“Some of us were delusional; we lived in a private world no one else shared.”
– Life with Hope, first edition, page 16
My delusion seemed so very sensible in my privately-defined reality: I thought that the emptiness I felt inside would go away if I filled it up. I spent every available minute of my life stuffing whatever I could find into that hole but to my dismay, it only grew larger. I responded with “more,” searching for anything to fill the void: political or religious causes, my work, creative projects, acquisitions of all kinds and, of course, lots of cannabis. The sense of emptiness only grew.
At last, I could do nothing but surrender, and I left the isolation of my addiction for the community of my fellows in recovery. I began to understand my problem in light of the word “private,” from Latin, privatus, meaning “bereaved, deprived, separated.” I came to see that what I sought came not by filling myself up with things, but rather by pouring myself into service. Empathy was reawakened in me through listening to the suffering of others and sharing in their recovery. I found satisfaction, meaning, and joy by offering my time, experience, and wisdom to others who were suffering as I had. Together, we found the fullness of communion we’d never imagined possible in our most private dreams.
Final thought: Today, I get joy by carrying the message.
