“God, grant me the serenity,
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change things I can
And wisdom to know the difference.”
The words penetrated me like a laser beam. How could they possibly know how I feel? I had only just arrived here, yet, the words spelled out the existential question hidden deep in my tormented soul. The first time I ever read them was my first day in rehab.
I was literally the proverbial deer caught in the headlights. As an anaesthetist, I was a specialist in my field. Type A personality, perfectionist, idealist, empathic, a heart the size of my home town – the works. But deep inside I was a broken man. The evil twins of shame and guilt were constant companions. And they had a knack of replaying “The Best of Stephan” at 3.30 am: everything I could have possibly done wrong over the last 40 years. But guilt and shame paled into insignificance when it came to resentment and anger. Oh boy, now we were talking. After all, I had gone through some hard times. I had stood up to the powers in charge to defend the patients in my care. I was the fighter, the knight in shining armour who was rescuing the damsels in distress. Well, I guess at the end I was more like Don Quixote fighting windmills. But I guess that is a side effect of a litre of vodka a day (and then some).
“Hi, I am Thomas, I am an addict.”
“Hi, I am Beatrice, I am an alcoholic.”
Suddenly – silence. Looking up, it was my turn to introduce myself to 20 complete strangers. Where was the hole to hide in?
“Hi, I am Stephan. I am an alcoholic.”
Boom. There it was. I only said the words in order to fit in. After all, surely, I wasn’t an alcoholic! I am a doctor. Ok, yes, there have been huge psychosocial stressors and more pain and trauma than I cared to remember. Surely, it was absolutely normal to have a drink or ten to numb the pain?
In that moment, something changed in me. It was as if the dam started to break. Speaking out those few words changed me forever. Hearing those words out of my own mouth caused a flood of emotions that made the world’s scariest roller coaster look like a baby swing. Shame, guilt, elation, freedom, embarrassment, joy, surprise – hell, how many emotions can you possibly feel in 10 seconds?
I don’t remember too much of the following hour. I was too engrossed in the emotions that were washing over me. Emotions… those pesky little things I had tried to drown for the last 20 years. And here I was, suffering the onslaught without a crutch to lean on. No music to play, no film to watch, no bottle of wine to alter my state. Simply me and my emotions.
Could my story have ended up in a different way? Yes, I guess, prison or death are the common alternatives for addicts. Simply spoken, I had come to the point where even my marinated brain recognized that I had to change. That I could not continue as before. That the old me had to die and that I had to reinvent myself. But how?
My rehab was based upon the 12 steps of Alcoholics Anonymous. In a nutshell:
The first three steps show you how to give up.
Four, five and six teach you how to own up.
Seven, eight and nine reveal how you make up.
Ten, eleven and twelve make you grow up.
It sounds easy, doesn’t it? Reality is, that each and every step is as painful as peeing glass shards. Rehab, at times, feels like that. But as with every training, things get easier. Especially if you have a team that shows you what to do. In my case, I had to relearn the basic fundamentals that had been missing for so long in my life – honesty, transparency, authenticity and integrity.
Rehab is where the magic happens. Once you have detoxed, you are ready to adopt new habits. You quickly learn that you are either working on your recovery or working on your relapse. 80% of alcoholics relapse in their first year of sobriety. Alcohol is a mighty foe that must not be underestimated!
Could you get clean all by yourself? In my opinion, this is simply impossible. Even the best book or course cannot replace a skilled person listening to you and reflecting on what you are saying (or not saying, for that matter). After all, you can’t bullshit a bullshitter. In my rehab, I had to realize that every person treating me (bar a few of the doctors) was actually an addict. The yoga instructor who in the past turned up drunk to her clients was now leading a class for the inmates. The counsellor who runs the dreaded 10 am “emotions “-meeting had been sitting in my chair a few years back. The smirk on my case manager’s face said it all – she had been in my shoes in the past. Her brain had fought tooth and nail to hold onto the old destructive coping mechanisms just as much as mine did right now.
But there was one big difference between “us” and “them”. Our guardian angels were well-groomed, and confident, and displayed a palpable aura. They had their ducks in a row. I, at best, had squirrels that were hosting a rave.
So, with the proper guidance in due course, I was able to address resentment, anger, depression, anxiety and PTSD as the root causes of my attempts to escape reality.
Recovery is like an onion. Rehab strips back one layer at a time to reveal all the trauma and negative emotions you tried to hide so cleverly behind a myriad of masks. I learned to focus on one problem and make a start. Rehab gave me the push that I needed. Once you rip off the first band-aid, life will never be the same again. But I assure you, this is no walk in the park. Expect a bumpy ride! The moment you have dealt with one trauma, you find two other things that have held you back. You have barely opened one wound when you realize how much that pus has influenced different parts of your life. This journey is painful and difficult. Because of that, no person is walking this Earth who shows more courage, honesty, dignity and integrity than an addict in recovery.
Change doesn’t happen overnight. It doesn’t happen in one session. There is not one magic meeting. For me, the pus had drenched my whole body and soul. Sometimes, the stink was noticeable; sometimes, it was cleverly hidden by mental constructs I had created to deal with emotional trauma. There was so much pus hidden in my body, and it needed to be drained, one pustule after the other. That was a hard pill to swallow for me at the time, but by now, I had learned to trust the people I had paid to make me better.
Recovery is like starting a big jigsaw puzzle where you never know how many pieces there are. And guess what? There is no picture to guide you. So, you keep working on the puzzle, one piece at a time. You address a problem until you are content that you have either sorted it or that you truly cannot do anything more about it. One way or the other, you are ready to move on to the next puzzle piece.
And the journey never stops. Only because you got the monkey off your back does not mean that the circus has left town. Unless you address the reasons for your drinking, you will not succeed in changing your behaviour. Instead, you simply change the poison. And there is so much to choose from: sugar, porn, smoking, other drugs, gambling, work, extreme sports and sex are just waiting to take the role of alcohol.
The temptations will always be there. I am an addict, after all. But I have learned to look after myself. I have found the triggers that make me want to self-destruct. HALT is all I need to go off the rails. When I am hungry, angry, lonely and tired – oh boy! Give me three out of those four triggers, and even today, I get thoughts about alcohol and sugar. Give me four of these triggers at the same time, and I can guarantee you that my addiction wants to come out to play.
However, I no longer feel guilty and shame-ridden when my brain suggests a drink. I instead see it as a message that I have slipped in looking after myself. In the same way, I have learned to surf waves of anxiety and deal with deep, dark mood holes. From now and then, I throw a pity party but I no longer pitch a tent over there.
When people remind me of my past, I remind them that I don’t live there anymore. What was once my mess is now my message. The old phoenix had to burn for the new Phoenix to rise from the Ashes. And instead of being ashamed about it, I nowadays host the YouTube show and podcast “STEPS TO SOBRIETY” to demystify addiction and mental health problems.
I am still an addict. But nowadays, I am addicted to life. I genuinely love the new me!
