Attention: Hell and High Water Ahead

I have recently been working with a wonderful, young woman who has been struggling mightily with her recovery from addictions. She had relapsed after some good, solid sobriety.

Relapse is like any kind of breakdown on the path. It is where things fall apart; traction is lost, and chaos reigns. It is akin to a scary drop down the rabbit hole. You have no idea where you will land, who you will meet in the fast, free fall, and how mangled your body and soul will be when you finally hit bottom.

In terms of my client’s relapse, she used her substances of choice after a multi-year abstinence. By returning to the use of those substances, this young woman also rekindled her addictive behaviors and her distorted thought processes, which A.A. calls “stinkin’ thinkin’.”

In fact, those jumbled thoughts led to the sneaky behavior that ignited the relapse. As with most things, it happened in her mind first. The intention was set; the energy was directed like a rocket launcher. And her actions resulted in a painful “kaboom” of tears, regrets, remorse, guilt, self-hate, disgust, anger, disappointment and the like. Relapse is especially painful.

That said, relapse happens regularly in the continuum of the recovery process. Relapse can lead to a twisted, gnarly run that can have any number of possible outcomes. Some of which are quite gruesome or lethal.

Relapse can also serve as the ash pit from which the phoenix takes off anew. It can inspire deeper commitment and greater understanding to the recovery process. Relapse can open the door for a renewal of one’s choice and the realignment of will.

These days, my client has become totally paralyzed with inertia and apathy. She is now residing at that place I have named “The F-it’s.” And yes, the “F” means just what you think it means. My language is, clearly, not clinical, and, certainly, not elegant, but my four-letter term is accurately descriptive.

“The F-it’s” are a hell-hole of a place to be. And this place is not reserved just for the addicted.

Parenthetically, I could argue we are all addicted in assorted ways, from the hard core substances to the good girl’s drug of choice (i.e., sugar) to obsessive thinking and to all the other robotic, unconscious, soul-stealing “isms” out there.

And even if you don’t resonate with the idea of an addictive personality trait or two; you can still find yourself in a state of “The F-it’s.” It’s, alas, a phenomena common to all card-carrying humans; born out of complete disconnection from the self coupled with efforts to manage some kind of inte
al struggle and sheer exhaustion as a result of same.
“The F-it’s” are a dark and dismal place. There is no light, and nary a flicker of illumination. It is filled with emotional emptiness and a total disconnect from self, much less a Higher Power. It’s as if there is a huge, thick, impenetrable, black rubber wall surrounding the heart. There is no going in, and there is no going out. The soul is held hostage. And everything comes to a grinding, screeching halt.

“F-it” people are full of anger and rage, which is primarily directed inward. There are huge vats of stored tears waiting to be released; these unleashed tears become weights that drag the body further down into the murky depths. There is so much emotion that has not been able to be expressed, handled or processed that the system locks down. The crashing metal walls come down noisily and secure the interior from any intruders, including the self.

Feelings are shut down; numbness ensues. The lid has been put on the bubbling cauldron of emotions. Everything fades to black; there is nothing to see, nothing to sense, nothing to hear save the burble of black bile and self-hate and the “why bothers” on the back burner.

In this dark, distant-from-self place, “The F-it’s” person doesn’t care much about anything, which, of course, makes “The F-it’s” one of the most dangerous psychic dwellings. It has frequently, and unfortunately, served as home for many an OD (overdose).

“The F-it’s” also serve as a place of incubation. The infuriating darkness takes away all exte
al stimuli. You are left with your very self, that same self, from whom you are completely disconnected.

You see, we humans, are not static creatures; we are dynamic and, as such, there, eventually, comes a moment when there is a drive, a motivation, if you will, to move. And the direction of that movement requires a choice to be made. This is where the rubber meets the road. Do you drive to the left? Go to the right? Continue straight ahead.

Within the impenetrable darkness, a moment of choice is born, a moment when the tipping point is reached. That choice point is the fulcrum for the next steps of your personal jou
ey.

Needless to say, this choice is a solo act. There are the influences of loved ones, but, ultimately, the choice is yours. No one else can make this choice for you. No one else can live the consequences of this choice for you. This is the moment when you decide.

You decide in your darkness. Your decision is fraught with possibilities, and some of those possibilities hold great danger. You vote, in very simplistic terms, for more darkness or some light.

To have “The F-it’s” is exhausting, life-sucking and scary. It feels like you are dragging through life as dimly animated cadaver. Everything looks dead, feels dead and seems dead. Again, it’s all black.

You can feel as if you have been taken over by pod people and soul eaters. You have grown alien to yourself, and alien to your loved ones. They don’t know who you are anymore. And you have certainly lost yourself.

“The F-it’s” are a terrible place to be. And they are also part of the process to refind one’s self, to choose one’s self and believe in one tiny speck that will allow some light to filter into the darkness. Like Tinkerbell in Peter Pan, you are asked to clap if you believe. This time, you are asked if you believe in you. The stakes are high.

To my struggling client, I say I believe in you. I have faith in you. And I am here waiting outside the impenetrable blackness for that crack in the wall that signifies you have decided, once again, to believe in you. I will hold the space and keep the faith until you are ready.