In which we ruminate on this morning's news:
Do cannibals get enough kudos for not eating other people? Probably not. The world may be filled with tasty, succulent people but avoidance of devouring others is one of the benchmarks for normal human behavior. When the recovering cannibal confides to us that he hasn't eaten anyone for 40 days, we're not likely to award him a medal for his restraint. The most we're likely to offer is a condescending, "That's great, I'm so proud of you."
I'm finding the same is true for giving up booze, or cigarettes, or [insert your addiction here.] You don't get points for not getting smashed and telling your boss she's an ugly cow at the office happy hour. You don't get kudos for not getting your third DUI. You don't get any extra love for not eating someone's liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti. You just don't.
Never mind that you've hit the 30-day mark without being shit-faced drunk. The fact that your hands don't shake this morning is not going to win you any prize. Because, while the fact that you didn't wake up in your own vomit may be a major victory in your own personal olympics, they just don't hand out medals for it. You don't win a trophy just because you're not totally fucked up for a change.
Here's the thing about giving up a life-long vice: No one gets it. Oh sure, they approve, they support you, they want the best for you. But if they're not addicts, if they haven't actually gone through it -- those times when you're jonesin' for your next hit, when you can feel the cold sweats starting, when you want to give in to your old patterns of behavior and the voice in your head says, c'mon, just this one last time, it's not hurting anyone if they don't know about it, and when you maybe call your sponsor or get your ass to a meeting, but you somehow manage to just NOT FUCKING DO IT, you break that pattern if only for that one time, that one moment and it exhausts you, like you've run a marathon, but you won, goddammit, you didn't do it and you're a fucking rock star for having gotten through it -- welp, your normal peeps just won't get it.
"That's great," they'll say. Or, "Wow, I'm proud of you." And then they'll say something like, "Can you set the table?" or "We need to pay the electric bill."
They won't get that every fucking day is it's own white-knuckled triathalon of avoiding your old liquor stores. They won't get why anyone would want to be drunk at 8 AM. They have no comprehension of what it means to be an addict, because they are not addicted. It's not their fault. Being normal is normal to normal people. It's their starting point.
Which is why, despite my deep and abiding issues with AA, I still go to meetings: Because despite it all, those people get it. They get it, right down to the cellular level. I go because there's a lot to be said for simply being around other people who understand what you're going through.
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