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 26+ years. I do, however, believe anyone can
benefit from practicing the principles that form the foundation of the 12
Steps...
Every
first Sunday, I will post my attempt to translate these principles for the
general public. Also, if you’re suffering, please know that there is hope after
dope… There are links to resources at the end of this post.
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 lineage.
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
perfectly described my state of mind.
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 who have never attended a meeting have
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 $2.75 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 using intravenously,
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 or
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 will alone wasn’t
getting it done. 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 was a long and slow process;
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 winter 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. You
have to take refuge.
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 during my active
addiction, 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.
A blackout is 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
having lost track of several days. 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 where I was or what day.
I used to laugh and brag about that (it’s still funny on one
level) but it was a horrifying experience. 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, being confined in 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 realized as I became clean did the
inner work, that I was addicted to insanity. If my life was going too smoothly,
or things were going my way, or I had too many successes going on, I would find
a way to sabotage that. I would pick a fight at a bar, or destroy an intimate
relationship, or simply disappear. I didn’t know what it meant to have a
measure of serenity or consistency in my life. I didn’t know how to cope with
that.
Oh, and yes, I’ve kicked more habits than I can remember. The
problem was that 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 a Rikers
Island jail 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. For example, in my job
search one of the things that help keeps me sane is that I realize I have no power
over outcomes. I cannot control how other people behave, or the decisions they
make. My power is in the effort that I put in to my job search. Anything else,
I have no power over that.
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…
Allione, T (2008) Feeding your demons: Ancient wisdom for
resolving inner conflict. (clickhere)
Chodron, P. (2005) When things fall apart: Heart advice for
difficult times (clickhere)
Note: The featured artwork is
from Ben'h Usry [LINK].
Thanks
for reading. If you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, please
consider helping me out by sharing it, liking me on Facebook, following me on Twitter, or even throwing me some money on GoFundMe
HERE or via PayPal HERE so I can keep calling it like I see it.
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