Maturity Feeds Recovery

Like a baby bird, I remember sitting—not with my mouth open, but with my mind, heart, and soul waiting to be fed recovery gold.

Feed me what I need to recover!

I was starving for knowledge.

I wanted to know everything. I wanted someone to tell me what I needed to do, what I needed to learn, and what I needed to change.

And I wanted it all now.

Like a baby bird, I knew I would eventually grow into a more mature version of myself. But I didn't want to wait for that stage. I was desperate to mature in my recovery journey.

Looking back, I think that's part of what maturity brings to recovery.

As we mature, we begin to understand that not everything we are fed in early recovery is necessarily good for us.

Some of the things we are fed might make us sick.

Not the kind of sick that causes us harm, but the kind that simply upsets our stomach.

Other things we are fed will help us grow. They will give us the nutrients that are specifically good for us.

And here's the thing:

We don't all like the same food.

Part of being human is that we all have different taste buds. One food that brings you joy may make me cringe and spit it out on the floor.

So how am I going to know what I like, what is good for me, and what will make me want to spit it out?

The hard thing about recovery is that sometimes you have to try things and wait for the reaction.

Take melons.

A piece of watermelon can taste crisp, juicy, and fresh. But a honeydew melon is similar and comes from the same food group. You might absolutely hate the taste of honeydew. It might make you never want to try another melon again.

You don't know which melons you like and which ones you don't.

It's a trial-and-error mission.

Recovery can be the same way.

We sometimes want to try something once and expect perfect results the first time we taste it.

But that's not how it goes for many people.

Some people swear off melons altogether.

Others are brave enough to try all kinds of melons and eventually learn which ones they like and which ones they want to stay away from.

And then there are people who initially hate all melons but, somewhere down the road, as they mature, decide to try them again.

That's a scary proposition.

They remember the bitterness and the horrible flavour that repulsed them in the past.

But sometimes they try one of those melons again and discover something has changed.

Their taste buds have matured.

And now they love it.

They begin making an effort to eat this nutrient-filled fruit on a regular basis.

They now understand that what they once thought was bad for them may actually be the very thing that is feeding them the nutrients they need to become healthier.

I think recovery works the same way.

As we mature, what feeds our recovery can change.

People sometimes discover that something they tried in the past and rejected is exactly what works for them now.

Maybe they had a bad experience at an AA meeting.

Years later, they find themselves thriving as a member of a group, working with a sponsor, working the 12 Steps, and doing service work.

The meeting didn't necessarily change.

They did.

Maybe meditation was something they tried before.

They couldn't sit still. Their mind wandered. They couldn't understand what everyone else seemed to be getting from it. Maybe meditation became nothing more than a good excuse for a nap.

But something changes.

They try again.

This time, they discover that starting their morning with a mindful practice leaves them feeling relaxed, grounded, and inspired to begin their day.

Or maybe someone was never a good reader or writer as a kid.

They ran from the idea of journaling because writing brought back memories of being called stupid by other kids. Reading and writing were a struggle, not because they weren't intelligent, but because they learned differently from the other kids.

As they matured, they discovered something important.

They weren't stupid.

In fact, they discovered they were brilliant in their own way.

They might be singularly focused, willing to take risks, incredibly creative, and highly successful in business.

That new-found confidence might encourage them to tackle journaling again.

But instead of trying to sit down every night and write about their "feelings," they discover that they love writing stories.

They create characters who have the same fears, anxieties, and doubts they have.

They're writing about the character.

But they're also writing about themselves.

This is what maturity can bring to recovery.

It gives us the ability to look back at something we once rejected and ask:

Is it possible that this might work for me now?

That's where I believe a recovery coach can make a difference for someone who is struggling to find their way in recovery.

Through motivational interviewing, a coach can ask open-ended questions that allow a recoveree to freely explore their experiences, beliefs, values, and desires.

Sometimes, through that conversation, something is uncovered.

The very thing the person walked away from might just be the thing they should try again.

Not because someone is telling them they should.

But because something has changed.

Their beliefs have changed.

Their values have changed.

Their desires have changed.

Their willingness has changed.

Their maturity has changed.

A program they attended in the past can become the community where they eventually find deep connection.

But if they don't sort it out with a coach, they may never discover this new recovery capital within themselves.

They aren't necessarily returning to the same thing.

They're returning as a different person.

A mindfulness practice that once felt like an anvil around their neck can become the hot-air balloon that helps them freely fly and release the effects of experiences they have been carrying for years.

And sometimes, someone will try again and again and discover that coaching isn't working for them.

That's okay too.

Maybe they need counselling.

Maybe they need time in a recovery centre.

Maybe they need to remove themselves from a community or from people who are contributing to making them sick.

Recovery isn't about finding one solution that works for everyone.

It's about developing the maturity to discover what works for you.

And that brings me to one of the bittersweet days I look forward to as a recovery coach.

The day a client fires me.

Yes.

Fires me.

Because it means they have reached a point where they no longer need me in the same way.

It means the recoveree has been able to open up, become willing to try things again, evaluate what is and isn't effective for them, be accountable to their recovery plan, and follow through.

Through repetition, determination, and experience, they begin to realize that much of what they were searching for was within them the whole time.

They just needed someone to help bring that recovery capital out of them.

Someone to help them make a plan that works for them.

And then help them execute it successfully.

Just like that baby bird, eventually it is time to spread your wings and fly.

Not alone.

But in a community of other people who have found their wings and are soaring in recovery.

The day I get to see a recoveree fly on their own is a day I will be grateful for.

Grateful for the opportunity to be a conduit for someone to find their recovery path and walk it with passion and clarity.

This is what a recovery coach can do for someone.

And I believe it is a worthy profession.

Especially for the people who might otherwise fall through the cracks.

People who need to be found, listened to, and pointed in a direction that makes sense for them, not for somebody else.

When someone is part of designing their own recovery plan, I believe success becomes far more realistic than when a plan is simply handed to them.

Maybe recovery isn't about finding the one perfect melon.

Maybe it's about having the courage to taste them, learn what nourishes you, spit out what doesn't, and keep searching until you discover what helps you grow.

Because recovery isn't something we simply consume.

Recovery is something we mature into.

And sometimes, the very things we once rejected become the things that feed us.

Maturity feeds recovery.