I think I finally understand how recovering alcoholics feel.
A drink whenever you want it, always available, and you live on it. For years. It drives you, it becomes who you are, and you bare your soul to it. It comprises your life, and no thought is without the desire for a drink. No action is without the effect of the drink, and no good thing can come past the blockade the drink has set up.
It rules and controls you.
When things go wrong, it's an ever-present friend. When people just don't get it, the drink is there. When depression seizes you, the drink allows you to escape your reality and pass the time in numbness.
But when it's over, and the realization that all the time has been wasted comes so clearly to face you, it's devastating and you want out. You want nothing more to do with the controlling reality of the addiction. And by then, it has become a mountain to scale, all the time having sapped every ounce of climbing energy.
These are the times Satan whispers that you're finished, over, done. You can't go on because you don't have the strength, you're worthless, God doesn't want you and no one else wants you either for that matter. You're an alcoholic.
"You'll be an alcoholic the rest of your life; just accept it and go back to the bar."
But as true as this sounds, as willing as you are to believe it, another reality exists in this place. God's reality. In fact, what you see and feel is a shroud, brought on by your weakness of mind and heart, lack of faith, and loyalty to flesh and desire. Though these all appear insurmountable, and indeed ARE insurmountable in human strength, they are not as they seem.
For those who see the truth, that they can be saved from this sin, and begin recovery, a new fight dawns. Though constantly submitting their will to the only One who can fight for them, they feel empty and weak. Every moment, the fight against all the power of desire, lust, need, pain and returning problems instigates complete chaos. You can't see around you, the world is blurry and you feel like it's all so overwhelming that you must die soon just to have relief.
Every day is a painful step. Every moment is uncertainty. A week passes. A month. A year. The shaking stops, you realize that the thoughts don't rule you as much, but just one thought brings back all the memories of perceived benefits. And looking back, it doesn't look so bad as it did before to have.......just one more drink.
Yet, ever present is the conscious memory of the horrors of pain and how the alcohol didn't remove the pain, but just covered it up for a time. Later it was still there, worse than ever, set again to be ignored. And you fear the spectacle with disgust, and continue on the path to recovery. Never looking back. Never desiring the past.
"Leave Egypt behind you and look forward to the Promised Land." Are not God's blessings better than the pleasures of this world, and the worldly people who will pretend to give their time to be with you?
I am walking now, away from my addiction. It was not strong drink, but in many ways it affected me just the same. It brought me to my knees, powerless against my flesh, and serving Satan with every move and word. The temptations flowed and I fell prey; the days droned on and I sought peace in my possessions, yes, even that possession, but none could be found. My heart was tortured and I covered the pain with activity, interaction, pleasures.
But in the midst of the dark, a small light shone nearby, reflecting a great light. And I took notice, following the light from sheer desire for change from my wretched state. And it led me here. The small light remains close, demonstrating true loyalty, and now the great light is visible; covering, bathing me in warmth, driving out the cold chills of those far-too-recent memories.
Yet I know that the temptation to look back is great, and would be as dangerous to me as that one last drink. But faith will save me; faith that He will make me clean. For He has, and I am. So forward I look, to righteousness and freedom. Behind me the distance grows ever greater between me and my old desires...my old desire.
So it could be said that I understand how recovering alcoholics feel, but truly, what I understand is the relief from the escape of such entrapment; perhaps that is not quite as commonplace.
