One of the pitfalls alcoholics in recovery seem to fall into from time to time is that we feel we are so unique that no one can possibly understand us. However, that feeling can only lead to self-pity, and isolation—two things I avoid like the plague.
Although I haven’t checked with my parents, I’m sure that one of the phrases they heard all too often from me when I was a boy was, “But you don’t understand!”
No one ever understood me, and that led to anger, self-pity, isolation, and … drinking. I used that excuse a lot, and as I look back, I think of all the times I went to a bar seeking understanding friends. I found plenty of them. The funny thing was that they understood me even better as I got drunk—and especially if I bought them drinks! Misery loves company. And I found many misunderstood (and miserable) drunks along the way.
But something happened in recovery. Surrounded with other alcoholics striving for sobriety, I discovered that they really did understand me—sometimes uncomfortably so! In fact, I soon realized that I couldn’t get away with that old claim that nobody understood me anymore. They understood me all too well!
In the beginning, I often struggled with obsessive thinking. It seemed like all I could think about was a drink. But I desperately wanted to stay sober, so I took suggestions I was sure could not possibly work. One of those was to call someone before I drank. It’s funny, but that phone always seemed to weigh 400 pounds when I needed to use it to save my life. My self-worth was so low that I just couldn’t imagine asking someone for help.
But desperation usually won out, and my experience was always the same—when I picked up the phone and called someone, they were always happy to hear from me, and they always helped me, too.
What form did that help come in? I couldn’t even tell you, but just talking to someone who understood what I was going through seemed to take the power out of the temptation to drink. They’d say things that made no sense, tell me wild stories from their past experience, and somehow, I’d get distracted from the feedback loop in my head to drink, drink, drink! The conversations didn’t have to be very long, and when they sensed I was okay again, they’d ask if I felt better. “You’re helping me by calling, so I can help you,” they’d say, and I thought they were crazy. They always assured me that these problems were normal and that I was not strange or different. Just alcoholic.
Soon I was getting those kinds of calls from others, and I felt a strange sensation. Not only could I help them get through their obsessive thoughts, but I also seemed to have those thoughts less and less, myself. In helping others, I was inexplicably being helped, as well. I began thinking about this strange paradox, and found many more along the way. At some point, I began to realize that a loving, all-powerful God had built these principles into the Universe.
Today, I rarely fall into self-pity, and I know I’m just a garden-variety alcoholic. Nothing special. I’m no different from millions of others who are tempted to drink but don’t give in. I realize that what the Bible says is true: “No temptation has overtaken you except such as is common to man; but God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will also make the way of escape, that you may be able to bear it.” 1 Corinthians 10:13. It’s true. I live pretty much symptom-free and am uniquely qualified to help other alcoholics precisely because I do understand them.
Wait! Maybe I am unique after all!
Yes, we are all unique—just like everybody else! I’m a spoke in a wheel, but I’m no big deal. Every single alcoholic I have ever known has the same set of feelings. We also have the same feelings every human being on Earth has! I’m no different than any other man on the face of the Earth, except in what happens when I take a drink. My type will always want more. And that’s just a symptom of a spiritual malady.
I need a loving God to keep me away from a drink or a drug today. And I’m glad I found Him (or better yet, I think He found me)! To stay sober, one day at a time, all I have to do is turn my drinking problem over to Him.
I like to visit treatment centers and talk to those who are still brand new in recovery. I ask for a show of hands of those who believe in a Power greater than themselves. Nearly every hand goes up. Then I ask them, “Can your God fail?” and immediately they shake their heads no.
“Then turn your alcoholism or drug addiction over to Him each morning, and you will surely stay sober, because you will have joined One who knows no failure!”
Watching the light of recognition in their eyes is a spiritual experience for me. Hope is born that moment, and I know that another man or woman has been snatched out of the grip of a deadly spiritual illness and now has a chance.
Recovery is so simple at this level.
God never fails.
He doesn’t know how.
