With the proliferation of 12-step and other programs, substance abuse has taken on a fashionable tone that I sometimes find problematic. Termed by one person as “woundology.” On the one hand, I recently received a coin that marks 24 years of continuous sobriety – great. On the other, why do I continue going to those meetings. I mentioned to my wife the other day that I was cutting down from 2 to 1 meeting a week because of my schedule and I did not feel the need for more meetings. Her wise response was something like “perhaps the meetings need you.” and that seems to be where the “Why all the silence?” comes in.

Like much in life, I am reasonably convinced that the answer to the question will be in constant tension and shift through time. There are times when I have mentioned my alcoholism to someone and there really was no need to do so – and I am not certain why, though it seemed logical at the time. There are other occasions when dealing with a student, friend, acquaintance, or in a recovery context where sharing my “experience, strength, and hope” is meaningful and that, yes, the difference in my life between being fired from jobs on a regular basis, maintaining a 0.7 GPA and earning my doctorate and desirable employment is determined by one key condition – being sober. I know sharing that message and knowing the mental insanity and physical destruction substance abuse entails for me has been helpful to others – at the right time and in the right place. And as “Only Allah is perfect” I have to assume that I will make missteps, and sometimes speak out of arrogance, self-righteousness, and not being quiet – I want to maintain the tension between being a walking billboard and keeping my mouth shut. I do think that if I operate out of a perspective of gratitude and being of service because I have been given some insights that can be of benefit to others, then I should speak. If my motivation is other, then perhaps I need to be silent. And I am certain that most of the distinction between the two is gray.

I enjoy reading your blog.

There is a way that each of us can share our authentic experience with others that breaks boundaries rather than buiding boxes. I think that sort of authentic sharing sounds a lot like the tone of your blog. When you share this way, I don’t think the result will be having others define you by your CF.

Thanks for this excellent contribution to the web.

Thanks so much for sharing this blog. Your comments about choices are an incredible statement about living. I appreciate the choices you make and the life that you lead. To say your blog is a valuable testament to living actually seems trite – rather an incredible statement about what it means to be fully engaged with life, one wheeze, one choice, one travel adventure at a time.

Robert

this blog is wonderful and I think it is important to read even for people not affected by CF. What you say about having a sense of mortality is a concept that applies to many people, perhaps not as urgently or forcibly, but often just as vividly.

Not everyone has had the fortune of meeting you and admiring your strong personality and determination – which was evident to me long before I knew about your condition – but through this blog they’ll have the chance to witness it from afar and to be inspired by it, no matter their specific lot in life. Thank you for making this valuable effort.

Clea

Happy (belated) Birthday!