There is a group called Alcoholics Anonymous, wherein who find themselves running through life with an addiction realize they are continuously hurting themselves. But they just can’t seem to stop running. Like my dog Auda running through a parking lot with a metal table still tied to her neck, they are driven by fear and image and perfectionism. But they also justify their behavior with unrealistic alibis. After a while, they can’t imagine life without their drug. I am one of these people. No one knows more than the addict herself that, once addicted to a substance or behavior, loved ones perpetuate a desire to drink/use/eat/ gamble by asking them questions, and “bothering” them about their habits because “they care”.
There is another group called Al-anon, wherein people like those men -- people who find themselves chasing after loved ones and coworkers wanting them to change-- realize they are continuously exhausting themselves, but they just can’t seem to stop chasing. They are also driven by fear, image, and perfectionism. And, like the addict, they also justify their behavior with unrealistic alibis (“He got good grades that one time; if I were a good parent, I could do it again…She stopped using last summer; I’m helping because that‘s what God would do…I know he’s a good person inside; I can bring it out if I maneuver things around…”). I am no longer one of these people. No one knows more than the al-anon member that, once codependent with a person/ institution, addicts perpetuate an Al-Anon’s desire to control and manipulate outcomes by making things even less predictable.
Guess what normal people do? Normal people, when they see an addicted person, leave them alone. They think: Wow, when I chase this dog, the dog runs more. Maybe I should stop chasing the dog.
Of all my AA, NA, GA, and OA friends, not a single one of us got better because a parent incessantly bothered us. None of my sex-addicted friends found recovery because their spouses or partners tried to become more attractive or offered to pay for more counseling. In fact, the very opposite is true: we got better when people finally left us alone, and we were the only ones left to face ourselves. We got better when we were lovingly abandoned.
Our internal dialogue went something like this: “Wow, no one is giving me money anymore. I never realized I couldn’t keep a job because I spend too much money on this damn metal table. Man, no one is making me angry by asking me questions about my habit anymore…but I’m still running around the parking lot all by myself, with this huge slab of patio furniture around my collar. Huh. That’s weird. I guess I can’t blame my destructive behavior on everyone else. They were so annoying, always on my back, making me carry this table around! But now they’re gone…
“I know!” the addict says, “It must be the weather, yeah! That’s it! I’m dragging this table everywhere because the table is shady and it’s hot out... Dude, it looks like my friends are starting to disappear, because this table is taking up so much space in my life. And now it’s cloudy. I don’t need the shade…Hhmmm. Damn it, damn it, damn it! I don’t want to give this up, and I’m not sure I know how, but maybe since I am so freakin’ cranky and hopeless, due to this heavy freakin’ table, I should get rid of it…”
I’m not sure if you noticed, but when the addict gets help, it has nothing to do with the loved one “helping them.” It has everything to do with the loved one leaving them. And that’s a hard truth to swallow, but it is the truth. If someone is truly addicted to a substance, they will only get better when they are as miserable as humanly possible while using it.
This lesson has helped me redefine love. Years ago, I used to think that love was sacrifice. But I have since learned that when I’m giving, I’m giving in order to get (even if it’s a good feeling). Basically, I’m just working for something. This is not love. This is not altruism. This is me chasing a self-serving motive with a consequential benefit to someone else.
My new definition of love is honesty. When I am honest about my wants, my limitations, and others’ actions, people grow. They get better because they see that I’m not gaining on their success or health, and they feel free to learn how to help themselves as I model what has helped me. Living honestly rather than sacrificially defines the phrase, “fish for a man and he eats for a day; teach a man to fish and he eats for life.”