A framework for safe conversations

In the recent podcast “Live Unashamed - Navigating 'The Talk' with Friends,” Chris, Steve, and Sam discuss the complexities of talking about recovery from unwanted sexual behavior with friends and family. During the discussion, Sam shared a quote from Timothy J. Keller that resonated with me:

“To be loved but not known is comforting but superficial. To be known and not loved is our greatest fear. But to be fully known and truly loved is, well, a lot like being loved by God.” - Timothy J. Keller

This quote captures the essence of the recovery groups I attend, where being both fully known and fully loved is often a lived experience. Unlike typical conversations with friends or family, these recovery groups benefit from a structured framework of safety that is established and read at every meeting. This framework establishes the meeting as a safe place to take off our masks and authentically share our struggles.

The Safety Framework

A framework that successfully creates this kind of environment includes several elements. One key principle is the acknowledgment that life is a battle for all of us. Though starved for good, strong men, our world can seem determined to stand in our way. We struggle under mounting responsibilities, expectations, and forces that leave us bewildered, hopeless, isolated, and angry. All this while facing pressure to hide our struggles, mask our genuine selves, and escape into endless options for distraction that threaten to take down the best of us.

However, this recognition of life’s challenges must be paired with a strong element of hope. In recovery groups, there’s a shared belief that in a strong, safe brotherhood where God is present, we can find footing, strength, hope, peace, and progress. God is considered a friend and our primary source of acceptance, validation, healing, and change.

Other essential elements include valuing authenticity, encouraging one another, celebrating progress, and refraining from judgment or elitism. Anonymity is sacred, preaching is avoided, and disagreements are met with connection rather than division. Above all, these groups cultivate an environment where vulnerability is met with compassion rather than criticism.

Applying the Framework to Conversations

Getting back to the podcast and the discussion on the complexities of recovery conversations with friends and family, I’ve started to wonder whether some of the elements of the safety framework described above could transform these conversations as well. While it might feel unusual, consider an approach like this:

“I’d like to share something personal with you. Before I do, can I suggest that we approach the conversation with the understanding that life is difficult and that sometimes we don’t respond as our best selves? But that there’s hope for all of us when we’re among good friends and a loving God? Could we also agree to keep this confidential?”

An opening like this could establish a framework in which the conversation could be had in safety.

Becoming a Safe Place

As a final thought, people tend to have an innate sense of who they can trust and where they’ll be safe. When someone lives their life within a framework like the one described above, others often sense it. My hope is that by adopting such a framework in all of my conversations, I can be one of those people and end up making a difference in the life of someone who needs a safe place to talk.

By Ty, Writing Team

Changing the Marriage Relationship After Addiction

We addicts don’t tend to be messed up in just one aspect of our lives. It’s not like we’re just perfectly healthy people in every way except for that one isolated problem. Rather, we tend to be fundamentally flawed people, with a crack at the base that fractures and compromises us all the way through.

One common failing for many addicts is in their relationships with other people, including the spouse. In what way the marriage relationship is flawed varies from addict to addict, but for me it came in the form of abdicating all authority to my wife.

As I think back to my old approach to marriage, I think I just didn’t want to be responsible if things went wrong. If I never had the final say in anything, then nothing could ever be my fault. And so, even in matters that I felt very strongly about, I would downplay any personal opinions and just defer to her judgment.

Of course, I dressed it up very nicely. I told myself that I was just a really nice, really agreeable guy. I was self-sacrificing, unfazed by disappointment, always making sure everyone else was getting what they wanted. In reality, though, I was building up resentments, putting undue stress on my wife, and undercutting my own power. It wasn’t a good way to be.

As I dove into addiction recovery, I started to recognize this unhealthy pattern for what it was, and I knew it had to change. I realized that I wanted to grow up. I wanted my opinions to be taken seriously. I wanted to have the deciding voice on the choices that rightfully belonged to me. I wanted enough space and grace to make and learn from my own mistakes.

Now I’d like to say that my wife and I made this transition immediately and there was no drama whatsoever…but that would be a lie.

Making this change was actually very difficult and conflicted. Since I was so inexperienced in sticking to my guns, there was a lot of trial and error in finding the right tone when I did so. I’d lurch from spineless simp to fire-and-damnation persecutor, creating a lot of unnecessary tension. Meanwhile, years of experience had taught my wife that I would back down on any disagreement if she just turned up the pressure, so things would escalate even further.

At first I blamed my wife for a lot of the difficulty in making this transition to a balanced relationship. As I thought about it, though, I realized that a large part of why she expected me to adapt to her whims was because I had conditioned her to do exactly that. From the very start of our relationship, I had demonstrated to her that I didn’t want her to take my feelings seriously. So now she was experiencing the whiplash of me being angry at her for doing the very things that I had been asking her to do for years!

When I realized that, I concluded that I carried at least half of the responsibility for what the relationship was, and for why we were having a hard time in changing it. Of course, none of that changed the fact that I still wanted to make that change, but it gave me greater empathy and patience as I took ownership for my part of the problem.

Gradually, my wife and I settled into a new dynamic. I learned that it was possible to hold my ground in a way that was calm and confident. By doing that consistently and peacefully, my wife and I naturally reoriented ourselves to one another.

Changing the relationship was like wading out into the middle of a riverbed. At first, your new presence seems to be an intolerable disturbance to the already established flow, with the water violently sloshing and trying to knock you down so that it can continue undisturbed. But if you find your place and stand still, the river will soon develop a new cadence that takes your presence into account. The trick is to not be so discouraged by the momentary chaos that you quit before peace reestablishes itself. You can have a better relationship than you’ve ever had before, just by consistently showing up as the new you.

By Abe, Writing Team

Importance of reaching out

In our most recent episode, the team dives deeper into the importance of reaching out. On my journey I struggled a lot to feel worthy of being loved because of the shame of things that had happened to me and things I had done to myself and others.

Feeling the weight of the world to pose and try to project an image of “everything is good here, no need to take up any of your time,” I didn’t feel worthy of seeking love or giving love.

Even worse, I didn’t feel worthy of being loved. I couldn’t give grace to myself, and as a result, I really couldn’t give grace to others. While downplaying the hurt of others against me, I was also always looking to blame others for my lot in life. My ego got in my way and blocked me from being able to connect.

So, stuck in this cycle of trying to be brave and hold it all in, but then crushed by the anxiety that I’m not worthy of love from others and God (because, after all I falsely believed that I am a bad person), I was constantly struggling to know what I need and feeling worthy of accepting what I need.

Sounds crazy typing that out - but it is the demonic cycle which kept me in isolation and this acting out in addiction.

How do I overcome this?

I just reach out.

Uncomfortable, ashamed, or posing and trying to be brave, I reach out anyway.

I’ve learned God is big enough to accept me in spite of myself. And many of you accept me in my weakness. And together we have laughed in our weakness, seen the insanity of selfishness and shame, and prayed for and been present with each other.

As I look back over my trials of the past few months, despite the things which happened to me that seemed out of my control, the real struggles came when I tried to hold it all in and carry it myself. And the real deliverance came when, despite all of that, one of you reached out to me or took my call when I finally had the courage to reach out to you.

“Reach up, and reach out” is an AA tenant I am reminded of often. One of my intentions for 2025 is to remember how much this helps me and to regularly take action in following though.

By Pete, Writing Team