is to cut the STUFF out of your life. “Simplify” is the motto, which I take to primarily be a mandate to rid your life of the physical clutter (unnecessary possessions, money, etc.) and maybe also to rid yourself of the desire for this materialistic clutter. The ideal also seems to include some kind of ill-defined spiritual contentment that necessarily follows from a life of materialistic simplicity. (Clearly Jack or others in the simplicity movement will take issue with my characterization, and I look forward to correction and clarification).

Here’s my disagreement with the Simplicity strawman I just built: Simplifying is all well and good, until you come to define your happiness by how Simple you can be. How is being defined by how much clothing you lack any different from being defined by how much you have? How is thinking happiness resides in a tent in the woods any different from believing you will find it in a mansion? In both cases you are looking for it out there, in a reality that doesn’t exist. “If only I get (lose) the big screen T.V., if only I get (lose) the condo, if only I get (lose) the girl.” When the world is telling you that the T.V., the condo and the girl will make you happy, and you realize that it won’t, it is natural to swing back in the other direction, thinking it is the lack thereof that will do the trick. Too often I’m seeing those with good intentions get sucked into this trap (and yes, I would hate to see Jack, a man I admire, be sucked in as well).

I don’t believe that Simplicity is necessary for true happiness. At least not the capital S Simplicity for which Jack strives. Our STUFF is a convenient whipping boy, but I think there is something deeper and more nuanced at play. Our dissatisfaction lies not in what we have or don't have, but in our very need to define ourselves by these materialistic measurements - for richer OR poorer. It is not only our things and our relationship to our things that need to be re-evaluated. If we’re taking a serious look at where we can find real happiness, I think all of us, especially those in the Simplicity movement, need to consider our attachment to our lack of things as well.

GUEST POST: Misfortune and Metamorphosis

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The following guest post was prepared by my friend and fellow blogger Dana over at Miles Before I Sleep. While I do think the content of this post speaks for itself, I did want to emphasize the obvious: DON'T wait to live the life you've always wanted. And don't ever, EVER, take anything, or anyone, for granted.

MISFORTUNE AND METAMORPHOSIS

In my opinion, Jack's entire blog is devoted to change. It's devoted to his search with in himself to try and find out who he was, is, and who he wants to become. It seems to me that it is in this search that we have connected. Both searches, his and my own, have hit road blocks but we both are still living and enjoying the metamorphosis. Therefore, I've decided to write about HOW and WHY I came to this changing point in my life. I'll apologize now if you find my story a little graphic but we all have a breaking point and mine was July 21st, 2006....

Before this day, you could sum up my existence quite simply. I was with Ryan and we had 3 little boys. We both worked full time, struggled to pay our bills, were mass consumerists, and were exhausted at the end of each day. There was no "out" for us in sight as it seemed. We just hoped that someday we would be able to pay our bills on time and just live. Unfortunately, that day never came with us doing it together.

On July 20th, 2006, Ryan and his father were at our house trimming our trees. They had finished the back two and were heading to the front tree when I left to prepare for a garage sale. An hour later as I'm driving towards home, I can see lights flashing in the distance... they appeared to be at my house. As I parked, I saw the ambulance doors close and speed off...

As I pulled up to my house, I was stopped by his father who informed me that Ryan had fallen off the front porch roof. My first thought was, "Great... bet he broke his leg and now we're gonna be short money for time off work." (In reflection, isn't it sad that THIS was the way I thought?)

Then I noticed the pool of blood on the sidewalk, and the hysteria on his father's face. One of the firemen took pity on me after I explained that I was a nurse and to please tell me the truth. I still remember his words exactly, "Your husband fell 15-20 feet off the roof, onto his head. He was unresponsive on the scene and he was bleeding from his head, mouth, nose, and ears. They intubated him and he just left for the hospital."

Deep down, I knew my husband was going to die.

Still, I prayed over and over again on the drive to the hospital. I prayed when they wouldn't let me back to see him. I prayed as they decided to life flight him to Iowa City.

Ryan suffered many things in the one brief instant when his head hit the ground. He suffered a comminuted, displaced, and depressed skull fracture spreading from the base of his skull outward to his jaw, and upward to his forehead. A piece of skull severed his main artery to the brain. He suffered 2 strokes. His brain then herniated due to inter-cranial pressure. He was unable to have the pressure reduced because he went into a DIC (Disseminated intra vascular coagulation-- a massive hemorrhage from all open orifices of the body). He was bleeding to death. He was on life support and was given units of blood and platelet infusions. He went into a multi-system organ failure and I finally turned off his life support machine in the morning of July 21st, 2006.

He died.

The wonderful human being I loved, the father of our three children had died.

The hardest part was telling our oldest son, Zakari, that daddy had died that day. I still look at his face and remember how he cried that afternoon... I'll always remember Izeah and Zane asking for daddy, yet there was no more daddy.

That was my breaking point. The time after his death was chaos. I went through many stages of grief... crying, pretending I was fine, being a full time mommy during the day, binge drinking at night, engaging in promiscuous sex, making excuses. I did this for about a year after his death. I make no excuses for any of it now. I did it all by choice and since there is no actual "right way" to grieve, I've since accepted what I went through as my road to healing...

This event in my life was an astonishing wake up call.
I was tired of working full time and never enjoying my children.
I was tired of being part of this mass consumer way of thinking.
I was tired of working just to keep up with the Jones'.
I was sick and tired of who I was.

So I changed.

I gave up my full time job and now work a schedule that I make. I spend more time with my children then ever before. I've taught myself to be productive and more self sufficient. We're trying everyday to turn our lives into a more sustainable living lifestyle. I work everyday to not burden the earth but to help her. We live more frugal and I love it. We all take trips together, children and all, to explore nature, cities, music, our passions. Would I have done any of this before? Probably not.

I also managed to meet another wonderful man, John, who I married 3 weeks ago :)

Everyday of my life I remember this one event that changed my whole world. Ryan's death made me pause for a minute, if you will. It made me realize that I was wasting my time being what everyone else wanted me to be. I realized that I could be a much better parent to my beautiful children. I realized that it is much more satisfying to live simply and fulfilled then to always be wanting. I learned to look up at the stars at night with my children and discuss how many there are and how beautiful they are. I learned how to SHOW the people I love how just how much I love them. I learned when John came along that I had been blessed not once, but twice with an incredible partner, one that I'll be damned I was going to let get away :)

So Jack, kudos to you for changing your life. Some days are still hard for me, as I'm sure they are for you, giving up things that used to make us comfortable. When this happens to me though, I try to put myself back in that day, remember what happened and remember that Ryan never got to experience this life style.

I know I don't want to die without ENJOYING my life and this "life" I speak of is the one I'm living now.


Peace and love,
Dana

Ryan a few months before he died with Zakari and Zane.



Our family 3 weeks ago... John, me, Kayla, Zakari, Izeah, and Zane (age order :)

GUEST POST: My Date with Jack

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Today Adventures in Voluntary Simplicity is inaugurating a series of guest posts from fellow bloggers, friends and assorted “simple living” cronies. The intent is to encourage ongoing dialogue regarding all aspects of the voluntary simplicity/simple living movement. Each approved guest post will be published as written without any editorial oversight so long as the following guidelines are observed:

*Posts must be at least tangentially related to the voluntary simplicity/simple living movement or must focus on a topic previously covered on the blog.

*Draft posts that are critical of me, the blog, and/or the voluntary simplicity/simple living movement are ABSOLUTELY ENCOURAGED. However, please note that posts that contain unnecessay venom and vitrolic insults will not be published.

If you would like to submit a guest post feel free to email me directly with a brief description of the topic you would like to tackle. Note that certain suggested guest posts may be declined for editorial reasons (topic may have already been covered by a previous poster; draft post is poorly written, etc...).

MY DATE WITH JACK
The following guest post was written by Nancy Vogel, author of the Family on Bikes blog:

My Date with Jack
“What if he really is a pompous ass?” I thought to myself as I sat on the bus for the 4-hour journey into Medellin to meet Jack in person. “What if – for all his talking about making these fundamental changes in this thinking - he’s still that pretentious, arrogant, puffed-up son of a bitch he talks about?”

The internet is a strange place – you meet people and forge friendships without ever knowing what they look like. Jack and I had read each other’s blogs for well over a year, emailed many times, and even talked on the phone. I had told many people about my lawyer friend who was making the transition to a life more simple, yet I didn’t even know his real name. What if, after all that, he really was an asshole I wouldn’t want to be found within shouting distance of?

But then I walked up to the door of the museum we had agreed to meet at and he walked out with his boyish grin, and all that was forgotten. Here was Jack – in his old brown t-shirt, jeans, and three-day-old beard. The Jack I had pictured after all.

Gracious, kind, gentle, giving, and warm as the summer sunshine, Jack was the kind of person I could sit and talk with for hours – which is exactly what we did. We chatted in a café while drinking fresh lulo juice, we chatted as we walked the busy streets of Medellin towards the bike store, and we chatted while in the taxi to the mall.

In so many ways, Jack and I are on the same journey. I suppose I started a couple years ahead of him, but we’re on the same path. I remember those days all too well – those days when I struggled with the idea of giving up all I had worked so hard for, of giving up the American Dream I was supposed to want, of walking away from society’s expectations to make my own way on this planet… It was fun to listen to Jack voice the exact same thoughts I went through a couple years earlier.

But there were still a few strings attached – strings pulling him back. Or maybe they are ropes. Or cables. That uppity lawyer mindset doesn’t relinquish its hold easily.

“I’ve got to go buy a pair of shoes,” Jack said. “Want to come to the mall and help me pick them out?”

Shoes? New shoes?

“I’ve been invited to a law conference tomorrow,” he explained. “And I need to be dressed for it. I’ve borrowed a suit and tie, but don’t have any shoes.”

I admit it – if it had been me I would have borrowed the suit and then worn my Birkenstocks rather than go buy new shoes. But I digress…

And so we found ourselves at a posh, swanky mall filled with generic high-priced shops looking at stylish Colombian leather shoes. Is this really the Jack I thought I knew?

“I love my 3-day-old beard!” Jack told me, “but I think I’ll have to shave it off for tomorrow. I don’t want to, but…” Those old law-firm expectations obviously still have their grip on him in some ways – those bony fingers still have the ability to reach in and wrap themselves around his new-fangled way of thinking…

But what I love about Jack is his utter honesty – with himself and others. He’s grappled with the fundamental ideas of what’s important – what’s really important. He’s one of those rare individuals who has the courage to thrust aside all those expectations placed upon him – from his colleagues, his mother, his friends, and yes – from himself. He’s looked at the demands of society and come to the difficult conclusion that the American Dream may not be all it’s cracked up to be after all.