Use, Abuse, and Dependence

Just like I’m not sure whey protein builds lean muscle or that steady state cardio burns fat most efficiently, I’ve never bought the disease concept of addiction. Twelve steppers will have a field day with this but the idea that I have an incurable disease whose symptoms will flare up at mere mention of using again doesn’t seem right.

I agree that AA is brainwashing and, let’s face it, we could all use a little brainwashing. First and foremost, the program gave me a place to be that was safe. Somewhere I could step outside my own thinking and be with people that are doing what I couldn’t do alone. Second, it gave me a plan, twelve steps, or commandments, that helped me put the pieces of the puzzle if not together, at least in order. It made me responsible for me.

But something struck me as odd about how adamant AA is about denying any religious affiliation. The word God is in six of the twelve steps. AA’s attempt to sidestep being tagged a religion is to follow the word God with, as you understand him, suggesting any power greater than oneself will suffice, like the power of the group, or electricity. Some skirt the issue by saying, “I don’t know anything about God, I just know I ain’t him.”

There are other inconsistencies that led me to seek other forms of recovery. In one of the chapters of the Big Book, AA’s Bible if you will, it states that if the recovering addict avoids social situations where alcohol will be served then that alcoholic still thinks alcoholically and is in need of greater perspective. This made a lot of sense to me since I’ve never really had an issue being around alcohol but slide a mirror full of coke in front of me…

So I left the hallowed halls of AA in search of a deeper understanding of addiction. The problem I found was differentiating between Addict and Non-addict. The issue wasn’t with how they differed as much as how each addict perceived what an addict was or, more importantly, wasn’t. I couldn’t admit I was an addict until I reconciled my criteria with reality. When I studied addiction in school, I found that clinicians didn’t use the term addict or alcoholic, but instead tried to place each patient along a continuum. Some use substances with no life consequences, some abuse with varying degrees of consequences, and some are dependent. In the latter, tolerance is measured as a means of determining severity. Each point along the line has a sub-category that measures functionality or how much one’s use, abuse, or dependence affects their ability to thrive.

With all this advanced understanding of addiction, I’ve come to realize that for me, addiction was only a symptom of a larger issue. For me the twelve steps were like pruning a rotten tree’s bad fruit while ignoring the roots. I needed replanting. I engaged in intense psychotherapy.

It’s hard some days not to feel gypped. I wouldn’t give up my life experience for anything, feeling as though it makes me unique and worthy of the brand. Mostly I feel robbed, now more than ever, of the tools needed to weather the storms of life.

The behaviorist would say that addiction is only a behavior that has physiological consequences and that cessation of said behavior will end any suffering. That behaviorist has never been on the receiving end of a smoking crack pipe, I can tell you that…

On occasion, a student will ask if I will ever drink again. As an ardent rejecter of the disease concept, I feel somewhat hypocritical in saying no. The truth of the matter is I still have all the isms. I’m hopelessly addicted to sugar, can’t relax in a mess, you could eat off any surface of my car (when I own one), and can be a moody, cranky SOB if things don’t go my way. This keeps me from experimenting again or using recreationally, if there is such a thing.