I Did a Thing
164,890 words and 548 pages later, I did it.
Finally.
I overcame one of my biggest fears, my greatest stumbling blocks and ventured blindly into uncertain outcomes and opinions (aren’t they all?) and at long last – I finished my book (that was more than half a decade in the making.) This is a long post today – because I have a lot to share about how I think about fear.
And it was fear that I allowed to delay this book for roughly 6 years.
Life in Detox: “The beautiful messiness of being human while navigating recovery, addiction, grief and growth” – and not only was it printed and published, but at risk of (okay, I know it is) being redundant per yesterday’s gratuitous email to announce its launch – but is somehow (miraculously, thanks to all of you) became an overnight #1 Best Seller, around the world in categories from Substance Abuse, Recovery from Alcohol all the way through to Buddhism and Self-Transformation.
Well, then.
The mere fact I just typed that run-on sentence and can look at the words now that they’re really real in front of me on the screen, is a level of surreality I wasn’t really expecting.
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I think it feels so surreal because it’s always difficult to imagine what and how things might feel like on the other side of fear.
On the other side of the finish line; a line that always seems to move further away the closer you think you’re geting to it.
It’s an optical and emotional illusion that twists your perception in proportion to your fear of failure (or success) – or simply just being too afraid to step outside your comfort zone. The book is essentially a compilation of all my writing to date; a wild ride told chronologically from the beginning of my recovery journey, with detours here and there to discovering Buddhism, to relapsing, to relapsing again (oh wait – and again,) to my childhood, teenage years, hot mess years and more, landing somewhere in the area of just figuring out how to not drive myself crazy, my life crumbling at my own hands (repeatedly), – and then again (not my fault that time), divorce, career and my marriage falling apart – Oh! and toss in a pandemic – and all the little, but important, lessons I learned along the way (plus I found the love of my life, we bought a house, and got married in our backyard.)
And we got (another) puppy.
The most important lesson of all being – I was standing in my own way all along.
Me, to me:
It’s a meandering journey towards making sense of all the nonsense and things that stop us, not just me. It’s a common, human condition – and that’s really the point of the whole book. You aren’t alone. I’m not alone. We are not alone.
We all struggle.
We all struggle to give attention and effort to the things we love doing most, or even just caring for the people and things that we value and strive for most in life.
I couldn’t be happier with ‘Life in Detox: The beautiful messiness,’ first, because it’s been a labour of love for over half a decade, and second, because I actually, finally, did it.
Accomplishment can be a very satisfying thing, especially when you’ve waited so long for yourself to just get out of your own damn way, for a change.
Also, it’s the prelude to what comes next: “Life in Detox: The beautiful messiness of overcoming the things that stop us” - or scare us? – opinions welcome. I also have about 20 alternatives that I’m tossing around. Its a very loose, working title and likely to change, but regardless – I am very, very excited to share it with you once it’s ready and available worldwide, too. I promise it won't take 5 years, this time.
Imagine the cover on that book.
The process of writing and completing my first (but not last) book was not only eye-opening and a learning experience (I’ll do so many things differently next time around) – but it was soul-fulfilling in ways I could never imagine (but really hoped for.)
It was not only a long-awaited checkmark on a very long bucket list, but also a checkmark on my heart.
I’ve been beating myself up, inside and out, for half a decade (and realistically, a lot longer than that) for faltering, for stalling, for avoiding, procrastinating, and simply not buckling down and just finishing the damn book, along with so many other things.
To complete it.
To finish what I started.
For a change.
And finally, in a moment of blind confidence and bravery, I chose to be vulnerable, I chose to throw my fear of shame to the wind (and out the window), and for once and for all just do it.
No matter the consequences.
Regardless of it’s not well-received, or a wild and raging success (how do you measure that?)
I can’t emphasize enough how liberating this has been, because I had to finally admit no one else was going to do it for me.
If I wanted it truly, I was the one who had to make it happen.
To overcome fear.
To beat it at least once.
To not be afraid of falling, or failing, for once.
Like a kid stuck on monkey bars, terrified to let go, yet still knowing they can’t ever move forward if they don’t, with the consequence of simply letting go and inevitably being hurt when you land on the gravel that seems a million miles beneath you and made up of sharpened nails and shards of broken glass, instead. Yet, with some inner strength most adults somehow sadly lose, they just close their eyes, hope for the best, and swing to the next rung.
And then the next.
And the next.
It’s like that. But the grown up version. (I don’t like monkey bars either, so I get it, kid.)
Its so easy to forget that we were once that kid, once upon a time.
So were our parents.
And theirs.
We are all children, stuck on the monkey bars.
When did we stop being brave, and fearless, and stop living our lives on blind faith alone?
Fear, simply put, stops us.
It’s what stopped me from recovery, it’s what stopped me from buckling down and starting this blog 6 years ago (and finishing the book and starting my new one) not to mention striving for recovery, ending my unhappy marriage, fixing my finances, finding love, taking care of myself, my health, my career, and my life.
Fear decided my future, over and over again.
Because I let it.
Over and over again.
Throughout this 6-year process I’ve turned ‘fear’ over in my hands repeatedly, studying it and letting the sun catch it from different angles, hoping to somehow see something new each time that I hadn’t seen before.
Some secret way to break into it like a curious puzzle to be solved, and see if the fabled decoder ring was hidden inside.
Something, anything, to help me understand how to understand fear.
So much turning it over and over in my hands trying to crack the code that I wasted years examining it instead of simply setting it down and getting on with things, instead.
Fear, in and of itself, began to encapsulate me.
It not only stalled me, but it stalked me.
It crept into my work life to the point I didn’t ever want to make phone calls, to finish a design, to hit the ‘publish’ button on a post, to go to the grocery store, to have the tough conversations, to be honest, or to basically do anything.
I could always rationalize it, of course, because I’m a world-class over-achiever when it comes to justifying anything.
Eventually, however, the storyline got old.
The staleness started to make the air thick, toxic, and hard to breathe. The fear I kept picking up and trying to figure out was covered in sticky fingerprints, bad memories, and instead of fascination, I at long last began feeling resentment.
I started to recognize how much time I had wasted and how little, uncertain amount of time we each have, admitting once and for all that waiting was not helping anyone – especially myself.
Fear stopped me from having much needed conversations and clearing the air with my dad. It stopped me from reaching out to friends I can only hold in my memories now, because they’re gone in ways I can’t mend or make up for. Fear stopped me in my tracks – because I let it – and took things from me while I was too afraid to stand up and just do what I knew I wanted to do, and also knew was right.
All I have ever wanted and continue to want, is to help people (including myself.)
So.
I finally sat down to compile and my first book. ‘The beautiful messiness’ started off rough, exactly like the story within it, which is mine – meaning my life, too has been a little jagged on the edges (all my own doing, which is far from shocking.)
I didn’t care. I couldn’t care at that point, because if I did, I would be bowing down again to my fears and using it as an excuse to just not do it.
To just not do it because what if people don’t like it?
What if people judge me?
What if people criticize my writing style, my grammar, my analogies or storytelling skills?
What if it’s just a really bad book?
What if it starts too slow?
What if I’m a bad writer?
What if there’s still mistakes after editing it 437 times (twice)?
What if people don’t dig deep enough into it to get to the really juicy parts?
Well, screw it.
Life has mistakes, no matter how many times you rake over it, some leaves will always get left behind, and we all know there are more leaves ready to fall.
But, spring always arrive.
Always.
I finally had to reach the screw it level of simply not caring about those worries, and trust that this goal and wish of mine has never left me alone, and has kept tapping at my window for decades, for a reason.
Because it matters.
Because it’s Important.
If only to me.
And, hopefully, to many others, too; hopefully hundreds, thousands, (could you imagine?) millions one day. Or maybe just one – and if that manages to shed some insight or feeling of not being alone for that one person – that’s more than enough.
Recognizing our common struggles can unite us, and can maybe help people feel seen and maybe stop seeing themselves as having something wrong with them, like I did and admittedly still sometimes do – or at least how I thought that I did.
For too long.
Maybe my years, stalled by fear, can in turn help others be more fearless?
I had to start turning my fears inside out, as I should have done a lot sooner, because I’ve found that’s usually the way I end up figuring everything out. As humans, regardless of what we say, we are also the least logical species on the planet. We constantly turn things upside down and inside out and try to make lefts into rights and ups into downs. Sometimes, we just need to see things from a different perspective, and sometimes we’re just looking at the wrong things at the wrong time and in the wrong light. Sometimes, we might need 6 years to get our shit together. Sometimes, maybe 60.
What matters, is that eventually, we do.
This is very much a bookmark in my life, a new chapter on this blog, and a fresh page turned on where I hope to go with my writing and ramblings, and all the strange, stumbling lessons that I’ve learned.
I never imagined the process of writing my first book (and the preliminary half-a-decade-long delay in making it happen) would spur the inspiration for its followup; that fear itself was a gift. If I had just taken a step back to see what it had been trying to teach me all along, and allow it to lead me, I could have seen that I had all I needed to work with in my hands all along, just staring at it instead of trying to learn from it.
Fear is a teacher,
if you’re willing to get out of your own way.
Once I finally chose to stop letting fear stop me and stall me (okay, fear itself didn’t stop or stall me, I allowed that part myself – I just used it as an excuse) but I was then able to throw all my shits to the wind and not care if I failed.
To not care if I failed, for once in my life.
To not care if I didn’t succeed, or thrive, and to not care if I magnificently failed.
To learn that it’s okay if it’s just average, or horrible, or amazing.
Because what matters is – I did it.
And what that means is that I can do it again. Maybe better.
Maybe faster, with more confidence, or maybe not at all. Maybe with more gusto, more heart or more passion, because I’m not juggling all of that with fear in my other hand.
Fear stops us from mending our relationships, our families, our careers, our diets, our self-care, our environment, our homes, from socializing, travelling, being spontaneous, indulgent, and from, simply put, living.
It’s also a very good teacher, but only if you’re a very good student.
I’m writing this at 2:40 am, because I clearly still don’t need sleep anymore, because I’m too excited about what’s to come.
Overcoming fear – at least this time – brought hope, which I know now was always holding that hope down beneath it’s foot.
I was seldomly excited for anything when I was being held down under the weight of everything I was afraid of. I was so busy trying to make myself comfortable beneath it that I had no room left for looking forward to things or making new plans to look forward to – only plans on how and where and when I could escape the feelings of discomfort I was really (and I mean really) tired of feeling.
I’ve talked about my shame and fear through literally every piece you’ll read on this blog and in my book; nearly 200 posts and counting. If not overtly, you can trust me – it’s all written between the lines.
I finally see fear as the gift IT is and always has been, no longer a burden, ironically, to be feared.
Next, I can’t wait to start making up for all the lost time and opportunities that have come knocking on my door, when I was too afraid to answer it.
Instead of letting it knock at my door like I always have, keeping me trapped by own inaction, I’m going to answer the door, invite it in, and offer it a cup of tea.
I feel I have a lot to learn from all the lessons I’ve missed while I was too busy using fear as an excuse for too many things. And I hope that you, too, can find a way to benefit from them, too.
PS: Let me know what you think about the book, if you’ve snagged a copy, in the comments below (or your thoughts about fear in general and how it’s stopped you, in the comments below! You’ll just have to scroll a little further to get to the comment section, today, because, well, this:
It’s Cruella! Our new puppy! One of…well…many dogs we have.
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“Powerful. Soulful. True.” – Lisa Wharmby
A raw and relatable account of poignant true stories that follow writer and thinker Shawn Van Daele (SJ Van Dee) on his journey through recovery from alcoholism, addiction, heartbreak, grief, loss and anxiety – as well as the shared struggle of being human. Told through a series of journal-like chapters, his unique way of storytelling resonates regardless of where you are in your journey. His words have helped thousands worldwide feel seen and understood, finding the strength to embark on their recovery. Van Daele’s writing continues to guide countless people as they work through their struggles with addiction (and being human) and he holds your hand along the path in a sincere, often humourous way. Every piece dives deep below the surface of addictions, and allows you to begin to uncover and face the deep-rooted truths behind our shared condition of being alive – and why we struggle and develop addictions in the first place.
Masterfully crafted and told through cleverly woven metaphors and analogies, his writing is relatable, vulnerable, and easy to digest. Never failing to leave you with moments of awakening and reflection to take with you regardless of where you open the book and begin reading, you’ll be surprised with a story of growth and recovery.
‘Life in Detox’ resonates far beyond readers looking for support and inspiration on their journeys toward sobriety, but to anyone who has ever experienced shame, regret, loneliness, grief or loss, and shows us how to ride the waves of life.
“So inspirational. Thank you for your beautiful honesty. It goes beyond addiction to life itself.”
– Oriol Rhodes
“I do not even have the words to tell you how powerful and poignant your message is to me. You say everything that I think but can’t express in any way that makes sense to anyone but myself. Your words touch my heart and soul to the core.”
– Christy Van Wagoner
“Beautifully written, astute and humane.”
– Annie Joseph
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A dude who thinks, bakes, writes, learns, and teaches. And I make a LOT of sourdough.
Shawn Van Daele / SJ Van Dee
