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The nature of sobriety

Today marked seven years of total sobriety for me. For seven years, I have been drug and alcohol free. While abstinence is not suitable for everyone, I decided, on April 7th, 2016, that the consumption of mind-altering substances was not safe for me.

I will say I have never approached it through the guise of eternity. “Never say never”, as the saying goes. Instead, I have woken up each day with a commitment to remain sober for that one day. During the challenging times, I have committed to hours and minutes. Whichever way I approached it, I have accumulated almost ¾ of a decade.

Addiction is peculiar. So many think that the focus of the addiction is the issue. We are easily fooled into believing that stopping behaviours such as drug use solves the issue. I lament the fact that it is not so simple. The addicted bodymind is more complex than compulsive behaviours.

I am an addict. I hate drugs and what they do to me, but I adore the feeling of being high. The ability to enter oblivion through a pill or a line is an all too attractive concept to me. Even now, closer to ten years sober than to zero, I find my mind craving it. It’s insidious. Little thoughts of the ways I could get away with it. The ways I could covertly enjoy the feeling of not existing.

I am happy with my sober life. I would not trade the life I have now for something so meagre as drug induced euphoria. That doesn’t mean that living in my Autistic, ADHD, and Schizophrenic mind without switching off for years has been easy. At times, I have been exhausted. An exhaustion I can’t put into words.

I am committed each day to just one more day of sobriety. Because each subsequent day of sober existence brings with it the truth of existence;

Life is a gift. It is meant to be used and spent. The bitter and painful lows only make the highs even more beautiful. Every time I survive a new challenge while maintaining my sobriety, I am able to enjoy the good in life in a vividly high definition.

Sobriety to me is a matter of life or death, and I, for one, choose life.

Addiction advocacy and the inspiration paradox: A reflection at 6 years sober

Today I am 6 years sober from addiction. During those six years I have learnt many lessons, but in this reflection I would like to consider something that has played on my mind for the past three years of my advocacy work.

Inspiration.

While not overtly a bad thing, it is often misused to infantilise and minimise the achievements of disabled people while hiding behind a mask of feigned respect. This phenomenon is known as “inspiration porn”.

A good (hypothetical) example of such a thing would be a video of a disabled person doing something completely mundane, like dancing, but they would be dancing with a non-disabled person. The video would centre the non-disabled as some kind of saviour to the disabled person for doing something as basic as treating them like a human being. The implication of the video, albeit in subtext, would be “Look at the amazing things that disabled people can achieve when an abled person rescues them from their shameful existence”.

It’s dehumanising and wrong.

So, addiction advocacy.

As a recovering addict in the public eye, I do what I do because I want to help others overcome similar challenges to my own, and help reduce their suffering. This does in fact require inspiring people. If it weren’t for the sober addict who showed me kindness during my first stretch on a psychiatric ward, I might not have chosen recovery.

The fact that they had turned their life around, and become someone I wanted to look up to was inspiring, and that isn’t a bad thing.

What would be bad would be if people like myself are allowed to become another source of inspiration porn. It’s a difficult line to walk. I want people to have what I have found, not get off on the tragedies that have formed who I am.

Contrary to popular belief, addicts are people. We are not burdens, we don’t deserve our suffering. Regardless of whether or not we are in recovery, we deserve food, housing, health care, support, and kindness.

This is what I want to inspire in people.

So please, don’t look at me and think it’s a miracle that I recovered. My recovery shouldn’t be the inspiration. I was privileged to have a loving and supportive set of family and friends. I had good key workers (although the services they came from were woefully ill-equipped). I was in a place where I was ready to enter recovery.

What I want to inspire in you is the idea that all addicts deserve recovery. I want to inspire you to challenge the systems that keep people like me trapped in a world of suffering.

I want you to know that those with less privilege than myself need us to get in the trenches and help them fight this war.

If that is what I inspire in people, then I am happy with what I am doing. If, however, you look at me and see a walking miracle, then I have not gone far enough.

The tragedies and traumas of my life should not be celebrated. They should be wielded as weapons to dismantle the masters house, and rebuild it into something where we can all coexist and thrive.

On the harsh reality of addiction recovery

My years of active addiction account for a lot of the suffering that myself, my friends, and my family experienced. The very fact that I am alive right now is some sort of miracle, yet to be explained by science. I remember trying to picture what recovery would look like, it was difficult to imagine.

I am the sort of Autistic person that some might reductively call a “black and white thinker”. For me, things fall into good or bad, and when I can not easily categorise things, I fall apart.

It’s no surprise then that my brain told me that once I escaped the horrors of active addiction, life would be sunshine and good times. I think, perhaps, this is a trap that many addicts fall into. Unsurprisingly, it is an inaccurate, and frankly dangerous assumption to make.

Recovery is not all positive, because life is not all positive. Truthfully, I have faced some intense suffering and struggles since achieving sobriety.

I was privileged in the support that I had around me for those times, there are a number of people without whom, I could not have remained sober up to this point.

This is where recovery gets dangerous.

If you are not privileged enough to have that support, it is easy to fall back into active addiction. Our minds constantly seek oblivion, and will use any excuse to pull the trigger. The unhappy realisation that bad stuff still happens when you are sober is one hell of a reason to pull that trigger.

This, truthfully, is why I have written this post. If you are embarking on a journey towards sobriety, you need to be prepared for the good and the bad that life brings. You need to know that when the shit hits the fan, you don’t have to throw your sobriety into the fuck-it bucket.

I have watched too many good people lose their lives in recovery. Autistic people are already disadvantaged by a system that simply does not care for our existence. It is my hope that my fellow Autistic addicts will read this and be prepared.

Sobriety is not easy. Life is not easy. I spend a lot of my time wishing I could turn down the difficulty settings on my life.

Sobriety is worth it, you are worth it. You can have a happier life, regardless of the bullshit. Your suffering is not your fault.

When life hands you lemons, squirt lemon juice in its eye; stay alive, even if it’s out of spite.

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