An addict alone is always in bad company.

There is no discussion to not agree with the above statement. Both statements. It is known that the time in severe active addiction, is a very lonely and depressive one. It's a road that has no sideways, no crossroads. It's waiting until you finally hit that roadblock. The outcome for most of us is jail, institutions, or death. It's a traumatizing, stigmatized road. It's also one containing nothing but dirt and gravel. I can only speak for myself, because I've learned that my feelings and point of view are solely mine. Others may agree or disagree, and both perspectives are valid.

In the depths of addiction, every day feels like a struggle. It's a relentless cycle of cravings, guilt, and shame, with no respite in sight. It's a solitary existence, as we drift further and further away from the people we love and the lives we once knew. Despite the outward appearance of functioning, inside, we're drowning in a sea of chaos and self-destruction.

I have a predilection to failure, and it is attractive to me. I am conditioned like that. As Mark L. says: My addiction is called "First thought wrong.

Growing up in a troubled environment, I learned to cope with failure and abandonment from a young age. All I felt was failure and abandonment. Resulting in Reactive attachment disorder. These experiences left deep scars that I carried with me into adulthood, fueling my addiction and perpetuating a cycle of self-destruction. Recovery has been a journey of healing those wounds and learning to love and accept myself, flaws and all.

For me, addiction wasn't just about using drugs or alcohol to escape reality; it was about trying to numb the pain of past traumas and the constant feeling of not being enough. It was about seeking solace in substances that promised temporary relief but delivered only more suffering. It's a vicious cycle that traps you in its grip, making it seem impossible to break free.

Recovery, however, offers a glimmer of hope in the darkness. It's a journey of self-discovery and healing, as we slowly learn to confront our demons and rebuild our lives from the ground up. It's not an easy path, by any means, but it's one worth taking.

One of the most profound realizations of recovery is that addiction isn't just about the substances we use; it's about the underlying issues that drive us to seek escape in the first place. It's about addressing the root causes of our pain and learning healthier ways to cope with life's challenges.

When I first entered the rooms of recovery, I had no more hope, faith, or any sense of direction. I felt utterly empty, isolated, and ashamed. But as I stepped into that first meeting, and introduced myself, I heard fifty people simultaneously respond with: Welcome Stephanie. It was an overwhelming moment of acceptance and belonging. Surrounded by others who shared my struggle with addiction, I no longer felt alone. In that room, and in every subsequent meeting, whether in person or online, I found a sense of camaraderie and acceptance that I had never experienced before. It was as if I had finally found a place to call home—a feeling I had long yearned for but never known. In those moments, I realized that recovery wasn't just about abstaining from substances; it was about finding connection, support, and a sense of belonging that I had missed for so long. It's about rebuilding relationships and reconnecting with the things that truly matter. It's about learning to live authentically, one day at a time.

Trash or treasure?

I'm passionate about dismantling the stigma surrounding addiction. It's a burden that weighs heavily on many of us, labeled and treated as addicts or junkies, instantly diminishing our worth in the eyes of society. Surprisingly, a significant portion of those in recovery are highly educated and contributing members of society. Yet, the moment our past is revealed, we're viewed through a different lens.

Take, for instance, my own experience. I willingly assist people in decluttering their homes, a service I offer freely. However, I choose not to disclose my addiction history upfront. Why? Because of the prevailing stereotype that addicts are criminals, not trustworthy. Yes, some might have fit that narrative, but during my active addiction, I maintained a job, raised my child(ren), and managed my household efficiently. Addiction didn't turn me into a criminal; it simply rendered me unable to fully engage in society. Yet, if I were to reveal my status as an addict to potential clients, they'd likely seek someone else's services.

However, in recovery, we learn the value of giving back. We shift our focus from self-absorption to selflessness, from taking to giving, from using to sharing. But can I fault my potential clients for seeking alternatives upon learning of my addiction history? No, because they're often not adequately educated about addiction, leading to my isolation.

Eventually, as trust builds between myself and my clients, I do disclose my journey through addiction and recovery. It's a testament to my commitment to honesty and transparency. Yet, I can't help but feel the weight of stigma when clients subtly differentiate me to others as "she is an addict, but..." It's disheartening, eroding the trust I've worked hard to build and leaving me with only my integrity and faith in myself to rely on together with my work ethic. It makes me lose trust in my clients.??

Despite these challenges, I persist. I continue to provide my services with integrity and dedication, refusing to let stigma define me. After all, I'm not a criminal; I'm human. I'm a mother, a daughter, a friend, and yes, ....

I am afraid.

As I reflect on my journey, I'm reminded of another quote from Mark L.: "Most of my day, I am a five-year-old. I want, I need, I am afraid. I want to change; I need direction and most of the time I do not know if I am doing either one of them well." This disease isn't just about drugs; it permeates every aspect of our being, distorting our thoughts and perceptions. It's about learning to navigate life with a mind that's wired for "First Thought Wrong."

Furthermore, I've observed a distinct difference between addicts from stable, loving families and those, like myself, from turbulent backgrounds. Those fortunate enough to have grown up in supportive environments tend to thrive in social settings, buoyed by a sense of belonging. In contrast, individuals from unsafe environments often find solace in solitude, cautious of the unpredictable outside world.

For many of us, recovery is an ongoing journey of self-discovery and healing. It's about confronting our past traumas and learning healthier coping mechanisms. It's about finding purpose and connection, despite the scars of our past. And most importantly, it's about challenging the stigma that seeks to define us.

So, as we continue on this journey, let us strive for understanding and empathy. Let us recognize that behind every label lies a human being with hopes, fears, and dreams. And let us work together to build a more compassionate and inclusive society, one where stigma has no place and recovery is celebrated as the triumph of the human spirit.

But recovery isn't a linear process. There are setbacks and struggles along the way, as we navigate the ups and downs of life without the crutch of substances. There are moments of doubt and uncertainty, where the pull of addiction feels stronger than ever. But with the support of others who have walked this path before us, we find the strength to keep going.

One of the greatest gifts of recovery is the sense of community and belonging that comes from connecting with others who understand our struggles. In the rooms of recovery, we find a sanctuary where we can share our stories, our fears, and our hopes for the future. We find acceptance and understanding, free from judgement or stigma.

I experience what I call my "hermit phase," where I crave solitude and retreat from the world. During these times, I'll stay indoors, cancel any non-essential plans, draw the curtains, and opt for comfortable attire. I avoid interaction with others and disconnect from external obligations, even going as far as unplugging the doorbell or activating its voicemail. To communicate my need for self-care, I inform my followers that I'll be offline for a while and update my WhatsApp status so.

In these moments, I feel vulnerable and childlike, overwhelmed by fear and uncertainty. However, I recognize the importance of setting limits on this behavior, knowing that long isolation can lead to contentment and further sorrow. Therefore, I make plans for the following week to ensure I reconnect with others and avoid becoming too comfortable in my isolation.

Many people fail to understand the importance of these self-imposed withdrawals. They may not realize that neglecting my self-care can have far-reaching consequences, not just for myself but for those around me. There exists a nuanced grey area between feeling unwell and feeling okay, and it's essential to embrace this space to explore underlying issues and develop healthier coping mechanisms. By doing so, I empower myself to recognize and address these issues proactively in the future.

I highly recommended anyone who has had an experience with addiction. Whether it is yourself or someone you know, love or trust, to listen to this speaker tape on spotify. It'll take 52 minutes of your time, and it'll give you knowledge that will last a lifetime and maybe even saves your or someone else's life. Besides that, it's filled with humor. I dare you to make the time to listen to it. May it be now, or when you are making the commute to your job.

We do recover, at the end of the road.

This ongoing battle with "first thought wrong," this struggle to navigate life's complexities and make sound decisions, is a challenge that will persist. It's a journey of growth and self-awareness, where we learn to sit with our emotions and make choices aligned with our values. We discover the importance of looking beyond ourselves and caring for others, while also recognizing the need to modify our behavior to avoid repeating past mistakes.

Recovery isn't a destination reached after completing a number of steps or overcoming a certain problem. It's a nonstop process, leading us to healing and understanding. Along this journey, we confront our character defects and delve into the deeper layers of ourselves, gaining insights into the nature of our addiction. While some may find smooth sailing on this path, others may encounter rough terrain and stumble upon new roadblocks, requiring them to start anew or redefine their approach to recovery. Some won't even get that chance and die shortly after hitting that roadblock.

Engaging in recovery isn't confined to attending meetings or following a program. It's about finding comfort and purpose in creative outlets, like, in my case, writing. It's about realizing that our actions can impact others in intense ways. Whether it's through sharing our experiences or spreading awareness through platforms like the speaker tape mentioned earlier, we contribute to a collective effort to break free from the chains of addiction. Maintaining this commitment is key, as the day we lose sight of our intention and ability to inspire others is the day we risk falling back into old patterns, potentially leading to terrible consequences.

For me, maintaining my recovery goes beyond the routine of meetings and steps. It's about discovering healing and purpose through my writing, realizing that I'm part of something greater than myself. Making a difference, even if it touches just one life, is what drives me forward. As you read this, perhaps you'll take a moment to listen to the speaker tape I mentioned earlier or share my words with someone who might benefit. It's about finding new paths to overcome difficulties and prevent falling back into old patterns. This commitment to sharing my story and inspiring others is what keeps me in recovery. The day I can no longer write or pass on my message is the day I risk facing those roadblocks again—be it in the form of jail, institutions, or death.

Author: Stephanie Haveman

Contact details: In LinkedIn profile.

Images: Private designs

Sources: Spotify & na.org

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