Why I’m glad I’m an addict

Scott Brassart

When I first entered recovery in the summer of 2000, I remember hearing people introduce themselves in 12-step meetings with statements like, “Hi, I’m Joe. I’m a grateful alcoholic.” My first reaction was: “Really? What is so terrible about addiction that you are actually grateful for it?” Every time I hear this sentence, I have a strong urge to jump out of my chair Get up and strangle the person who said this to death. Occasionally, I express this sentiment, and the old people will smile and politely mutter something like “keep coming back,” or “don’t worry, it will be fine.”

Expressing gratitude for addiction doesn’t make sense to me. My addiction is the bane of my existence. Every aspect of my life fell apart due to alcohol, drugs, and compulsive sex. I’m ashamed of how bad my world has become, I know – I absolutely Know – There is absolutely no way my life could get any better. Not enough for me to be grateful for it, anyway. The damage is too deep; the consequences are too serious.

Well, that was then and this is now, and I am truly, honestly, sincerely grateful to be an addict. I don’t introduce myself as a grateful addict in 12-step meetings because I remember my anger at that statement during my first few years in recovery. But that doesn’t mean I’m not grateful for my addiction. In fact, when I make a 10-item gratitude list every morning, addicts often end up on the list.

I was talking to a new person about this the other day – a new person who just complained at a meeting about someone introducing themselves as a gratitude junkie. The newcomer said he could understand why someone would be grateful for recovery from addiction, but he couldn’t understand why someone would be grateful for addiction in the first place.

I told him that I couldn’t speak for the person who identified as a gratitude junkie, but I could explain why I was grateful mine Addiction.

My explanation begins like this: From a very young age, starting in elementary school, I have been uncomfortable in my own skin. I believed that I was flawed and not good enough in some important way, and even though people were nice to me, it didn’t mean they liked me or wanted to be my friend. They were just being nice because I was able to pretend that I wasn’t completely “wrong” and “abnormal.”

I make it clear to new people that I feel this way forward I have experimented with alcohol, drugs, or sex. i feel like this forward Puberty Teen Angst I feel this way all the time no matter what. This is why alcohol, drugs and sex are so attractive to me. These substances and behaviors (temporarily) silence the little elves that live in my ears, shouting, “You suck!” 24/7/265 at the top of their lungs.

Unfortunately, my addiction eventually stopped working for me, as addictions always do. Forgiveness and upgrades started to appear and all I could do was feed the beast. I found myself desperately trying to get back to zero, but failing. Addiction or not, I didn’t escape my emotional discomfort, I became trapped in it. I no longer feel uncomfortable in my own skin. Not even for a moment.

This is what a recovering addict says, “My addiction doesn’t work for me anymore.”

When my addiction stopped working for me, I was left with…well, me. I don’t feel comfortable being myself. I could be drunk, drunk, or having sex, but I could still hear those nasty little monsters telling me what a terrible person I was. I could hear them saying that if the people around me could see the real me, they would light their hair on fire and run out of the room screaming.

I tell newcomers that when I was in recovery, my life was a mess. I’m in pain, my only coping mechanism no longer working. So I did the same thing he did. I went to a 12-step meeting and it pissed me off when people said “Hi, my name is Joe and I’m a grateful alcoholic.”

I also (eventually) started listening to these happy, smiling, grateful people talk about recovery and therapy, and I started accepting their advice. I found a therapist and a sponsor, I completed the 12 steps, I spoke about my feelings in meetings, and most importantly, I began to connect with the people around me. I shared my deepest, darkest secrets with them, and they listened without lighting their own fires. Instead, they’ll say something like, “I’m glad you’re letting this secret go public so it can stop festering in your brain. Should we go get lunch now?”

This incredibly unexpected reaction freed me from the gremlins. It tells me those little monsters are lying. If I hadn’t been an addict, this much needed revelation would never have happened.

Remember, long before I became an addict, I was uncomfortable in my own skin. Without my addiction, I would not have experienced all of the horrific consequences that destroyed my life and drove me to recovery. I would still feel like I was inherently flawed. I would still be unhappy. I still get very uncomfortable in my own skin.

Today, I am no longer those people. On the contrary, I am happy, content, and completely able to be myself. Most of the time, anyway. I can look in the mirror and not cringe. When people are nice to me, I take it at face value. It was amazing, and all because I was an addict.

So, just in case I haven’t made it clear by now: I am grateful for my addiction. They made my life hell, but without them I never would have learned to be comfortable in my own skin.

* * * * * * * * * * *

If you or someone you care about is struggling with a sex or porn addiction, help is available. For porn addicts, Seeking Integrity offers a low-cost online work group series. Click here for information. We offer a similar work group series for sex addicts. Click here for information.