No, we’re not talking about an empty bottle here. What we’re referring to is coming up empty when it involves our recovery. It may be a feeling of desperation that we have at not being able to fulfill our own goals that we’ve set or a sense of failure over our inability to remain steadfast in our sobriety.

The truth of the matter is that recovery has its ups and downs. Every one of us in recovery knows this full well. It isn’t a surprise and certainly not a shock that some days are worse than others. By the same token, some days are incredibly good and fulfilling, when everything we set out to do for ourselves in recovery we’re able to accomplish. Those are the days that stand out in our minds, or they should, at least. Why think about the negatives when we can concentrate on the good things we’ve achieved instead.

Herein lies a huge but not-so-secret way to deal with coming up empty: View emptiness as a great opportunity – and find something to fill it. In recovery, when we feel empty inside, it may mean that we’re lonely. We’ve shut ourselves off from our friends and basically sentenced ourselves to a life of deprivation. This certainly isn’t any way to live, not for us in recovery or for anyone with a sense of enjoying life. The solution is to get out among people again, to be with others who share our similar circumstances, with those whom we feel comfortable enough that we know we’re not jeopardizing our sobriety. In the beginning, this may mean that we stick to the familiar surroundings of the 12-step rooms. Here, at least, we know we share something in common with our fellow group members. We know they have our backs – and we have theirs.

Over time, as we become more firmly grounded in our sobriety and have practiced and feel secure in using our recovery toolkit, we will venture out into meeting new people in different surroundings. It may be in the pursuit of outdoor recreational activities or a hobby, travel, work or in the neighborhood that we’ll meet people who may then become good friends, sober friends, friends who may last a lifetime.

When we’re in the company of people we like, know, trust and admire, we’re more at ease and less likely to feel emptiness inside. Ideas and conversation flow freely. We may laugh, swap stories, discuss new ventures or plans. Far from feeling empty, we begin to feel energized, excited, filled with hope and promise for tomorrow.

Not every day will bring with it such opportunities. Some days, we may need to fall back on our tried-and-true recovery strategies such as going to meetings, reading recovery literature, mapping out new goals and strengthening our relationships with our loved ones. Each of these has its place in our repertoire of how to deal with feelings of emptiness. Think of it this way: When we’re actively engaged in the work of our recovery, in meeting new people, in creating something of value to our new life in sobriety, we can look forward to overcoming any sense of emptiness that may have plagued us in the past.

Meetings are a great place to break the feeling of loneliness, and I believe finding that community of like-minded people is critical to recovery. However, I also believe that sometimes the issue is not loneliness so much as an unwillingness to be alone: I don’t want to be with myself and just myself.

That in itself is something I consider a character defect. I have struggled over the years with isolation and loneliness, but I have also struggled with the ability to sit quietly and hear my own thoughts.

I remember some years ago it struck me as I was listening to a neighbor’s incredibly loud music for the umpteenth time in a row, “There’s someone who doesn’t want to hear his own thoughts.”

I think that’s the issue that I try to overcome: sometimes I need to listen to my own thoughts. Sometimes I need to be kind to myself and understand I’m not perfect.  Not wanting to be alone but feeling alone when I’m not alone (confused yet?) are all part of the same pathology. I was raised not to like myself very much.

The risk in this attitude is that I will be too hard on myself and feel like there isn’t much point in improving my character. Why bother if I’m inconsequential?  I think I’ve repeated this theme over and over: balance.  I can’t be overly focused on myself or obsess about my thoughts, but I also can’t be so disconnected that I’m not really aware of who I really am.  I can’t think I am somehow uniquely suffering (wallowing doesn’t work), but I also can’t ignore real feelings and internal conflicts.

It really does all come down to balance.

I think lonely is particularly important because feeling lonely leads to feeling sorry for yourself and we all know feeling sorry for yourself leads to all sorts of bad ideas.

But loneliness is not necessarily how many people you know or how many friends you have.  You know that feeling when you are in a room full of people, many whom know and love you, but you just feel utterly alone?  Not a good place to be.

I think there are some ways to avoid this trap, but primarily it’s got to be some sort  of personal repudiation of the idea that you are “terminally unique.”  Some people get all bent out of shape with this concept: of course you’re unique. No two people are exactly alike. What makes you unique is not the problem; it’s when you think you are the only person in the world who feels something in particular – the ONLY one who ever had this much psychic pain (blah blah blah) – that “terminal” uniqueness is, well, dangerous.

Clinging to the belief that your pain is unique isn’t helpful. It doesn’t ease the pain. It doesn’t fix the problems that might be causing the pain.  It’s self-indulgent if anything.  And when you believe you are the only one – it’s only natural to feel lonely.

Connecting with other people and hearing that your story is not all that unique does not take away from your very real issues and struggles – it just reminds you that you are part of the human race, and just as it takes a village to raise a child, it takes a village of sober people to help you stay sober.