This is a question that has been coming up more and more for me over the last few months. Really, it’s about the person I want to be:
Am I being the person that I want to be?
It sounds like a simple question, but the more I think about it, the bigger it gets.
Am I being the father I want to be? Am I being the husband I want to be? What about the Christian I want to be? What about the friend, employee, brother or son I want to be?
For almost ten years of sobriety, I’ve been changing. Especially in the beginning, those changes were huge. Getting sober. Rebuilding relationships. Learning how to live without drugs and alcohol. Trying to repair some of the damage I’d caused and build a life that actually meant something to me.
But lately, through DBT and schema therapy courses, online groups and meetings, I’ve started looking at change a little differently.
I’m still very new to all of this. I’ve only really been diving into DBT and schema therapy for the last few months, so I’m certainly not an expert. I’m learning.
And one thing I’m learning is that maybe becoming the person I want to be isn’t always about making these massive changes.
Sometimes it’s about what happens in a few seconds.
Catching Myself in the Moment
I’m raising two teenagers, and lately I’ve noticed that I can be short with them.
Sometimes what they’re looking for from me is understanding. They want me to acknowledge what they’re feeling. Instead, they get Dad’s lecture about everything I’ve experienced and everything I think they should be doing.
I don’t want to be that father.
At the same time, I don’t want to swing completely in the other direction either.
If my daughter isn’t getting out of bed and her school attendance starts slipping, that’s a legitimate problem. I’m still her father. There are expectations and responsibilities in our house, and part of being a parent is enforcing them.
So where’s the line?
How do I remain her father, set boundaries and hold her accountable without immediately going from zero to seven emotionally?
That’s something I’m trying to figure out.
Because when I actually stop and look at what’s happening inside me during one of those situations, there’s usually a lot more going on than just anger.
I’m angry because she’s not listening to me.
Honestly, it’s frustrating when she isn’t getting out of bed.
I’m disappointed because I believe she has responsibilities she needs to meet.
But I’m also scared.
What if she fails school?
What if that affects what she’s able to do later in life?
And if she struggles, what does that say about me as her father?
Suddenly that anger isn’t quite as simple as it seemed.
Learning to Stop
One DBT skill I’ve been practising is STOP: stop, take a step back, observe and proceed mindfully.
For me, one of the biggest parts is exactly what the name says.
Stop.
Take a breath before I react.
That sounds incredibly simple until you’re actually angry, frustrated or activated and every part of you wants to respond immediately.
But that pause gives me a chance to notice what’s happening.
What am I feeling right now?
Why am I feeling it?
What am I about to say?
Is what I’m about to say actually going to help this situation?
DBT also talks about Emotion Mind, Reasonable Mind and Wise Mind. I’m trying to learn how to respond more from that Wise Mind—not pretending the emotions aren’t there, but also not allowing them to completely control what I do next.
I can be frustrated with my daughter and scared for her.
Her behaviour can need to change and I can change how I respond to it.
I can hold a boundary and still be compassionate.
I’m starting to realize those things don’t have to contradict one another.
The People Closest to Me
The same question applies to my marriage.
Am I speaking to my wife with the compassion and love that I believe she deserves?
Most of the time, I hope the answer is yes.
But what about those other moments?
Maybe we’re both home, the kids have been difficult, I’m frustrated with the dogs, she’s frustrated about something else, and then two bad moods collide.
She asks me something and gets a snarky response she didn’t do anything to deserve. Maybe I’m just having a bad day.
Instead of communicating that I’m frustrated—or even taking some time to journal and figure out what’s bothering me—I can allow my frustration with something completely unrelated to affect the way I speak to the person I love most.
What would the person I want to become do instead?
I could just stop.
Maybe I breathe.
Maybe instead of reacting, I say, “I understand the kids are being difficult right now. Is there anything I can do to take some of that frustration away from you?”
Even writing that feels a little foreign to me.
It feels like the person I want to be, but it’s not necessarily the person I am in every one of those moments right now.
And I’m starting to think that’s okay.
Maybe something feeling foreign doesn’t mean it isn’t genuine.
Maybe it just means it’s new.
The Person I Want to Be as a Friend
I’ve started asking the same questions about friendship.
I don’t have a huge number of friends, but the friends I do have are important to me.
So if friendship is important to me, am I actually behaving like it is?
Am I checking in?
Am I sending a message once in a while asking, “How are you doing? How’s the family?”
Historically, I’ve been terrible at maintaining friendships. I’ve had friendships right there in my fingertips and allowed them to disappear because I made almost no effort to maintain them.
That’s another area where I can do better.
And that’s really what this question is becoming for me.
It’s not about beating myself up over everything I’m doing wrong.
I’m happy with the person I’ve become.
But being proud of how far I’ve come doesn’t mean I have to stop asking where I can go next.
Growth Doesn’t End With Sobriety
Ten years ago, I wanted everything immediately.
I wanted to change right now. I wanted results right now. Delayed gratification wasn’t exactly one of my strengths.
Today, I understand that this kind of change takes time.
Right now, I might not recognize a bad interaction until hours later. Maybe I think about it that evening and realize I could have handled it differently. That’s where journaling and reflection can help me.
Hopefully, eventually, I recognize it five minutes later.
Then maybe I catch myself thirty seconds into it.
And perhaps one day I catch it before the words ever leave my mouth.
To me, that’s progress.
Recovery gave me the opportunity to build a completely different life. But I don’t want to spend the rest of that life simply maintaining the status quo.
I want to keep growing.
Asking a Better Question
So maybe the question isn’t simply:
Am I being the person I want to be?
Because if I’m completely honest, I don’t know if there will ever be a point where I can answer that question with an absolute yes.
Maybe a better question is:
Am I working toward becoming that person?
When I imagine myself another ten years down the road, twenty years sober, I think one of the things that would make me look back and know that I’ve grown is simply knowing that I made the conscious decision to start seriously asking myself this question.
So I’ll leave you with it too.
Who is the person you want to be?
What kind of parent? What kind of husband or wife? And what kind of friend? What kind of person do you want to be when you’re frustrated, angry, scared or tired?
And are your actions moving you toward that person?
You don’t need to change everything tomorrow.
Maybe it starts with something much smaller.
Stop.
Take a breath.
Pay attention to what’s happening inside you.
And give yourself a moment to choose what happens next.