Self-destructive thoughts and feelings grow from ripples to tidal waves in people who develop addictions. But how does self-directed aggression become entrenched in our inner worlds, and how can it be dislodged?
Everyone who’s ever been addicted to anything is bound to know two feelings — craving and self-hatred. These feeling states essentially define addiction. They’re coordinates on the map. We more or less understand craving, biologically as well as psychologically. I’ve written about it and so have others. But we don’t understand its infamous partner in crime. How do people come to hate themselves? And why might this feeling be central to addiction?
Self-hate isn’t exclusive to addicts. Almost anyone you talk to about their inner world will admit to a hostile self-critic who blames them, sometimes savagely, for whatever they did that was wrong or stupid. Self-directed aggression spans many cultures. The tradition of seppuku (suicide motivated by shame or guilt) grew up in the warrior classes of ancient Japan. The Catholic Church spread the idea of original sin (leading to repentance) wherever colonialism took hold. Self-nastiness seems to have quite a hold on human civilization. But how does it seed itself in young minds? How does it grow?
Kids everywhere are notorious for one overarching concern: “I’m gonna get in trouble!” You hear it on the way home from school, when someone’s buddy suggests cutting through the construction site. Or when your friend starts opening drawers in your parents’ bedroom. Or when you lock the dog in the bathroom. There’s only one reason not to try and have some illicit fun. That if you do, and you’re caught, someone is going to get mad at you, which probably means you’re going to get punished.
Getting in trouble turns the world from bright to grey. It replaces ease and freedom with a sense of doom. So…when your friend or your little sister gets you in trouble, you get pissed off at them. Now look what you did! If that happens repeatedly, you start to avoid them, mistrust them, and dislike them. With friends like that, who needs enemies?
But around the age of four, little kids make several potent discoveries. They begin to understand that other people are defined not only by their behaviours but by the 
thoughts, feelings and intentions that generate those behaviours. They realize that other people have private and unique minds, and this discovery is called Theory of Mind. Shortly after that, kids begin to appreciate that they themselves have minds, and that their thoughts, feelings and intentions cause their own behaviours. They start to see “myself” as a human category, comparable to other selves.
This universal advance in cognitive development makes the social world a complex place and joins it irrevocably to the internal world. If you’re the kind of person who’s impulsive or defiant, I’d better stay away from you, so I won’t get in trouble. But if I’m that kind of person…then what? I can’t reject myself…or can I?
That’s the crux of it. We start judging and classifying others by age five or six. We start taking needed precautions so they won’t get us in trouble. And we start judging and classifying ourselves around the same age. But we can’t avoid being ourselves, being with ourselves, and we can’t avoid the feelings of desire and defiance that well up in our own minds. So…just as we reject others for being the kinds of people they are, we begin to criticize and reject ourselves for being the kinds of people we are. We can’t delete our inner states — states such as craving — but we sure don’t like it when they get us in trouble.
There are many ways adults get in trouble — saying the wrong thing, at the wrong time, in the wrong tone, looking too long or not long enough at the wrong person. But there is no more surefire way to get in trouble than to take powerful drugs (including alcohol) against the wishes of those around us. Other people reject us when we do these things. Yet somehow some of us continue to do them. And we quickly learn that these behaviours are generated by the very mental states — craving, anxiety, defiance — that define us.
We silently yell, Stop it! Don’t go there! I hate you for doing this to me! I hate you for getting me in trouble! The only glitch is that the person we hate happens to be ourselves. (And in case you didn’t see it coming, these are among the “parts” that IFS tries to identify and soothe.)
Most everyone is self-critical, to a degree. But addicts raise this human pastime to some kind of art. In all my interactions with addicted clients, in my reflections on my own years of addiction, I find no more lethal volley of self-abuse than the tuned self-denigration addicts level at themselves the morning after. I did it again. I hate myself. And there’s nothing more likely to trigger renewed craving than the sense of assholeness left simmering for the rest of the day.
So how do we overcome this dark spiral? For healers and humanists of many stripes, self-compassion is what’s needed. Self-compassion breaks through self-hatred, saying “I get what it’s like for you. You’re not so bad!” But self-compassion can feel foreign, and people often need help discovering it. It’s no coincidence that self-compassion is the main message behind many forms of psychotherapy, including ACT, EFT, IFS, and mindfulness-based approaches. Once you get the hang of it, self-compassion starts to extend itself, and that’s a lovely thing. Maybe that’s the reason former addicts often end up in better shape than those who’ve never strayed.
Informed by unparalleled neuroscientific insight and written with his usual flare, Marc Lewis’s The Biology of Desire effectively refutes the medical view of addiction as a brain disease. A bracing and informative corrective to the muddle that now characterizes public and professional discourse on this topic.” —Gabor Maté, M.D., author of In The Realm of Hungry Ghosts: Close Encounters With Addiction
Yes. That’s it. Now 35 years clean I feel bad every morning about the way I ate the night before. And 15 years before I got clean, age 10, I kept a diary the theme of which was how fat I was though in photos I appear to be an absolutely ordinary size. And this was the way in which I was bad or about to be in trouble in the world, according to my parents. Self compassion is still a weak muscle for me. I don’t trust it to keep me safe from myself. I still look in the mirror and instinctively wrinkle my nose. I once had a therapist who, when I told her I couldn’t stand to look at myself in the mirror, said “so don’t look.” It was a start, actually; I’m less fierce and incessantly critical than I was. But I’d love to hear how others have practiced this art – and when practice makes its way into belief, or at least relief.
HI Lisa,
Beautiful post. For me, my addiction was my obsession with getting my son clean. I developed my own set of insane belief systems along with my own sense of shame and failure on the battlefield. At my lowest, I was completely bankrupt of any sense of self or perspective. When I surrendered to the pain and stood with it, I started to heal. I learned to co-exist with it and not fight it. I befriended myself. I learned to identify my fears, to stop making comparisons, and to identify and release judgement into reflections where I sit and feel peace. It takes practice. Daily. I show myself compassion and my compassion for others has flowed enormously through that. It’s freeing. You deserve it.
Janet, thanks for your thoughtful response and what you shared here elsewhere. I will go read your guest blog as Marc recommended after I write this response. I have done duty with an addicted ex-husband and an addicted daughter, too, and have had the experience, as you so beautifully put it, of being ‘bankrupt of any sense of self or perspective,” so consumed was I by trying to rescue her, and to resent/rage at/blame him into changing. I still don’t have a lot of skill at self-nurturing (and oh yeah, practice is helpful, when I practice!) But I have been able to let my daughter go (she’s clean now 9 years but has bipolar disorder which can make our lives unmanageable), and to my profound surprise, discovered a deep well of compassion for my ex. I say discovered because I didn’t aim for it or work at it. I only worked on letting go of my grief and anger about the life my children and I didn’t have–my own “failure on the battlefield,” as you again so beautifully put it–to accept the one we did. Compassion for their father was a byproduct–an unexpected spiritual gift. I feel heartbroken for him, and the relationships he failed to form with his girls, and his life so diminished by addiction and by a pathological self-centeredness that he couldn’t outgrow–not because he was a terrible human being , but because he was a broken one. Maybe more compassion for me, will come in time. Very best wishes to you.
Lisa, This is exceptionally exquisite and so full of the grace we all seek. To move from resentments to that level of acceptance and compassion is a spiritual journey of the highest order. I could feel the lift while reading your words. Thank you ever so much for this. We are all connected. My very best to you. Janet
It’s gratifying for me to see this intimate and intricate conversation unfold between the two of you. Both of you have perspectives that include these rich deposits of wisdom and good sense…which can be so helpful to other readers.
This is exactly how I’ve wanted this blog to work. Keep it up! And I’m hoping other readers will contribute as well, either on this thread or on other matters you find important and/or challenging.
My A.D.D. brain has lost site of the topic after all my reading comments its here. I know it’s about the damned addicted brain (I have one), and having compassion for oneself… I haven’t read your blog in a while. I was addicted to meth (the last of many drugs I’ve put down). I’ve finally moved out of Florida, which became my Prison. I’m in the mountains if NC. I read the newspaper here. Yep, there is plenty of that evil dope here too. A town of only a little over 1,000 people. Yet, it’s good I have no idea where to go for it. Yes, craving, and I think of it. It’s been about 2, maybe 3 months clean, I really can’t remember. We moved here Feb 7th. To Moms. Then our apartment Feb 14th. Now, my food addiction has taken off …again. ugh. I strive to hike and plan on losing weight, failing with food. Carbohydrates are the craving. I’m rambling . Have to get hubby to work
Well, thanks for checking in, and yes, it’s about self-compassion. Instead of putting it at the end of a long list of shoulds, just do it. Right now. Say, I forgive you. It can work that quickly!
Beautifully put.
saying we are ‘clean’ hits towards the point of much of this – learned behaviour – so much of it comes from the moral basis of the laws and the attitudes towards drug use – even ‘recovery’ smacks of it – that thing that requires a disease or a moral failing at its core to thence need God or some miracle to get “clean and sober” – addiction lies in the realm of those whose self esteem has already been worked on via attachment issues and trauma, which instils anxiety in the brain which tells one they are what those around them say they are – dirty and sick and in need of cleaning – Mate’ says this, how we treat the traumatised by traumatising them more so they can realise the messages they tell themselves are true and thus they can never be ‘normal’ – always in need of reminding oneself just how bad a person they became – not for me – i believe very much on the newer strength based positive psychology, not this deficit morality that only worsens the self hatred
I have no words… Beautifully put; thank you. Surely I can do better when it comes to self compassion; I’ll check out this newer strength based positive psychology you speak of. If you don’t mind me asking, do you have any recommendations for potential readings in this regard?
Scientific articles, peer reviewed research, books, etc.. I’m open to anything, really.
Hi Lisa K. It’s been a joy reconnecting with you after all this time. For anyone else who’s reading this, Lisa was a major force in helping me fine-tune The Biology of Desire. Her editing merged discipline with love, and that seems the ideal formula for raising healthy beasts.
Lisa, I’ve really enjoyed watching the discourse between you and other readers take shape, without butting in, at least so far. But I just thought of something I wanted to share right away. This whole self-compassion thing, which you, Janet, Tim and others get so thoroughly…when you sense it at the group level it’s almost identical to the social baseline in social baseline theory. (See two posts ago) Self-compassion, shared with like-minded others, is this warm water that keeps us afloat. I mean it not only forgives whatever we think we did wrong, not only absorbs that debt, but it it creates an aura that surrounds us on all sides, future as well as past. Know what I mean? Maybe compassion can flow and accumulate — yes, like water — so that it buoys us up in ways we can’t identify, don’t need to identify.
I don’t have a clear idea of this yet, but it seems like a cool concept. I’m not even sure that any kind of “group think” is necessary for that spreading effect, that sense of it surrounding us, globally, comprehensively. I want to think about it more, and I hope others will pick it up and play with it too.
Dear Marc,
lovely to CONNECT, or quasi-connect, as you point out in that blog post. Yes that AURA, yes it flowers when shared, maybe for me only when shared. I have lived habitually in denial that I need connection with others — my self-protective response to emotionally absent parents who were uncomfortable with physical expressions of affection, but who had lots of opinions about and standards for my physical body. If no one is going to take care of my need for empathy and reassurance and understanding and to be held then “FINE! I’ll be FINE by myself!. Addiction was one expression of both the yearning and the denial of yearning, but this I’M FINE strategy took other tolls, as well, which are still revealing themselves to me.
If I understand it, the ‘social baseline theory’ like ‘affect regulation theory’ reminds me that I don’t just live alone in my head, but in my body in the context of attachments and relationships, just like other human beings do. I forget this, all the time. I think I need ‘group level’ to even get to individual level compassion, because I did not learn how to care for myself to start with, because of the ways in which I was not cared for. So I need like-minded others to remind me that I am capable of feeling compassion and of extending it; and to model for me, how compassion can possibly be extended to me in particular. Being with them, reminds me that my compassion for them is not contingent on how well they perform. It’s their very humanness, that makes them lovable; their humanness that is also so fucking consoling to me. And through others, not always but sometimes, I get glimpses of the self they see me to be; someone they seem to like and care for. They don’t see me t through a veil of shame and self-criticism. I have absolutely no idea why my husband loves me in light of my profound flaws, but I get that he does, and so I ask myself: what the hell does he love in here? Let me see…..
OK now I’m going to retreat alone to my room and read a book, this connection /compassion thing is just so exhausting.
Lisa, your comment really speaks to me…in so many ways. That message that one wears like padding, like a bullet-proof vest, I’m FINE! Yes, I have done that for much of my life as well. Then we lick our wounds in private, when no one’s looking. Indeed this connection we discover with other flawed humans feeds us, allowing us to be compassionate and then to recognize ourselves as compassionate and then — holy shit! — I’m not only providing this stuff, I’m being nurtured by it myself. I’m one of them, one of us! Then it’s not such a big step to open that gate to ourselves FROM ourselves. I think the genius of IFS is to recognize so clearly that we can care for ourselves, from inside…we don’t need to go around gathering supplies from others. And yet, that sense of being “one of us” in this reservoir of joint care and forgiveness…that does seem a valuable step in finding our way to self-compassion.
In dealing with clients eaten up by shame, I often wonder, How can you possibly hold yourself accountable for what any child would do under those circumstances?! The hiding, using substances to just feel better, eating or drinking enough to feel full…it seems almost bizarre, these shameful secrets we keep hidden. Then when it comes to our own shameful secrets…well I’m certainly not going to let that out of the bag! Skewed perceptions all around. Softened and then hopefully dismantled entirely by seeing ourselves as merely vulnerable, merely human, trying our best to keep going.
Hey Marc, love this piece. Really can relate to all aspects of it and it ends in such a hopeful way. William Blake did say “The Road of Excess leads to the Palace of Wisdom”. I think that should be amended to “CAN” lead to the Palace of Wisdom. I know my own struggles with my addictive tendencies has led me to develop deeper self awareness and an arsenal of tools I use to make it through each day. Lately I have been thinking about each day of life like a Rock Climber – like Alex Honnold climbing El Cap or Tommy Caldwell finally nailing the Dawn Wall – if each day we learn to pay attention we can learn from our mistakes and develop the tools (“moves”) to make it through one more day. And what I would add to what you have written one of the best tools of all is to learn to Celebrate as we move forward, as we ascend each day and learn to be our own best friends and allies.
Hello Tim,
I love your post. Yes, regrets can become wisdoms. Awareness, acknowledgement, acceptance… and the action is self-love. Thank you for posting.
That’s just beautiful, Tim. Truly inspiring in a mellow, warm-hearted way. I read your comment when it first appeared. I just wanted to let you know that it landed well with me.
Hello Marc and fellow Travelers,
Marc, as you always illuminate. “Self-compassion” yes. It has taken me, as the mother of an addict, much time and self- healing to have the proper compassion for myself and for my addicted son. I have had to forgive myself for all the things I believe I did or didn’t do, as I felt I had failed as well as I could not fix my son. I know my son has these feelings of self-loathing as well as he cannot stop using. Our suffering is acknowledged and now accepted and we are not at war with each other. I am no longer at war with myself. I do know my son is still on the battlefield and at war with himself.
My son is now 39 and living in the streets of San Diego, California. I feel only love for him.
The last time we spoke he said, “I could get clean but I always relapse.”
My heart swelled with love and compassion instead of fear and recrimination, and I said, “I understand. I love you. I believe in you.”
And he said, “I know.”
Good to hear from you, Janet, and thanks for your multiple comments. You make the issue come alive with your intimate and honest portrayals of what it’s been like for both of you…the journey as it has unfolded for parent and child. I’m more than happy to hear how you’ve settled — after so much struggle — at a place of compassion for yourself and your son. I urge readers to look at Janet’s “guest memoir” (https://www.memoirsofanaddictedbrain.com/guest-memoir/immortal-pain-loving-an-addict/) — a window on her intense feelings about his addiction from roughly ten years ago — in comparison with her sense of things now. You’ll find a vivid description of her journey from agony and despair to a kind of acceptance and forgiveness that most people can’t even imagine.
Thank you dear Marc. Your book over 10 years ago, was a massive breakthrough and illumination for me. Since then, I’ve never stopped learning, and growing. And this blog community has been such a resource of knowledge and comfort. I am always so grateful that our paths have connected. Thank you for your kind words about my memoir. Writing here, and connecting with others, has been part of my healing and understanding. We are all in this together and need each other. We can be happy and hurting and healing all at the same time. Thank you again, Marc, for the work that you do and for your human kindness.
Wow. That’s a major mood boost on a grey fall day. Thank you for that! Yes, community is absolutely necessary. This sharing, mutual learning, informing, accepting, being heard, and at least symbolically being held….it’s really just Social Baseline Theory writ large (SBT was reviewed two posts ago, here: https://www.memoirsofanaddictedbrain.com/connect/the-pandemic-spike-in-overdose-deaths-and-the-meaning-of-isolation/). Deep change is fundamentally risky, especially when loved ones are impossible to find…so we need to be buoyed up by our conversations with others who get what we’re going through, who’ve been there, or at least part way there, themselves.
I loved your post, Marc, and especially Janet’s heartfelt replies and her acceptance of her son’s path too. My son is still at home, still bingeing and making his life really miserable. I ache for the happy child he was, everything went wrong after he turned 17. Our drinking played a role in it though, and I accept that. I’ve been sober 6 1/2 years and my husband, 15 months, so that is real progress.
Through my own sobriety, I slowly learnt compassion and self-acceptance. I can now embody that and extend it to our son. We take long walks together every week. We talk for at least an hour a day, and I know by listening, it helps him a little bit. At least he is heard. We live with his anxiety and mood swings daily. By being calm and peaceful, we can get through it.
I’ve noticed that many addicts aren’t only stigmatised by most people, but also by healthcare professionals. My son has experienced that. When I talk to homeless/vulnerably housed people, I hear that as well. This is on top of their self-hatred, and that’s TRAGIC 🙁
My job is to be empathic, grounded and to listen. Listen to that deep pain, reflect back and make 1 or 2 practical suggestions. That’s all I can do, and that is good enough. Peace to all who endure this. It’s a path of inner transformation, for sure.
Rather than judge, I prefer to be The Change….
Occasionally reminding a person that it was they themselves that initiated change, by reaching out to a professional, or going to some kind of recovery program, is, in effect, holding up a mirror to them, helping them to recognize and realize their own sense of self-worth, and even self respect.
Hi Carlton. Good to hear from you. Yes, that’s a good point. These acts of self-help, self-promotion, self-healing…are expressions of self-compassion. Only we tend to let them go by without recognizing them or acknowledging their worth. It is indeed helpful to attend to what we’re doing when we’re being good to ourselves, to offset the default focus on “doing wrong,” which we attend to so savagely.
The act of “saying No” was very important for me to focus on when I was climbing out of addiction at age 30. But it wasn’t just the negation of using that helped me, it was the sense of finally being there for myself, taking myself in hand. That had — and still has — tremendous value.
The thought that I could finally be there for myself, take myself in hand, and with compassion, after dealing with addiction for the last 20 years brought instant tears to my eyes. I have tried so many times and so many different things. I am feeling desperately hopeless.
I totally agree with your last sentence. Seen in self and heard from many others. Kind of amazing .
It’s good to hear so many people affirming self-compassion. You are right – we humans need each other. I spent so many years being socially avoidant and now regret it very much.
Lisa K and Annette mention bingeing and this relates to me. Last night I couldn’t fall asleep at my usual time, so I just ate, overate. Like an automaton. “Something in my nervous system isn’t working, so I’ll just walk over to the fridge.” When this kind of thing happens again, I would like to sit with the (intolerable) discomfort and make friends with it, as someone mentioned in this thread. It probably isn’t intolerable after all.
Thank you to all who have written in, sharing their experience and wisdom.
I’ve been reading and re-reading the posts and comments of the last few months. Especially about IFS and related approaches to addiction. So the next time that I feel comletely helpless and rigid like I’m turning into a robot, I can say “Hello Firefighter, you’re here again, you’re controlling me. But maybe you’re not the only part here. Maybe I can talk to you.” For me the Firefighter is powerful and not in need of compassion, he’s in control. But maybe he has a hidden side.
What I’m getting is that every part of ourselves needs compassion and understanding, an acknowledgment that they’re here and want recognition and care.
bye for now
Dear Marc
Here is something that I have been working on since a serious relapse earlier this year. I leave it to you to decide whether to post it.
THE THINGS YOU DON’T NEED TO TELL ME
No matter how much you love me, no matter you’re just trying to help. You are not helping: just making it worse.
I already know what you’re going to say and why and that’s the problem. I know all that and more. That’s what’s making me behave like this. I’m not ignoring you. It’s not denial although it is deceit and evasion. It’s not rejection and wanting to go back to my old ways. No! It’s because I know. I’ve already said it. I wrote the script.
I know it all and it’s true and I hate myself. I am crippled by my shame and sick with guilt and fuming with anger, so very angry, angry with you and with everyone and with everything but most of all I am angry me.
I don’t want challenge on any of this and I don’t need reminding of all those reasons, those simple obvious reasons, why I should do this or stop that or “seek help”. No, it’s not lists of reasons I need because reason is not willing, reason will not do it, it’s never ever enough.
At first, I’ll smile and nod. I’ll shake my head and say “Not now love please”. But no, you press on. So, then I’ll agree with you, and admit you’re right and tell you how sorry I am. Of course, it’s all my fault- but don’t you realise that I know that already? Don’t you remember going through this before not once but time and time again?
Then, as agreement fails, I’ll argue back, just to be left alone, just to get away because I cannot make you stop (oh stop for goodness’s sake) can’t you see? No. You cannot see and so you press on “only trying to be helpful”, pleading with me explaining to me.
Pressured like this, threatened – cornered even. You now provoke my anger- not my love- and it will be both barrels and I will vomit out all the seething resentments that I can lay hands on as I’m forced to defend myself, to justify myself: to turn the tables and to blame you.
We will argue and as it builds and you too become lost in the storm we will fight: mercilessly tearing lumps out of each other and finally I will storm out and I WILL GET BLASTED. I cannot see any another way and don’t believe that I will ever change so please, please leave me to it. Let’s not start. But we start…….
And after a few drinks, when the storm has subsided, then there is the grief, for what I did and said, the loss of self-respect and the guilt for the many offences committed: and then the shame, shame for the loss of reputation, of status and the power to act. And with shame, and a few more drinks the malignant blaming: of myself but then others and then more.
If I can’t have my place, out there with you and them and in the world, then at least I can have my corner, in here, out of sight, that private secret space that I can have to myself alone with my thoughts. Alone. Not bothering anybody and nobody’s business but mine. Retreat but no respite because? -because I take your words with me and I turn them over and over and they turn over and over making their way deeper with every iteration.
Step by step through all these way stations, these changes, eventually the end of the line, my destination, self-pity, and the resentments: a parade of real and imagined wrongs. The sharpest- being those of the past few days then those most ancient, offences though they cut deep at the time were not seized upon, when I did not retaliate but swallowed them whole so they were stored up and saved for later, when they could be regurgitated and fed on like this.
And then nothing- out for the count.
Then there is “After”. When it has worn off and consciousness of some kind creeps in and wakes me half-dressed and lying alone, the realisation, “Oh not again!”. Oh yes again and just as before and where has it left me but in the same place as before a return to the beginning with my loss and regret my shame and guilt freshly burnished and no further forward.
I’ve set this out as if it were a real clash between two people, it could be with a parent, a friend or lover, a husband or wife, but look closer and see the real fight, the fight with and within oneself- no need for another in fact that other is superfluous. Memory imagination and even love itself will recall and roll out a cast of as many characters as necessary: those we have hurt, those we have offended, deserted, or just ignored. There need be no other. The other changes from place to place, morphing with time and circumstance but this one, the real one, is constant-true even, always the same, all seeing all knowing: final and unavoidable. But only ever after the event, never in the moment of action when, so it would appear, that the decision is made and the dice cast. The puzzle of addiction is the notion of free will.
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Notes
Arthur Schopenhauer put the puzzle of free will and moral responsibility in these terms:
Everyone believes himself a priori to be perfectly free, even in his individual actions, and thinks that at every moment he can commence another manner of life … But a posteriori, through experience, he finds to his astonishment that he is not free, but subjected to necessity, that in spite of all his resolutions and reflections he does not change his conduct, and that from the beginning of his life to the end of it, he must carry out the very character which he himself condemns…[41]
Schopenhauer, Arthur, The Wisdom of Life, p 147
The phenomenon of Akrasia, wherein people seemingly act against their best interests and know that they are doing so (for instance, restarting cigarette smoking after having intellectually decided to quit).
Self-explanatory really.
“For the good that I would do, I do not; but the evil which I would not, that I do.” (v.19) St Paul.
in Edmund Spenser’s The Faerie Queene, book II, Acrasia, the embodiment of intemperance dwelling in the “Bower of Bliss”, had the Circe-like capacity of transforming her lovers into monstrous animal shapes.
Psychologist George Ainslie argues that akrasia results from the empirically verified phenomenon of hyperbolic discounting, which causes us to make different judgements close to a reward than we will when further from
Hi Joe,
Thank you for such a vivid description of the intense feelings of rage, shame and sadness that accompany relapse. I can identify completely, having experienced this many times in the past, only I don’t have this experience so much anymore. I thought I should reach out in case there is anything helpful for you in my experience.
I agree that such feelings of disappointment and anger towards myself only made everything much worse. Every time I relapsed, the feelings of powerlessness and rage towards myself ensured that the relapse was always violent and never gentle. What is needed is to find a way towards a gentleness and self-compassion to prevent the relapses being so violent and dangerous. If you can be more gentle with yourself during a relapse, you have a better chance of hurting yourself less and getting back on track more quickly afterwards.
I personally found that I had to self-direct myself towards getting there because there really isn’t any one solution that fits me. I’ve been reading different books over the years to try to find new tools. Marc’s book biology of desire was a huge breakthrough in helping me to stop blaming myself. Prior to that I’d only really been exposed to 12 step programs which were no good for me. The first step is to admit you are powerless, which I personally find utterly terrifying and it made things worse, not better. Marc’s approach is so much more empowering and gave me the first opportunity to respect myself within the struggle, helping me understand what was actually going on. That was the first blow in the fight against the idea that the blame or wrongness lies inherently in me. I began to see myself as more heroic and my struggle as righteous. After all, everyone deserves protection from emotional pain. The goal is to understand how we create our own suffering so we can stop doing that.
Parts therapy has been tremendously helpful for me in recognising the different parts within – the emotional suffering part that gets triggered by something, the enraged critical part that is trying to control the urge to use, and the rebellious part that says ‘I don’t care, I’ll do whatever it takes to stop the pain’ who is going to use anyway, no matter what you want. The part insisting on using has an instinct to protect the vulnerable part from the pain of condemnation, shame and blame, so even mild criticism can make the urge to use stronger.
I had a huge shift when I finally felt and understood that the part that isn’t listening, and makes me drink, is trying to protect me from the angry controlling part. Once you recognise that, you begin to feel appreciation for it. I also used to be afraid of the angry critic, because it made the shame and painful emotions worse, but now I see it was trying to stop the relapse in the only way it knew how. I feel sorry for its desperate rage and have compassion for it now.
It’s really important to get in touch with each of these parts. You have the insight to recognise the critic from an external source and also acknowledge it has been internalised. Marc’s book explains the layering of experience within the neural pathways. This means another person expressing concern will trigger an internal shitstorm of every criticism or expression of disappointment anyone has ever made concerning your using.
Another thing that really helped me is the work of William Porter, who in my view has de-pathologised alcohol addiction by explaining how the problem lies with the drug itself, and the brainwashing around it rather than with the person who is addicted to it. This goes against the mainstream which treats the addict as the problem. He busts the myth pedalled by the alcohol industry that we should be able to drink ‘normally’. He breaks the problem down into components and dealing with them separately makes them easier to manage. He addresses the mythology of the normal drinker and societal brainwashing story that everything is better with a drink. He explains the chemical reasons why the reality of the drink can never measure up to the idea of it. Once you recognise that almost everyone somewhere on the spectrum of addiction with this substance and we have all been set up to fail, this also reduces the rage you feel towards yourself. William has a huge youtube presence which is free. He can be pretty disparaging about alcohol and what a dirty drug it is, but I found it effective and helpful.
Another huge discovery for me has been that by quitting sugar and living keto, most of my physical cravings go away. I realised my primary addiction is to sugar. Alcohol was the way I was mainlining sugar.
So in my journey, I have been addressing the physical and mental sides of the problem, learning to think about it differently. Internal Family Systems work has begun addressing the complex emotional issues behind why I felt so vulnerable in the first place. It has also helped to diffuse some of the powerful arguments going on internally.
My latest discovery is Anna Runkle’s work on CPTSD which has provided me personally with some massive missing pieces of the puzzle. In particular she describes the concept of an emotional flashback. This is a terrible feeling that can hit you out of the blue and trigger a relapse. I couldn’t understand why it happens to me until now. Nobody else who doesn’t have CPTSD would understand it either. There is a ton of her work available for free on youtube if you search ‘Crappy Childhood Fairy’.
Hopefully there is something helpful for you here and I wish you all the very best for 2022. Just remember, getting better is work and there is no need to beat yourself up so badly.
Best,
Suzi
Hi Suzi,
I came across your comments only a few days ago when Marc drew my attention to your post. Having read them again I need more time to digest and understand but I did want to say thank you for taking the time and for your kindness. This “parts” approach is new to me so I’m not quite sure how to take to it. I will reply further. thankyou again.
Hi Joe,
I just found this short infographic Internal Family Systems Introduction in case its helpful:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jQLtdIsLjLI
Richard Schwartz, the founder of IFS has a lot of talks on YouTube.
I specifically used IFS to work on shame and inner conflict in an addiction context and I cannot recommend it highly enough.
Best wishes,
Suzi
Finally I get round to replying but I’m sure it wont be the last word. Thanks again for your comments which cover a very wide area some obviously personal to you but others more general.
I have for some time recognised that emotional distress lay at the cause of relapse and most probably plaid a major part in the development of my habitual and self destructive drinking. Like most men of my age I was expected to be able “to deal with it” and I did, after a fashion. You put is so well in these two sentences
“After all, everyone deserves protection from emotional pain. The goal is to understand how we create our own suffering so we can stop doing that.”
The insight gained from reading and reflection on the contents of this blog was to recognise the parts and see them as parts, bits, and not as myself, the whole. This despite a yearning to be whole. Not an easy task to accomplish and so tried just letting go of taking sides in these inner conversations and stop the bullying.
Well I will say that it is a work in progress. I find the whole business of “self care/compassion” is quite alien to my way of thinking. I now recognise that as a mistake, a misunderstanding and something to spend some time on. I will also follow up on the leads and links you have given.
Now that it’s not so raw I will have another look at my original post. i think, I know it has further to go, but not quite sure yet.
thank you again and best wishes to you.
Warm Regards
Joe.