The Lie About Recovery

I was watching an interview of a person in long term recovery this week. They had this to say: “I wouldn’t trade my best day using for my worst day in recovery.”

I don’t want to come right out and accuse this person I’ve never met of lying. There are other options. He might have been really terrible at using drugs. It’s possible that no one ever told him how to do them right, to produce an enjoyable high. It’s also possible that he’s had an amazing life since he stopped using and hasn’t faced the first opposing wind. It could be he’s been at peace with himself and the world around him (and its inhabitants) since he got sober.

But I’ve heard this quote before. Often, actually. And while it might not be an outright lie, it just isn’t the truth. It’s an “Emperor has no clothes” situation. People in early recovery hear this quote and they must conclude they’re doing something wrong. But they’re too ashamed of their experience to voice it.

I’ve heard the quote in crowded rooms, followed by applause. Which leads a listener who doesn’t share the experience to feel like he must be doing something wrong. He’s not stepping hard enough. His honesty isn’t rigorous enough.

Ironic that I’ve heard this quote among folks who promote rigorous honesty. Here’s some rigorous honesty:

I can easily think of five events in my past that included a substance that were amazing, in part, because those substances were part of the event. If I had more time I could come up with more. In fact, here’s one that’s not even in the top five: Tony and I were participating in a cannonball run when I was 18. A group of us met in a neighboring city with about ten of our friends and had a race from one city to the next. I was driving a Buick Lesabre, light green, and Tony was riding shotgun. As we sped through the route at night trying to beat our friends to the destination, we were smoking enough weed to scare Cheech and Chong. Earth, Wind, and Fire’s album Raise! was blaring on the tape deck. It was 1982. Top speed was 120 mph. First and only time I heard Tony pray out loud. Was it wrong? Of course. Was it dangerous? Absolutely. Was it fun? It was amazing!

I didn’t stop smoking weed because of that night. I stopped smoking weed in spite of it. Over time, the juice wasn’t worth the squeeze.

So if you’re new to recovery and you’ve heard someone make that comparison and you’re feeling like maybe you’re missing something, this is for you:

There are going to be a thousand days in recovery that are going to be terrible. And there are going to be quite a few days in your using past that were absolutely amazing. Postcard worthy. And part of what made those days amazing was the chemicals you were using. But you have decided on balance that the lifestyle you were living was giving you a poor return on your investment, and you decided you needed to change course. You likely tried to just cut back, or manage, your use. And maybe that was slippery as well. So you’ve chosen sobriety, maybe with the support of a community. Maybe not. Either way, whatever works. So when sober days are long and uphill, that’s OK. It’s like that sometimes. You’re right when you think the old way had some fun to it. No harm in that. The only thing you need to remember in those moments is that you have chosen a different path. And that you chose this path for very personal reasons. And you were smart when you did so.

Let’s at least be honest with the early travelers.

You wouldn’t trade your best days in recovery for your best days in addiction. And you wouldn’t trade your worst days in recovery for your worst days in addiction.

That’s the truth.

It doesn’t preach, but that’s the truth.