“In some ways, suffering ceases to be suffering at the moment it finds a meaning, such as the meaning of a sacrifice.” -Viktor Frankl

“In some ways, suffering ceases to be suffering at the moment it finds a meaning, such as the meaning of a sacrifice.”  --Viktor Frankl

I remember clearly the first time I truly felt it was unlikely that I would ever drink again.  I was sitting in a meeting and I looked around the room and saw others who, like me, had endured significant hardships as the result of alcoholism and addiction.  I remember having a thought I couldn’t shake.  Why did it have to be this way?  Why did I have to suffer through all that b.s. just to end up here?  Fine, I’m sober.  Is that all I get out of this entire shebang?  What was the point?  What was the purpose?

I think I better understand now the point and the purpose of that pain.  It was for me.  It was for whoever I might help with it.  As for me, I needed all of that pain to inspire change.  The first hangover didn’t convince me to quit drinking.  Neither did the first car wreck.  Or the first hospital trip.  Or the first wrecked relationship.  The first time drinking alone didn’t do it.  The first wrecked friendship didn’t take.  The broken engagement.  The arrest.  The sickness.  The hurt.  None of it was enough.  Until it was.  I had a notion I never wanted to drink again and I held onto that feeling for dear life.  Over the course of my sobriety, I looked back at my “body of work” in alcoholism and the pain and failure and defeats of previous years provided ample proof of my inability to control my drinking.  

All of the negativity of my drinking gave me a very predictive tool to use when thinking about possibly drinking again.  I could “play the tape forward” at will, whenever the thought of drinking came to me.  I could imagine, with virtual certainty that one drink would lead to two and to three and to ten.  I would return to my former habits with my drinking only limited by what was on hand, my ability to acquire it, or limitations entirely imposed by others.

My experiences with alcohol were numerous and there were many instances of pain, regret, and suffering.  I know now that I need to regard those experiences with some reverence, as they have inoculated me from poisoned thinking that I can someday drink like a normal person.  I never did.  I never will.  So, rather than regret the past, I must accept it and use of it what I can as a helpful reminder that there is no moderate drinking in my future.  Ever.

Perhaps more importantly, though, I’ve found these experiences to be indispensable in working with the newly sober.  People new to sobriety are often reluctant to admit how much they drink, how often they drink, or how disastrous it is when they drink.  It’s embarrassing.  It’s shameful.  It’s difficult to confess that type of stuff to a stranger.  But, when the person hearing your story has done a lot of the same things, felt the same way, and tried/failed to control his or her drinking, an instant communion develops.

Addiction cuts across all known classes and classifications we have for ourselves as humans.  Addiction respects neither race nor religion.  It affects rich and poor alike.  It strikes down people of all political backgrounds, ethnicities, nationalities, and personality types.  Blue collar, pink collar, white collar—these distinctions mean nothing to addiction.  Addiction will welcome us all with open arms.  And for us afflicted, some of us have very little in common other than the shared experience of the hopelessness of addiction.  But there is power in that shared experience.  Despite my many failures, people believed in me and showed me how to love myself and provide service to others.  They gave purpose to my pain.  They helped me realize my role as a torchbearer of healing, charged with the sacred task of helping the next person.  I don’t regret the pain of my addiction anymore because of the power it has to help my fellows.  I hope you too, Dear Reader, will look for ways to make use of your experiences in addiction to enhance your sobriety and guide those who seek it.