The Sane Becomes Insane

A review of the disease of alcoholism

“I sat down at a table and ordered a sandwich and a glass of milk. Still no thought of drinking. I ordered another sandwich and decided to have another glass of milk.

“Suddenly the thought crossed my mind that if I were to put an ounce of whiskey in my milk it couldn’t hurt me on a full stomach. I ordered a whiskey and poured it into the milk. I vaguely sensed I was not being any too smart, but I felt reassured as I was taking the whiskey on a full stomach. The experiment went so well that I ordered another whiskey and poured it into more milk. That didn’t seem to bother me so I tried another.”

Thus started one more journey to the asylum for Jim. Here was the threat of commitment, the loss of family and position, to say nothing of the intense mental and physical suffering which drinking always caused him. He had much knowledge about himself as an alcoholic. Yet all reasons for not drinking were easily pushed aside in favor of the foolish idea that he could take whiskey if only he mixed it with milk!”

-Alcoholics Anonymous p. 36-37 (“More About Alcoholism” Step One)

I was asked by a dear friend a few weeks ago a simple question: is a slip different than a relapse? He argued that while a relapse was a full-blown return to alcoholic drinking, that a slip could be just being off-guard and taking one drink. This conversation has stayed with me for the past month. It reminded me this morning of the story of Jim in the Big Book. Jim is one of four cautionary tales in Chapter 3: “More About Alcoholism.” It is typically part of the Step One reading. In fact, my own Al-Anon sponsor has me reading this chapter on my own this week, finding any points in which I identify as an Alanonic with the chapter. I certainly do identify, but that is another story for another time.

My thinking is prone to distortion. As an alcoholic, I will often rationalize and justify my thinking to be able to do what I want. However, when it comes to alcohol, this sort of rationalization and justification almost always has one purpose: to lead me back to the first drink. My mind does this in many, many ways. It tells me I don’t really need to go to as many meetings, or I don’t really need to be that honest with my sponsor, or I can take my time on my fourth step, or that taking pills or using other legal substances is just fine, because it’s not alcohol—and alcohol is my real problem.

This was Jim’s thinking. He went to the restaurant for a completely valid purpose that day: to find a buyer for a car. That was sane thinking. Then he sat down and ordered and ate his lunch—also very sane behavior. But in the snap of a finger, the sane becomes insane as he questions putting whiskey into his glass of milk.

But how can this happen? I never forget that alcohol is a subtle foe. It is waiting very patiently in the background, hoping to insert itself into my mind when I am unsteady and not at my best. This may occur because of any part of HALT—when I am hungry, angry or frustrated, lonely, or tired or sick. Alcoholism lurks, hiding around the corner, peeking into the room, ready at any given moment to take advantage of its unsuspecting victim. It was waiting for Jim that day. We can learn something from Jim’s experience. It does not have to be our experience any longer.

The book says that Jim had “much knowledge about his alcoholism.” This is called self-knowledge. Treatment centers, the modern-day asylum, fill clients up with a lot of knowledge about the disease of alcoholism. And yet when I hear a well-meaning A.A., fresh out of treatment, tell me that they have a choice in whether they pick up a drink again, I realize yet again that treatment centers oftentimes fail to teach the basics of the disease of alcoholism. And I take the time to explain it to them.

So let us review: Alcoholism is a three-fold disease: a mental obsession, a physical allergy, and a spiritual bankruptcy. Most newcomers understand the spiritual bankruptcy, because that is how they ended up in rehab in the first place. So many losses, so much pain, so much anger from friends, family and employers. Huge disappointment and guilt and remorse in ourselves.

These newcomers also have a vague idea about “cravings,” but they don’t really understand what it says in the “Doctor’s Opinion” about the obsession of the mind and the physical allergy. A craving doesn’t actually occur until I ingest actual alcohol. But when I do drink, I cannot control how much liquor I will take. I cannot control the damage that will be done to me and to those around me. That is one aspect of true powerlessness. I have no choices once alcohol enters my body and controls my mind. This is the physical allergy.

But the other part of this disease is much more insidious. That is the mental obsession that actually leads to that first drink. But I have lost choice here as well. There will come a time when I have no mental defense against that first drink. And it matters ZERO what I learned about myself and my disease in treatment. I will absolutely pick up a drink and won’t even realize I have done it. Just like Jim and the whiskey in milk. This is what having no mental defense looks like. This is what powerlessness is. No choice. I have truly lost that power of choice. That is why I pick up that first drink. I am deciding nothing. The disease takes advantage of my mental blank spot—and I am drinking once again.

What does this obsession of the mind look like? Well, it tells me anything to keep me from an A.A. program: I don’t need so many meetings, I don’t need a sponsor—I’ve got this. I will work the steps on my own. I will go to church to find God. I have a responsibility to take care of my kids because I have ignored them for so long. I have to make money or I am going to lose everything. I must work two jobs because my spouse is mad that I crashed the car and had to pay for everything. I have to make this up to my partner and spend more time with him/her.

These are the first thoughts.

But then much more dangerous thoughts enter.

I can go to that party or concert and just not tell my sponsor. I can be in a bar. I can go hang out with my old friends. I can have just one beer, one smoke, one shot—then I will quit. I can believe what my friends and family tell me: I’m not that bad. I should be able to drink like a normal person and be a part of the family again. I have real problems and alcohol is just one of them. I have this court case and that is where my focus needs to be.

I am a real alcoholic. A chronic. If you are as alcoholic as I am, there will come a day when you as well as I will have no mental defense against that first drink. I will drink again—and so will you. And if you are under the delusion that other substances like cannabis are not the same as alcohol, my experience is this: most real alcoholics cannot safely use cannabis or any other narcotic substance. Anything that gets us high. Any substance I end up doing “alcoholically”—or like the real alcoholic that I am. I am an absolute pig when it comes to drinking and using, and anything will do. Anything to change the way I feel. Any substance brings me consequences—or back to another drink, which is a “when” and not an “if”.

How well do I know myself? That question is completely irrelevant. If I am a real alcoholic, I can no longer accept the delusional lie that I can drink or use like other people. My mind and body are different than normal drinkers or drug users. I will drink, smoke, snort, shoot—and I will die. Maybe not today. I will most likely endure the slow burn of suicide.

No—not today. I do have one choice: I can choose a program of recovery. That program is Alcoholics Anonymous.