Relapse: the thinking man’s problem (Part 1)

Relapse is commonly held to be that point where an addict recommences drug use. Well, that’s one understanding of it.

Personally, I don’t see it like that at all. For me, relapse is a process. It is a process of increasing mental and spiritual discomfort, which (if not arrested) will inevitably lead to using again. That process may last any amount of time, or hardly any time at all.

It may be characterised by “dry-drunk syndrome” (or the drug equivalent) and will usually be accompanied by a return to old attitudes, old haunts…. and a general decline into what is quaintly described by Christians as “worldliness”.

And as the defining factor of the addict’s previous worldliness was drug use, that won’t be far behind. Relapse is the erosion of the addict’s defences against temptation, of which using is merely the logical outcome.

There is plenty of advice on relapse prevention, even if much of it is only directed at preventing the final stage of relapse – picking up a drink, or calling “Drugs-R-us.” Mostly, it majors on the kind of common-sense ideas you might get in AA, NA or rehab.

I remember those little cards, much favoured at AA meetings: stuff like “H.A.L.T.”, and “If you want to stay dry, keep out of wet places”. I was especially fond of one that simply said, “Don’t drink – even if your arse falls off”. As excuses go, I’m sure that would be one of the better ones… I’ll let you know if it ever happens to me.

One of the more common (and less inspired) excuses, is marital disharmony. The guy will pick a quarrel with the wife over nothing in particular, and then utter those immortal words: “If that’s your attitude, I’m going to the pub”.

It can backfire: a lady I knew many years ago had a husband who was fond of that line. On paper, they were both trying to stay off the drink, but actually both were trying to find reasons to go back on it.

One night, he made some unpleasant remark about her cooking – as a prelude to the, “If that’s your attitude….” gambit. Her response was interesting – she disembowelled him with a kitchen knife. Naturally, an impending murder charge gave her all the excuse she needed to go to the pub.

The problem with most relapse prevention is that it focuses on how to avoid the final stage of relapse (the actual drinking or using). It doesn’t often address the process of relapse, where addicts are becoming increasingly vulnerable to reactivating their addictions.

So, for example, keeping out of “wet places” is sound advice (while one is still able to take it), but it doesn’t tackle the reason why alcoholics feel drawn back into such an environment…. and it won’t ultimately stop them drinking.

Successful prevention requires some understanding about the nature of temptation, and how to deal with it effectively. Many people have offered their thoughts about this issue – one of my favourites was Oscar Wilde, who declared, “I can resist anything except temptation”. Good fun, but not hugely helpful.

The bible, of course, has much to say on the subject: I can remember being infuriated by something I read there, when I’d just become a Christian. I was struggling to overcome my alcoholism, and I dug out this immensely irritating snippet: “No temptation has seized you except that which is common to man, and God is faithful: he will provide a way out.”

I can’t tell you how annoying that was. I repeatedly called out to God, and he never provided a way out – I’d always end up drinking. Worse still, I had to wonder just how omniscient God really was – he clearly didn’t have a clue if he thought the temptation that seized me was the common variety. I was being tempted beyond any man’s ability to endure.

Or was I? Sometime after I’d calmed down, a thought occurred to me. It was this: Just supposing the temptation was no big deal after all – that it actually was the common variety. What if the real problem didn’t lie with the temptation at all – what if it lay with how I handled it?

It was something of a watershed for me. The temptation was no worse and no stronger than any other temptation, when it first entered my mind. The problem was what I did with it. I gave it houseroom, I entertained it…. I dwelt on it. And then it overcame me.

Temptation works on the same principle as resentment: It takes no effort to maintain, and only a little thought to make it flourish and grow.

I became quite interested in the subject of temptation – not least, because my response to it was ruining my life. I arrived at what I consider to be almost a spiritual law: “The power of temptation increases in direct proportion to one’s willingness to entertain it”.

I might pray to God for many hours that I wouldn’t drink, but would still end up doing it. The reason for that was, I was already in relapse. Specifically, drinking was still a live possibility for me – and while that mindset persisted, I was still a slave to alcohol. I’d think about it, and then I would have to do it.

I remember reading about a guy who lost all his money playing poker. Distraught, he promised his wife he would never play poker again. Then he modified this promise, “Unless we have guests who insist on a game, of course – or if I’m a guest of someone who wants to play”. Then he thought a little more, and added something else, – “Or whatever other circumstances might arise”.

That was exactly my attitude to drinking. I was never going to do it again – unless, of course, something came up. It always would.

I would subconsciously (or otherwise) manufacture situations in which drinking would seem appropriate (I could never get my arse to fall off, though). Then I’d pray to God, and then I’d go ahead and drink….secure in the knowledge that God hadn’t lifted a finger to help me, and that it was hardly my fault.

And so I learned – painfully – that the problem was that I still thought drink was an option. When temptation came, I would consider it – making it far more powerful. I might then try to struggle against it, but that itself is futile – temptation needs to strangled at birth, not struggled with. I needed to come to a place where drinking was not an option under any circumstances: otherwise, I’d be doing it the rest of my life.

Part 2