Similar but Different

It took me awhile to admit I had a problem, even after I walked into the rooms of Recovery.  Seems kinda counter-intuitive, seeing as how I was standing in the middle of an AA meeting of my own volition.  Nonetheless, the entirety of my early sobriety was spent in the practice of convincing myself I WASN'T an alcoholic.  Naturally, I had to spend time with the drunks in order to prove I wasn't one of them.

So, I sat in the back of the hall, in what was affectionately labeled "death row" by the regulars, and cradled my gavel.  Throngs of low-lifes and losers paraded past the podium, expounding on tales of addiction and woe.   They spoke of black-outs and benders, bankruptcy and rock-bottom.  Some recalled their inability to sleep through the night without frequent visits to the liquor cabinet, others chimed sad recollections of hidden bottles scattered like so many Easter-eggs around the house.  I narrowed my eyes, graciously withholding judgement.  Each pathetic story confirmed I was nothing like them.

My experiences were at the opposite end of the spectrum from these people and I excelled at locating the differences.  I never once blacked out (I remembered every pathetic moment) and didn't experience the sporadic runs of drunkenness known as "benders" (I was drunk all the time).  I didn't drink every day (only every night) and didn't have to wake-up at 3am for a drink (because I didn't pass out until 4am).  These people needed a drink as soon as their feet hit the ground in the morning, which didn't apply to me (because I was still severely poisoned from the night before) and I certainly didn't hide full bottles of booze around my house (only empty ones).  Clearly, I was NOT an alcoholic!

I expertly identified ALL of the differences between myself and "those people."  My biggest problem was that I did not acknowledge any of the similarities.  My early sobriety became greatly hindered by my inability to recognize how much I had in common with the people who were most like me.  These marvelous, miraculous souls stood before me as mirrors, reflecting my own characteristics back at me, polished.  I didn't like what I saw.

It's easy to look past our brothers and sisters who struggle with addiction because we can't see around the differences.  We have nothing in common with them, right?  Truth is, 90% of the population struggles with some kind of debilitating disorder.  It may not be drugs or alcohol, but it's something.  Sex, food, rage, depression, Netflix binge-fests of The Walking Dead... we all have a purge-valve we use to silence the voices and turn down the volume of our pain.  The question becomes, "How is it affecting our lives?" and, "Do we recognize it as a problem?"  If we do, the 12 Steps will help, no matter the condition.

My poison was alcohol.  I drank myself into a coma every night because I was afraid of facing the noise inside my head.  Had I looked for the similarities in my story as compared to my brothers and sisters in Recovery, rather than the differences, I'd have saved myself months of grief.

Are you so different from that homeless guy holding a "will work for food" sign at the bottom of the freeway off-ramp?  He's not stupid, he's not lazy, he's not evil... he's sick.  Sometimes he's an addict, sometimes he's mentally ill, usually both.  Remember, most of us are just one paycheck away from standing next to him.