What Brings Me to Relapse? What Brings Me to Recovery?

I tend to think that I know what goes on in my head, I mean, duh, it’s in my head! Right?

I am learning from my beautiful toddler nephew the power of the question. He is at that fantastic age where everything is followed by: “Why?”

I am one day clean and sober, my second relapse in a week. The first thing I had to do after I picked up was “snitch” on myself. It would have been better if I snitched on my intentions to pick up, but better late than never. In Narcotics Anonymous we say “We are as sick as our secrets.” There was a time when. I tried to keep my drug use a secret. I told everyone that I am going to meetings and I would go score instead. It worked for a while, and it wasn’t that hard, but my drug habit soon hijacked my life. Another time I tried to pretend like I didn’t relapse, just go about my day and never think of it again. It worked! I only had 100 one-time slip-ups and by the way, a small grain under the rug is no big deal but it adds up to a molehill pretty quickly!

The idea of abstinence is binary – you either abstain, or you use and each time is a round of Russian roulette, we never know when “just this once” will be the one time that leads us to an early grave.

My sponsor gave me a writing prompt that I will explore with you fine people: What brings me to relapse? What brings me back to recovery?

Let’s examine. What brings me to relapse, I will start with the age-old classic, my memory. It’s so easy to forget how drug use took over my life and destroyed them. Like the time I tried to score and found myself in the West Bank, or, how I wasted a great job opportunity because – a quick drug run here, then a snort-break there, running out in the middle of pitching to a potential client to recharge because I was coming down.

That brings me to another reason, my perfectionism. I tend to think that drugs enhance my performance, that they make me write better copy, and get more stuff done.

In reality, looking back at videos and photos, and reading journals, I was crazy, paranoid, delirious, and at the end of the day all that fake efficiency is engulfed by my obsession to secure my next bump.

Pain. Physical and emotional pain, bring me to relapse. That’s understandable, right? But does the relapse really help that pain? And at what cost?

Sometimes it’s recreational, and sometimes I think that it would be fun. Sometimes it’s social lube, sometimes it’s to celebrate other times in sorrow, it seems that no matter what state I am in, I feel like I need to be somewhere else.

But why? Why do I keep insisting on trying to control my drinking and drug use?

What brings me back to recovery?

I tried to live my life outside of Narcotics Anonymous not too long ago. I had lost faith in the program and faith in the fellowship. I thought I could drink in moderation, and I had felt that all the time I am spending on recovery: Meetings, phone calls, writing, reading, serving others, and studying the steps could be better invested elsewhere.

After I begrudgingly left the sober life, my life felt so empty, I had no real purpose, I wasn’t content with anything, I was easily annoyed, and found it hard to concentrate, worst of all, I was losing a daily battle to alcohol, every day I was determined to have just a few drinks, but pretty quickly the drinks had me.

I felt like an astronaut lost in space, with nothing pulling me to Earth.

I thought that the void recovery left in my day-to-day would be filled with positivity and productivity, I thought that I could finally think for myself and be myself.

That wasn’t the case.

My self-will was my new master. ME! ME! ME! ME! But I hate me! I am selfish, with no substance, and no relationships! I am lying to myself and everyone else and I am far from being a moderate drinker.

My ego was the last thing to stand between myself, and the road to freedom. I knew that for me, there is no drinking and no using drugs in moderation, the second I start consuming them, I unleash a beast that slowly but surely consumes all of me. But how do I show my face at meetings? How do I come back with my tail between my legs and admit that I was wrong?

That fear kept me from coming back to a meeting and admitting my powerlessness until I realized that I can’t live without the drugs, but I can’t live with them and that nothing could be worst than using them against my will.

The beautiful thing about Narcotics Anonymous, Alcoholics Anonymous, and all of the 12-step programs I had the privilege of taking part in will always be there, with open arms and a loving heart. I didn’t need to explain myself, I didn’t need to say anything other than “My name is Maya, and I’m an Addict.”

It’s very easy to take for granted the gifts or recovery. It’s easy to forget how hard it is to be in survival mode 24/7. It’s easy to forget how tiring it is to chase a high and race against the clock to avoid a crash. When I don’t work on my recovery, I am investing in my relapse.

So here I am, I am 3 days clean now, and grateful to be where I am.