Powerlessness

“We admitted that we were powerless over alcohol – that our lives had become unmanageable.”

Anyone who has suffered from addiction or its effects on a loved one can attest to the truth of this statement. There were so many days spent in absolute hopelessness, struggling in vain to control this disease. Hours of pure hell spent waiting for my fix on the days when I was too sick to go get it myself. Stealing from those who loved me the most, because it was easier than stealing from a stranger … eventually feeling like such a lowlife that shooting dope was my only relief. And so it went, one feeding onto the other until I no longer recognized myself.

In 12 Steps and 12 Traditions, the author mentions hitting rock bottom as a necessary part of the process of admitting powerlessness. I think there’s a certain logic to this, but it’s got a serious flaw. Many addicts will only take a certain amount of misery and world-rocking consequences before they say “that’s it, I’ve had enough”. This is not true for everyone though. Sometimes, the addict’s morals and values become so eroded over time by sustained substance use, that there is literally nothing that will shock them to the core and get them to admit defeat. They end up dying before they can ever get there. I consider myself to be one of those people.

I believe that what can move someone into a state of being receptive to the idea of recovery, more than brute force by fear, is unconditional love. I know that’s what allowed me to believe that I had something to live for. When I had no hope or faith in myself, others around me insisted that I was worth the effort. Where I could feel nothing but self-loathing, I was gently, repeatedly reminded of my value to those around me. Very slowly, I began to open up to the idea that I could live differently, that I could know a new freedom and a new happiness.