28 April 2021
In early April (2021), discussion at one of the SMART meetings edged toward the premise that as you move out of addiction, through sobriety, and into recovery, your identity changes. This blog explores that idea.
Defined terms help. My favourite definition of addiction is that fashioned by Gabor Maté et al. Addiction requires a susceptible organism (a person), an addictive substance or behaviour, and stress (social or psychic loads a person evaluates as too much). Sobriety is being clean and sober. Recovery is “…an ongoing dynamic process of behaviour change characterized by relatively stable improvements in biopsychosocial function and purpose in life” (Witkiewitz, Montes, Schwebel, and Tucker, 2020).
As often discussed in recovery meetings, being sober and not seeking therapy, group involvement, medical input...is called white knuckling. White knuckling describes a state in which one is hanging onto not using so tightly that all the blood has left one’s hands. It is arguably a state that cannot be sustained though I believe I have met a few people who have done just that, living rigidly circumscribed lives. In a desirable journey from addiction to recovery, sobriety is an underlying necessity soon surpassed.
One of the issues that is supposed to come through in the awkward phrasing of the second sentence (paragraph above) is the necessary emphasis on a negative condition. I’m thinking all day about not picking up or going to a bar. It is a tortured state of permanent anxiety. The more you try not to think about it, the more present it becomes.
Recovery means moving past that negative preoccupation toward the identification and attainment of worthwhile values. If you focus all day long on the eight segments of wellness discussed in the last two blogs (emotional, environmental, financial, intellectual, occupational, physical, social, and spiritual), you don’t have a helluvalot of time left to dwell on not drinking or not grabbing. Instead, you are focused on being and living.
Being arguably occurs from conception. But no human being has ever led a successful life without having direction and the energy to pursue their chosen course with resilience. So, being involves direction, drive, and resilience, at the very least. As does living.
In the days this blog was written, I received a Linked In post about a Queen’s University rowing alumnus. I’m going to use his introduction to expand on direction, drive, and resilience.
A good life is like a healthy tree with branches emanating from a solid trunk. My trunk was my upbringing in Brockville, Ontario by loving parents, followed by a unique education at Queen’s University. My degree in civil engineering allowed me to branch out into the field of municipal engineering which further branched out to the private sector into the land development and housing business where I remain to this day. Another branch is my lifelong passion for the sport of rowing. I branched into coaching the fledgling Queen’s rowing team in the spring of 1977 and have remained involved since...
A few issues arise from this statement: small town, loving parents, higher education, professional opportunities, and assertive voluntarism. Most of us, particularly if that sample is drawn from the addictive community, have not experienced these five factors. We realize this when we have sobered up and looked back at the life we’ve lived.
For example, George takes that look backward and wallows in sorrow over missed opportunities. It hurts so bad he can hardly bear to think about it. So, he finds some distractions. Television, exercise, not thinking about the past, and new friends at meetings—friends who do not want to talk about complex questions. George endures. He’s sober. Which is good.
Henry takes that same look backward and it breaks his heart. But he has been reading the Stoics, so he tests the idea that it is not the events themselves that are killing him, but his own perception of those events. He renovates his perceptions. Like this: maybe, just maybe, that situation wasn’t all my fault and maybe, just maybe, there were reasons I acted as I did. Maybe I need to understand those reasons.
Henry attends recovery groups, gets a job that pays his bills, and allows himself only one luxury: a therapist with whom he’s able to discuss his past. If Henry persists, what he may find is that his drug of choice helped him cope when he believed he did not have the strength to endure the pain of dealing with challenges. He wants to compensate for some of the promises he missed out on like small town (community), loving parents (self-care), higher education… So he takes some steps. Which is excellent.
This discussion began by wondering if people in recovery have transformed identities. I believe the answer is yes and no. As the graphic that accompanies this blog illustrates “a” remains “a”, but it becomes a1; a modified (and more resilient) version of the first “a.” And that’s a choice.
Dan Chalykoff is working toward an M.Ed. in Counselling Psychology and accreditation in Professional Addiction Studies. He writes these blogs to increase (and share) his own understandings of ideas. Since 2017, he has facilitated two voluntary weekly group meetings of SMART Recovery.
Comments