Like I Was on Fire
Working Through Brokenness to Achieve an Important Goal
July 18, 2011
The depth of my addiction and the extent its damage has done to me was very clear in these last few weeks; and I mean that in the best way possible. I had an enormous catharsis as I finished my intensive summer course in history at the local university. And through that process, I am even clearer about how much my program of recovery means to me and how crucial it is to my mental, physical, and spiritual survival.
Three Sundays ago, in the last week of writing two papers for my class, I felt like I could lose my mind. I couldn’t concentrate for the life of me. I trudged through words and research like I was waist-high in mud and I used every single recovery tool at my disposal to get me through. I made calls, I texted, I meditated, I power-napped, I listened in on a hotline, I fed myself and drank water, and I paced and prayed. I did everything but procrastinate and act out.
Interestingly, I didn’t want to act out; I didn’t really have the urge. But some deep, dark, unhealthy reptilian part of my ego did everything it could to make me unbearably uncomfortable as I tried to write my first academic papers in over 15 years. And I’m a professional writer!
I felt like I was on fire, proof of the brokenness of my nervous system, caused by years of acting out. How crafty my ego and addiction were! How insidious! And how strong, ultimately, was my program. I was willing to be in intense discomfort rather than reintroduce the insanity of addiction to my life.
See, back in the day, I’d have spent minutes writing, then hours acting out and I’d turn in shoddy work and feel crappy about myself. Today, my addictive compulsions tried to distract me at every turn. But, given the wealth of training and work I’ve undergone through this program, I realized I would rather feel like I was losing my mind than actually lose my soul.
In my struggle, I never felt alone, though I was often scared. My addiction was hell-bent on self-sabotage but I had the staunch support of my loved ones in fellowship. It took being open to God’s will, not mine. I surrendered over and over because I knew if I fought those awful distractions rather than surrender to being powerless over their relentlessness, I would be done for.
Coming out the other side of such a brutal trial with my sobriety intact really makes me feel joy and serenity, and lets me know there is strength in admitting powerlessness and courage in acknowledging even my deepest fears.
