Chapter 10 · I am a lion

I am an addict. I am a lion. I know that something is wrong, but I am not sure that I can't fix it yet. I have moments of success that make me feel triumphant, and when I am struggling, I can often pull myself together with just a little family support. I am an addict, but I don't feel like one. I feel like a normal person, with normal goals, with normal plans that make sense to me, and I love the people around me. I feel like I can almost hold it together.

I have needs. I have a physical and emotional need for my drink and my drugs. These needs have changed the way that I think and see the world. These needs have shifted my priorities and are telling me that they are the most important thing in my life, and I must do whatever it takes to satisfy them. I have an ever-growing need to feel safe from the world and the feelings that I do not understand. I feel safe and protected within my use, and now I have a ravenous need to keep this going and to guard it at all costs.

I have wants. I want to have a job and maybe even a career. I want to have a family — maybe it's keeping the one I have, or starting and maintaining my own. I want to find a way to balance my drug use with the normal day-to-day activities and interactions of my life. I want to have both. I want my family to be ok with what is happening in my life and not struggle with, or constantly worry about, my use. I want to be normal. I want to feel safe and confident like everyone else, so I use, and I protect my ability to continue using.

I have problems. I have more and more problems that seem like they have simple solutions: other people doing things differently, or giving me money and support. I have problems holding jobs, getting along with my bosses, paying bills. I have problems telling the truth or being accountable for my time and my money.

I have lots of problems, and they just seem to be getting worse. I have problems that don't feel like they are really my fault. I have problems, but I feel like I am a victim of circumstances and that with just a little help from my family and friends, I would be fine. I feel like my problems can still be managed, if we all just work together as a team to manage them.

I have solutions. I have a solution to my problems, and it is for people to help me and to stop bugging me about my use. I could just use a little money, a little help, or a little time to pull myself together. I could just use a little compassion. It's not my drinking or my drug use that is the problem, it is all of those other problems that are the problem — and those can be fixed without me having to stop drinking or using. I just need some help treating the symptoms of my use. I just need your help.

I have skills that help me manage my addiction. I have the ability to get you to help me without you realizing it. I can get you to do things you wouldn't normally do, and even doubt yourself and your own grip on reality. I can make you feel things, like guilt and shame, which can cause you to feel responsible for my problems and in turn, be more willing to help me fix them. I am a powerful force within my family system, and you do not have the ability to stop me. I am not malicious, but you are a resource and I have needs. It has become instinct and is not personal. Malcolm Gladwell has said that 10,000 hours of "deliberate practice" are needed to become world class in any field.

I am a world class addict. I have become a professional addict by relentlessly honing my skills against my family and everyone else in my life. I practice deception, manipulation, and survival every day. I am much better at what I do than they are at challenging me about it.

I am endowed with the power of the lie, and you are cursed with the burden of proof. I am able to tell any story that might help justify my choices, my actions, or my use and abuse of drugs and alcohol, and you must disprove it in order to challenge me. These stories are often laced with just enough truth, or verifiable facts, to make them hard or even impossible to dispute.

I may use these skills at different times and at different levels, depending on my needs. Some of them may be extreme and will cause harm to others. Some of them may seem innocent and will often go unnoticed as I manipulate my way through a situation or out of a problem.

In order for me to be successful, I will need to make you feel pity, guilt, or responsibility and I will do this by using a multi-layered approach. This is the "Circle of Chaos and Confusion". It is a useful tool that prevents family members from successfully challenging me.

This Circle of Chaos and Confusion represents the two layers of protection that exist around me. The outer layer is filled with the symptoms of my drug and alcohol use, and represents the endless game of whack-a-mole that you are invited to play, to try to help me fix them. While we are addressing one of these current issues together, I am often creating another one, intentionally or not.

This outer layer of protection is an effective way to defend against your efforts to help me and get me to stop drinking or using drugs. If, somehow, you help me manage this outer layer of current issues, you would then be confronted by the most difficult layer to defend against, my past issues.

There is no way to fix or manage what exists here. This inner layer of past issues represents many unfixable situations that I can use to keep you away. It is filled with feelings of guilt and shame associated with my accusations of poor parenting, or a lack of love and support from other family members.

It is filled with various versions of our shared past that I manipulate to justify my current situation. Moments I highlight in order to validate my need or right to drink or use drugs. A past that cannot be fixed with money, managed together as a family, or repaired with words. A past full of problems that cannot be fixed - because I don't want to fix them. They are my protection; they are my security blanket. These two layers of chaos and confusion are what stand between you and the real me - the person who needs help. These two layers may feel like an endless loop of arguments and conversation that you cannot escape, because they are designed that way.

The first layer is full of seemingly "fixable" or "manageable" scenarios that may make you feel like you're making progress when helping me. They may even create the illusion that you're getting through to me, even though you are just spinning your wheels.

You will try to love me, and help me because it is hard to watch me struggle. You will try to reason with me, but I am unreasonable. You will try to provide logical and rational solutions to my problems, expecting me to want to fix them. You will want me to be capable, because you have seen me be capable in other ways in the past. You will see a sincere desire within me, during our conversations, to escape the pain of my problems — and you will mistake this desire for the ability to change.

You will blame yourself, and others, for some of the things that I report as reasons for my drug and alcohol use. You will look to me for answers. You will look within yourself to figure out what you did wrong, or how you could have prevented this. I will use these moments of self-doubt to keep you from interfering with my drug or alcohol use.

I am trying to survive. I'm trying to avoid the pain and discomfort of life. I'm trying to find a way to live my life and deal with my fears and insecurities. I'm afraid of what I know I will need to do someday, and the work that I'm being told it will take to be free from my addiction. I'm terrified of what life will feel like once I relinquish the power to adjust my feelings with drugs and alcohol. I'm still unwilling to give up on the idea that I can manage my use and bring it back down to a normal level and just have fun like everyone else. I want so badly to have both: a normal life, and the ability to drink and do drugs.

I watch the impact that my addiction has, and it's like watching a horror movie. You know something bad is going to happen and you want to yell at the person onscreen not to go in that basement, not to open that door, but they never hear you. The movie goes on and I am forced to watch, trapped within myself, unable to stop it. I feel helpless, I feel useless, and I feel worthless.

I don't want to hurt you or make you feel responsible. I don't want you to suffer from the pain of my addiction. I don't want you to fight with each other about me and my problems. I don't want to be a burden or cause unnecessary suffering to the people I love.

I am not my addiction. I am not a bad person, and I love my family, but I'm trapped. I'm trapped in a relationship with the very thing that is killing me. Part of my illness is that it can convince me that I am not sick. It has the ability to convince me that it can be managed. I feel like a fool who is controlled by the very thing that makes me feel safe and protected from the world. I feel weak, embarrassed, and manipulated. I feel like I have been conned.

I have talents, I have skills, I have hopes, and I have dreams. I did not want to become an addict. I did not want to end up where I am, and I do not want to die. You may see my actions as a slow suicide, and you may think I do not want to live because I will not address my issues, but I do! I do want to live. I do want to fix my problems. I just don't know how to do it and life feels too hard without drugs and alcohol.

I do not have the ability to fix a problem that has me convinced it does not exist. I am not capable of putting myself into the challenging recovery process that is required to get well. I am not capable of coming up with a plan to fix a problem I cannot see clearly. I am not capable of fixing this without help. I am not capable of pulling myself out of this hole alone.

Just as importantly, you are not capable of pulling me out of this hole either. As much as you love me, it is important to understand that you are not capable of fixing this issue alone. You are also not capable of coming up with a plan to fix the problem by yourself. Together, we are sick with my addiction and we are both unable to address the illness that has taken hold - without accepting help.

I am a lion, and I am an addict. I can still be loved — if you take precautions. I can still be helped — if you learn about my illness and how to help me. I can still be a part of our family if you see me as a lion and not a house cat. You can protect yourself from me and some of the unforgivable things that my addiction may cause me to do, and still love me.

You just have to see me as a lion first.