Me Too

Earlier this week, I had begun a post about the writing workshop I attended last weekend. I was excited to share what I’d learned. But this month has overwhelmed me with an influx of addiction-related heartbreak, and I can’t not express its effect on me. Too many people are suffering for me not to. This is the purpose and the passion behind why I write in the first place. To share bits and pieces of my heart, my soul, my story, to let people know they are not crazy or alone, and their situation is not hopeless.

As a recovering addict, there is nothing more grueling or sorrowful than seeing other addicts who are still caught in the web suffer. I see so many people – some I know, some I don’t – tormented with relentless and uncontrollable thoughts of relapse, cravings so powerful they are committing crimes and becoming violent, or merely existing in a day-to-day place that bares a striking resemblance to Hell. Even those I know who have many years of sobriety are getting the shit kicked out of them by life, and wondering why bother? And I don’t blame them.

Getting sober is the easy part when compared to the endless uphill climb of staying sober. And staying sober while maintaining happiness, contentment, and gratitude? Almost impossible. Life is hard and us addicts/alcoholics come with a pesky amount of baggage. Once we give up our numbing agent, we are thrust into the big, scary world raw, immature, and unequipped to handle the inevitable failures, letdowns, and disappointments – all while lugging around that baggage. In many cases, jail time must be served for past offenses, stolen money must be paid back and unhealthy relationships must be navigated or ended. The real struggle is just beginning, and this struggle we have to face without our drink or drug to take the edge off.

A good friend of mine texted me the other day asking for prayers. This person has an impressive amount of sobriety, a faith in God, and a successful career. However, they feel alone, confused, angry, and frustrated with the relationship they are in. Going back to being a drunk is looking better and easier compared to this thing we call life on life’s terms. I found myself not knowing what to offer in terms of encouragement. I never want to offer pretentious, empty “feel good” words, but sometimes I just don’t know what to say other than, “I know, my friend, I know.” And I do know. I do understand.

I think the brotherhood that us addicts/alcoholics share is not unlike comrades in the Army. We connect on such an organic level because we have been to such depths, and experienced such pain – pain that the rest of the world mostly accuses us of bringing on ourselves – that no one can understand our walk but those who have walked it too. When our family cries, “Why can’t you just stop”, we say to one another, “Me too.” Those two words say so much. They say, “you’re not alone”, “I understand”, and “we’re in this together.” We don’t understand why we can’t just stop anymore than the rest of the world can.

When I hear about or see firsthand those that are still suffering, my heart response is threefold. First, I am overcome by sympathy pains. My heart aches for the person still in the trenches. I am instantly transported back to those trenches, flooded with memories of the desperation I felt in my own addiction. Then, I am angry. Pissed off that this disease has no mercy. It sets out to torture and destroy souls, families, communities. And finally, I feel gratitude. Gratitude because by no means is my life perfect, but it is light years better than it was when I was using and drinking. Gratitude to God for saving me by His grace, scooping up my battered self and nursing me back to a place of health, renewal, and clarity. But there is an element of survivor’s guilt that is always there. Why was I the lucky one? Why did I make it out alive, and so many others did not? The unfairness of it frustrates me.

So to my friend who is wondering, Why bother? I would say, “Me too.” I don’t have a solution to the conundrum of life, but I know how disappointing it can be. I don’t know why life gets to beat the shit out of us time and time again, while – instead of running away or numbing out – we have to sit there and endure it, but I know how uncomfortable it is. I don’t know why we can put our heart and soul and everything into a relationship and get coldness and deception in return, but I’ve been there too. And I don’t know why, after conquering the toughest battle of our life – getting sober – we still have to suffer at the hands of the big bully of a world we live in.

Come to think of it, I know nothing except this: There is meaning in everything, even unfairness and suffering. A day will come when we will suffer no more, and until that day comes, we just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other, doing the next right thing, trusting God, and offering support and love to others.

Our struggles on this earth are but the blink of an eye compared to an eternity with God!