The loudest doubt often means you’re nearly there.
I can’t wipe the grin off my face. I’ve just completed my first long distance running event and I’m beaming. Not because of my running ability – I’m no natural born long-distance runner – and not even because I simply finished. I’m happy because I showed up to an event with a lot of other people, none of whom I knew, and I participated without anxiety, fear or the intense desire to run away and hide myself from the world.
I joined in with something I had previously avoided for years, even though it had secretly been something I’d always wanted to do. And what’s more I did it without the aid of any substances which might artificially enhance my confidence or help me to relax. I felt so proud of myself in that moment of finishing the run. Looking around at the other runners and officials still gathered at the finish area, I felt good – clear-headed and part of something bigger than myself. Then wham! Out of nowhere and after almost a year sober, I wanted to celebrate. With a drink.
The static got louder as the signal got clearer.
It wasn’t the first time this feeling had occurred. That sense of overwhelming craving that blocks out all other noise and distractions around it and pulls me into a vortex of single focus – to drink or not drink. It happened about a month ago too, when I’d returned home after a fun and wholly sober day out on the water with friends, when the experience of having such a good time and the still unfamiliar joyfulness that goes with it, sent me into a raging battle with myself over whether a trip to the bottle shop was warranted or not.
Of course it wasn’t, and I didn’t go. But the loudness and almost overpowering force of these moments of late have taken me by surprise. It’s as though the stronger, clearer and healthier I get, the more the old me fights, screams and attempts with all its might to be heard, comforted and given in to.
In the past, it would always win. I didn’t have the knowledge, self-understanding or the belief in myself to overcome it. I would know I wanted to do one thing – to be healthy and to live well – but would feel compelled and unable to avoid doing the absolute opposite.
Such a heart-wrenching battle destroyed my sense of self-worth. The more I let myself down, the harder I wanted to try, and the higher the stakes became. Drinking or not drinking was no longer about making a good life choice. It became about my worthiness to exist. If I didn’t drink, I was a good person. If I had a drink, I was a failure. All or nothing, and no forgiveness in between.
This is the turmoil I lived with when I was drinking alcohol and it’s the thing which people who have never experienced addiction probably find so difficult to understand. How could I say I don’t want something in my life anymore, then do the very thing that brings me directly to it?
It takes work to overcome this and it usually requires help. It takes perseverance, support and the desire to keep getting up and trying again, no matter how many times it takes. And it can take a really long time. My addiction lasted over two decades. I actively tried, for at least half of that time, to end it. Eventually, as with the run, I did cross the finish line.
I reached the point where I could see and feel the pull, know what was happening and choose to act otherwise. I was able to see and accept these intense cravings for what they were – the desperate attempts of the old me fighting hard for its survival.
But it wouldn’t win here. In the early days I would have succumbed, but I knew my strength now and most importantly, I knew my worth. I had lived the other side and found appreciation, beauty and freedom in a life without alcohol. I knew that my life – a better life – was worth fighting for.
When you are stuck in that battle with yourself about whether to give in to something – whether it be addiction or other unhealthy compulsions – it’s worth asking what you are fighting for too. Is it simply to avoid doing something, or is it instead to gain something so much more? Are you fighting against, or are you fighting for?
I write from lived experience, not as a clinician or expert. What I share is what I’ve noticed and what has helped me, not advice for everyone. [Why I write this way]
If alcohol or other drugs are a worry for you or someone you love, free, confidential support is available 24/7 on the National Alcohol and Other Drug Hotline: 1800 250 015. If you’re in crisis, Lifeline is on 13 11 14.
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