Hola mi Gente,
I
realize there are many people who see the 12-step movement as a cult, as
misguided, or as a failure. That’s fine.
I have no interest in debating the merits of NA/ AA or in trying to convince anyone
to join. What follows is my experience as someone who’s been free from active
addiction for 25+ years. I do, however, believe anyone can benefit from practicing
the principles that form the foundation of the 12 Steps...
*
* *
Stopping the War
We admitted we were
powerless over our addiction, that our lives had become unmanageable.
-- The First Step of Narcotics
Anonymous
I was once told that
these spiritual principles were as a bridge back to life. What I didn’t know
then was that this bridge is built on the very bones of those who came before
me. This series of posts is an attempt to honor that.
The First Step confronted me with two problematic words: powerless and unmanageable. I also didn’t notice at first that every NA step
begins with the word “We.” I was a loner; “we” wasn’t a word I used much.
Everything was about me. They say an
addict is an egomaniac with low self-esteem, and that contradiction in terms
described perfectly how I felt.
Let me just say that 12-step recovery is about action -- it
is an experiential approach. Every step involves growth, exploration, and some
measure of action. I think people have huge misconceptions about 12-Step
Fellowships. People in recovery like to say that the first step is the only
step you have to get perfectly. I disagree, recovery is an ongoing process, and
my understanding of the first step expands and deepens as I grow. However,
there is a level of acceptance necessary for the integration of this step. But
I get ahead of myself…
There are several powerful psycho-spiritual factors at work
in the First Step. Primarily, there is an admission. Admitting to a problem has
become a popular notion in our culture that first came to prominence in twelve-step
fellowships. The act of admitting touches on the first spiritual principle of
the first step: honesty. However, admitting means nothing without acceptance.
For example, at one point in my life I had no problem admitting I was an
addict; I could be honest about that. But that admission and $2.50 got me on
the train, which is another way of saying that admitting by itself it is
worthless. It wasn’t until I embraced another core spiritual principle of the first
step, acceptance, that I was then able to make changes in my life.
The more NA meetings I attended, the more I heard my own
story being told by others who were honest about themselves. I began to see
that I had a lot in common with these people when it came to my addictive
behaviors. On the other hand, it took me a long time to come to grips with powerlessness.
I was raised to think of myself as powerful. I was taught that if I exerted my
will on any issue, that I could overcome anything in the world. If I had enough
cojones and worked hard enough, I
could have power over anything.
Besides, it wasn’t my addiction that was the problem, it was
everyone else. At least that was what I told myself. If only other people got their shit together and
external situations in my life
corrected themselves, I wouldn’t be in such a fix. The problem with my thinking
was that it involved exerting willpower. The problem with my willpower was that
it was warped. The more willpower I exerted, the more I fucked up. I tried
everything: using only on the weekends, snorting instead of intravenous
injections, drinking instead of using other drugs, using only certain drugs in
certain combinations, etc. The irrefutable truth was that no matter what I tried, I always ended up in the same
place: all fucked up.
Imagine a machinery part that was made to perform only one
action, or to move in only one direction, or in one specific way. No matter how
much you oil that part, no matter how much you try to make it more efficient of
move faster, it will still perform how it was meant to function. If a part was
meant to move back and forth, for example, no amount of lubrication will make
it move sideways. Similarly, if the only tool you have is a hammer, then
everything begins to look like a nail. My will was fucked up, meant to move in
a specific direction and no exertion of that will could bring about lasting change.
In fact, my will often brought more
destruction.
Simply put, I came to the realization that if I wanted to
change, I needed to develop new tools, to come to terms that my will wasn’t
working too well. And what that really meant for me was that in order to begin
my journey, I first had to surrender. In fact, as I look back now, the whole
process of recovery is one long, beautiful, liberating process of surrendering.
The First Step is like the beginning of a hero’s journey. In
the archetype of the hero (or errant knight), most heroes begin reluctantly,
clumsily, and then forces beyond their control propel them past their ordinary
lives into a journey of personal change and renewal. Like most addicts, I was
unaware of aspects of myself -- my feelings, for example, and the wreckage I
was creating. The first step freed me to begin my quest for self-knowledge and
transformation.
Admitting to powerlessness took me years; accepting that admission
brought me to the gateway of healing and sanity. That was also about another
core spiritual principle: willingness. Instead of willfulness, what I needed was willingness.
It’s part of what is often called the HOW (honesty, openness, and willingness)
of recovery.
The common misconception about the first step for those who
have never tried to apply it is that it is defeatist. The first step is not about defeat. It says powerlessness, not
hopelessness. Powerlessness is not uncommon, in fact, and if we open our eyes,
we realize that we have no power over many things. Take the weather, for
example. As we Northerners brace ourselves for a cold spell and some snow as I
write this, I understand completely that I can’t stop the snow, but if you take
the time to stop, look, and listen, you may come to realize that preparation is
a lot better than trying to control the elements. Another thing we have no
power over is how others act or think, yet we spend enormous amounts of time
and energy trying to exert control over other people. Oftentimes, we don’t even
have power over our own emotions, but we can learn to relate to them
differently.
The first step is really about admitting powerlessness over
living in the extremes. Try fighting the rain, or better yet, a hurricane, and you’ll
get a sense of what it is to fight addiction. You have to surrender.
As part of taking the first step, you take an inventory of
the consequences of your addiction. For me this meant documenting the jobs I
lost, the people I hurt, and most of all, the harm I did to myself. In
reflecting in this way, I could no longer deny the unmanageability of my life
as an active addict. This was a hard nut to crack because I never wanted to
admit my life was unmanageable. I had it together, I liked to think, I just
went a little overboard sometimes.
I was also confronted with the insanity of an obsession that
led to compulsion and how my fight would be futile until I surrendered. If
you’re fighting an inner war, then someone has to lose. If you’re fighting an
inner war, it follows, you, or an
aspect of yourself, will always lose.
Taking the first step clearly showed me that my thinking had
little relationship to reality. There were countless times, for example, that I
would experience a blackout. A blackout doesn’t entail being unconscious or
comatose. In a blackout, you can sit down one minute and the next thing you
know you missed an entire episode of your life -- while conscious.
It’s similar to what I imagine a time jumper would feel. One
minute you’re in one time-space continuum and the next, you’re somewhere else
and what’s horrifying is that you don’t know what the fuck is going on. One
time coming out of a blackout, I had a whole house-full of people wanting to
kick my ass, and I had no clue why. It seems I propositioned the bride-to-be (I
was at an engagement party) and that kind of pissed a few people off. I once
emerged out of a blackout in a different state and different year. It happened
during an extended New Year’s Eve celebration. Several days later, I woke up in
a strange house, sleeping next to a strange woman and I had no inkling of where
I was or what day.
Still I couldn’t admit my powerlessness. It wasn’t that
something was wrong with me, I rationalized, it was that other people were too
stuck up or rigid, and besides, I know
that bitch at the engagement party wanted me. Perhaps you may have never
experienced this extreme form of powerlessness, but have you ever had a
situation spiral out of control to the point that you were at a loss?
Most of all, the first step is the beginning of the undoing
of the karmic consequences of denial. I had to be brought my knees -- from
hopelessly addicted to institutions and even close to death -- and still I
wouldn’t admit my powerlessness. There was definitely a lot of evidence of
unmanageability in my life. Shit, I attempted suicide at least once. What
“normal” person can say that? More than anything, I was addicted to insanity.
Oh, and yes, I’ve kicked more habits than I can remember. I
just could never stay stopped. It was never hard kicking a habit. But
addiction, I soon learned, was not merely about substance abuse. I would get
“clean” and chill for six-seven months, but when I started again, it was as if
I never stopped. My last day as an active addict, I had spent $300 after having
been released from an institution for exactly fourteen days. I went from clean
to a $300-a-day habit at the drop of a hat.
I would say that’s unmanageable...
However, there are other ways our powerlessness and unmanageability
manifests in our lives. Whether it’s food or cigarettes, or relationships, I
think we can all look where we’re being a little self-destructive or even
slowly killing ourselves (cigarettes anyone?), suffering needlessly, or causing
ourselves or our loved ones harm. I believe we all can identify with the
compulsive need to exert control and the denial of powerlessness. I use my life
as an example because the extreme manner in which I lived it makes it easier to
illustrate my points, but we all have the dark places, the places that scare
us.
Today, I apply the first step to many things in my life,
especially in relationships and to certain behaviors. Addictions like to
migrate. One might be able to kick the heroin or the alcohol, but then you see
people acting out sexually or financially. If you don’t do the inner work,
applying these principles in all your affairs, then you’ll continue to be in
the grips of addictive behavior. The first step stipulated that I was powerless
over my addiction. Addiction is not
about a substance, but a way of thinking.
Eventually, I began to conceptualize the first step as
something similar to the concepts of Aikido or Wing Chun, two martial arts that
stress the importance of never meeting force with force. In a sense, the first
step is about learning to flow with the forces of life instead of fighting all
the time. It’s learning to transform difficult emotions into opportunities for
healing. It’s knowing that while you can’t stop the waves, you can learn to
surf.
My name is Eddie and I’m in recovery from civilization…
Resources
Addiction
is one of the most pressing problems in our society -- a society that actually
encourages consumption at the expense of substance. If you think you have a problem,
give yourself a break and try something new, it just might save your life…
Alcoholics Anonymous: Official website
Narcotics Anonymous: Official website
Alano: “The Online Alano Club is a nonprofit
association intended as a resource for Alcoholics Anonymous® members and
groups, as well as any individual who has a desire to stop drinking. Members
from other 12-Step programs, especially the Al-Anon Family Groups, also are
welcome.”
Allione, T (2008)
Feeding your demons: Ancient wisdom for resolving inner conflict. (click
here)
Chodron, P. (2005)
When things fall apart: Heart advice for difficult times (click
here)
Note: The featured
artwork is from Ben'h Usry.
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