I am a person who happens to be in long-term recovery. I have recovered from substance use disorder and am currently recovering from the damage I caused during active use. Words matter. I am fully aware of the debate between recovered and recovering. I choose these words carefully and with intention. The language I use to describe myself, and others in similar situations, matter. Not just because I am a woke liberal. Not only because I am concerned with reducing stigma and how others receive me (though this is a fairly accurate statement), but because I am more than my addiction.
One of the reasons I left the 12 step program was because I couldn’t imagine a future in which my “disease” called the shots. I’d lived that life for years. My need to quiet the painfully loud shame that echoed in my mind and lingered on my skin like cheap perfume was evident in the decisions I made. The power addiction had over me was palpable in the decisions that nearly ruined my life. But I found a new solution to the painful part of being human. Through Rational Recovery, meditation, and connection, I found a way to live with and love myself, flaws and all. I reclaimed power over my life. The paralyzing fear of reawakening the “allergy” within me simply became something I had no interest in.
Let me explain…
Addiction is not a disease for which the only cure is meetings, prayers, and the continual reevaluation of my moral failures. I do not adhere to the disease model of addiction because I understand my dependance on substances as a solution to suffering rather than a progressive disease. My substance use provided me with temporary relief to the emotional (and sometimes physical) pain I felt because of the trauma I’d experienced. I became addicted to compensate for the pain of being human.
Instead of “why the addiction,” ask “why the pain?” suggests Dr. Gabor Maté. The way to deal with addiction is not as a brain disease, but as a response to human suffering. Once we unearth the reasons we are hurting, we can work through them and begin the healing process. We can eliminate the need for substances by understanding and finding new solutions to suffering.
Why do words matter when we explain addiction?
Because I am more than my worst moment. I am more than the total of my shame and suffering. If I reduce myself to an “addict” or “alcoholic” I am saying that this condition is wholly me. That my existence is so intertwined with substance use disorder that in fact, I am the disorder. I reduce myself to a compensatory condition of which I am not proud. Furthermore, the label of “addict” or “alcoholic” implies that there is no future in which I am not plagued by this problem.
12 step programs require that I fear relapse as a possibility right around the corner and that I relinquish control of my life to a power greater than myself. To further this point, there is a saying in the rooms that we must find “new managers of our lives.” We couldn’t be trusted to make healthy decisions. But I am the person who pulled myself out of addiction. I am the one who put in the emotional work and dealt with my trauma. So, thanks, but I’ll pass on the resignation and keep my position as CEO of my life.
I am more than my addiction.
I am living proof that there is life after addiction. Why wouldn’t I relish in the opportunity to gain some pride? After all, I have to look at myself in the mirror each morning and I much prefer seeing myself as a smart, capable woman who found her way out of an unhealthy shit show and into a life I enjoy. I found my way into a life I can live with joy, authenticity, and love.
Dr. Maté suggests that how authentically people are able to be themselves has a huge impact on their health and that sometimes catastrophe happens to say, “the life you’re leading is not your own.” It is my belief that my experience with addiction was a wake-up call urging me to return to myself. I was so consumed with how the world saw me that I neglected seeing myself. I suppressed the hurt and betrayal, covered up guilt and shame, and wondered why I never felt at peace with who I was.
I can love myself sober.
This is not to say that with sobriety comes total peace, unicorns and rainbows. I still face challenges, but I have transformed my relationship with myself. In this new way of being, I have learned to listen to my body, to sit with my feelings and most importantly, I have learned how to say no. None of this was possible when I was in survival mode, searching only for relief from suffering.
Through the process of understanding what my addiction attempted to solve, I have been able to see myself more clearly than ever before. With this clarity, I’ve rid myself of the layers of guilt and shame my addiction insisted I carry. I have regained a sense of pride in my ability to make decisions and let go of what no longer serves me. I refuse to live in fear of the future because I trust myself. I love myself, and with that, I know that I will never be alone. And I will always be more than my addiction.