More Things About Alcohol and Addiction

Lecturer Mark Linsenbardt once addressed the question of why a conversation with an alcoholic or other addict is so difficult. He cited changes that occur in the part of the brain whose job is to assess value. To the addicted brain, nothing is more precious, valued, and in need of fierce defense, as the substance of choice. Then, another brain region gets addled to the point where the addict is unable to understand how other people perceive him or her. Linsenbardt writes,
Those suffering from addiction literally cannot see how they appear to the rest of the world, while simultaneously placing higher value on the drug of choice over most other factors in their lives.
An anonymous commentator responded, “Being married to an alcoholic is like living with an evil-twin ghost or zombie of the person you love.” This is painful enough when the loved one began as an ordinary, pretty good, not very bad person. But conditions are even worse for the individual who started out in possession of lofty ideas and strenuously developed values.
With the onset of addiction, their conscience does not melt away. It becomes one more obstacle, just another of those rigid, principled enemies who simply refuse to understand how important it is to get wasted. For some, the worst aspect of addiction is that battle with the unforgiving self.
Despite the seeming certainty that everything entrusted to the World Wide Web lasts forever, some very valuable resources occasionally slip away into limbo. Many astute pages were authored by the pseudonymous John McC, and published at Orange-Papers.org. (Some of them are still preserved by the Wayback Machine.)
One of his excellent sayings was, “Just don’t take that first drink, not ever, no matter what. That is the answer to all questions about drinking, or ‘just having one.’”
John McC revealed to readers his turning point story. He was totally messed up when the radio happened to play Robert Palmer’s song, “Addicted to Love” and he experienced an epiphany:
I had to laugh. Just substitute the word “alcohol” for “love,” and that was a perfect description of what I was going through. “Might as well admit it, you’re addicted to alcohol.” In some perverse sort of way, that became one of my favorite songs.
John McC’s sobriety story took a peculiar turn. After three months of no drinking he felt lousy, but some unquenchably conscious part of his brain came through for him. It whispered that the only reason he felt awful was because he had recovered just enough to comprehend how awful he felt.
Rather than sink back into the bondage of the bottle, John McC made the astonishing decision to give sobriety a fair try for three entire years; to allow himself 36 months to adjust to how life without alcohol could actually be. If after three years he still missed it so dreadfully, he promised himself that he would close that chapter and resume the habit with no regrets.
How did that turn out? When the three-year mark arrived, he had logged enough sober time to know that he not only could, but would remain free of alcohol, and furthermore would devote himself to helping other lost souls liberate themselves.
Written by Pat Hartman. First published October 25, 2024.
Sources:
“Mark Linsenbardt International,” Facebook, date unknown
“What Works,” Orange-Papers.org, undated
“Sensible Evidence-based Recovery and Support Groups,” Orange-Papers.org, undated
“Letters, We Get Mail, CXCI,” Orange-Papers.org, 2010
Image Copyright: Nathan Callahan/Attribution 2.0 Generic