The question I am starting to encourage people newly in recovery from addictions to ask themselves as soon as they stop drinking, drugging or engaging in other problem behaviors – and every moment thereafter – is the same one I’m finding hugely helpful for my own sobriety: “What is self-care for me right now?”
What people with addictions do destructively – drinking, drugging or other behaviors – paradoxically feels like self-care. If I do this thing, I feel better. If I do this thing, I stop feeling bad. If I abstain, I feel distressed and stupid. Why in the world would I stop doing something that cares for me?! I begin to wail within. I simply must care for myself.
This is the abstaining addict’s dilemma. I need self-care immediately. This way works instantly. How do I not do it?
If I can ask myself, “What is self-care for me right now?” before I drink, drug or do, I can substitute in something that truly is self-care rather than feels like self-care.
The problem for me is that one moment of self-care is a snippet compared to the confetti parade a glass of wine would give me.
I have to settle for less. I can trust accumulation. I know from experience that when distress accumulates, I drink. If I practice self-care, moment after moment, I can fill myself with enough care to not drink. It’s not the totality of care I perceive wine can give me. But it’s enough to comfort me in this moment to not drink.
What blocks this simple process – replacing the perceived self-care of my substance use with real self-care – is self-loathing. At essence, I don’t believe I deserve care. Addiction is an illness, but my society – and I as a member of it – we can secretly believe addiction is a perversity. “Why don’t you just stop, Anne? Humans can stop. There’s something sick and inhuman in you that you don’t just stop.”
I have to catch these thoughts in a butterfly net of awareness. Whether they are true or not is irrelevant. I have to capture them and let them go simply through mercy: these thoughts hurt and don’t help.
It is a Herculean task to pause, ask myself, “What is self-care for me right now?”, become aware enough to identify, catch, and release self-condemning thoughts, become aware enough to answer the question, and accept that whatever I answer will be less than what I know is possible.
I do that task over and over and over again to not drink.
“You look tired, Anne.”
Yes. I am tired. Early recovery from addiction takes intense consciousness, concentration, and effort.
And it requires compassion. Sometimes I think of myself as a guest in the home of my life. What would be care for this guest? What would be self-care for me right now?
- Ice in my water glass or no ice?
- A little more toothpaste on my toothbrush or is this enough?
- A hot cup of tea or a steaming mug of coffee?
- Sitting here right now, one leg crossed over another or both feet on the floor?
- Stop and rest for a moment? Or keep going?
Such small things. But little self-kindnesses like these, moment after moment, help me not drink right now. I believe the space of loss and longing left by abstinence where jagged “don’ts” and “nots” ricochet will fill slowly and softly with small bits of tender, warm self-care.
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