How Addiction Saved My Life Until I Could
I am a trauma and addiction counselor in Boulder. I am also in recovery. In this post, I am going to share a viewpoint that may be controversial. Before I start, I want to recognize that addiction is dangerous and has become increasingly more dangerous amidst the fentanyl crisis. Overdose deaths have been steadily increasing every year. Addiction can be a force of destruction that leaves families and communities broken. Yet, often to the substance users suffering from this experience, it is the best coping skill they have. They have found something that reliably eases suffering… until it doesn't. By then, the way out is hard to find. I am not advocating for substance use as a coping mechanism, just recognizing the reality that so many people use harmful behaviors to feel better. Why do we become addicted? Because it eases pain. This tendency is ingrained in our biology and worthy of compassion and understanding.
Addiction saved my life until I could. I now believe this is true, although I haven't always felt this way about my history. In treatment, we learned to vilify and even hate addiction. We write letters to our addiction, expressing our rage and detailing everything it has taken from us. This can be an important part of the recovery process. Often as we near the moment when it's time to recover (often referred to as rock bottom), we are so consumed with shame, stigma, sadness, self-loathing, and fear of judgment that we are immobile, stuck in a freeze response, relying on a substance to free us. It's natural for humans to seek relief. Sadness and shame aren't great motivators for recovery. Anger, however, is a great motivator. It energizes us to take action against the aggressor. When I finally got the courage to address my substance use, I was outraged with myself. I hated who I was so much. I felt judged, and I never wanted to be that person again. My rage sustained my recovery for a while.
I was motivated by a fear of returning to the role of a problem child that couldn't get their shit together. I was motivated by wanting to be seen as something other than a failure. After six months of recovery, I felt physically and emotionally better, making it easier to sustain sobriety. I had developed a nice routine and support circle and was making accomplishments I was proud of. But I still carried a huge burden of anger, shame, regret, and indifference toward myself. And at this point, it wasn't serving a function anymore. In fact, it was counterproductive. How is an addict supposed to love themselves amidst all the rhetoric about character defects, powerlessness, painful memories, and an evil “disease” just waiting to strike again as soon as I am not diligent in managing it? My intuition was leading me to a different way of conceptualizing my journey with addiction. I came to some realizations that allowed me to feel love and compassion for the person I was and still am.
Before discovering self-compassion, my story for myself was that I was defective and weak for not being able to manage myself and my mental health in a productive way. I was too sensitive and an embarrassment to myself and my family. I just needed to get my shit together, and it was my fault that I couldn't. Or I was just doomed to be that way and should probably spare everyone the inconvenience. None of these perspectives were helpful for sustained healing and growth. A more open and kind retelling of my story surfaced as I learned more about the link between addiction and trauma.
I was a sensitive kid with some deep internal wounds by 13. By 15, I was actively suicidal. Therapy and meds didn't help. What did seem to help at the time was drugs and the circle of friends that came with it. So naturally, my developing teen brain stuck with that option. As life went on, with periods of heavy use and decent functioning, I experienced more things that created a need for relief and added to the pile of unresolved trauma. Sexual trauma, time in the military, and an abusive relationship all took me further into darkness, and I was unaware of what was happening. Substances brought me peace. That peace was precious and destructive. Looking back, I recognize entirely that drugs might have been the only thing that kept suicidal thoughts at arm's length. I thank the primitive part of me that wanted to survive and knew how to ease suffering to protect me long enough to find healing.
In early recovery, I suppressed many aspects of my personality and authentic self to stay sober. I was wary of these pieces of myself and thought they would lead me back to darkness. Later in recovery, I realized I had banished some wonderful elements of my identity. I believe these traits are common among many who self-medicate their pain with substances. I am deeply sensitive and have come to recognize this as a superpower, although it is a difficult power to hold. I am creative, curious, and rebellious. I love a party and connecting with people in an uninhibited way. I like to be playful and silly and enjoy seeing this in others. The world of substance use and parties provided me with a venue to live out the things I valued.
Reconnecting with these parts has made recovery fun, and now it just feels like everyday living. Often in recovery programs, there is language about the “addict,” “disease,” or “criminal” that lives inside, and it’s our job to make it stay dormant. It’s a sleeping demon, and the slightest misstep could wake it up again. I don’t see it as a demon anymore. I see it as a beautiful, wild, and complicated part of myself. It is also tender and will resort to trauma responses and survival mode if necessary. The hope is that when we really care for ourselves in the ways we need, survival mode isn't necessary. The demon becomes a human that isn’t perfect but has your back.
We owe it to ourselves to show kindness to our addicted and recovering selves. Why do we become addicted in the first place? In every addicted person, there is a drive for survival and persistence. The leading researchers and experts agree that trauma is a common denominator in addiction. Tend to the trauma wound. Wounds aren't healed with hostility, shame, and banishment. They are healed with compassionate attention and a thorough investigation into “why the pain?”
There is a lot of dogma in recovery communities that doesn’t resonate with every person in recovery. Popular 12-step programs like NA and AA work for many people. There are also many alternatives to 12-step programs. These programs provide much-needed community, but many folks find they need some trauma-specific therapy to heal the cause of addiction. My closing desire is for you to find the path that honors all of you, not just the parts society values. Remember the beautiful parts of yourself that were supported by addiction and explore new ways of feeding them.
If you're in pain, seeking recovery, or looking for trauma and addiction therapy in Boulder, Lunasa Counseling and Wellness is here to help. Click here to schedule a free 20-minute consultation. If you want to grow more compassion for yourself or others in addiction, check out this video with addiction and trauma expert, Gabor Maté:
How To Have Self-Compassion in an Age of Addiction: Dr Gabor Maté | Feel Better Live More Bitesize
Articles linked in the text above: