No Guarantees

I was asked by a colleague to answer a few questions about coming to that place of willingness, that turning point, to describe the moment I could see myself and my disease clearly. I’ve been concerned about keeping my ego out of the way so that I can offer authentic answers, answers that reflect the weight and gravity of the experience, in hopes that the story will be useful to someone. I’ve been re-reading my old writing. I rode my bike yesterday to the corner where I finally broke down. I have completely reconnected with the pain and the hopelessness that brought me to my knees; the point where I surrendered to the idea that I was never going to be able to get high without destroying my life and the lives of those around me.

When I had that moment of clarity and was able to see the truth about myself and my disease and finally became willing to ask for and accept spiritual help I was led to the one man perhaps most uniquely qualified to take me to the solution. I knew this man. I trusted him. I could see that he was living a principled life and I knew that there was no earthly way that he could become the man he was in light of the man he had been. A transformation like that requires a greater power. Somewhere I was given the willingness to do a few simple things to follow this man down the path. So far the road has been pretty clear and dry; not too tough a go, even considering the pain I was obviously in during the first 2 months. I’ve been very lucky.

I wrote the other day, though, that there is no guarantee that even under the most favorable conditions I’ll make it to the other side of the desert. My friend pulled me aside last Thursday night to tell me that he’d been drunk the night before; that he hadn’t made it. I responded with detachment, compassion, concern. Obviously I would need to find a new spiritual advisor. Thats fine, I thought. The whole next day I imagined that I hadn’t been too disturbed by the news at all. Friday evening, however, in a small meeting with some close friends, it suddenly occurred to me that someone I love who suffers with the disease of addiction, someone who is hopeless and helpless like me, someone who had put everything he had into grabbing on to and holding on to this thing we call ‘recovery’ — had not made it across the desert. Though my friend seemed, at the moment, to have gotten back on the wagon, to be back in the group and back in the work, one can never know for sure. My own experience has been that one little incident, even followed by rigorous effort to get back, often, perhaps usually, takes one right back to the place I was before I became willing to ask for help. One little slip sends me straight off the highway. I hate crying in public. I did it but I hated doing it. I’m worried for him and I’m worried for myself and I’m heartbroken.

There is not guarantee that we make it to permanent sobriety. Even with a spiritual program many of us miss the mark. After all, we’re only human. And being human, many, if not most of us, will fail at gaining victory over addiction. It is a baffling enemy. We can just do our best, seek guidance from those who have gone before us and trust the Man With the Star.