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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“I need a drink!”

I remember my surprise and unease when I first uttered that sentence. I knew, even at the time, that I was making a statement in conflict with my values. Needs were food, shelter and clothing. Not drinks.

If any good could come from my struggle with addiction to alcohol, being asked, “Do you think I have a drinking problem, Anne?” would be it. I feel so trusted and honored to be asked.

One can very privately research one’s own answer to the question. About.com has a comprehensive list of questionnaires about drinking. My therapist mentioned a report on women and drinking in 2012 which led me to click around, find this questionnaire, and feel a wave of dread as I recognized the secret way I drank wine described for the world to see.

A lot of the do-you-have-a-problem questions focus on evaluating the evidence of external consequences – people telling you you have a problem, people asking you to quit, trouble with work or the law, etc. I didn’t have those problems and have questioned the motivating power of consequences anyway. No, drinking for me was an inside job.

Caveat: If you have any physical sensations when you delay or do without alcohol, read no further. You have a problem. See a health care provider ASAP.

If you don’t have physical symptoms when you do without alcohol, but still wonder if drinking is problematic for you, I suggest a two-part process.

Before beginning, I invite you to become aware of what you’re feeling right now. Continue to become aware of what you’re feeling as you read the rest of this post. Feelings are data. I’ll ask you about them at the end.

Part I. Answer questions about your drinking.

Here we go. I offer these questions from a personal, insider’s view:

1. Have you ever said or thought, even in seeming jest, “I need a drink!”?
2. Have you ever wanted to feel different or better – more relaxed, more in the swing of things, more in the mood, less bored, less worried, less lonely, less stressed, less obsessed, for example – and poured or ordered yourself a drink?
3. Have you ever thought, “This is too much!” or “I can’t take it!” and reached for a drink?
4. Have you ever thought during the day, “Soon, I can have a drink.”

If you answered “yes” to any of those questions, you’ve turned away from what you’re feeling. And that, I think, is where drinking* problems begin.

“[A]ddiction is nothing but a miscarried and often tragic attempt on the part of an individual who does not feel good to feel better.”
– Floyd P. Garrett, M.D., The Addict’s Dilemma

Developing a cause-and-effect relationship between wanting to feel better and doing that with alcohol is a problem. When I have feelings that unsettle me and I don’t directly help myself with those feelings – talking about them foremost – but turn away from them and turn toward something that helps me suppress, avoid, or distract myself from those feelings, I’ve actually got a feelings problem and I’m setting myself up for a drinking* problem.

Part II. Go without.

Part II in answering the “Do I have a problem?” question has two interdependent pieces. One, set an amount of time to go without and go without. Two, be acutely conscious of what you’re feeling and thinking during this time.

[How do you feel right now as you think about going without? Feelings are data. No judging, no shaming, just become aware.]

I love milk and I have it every day with cereal, after meals, and with smoothies in the evenings. If I went without milk, I would miss it. But I wouldn’t have a problem with troubling feelings or thoughts about milk. I’d be too busy living my life.

If you can go without alcohol and find it’s the equivalent of going without a pleasant food or beverage – chocolate can be a test food for some** – that’s good to know. If, at the end of the set time, you find yourself having had feelings in a pretty stable and manageable range and can’t remember if you thought about drinking or not, that’s a reasonable sign that drinking may not be an issue for you.

If you go without and find your feelings in the jagged range during abstinence and find yourself thinking frequently and longingly of a drink, that’s probably a problem.

If you can’t go without – which is my story: no matter how many times I tried to quit, no matter how much I wanted to stop, I always drank on the third day…or the second day, or the same day – that’s a problem.

So, what data have you collected from your feelings? What did you feel while you were reading this post? What are you feeling right now? The “big four feelings” are “mad,” “sad,” “glad,” “afraid.” Of which did you become aware?

If you feel glad and relieved, whew, I am, too! I wouldn’t wish a drinking problem on anyone.

If you feel mad, sad, afraid, worried, panicked, ashamed, that’s okay. I’m guessing you’re thinking you have a drinking problem. The good news is that you’re feeling feelings which is the beginning of the solution to the problem. I know all too well, though, that feelings feel unbearable without a drink. Handling feelings without drinking takes help from others. More good news, also from my personal experience: there’s a world full of others who can help.

. . . . .

If I could do my own recovery from addiction to alcohol over again, I would have asked for help on day one from my doctor. I was ashamed to tell her that her patient was in trouble. Fear of stigma kept me silent. My suggestion is to tell your doctor you’re worried. Your doctor will help you with your individual situation and will very likely send you to a support group. Here’s why and how support groups can be of huge help.

*Drinking alcohol, smoking pot, swallowing an extra Lortab, swallowing too much food, swallowing not enough food, gambling, spending, having sex, cutting, on and on – any substance or process can be used to not feel feelings or to manage or control them.

**For the 10-15% of Americans estimated to have an eating disorder, compare doing without alcohol to doing without a daily, personal practice such as reading or journaling.

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The content of this post is for informational purposes only and is not a substitute for medical or professional advice. Consult a qualified health care professional for personalized medical and professional advice.