Whittled to a Nub

When I was younger trauma stripped me of the ability to believe in myself. Constant verbal abuse ground my self-esteem to the nub. I always assumed I’d fail at even the simplest tasks. My father’s pet name for me was “Freddy Fuck Up.” Consequently, I lacked “frustration tolerance.” Small setbacks or reversals overwhelmed me and led to self-doubt and anger. Usually, I’d quit before making a good faith effort.

I lacked perseverance, the ability to see things through. Perseverance is defined as: “steadfastly continuing in faith, and good works despite trials, difficulty, or opposition leading to character development.” I certainly was not “steadfast.” I didn’t understand that failure is a completely normal phenomenon in the process of learning and should be expected.

Anyone who has had success will tell you that initially they were met with rejection, opposition and botched early attempts. They maintained their focus, commitment and discipline, and allowed themselves to learn from their mistakes. They stuck with it and overcame. Persistence and resilience enabled success.

Swirling Down the Drain

When I was twenty-eight, I woke one morning with a pounding hangover and was horrified by my drunken behavior in front of family and friends at my daughter’s christening. My life had been detonated by my untreated trauma and addictions. I was broke, soon to be divorced and had no viable career other than tending bar, something I loved when younger but had grown tired of. I’d lost my self-respect and dignity and had no answers to how to lead a healthy life.

Accepting Help and Becoming a Finisher

I finally accepted I needed help. This realization was the beginning of developing a mindset that would lead me to a better life. I recognized that as constituted, I lacked answers and would need to get out of my comfort zone to get them. It was counter-intuitive to open up about my problems to a stranger, but I was desperate. I began therapy and learned that trauma was the engine driving my need to self-medicate. This enabled me to develop self-compassion instead of self-loathing. I learned that as long as my addictions continued unabated I would not, could not have a decent life. I went to an inpatient treatment program and for the first time, in a long time, I finished. When I got home, I invested myself completely in recovery.

Initially, I wasn’t confident I could stay clean and sober. Growing up in an alcoholic home, spending my time dealing and using drugs with others similarly inclined was all I knew. My therapist encouraged me to attend meetings daily, therapy and group therapy weekly and to dedicate my time to activities related to my recovery. Despite monstrous cravings, deep depression and spikes of anxiety I stayed clean. My therapist praised my efforts and encouraged me forward. She was my champion and I wanted to live up to her expectations. It felt strange for someone to see good in me. Although the first year was a pitched battle, after that the clouds parted and confidence grew. I’d persevered and for the first time felt pride in my accomplishment.

If I could manage to stay clean and sober, what other challenges could I tackle? What other elements did I need to live a healthy and meaningful life?

In Part Two I discuss other challenges I took on to improve my life and I offer practical tips to help readers to develop resilience and perseverance in their own lives.