In his marvelous book Addiction and Grace* Dr. Gerald G. May writes of his own life journey. Following is an important portion of that story that is very true.
I realized that for both myself and other people, addictions are not limited to substances. I was also addicted to work, performance, responsibility, intimacy, being liked, helping others, and an almost endless list of other behaviors. At the time, it seemed just fine to be addicted to some of these things, but others I would have much preferred to be free of. I had to admit that I had not freely chosen these things; my concern for them was not something I could control. They were compulsions.
Tolerance and withdrawal were definite. However, much achievement, intimacy, or approval I had, it was never quite enough. I always wanted more. And if I had to do without one of them, I would experience not only a craving for it, but also some degree of anxiety and even actual physical discomfort. It occurred to me that my original “professional depression” had happened because I had been addicted to success and control. It was, in fact, a withdrawal, it happened when I couldn’t get my fix of professional success.
Even my littlest bad habits and secret fantasies had the qualities of addiction. I tried to take comfort in saying, “Yes, but my bad habits are inconsequential compared to alcoholism or drug addiction.” That statement was certainly true, but it also felt like a self-justification, a rationalization for keeping my habits going. It sounded too much like alcoholics I had heard saying, “Well, at least we’re not junkies,” while on the other side of the same hospital ward narcotic addicts were saying, “Well, at least we’re not winos.”
I can honestly say, then, that it was my work with addicted people, and the consequent realization of my own addictive behavior, that brought me to my knees. I am glad. Grace was there. If my attachments had not caused me to fail miserably at controlling my life and work, I doubt I ever would have recovered the spiritual desire and the sense of God that had been so precious to me as a child. Compared to what happens to people who suffer from alcoholism or narcotic addition, what happened to me may not seem much of a “rock bottom.” But it had the same grace-full effect. To state it quite simply, I had tried to run my life on the basis of my own will power alone. When my supply of success at this egotistic autonomy ran out, I became depressed. And with the depression, by means of grace, came a chance for spiritual openness.
I never did learn how to make spiritual experiences happen to chemically addicted people so their lives would be transformed. I didn’t learn much of anything that helped me treat addictions, or for that matter any other form of illness. But I become slightly more humble, through a growing appreciation of what I could and could not do to help myself or anyone else. I also learned that all people are addicts, and that addictions to alcohol and other drugs are simply more obvious and tragic addictions that others have. To be alive is to be addicted, and to be alive and addicted is to stand in need of grace. (9-11)
In the next post I will make my attempt to link these remarks with our understanding of how we learn through practices and with groups in a manner that really is not possible by simply absorbing facts and amassing knowledge that is not realized in real life living.
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