“Why did you first use drugs?”
Those of us in recovery’ve probably asked ourselves this a thousand times over. (And even that’s an underestimate for some) It’s not an inquiry that’s foreign to most of us. We anxiously search our souls for the answer. We review the cringe-worthy memory reel of all the hurt we’ve been through – and caused – while using. It’s overwhelming. And the answer feels so convoluted and complex and extensive, that we’ve difficulty boiling it down to a brief explanation. But, when asked this in a recent interview, Russell Brand, the revolutionary, next-level, eloquent comedian with nearly 15 years clean from meth and heroin, replied simply:
“Pain.”
Yeah. It’s that simple, isn’t it?
We were in pain. Maybe it was physical. Or maybe it was spiritual. Maybe a drug was the chemical Bacitracin to some psychological scar. Whatever it might be, the problem remains: too many of us don’t identify the innumerable permutations of pain early enough – much less talk about or work them out so that they can become powerless over us. The result? The reverse happens. We can’t sort them out – so they come to control us. The reasons for that are many. Maybe we don’t have an appropriate outlet in which to do that. Maybe we aren’t given the opportunity. Or we don’t feel safe opening up. Thus, it festers – well into adulthood. We feel any number of manifestations of it, that bubble up from upset sentiments. And, because we don’t get to vent – however briefly – as a catharsis, they build until an outburst erupts. Maybe that outburst is a fit of rage. (Anyone else have to replace the pitched kitchen dishware as quickly as you purchase it? No? Just Hulk-mode me?) Maybe it’s binge eating. Maybe it’s drinking or taking drugs. For an active addict, adhering to even the most benign of these things is a dangerous answer. It’s cyclic and it makes using inevitable. And, the same holds true for those of us already recovering. We may have distance from active addiction, but ignoring our pain leads us further and further away from the life renovation we’re working daily to achieve.
The good news?
There’re heaps of ways to counter this descending spiral. For some’ve us, it’s meeting with a counselor. For others, it’s talking to a sponsor. For some, it’s doing a 12 step meeting and leaving right after the serenity prayer. And, TBH, I’ve tried a li’l bit of each. But, for me, I’ve come to find a simple but life saving tool to be fantastic – especially when there’s no one to turn to. In the wee hours when there’s no one but me to hear it – sometimes this trick’s my vice averting savior.
And all it is, is this practice called “labeling”.
Okay, maybe not necessarily with a pencil.
Rather, whenever a negative sentiment arises, all we’ve gotta do is simply say what we’re feeling – out loud. (Yes, it sounds cheesy, but bear with me here.) See, from “I have a mood obliterating headache” to “I’m admittedly a bit butthurt over that internet comment”, this is a completely underrated way of stopping our harmful feelings in their tracks. So, why’s this work? Because we have no idea what an inimical trigger (and the subsequent, attempted denial of its existence) can do to us. Most of us don’t, anyway. We try to convince ourselves it’s not a big deal. By doing this instead, however, it creates space between us and our gut reactions to stuff. In other words, it’s a reminder that we’re not the feeling we feel. So we don’t have to act on it negatively. We don’t have to give into the behavior we usually would at the first indication of an unfavorable stimulus. And, while it’s indeed helpful to do alone, it’s even better if we’re part of an addiction recovery group – or simply seeking help one-on-one from a professional mender of minds. Sharing authentic emotions out loud to someone – feeling understood by someone who can relate – not only helps us feel heard, but it also aids in us potentially finding the right way to handle the problem, without pouring a layer of chemical concrete over it.
In sum, honoring our less than stellar feelings doesn’t mean we have to wallow in them. Much the contrary. It’s a way to pull them over in our cognitive cop car, ID them, give them a ticket for causing a ruckus, and send them on their way. And it’s best to do that early as possible. Because that’s when they’re still as simple, yet less general than Russell’s “pain” explanation. That way we can catch these small fires and put ‘em out – before they can morph into behemoth juggernauts, begging for malevolent palliatives that only drive us deeper into this insidious disease.
And, with that, my friend, I ask:
Have you named your pain today?
Go on. List it below, if you like. And let your community come to your aid.