First and foremost, my disease wraps itself around the honesty center of the brain. I’m not talking about “checkbook honesty,” most of us pride ourselves on that kind of honesty. But what about honesty when it is concerning our substance? Not so much. I was often not too honest about my drinking with others when I not sober, but I was mostly dishonest with myself. I had – and still have – an almost unlimited amount of self-delusion when it comes to my addiction. I need to remember, however, that this not me, but my disease hard at work to convince me that “everything is fine.” As long as I think things are fine, I haven’t taken the first Step in admitting I have a problem. If I don’t have a problem, I don’t have to look for a solution.

If I am trying to stop drinking, the disease has only one job to do every day: to get me to put off dealing with the sobriety for another day. This is smart thinking on my disease’s part: if it can convince me to put off recovery just one more day… then that’s one more day it’s got the foot in the door. Chances are if it can convince me to delay recovery today, it will be able to convince me again tomorrow as well. Reciting the “tomorrow mantra” was responsible for years of delayed recovery for me. There’s one indisputable fact: if you are in a room full of recovering ex-users and drinker, none of them started their sobriety on a tomorrow. They all started it on a today.

The maddening thing about this disease is that there is no getting ahead of it. Everything I learn about this disease is simply more ammunition for it to use against me. There is, of course, nothing wrong with many of the program phrases you hear, but an active disease can grab onto those phrases, twist them around, and come up with a reason – using those phrases – that I should go another day without putting down the booze.

This happened for me when I was trying to get my sobriety back. I would come to meetings, hoping to be inspired. If truth be told, I was coming to meetings hoping that the “Sobriety Fairy” would come along and give me back that first grace sobriety that was easy and brought no cravings with it. In other words, I wanted what everyone had without doing any of the work. That kind of thinking is another aspect of the disease, and another weapon in my disease’s arsenal.

I particularly used that tired old saw “I’m praying for the willingness.” As a Convention speaker I heard once said, “when it comes to addiction, willingness is highly overrated. If Bill W. and Dr. Bob had waited until they were willing, there would never have been an AA.” Of course, the reality is that we all need to be willing in order to recover. At that exact point in my relapse, however, my disease was trying to use the program concept of willingness against me as a way to get me to “kick the can down the road” another day when it came to actually stop drinking. That phrase also did double duty for me. Not only did it keep me from actually putting down the booze, but it also made me feel like I was actually doing something when indeed I was not. I had just come to use a program phrase to justify my continued drinking.

“A little knowledge can be dangerous” was the story of my relapse. After some time in program and knowing that I knew about the disease simply meant I had to get more creative with the BS I used on myself. 

Why did I do this? Insanity. Today I look back and realize that I didn’t do this. I allowed the disease to do it to me. Understanding that the little voice that is constantly trying to find the “easier, softer way” is my disease was the key to getting on the road to recovery for me.

My disease wants to take the balance sheet of recovery and then white out the plusses and put all of the minuses in big bold letters.

You know my disease doesn’t say to me? It doesn’t say “You poor thing! You don’t get to be wake up in a puddle of vomit!  You don't wake up knowing where you are (and who's next to you)! You find yourself in handcuffs! You don’t get to live an isolated, dismal life with few friends and even fewer romantic interests.”

In some ways, people in program do newcomers a true disservice by trying to play to the diseased portion of their brains. We want newcomers to feel like there is nothing to give up and all to gain. That’s just not true. People in A.A. and other programs have to give up drinking. Period.  Full stop.  It’s unreasonable to expect that we won’t have to sacrifice some things for our recovery. 12 Step programs shouldn’t compete with a billion dollar beverage industry that tells us to "drink responsibly."  It puts the idea that we can do that.  If you're like me, I will start out the night trying tin drinking responsibly, but it's like dancing with the gorilla.  You stop when the gorilla wants to stop.  Some of the craziest situations and places I found myself in started out with me planning on spending a quiet night at home.

At another point in my slip, my disease convinced me that I should work on the spiritual part of the program. What was that about? Well, trying to focus on the spiritual part means I don’t actually have to do anything about stopping the drinking! Maybe if I worked on the Steps, sobriety would magically fall into place! While I truly believe that my sobriety is a gift from my Higher Power, I need to meet him (her? it?) halfway and do the footwork.

I've even heard a school of thought in program that says perhaps you should work on the Steps first, and that the drinking or using will take care of itself.  When people say they are going to “work the Steps” without putting down the booze, I have to ask an important question: what about that pesky first Step?  It says “we are powerless over alcohol” and yet you’re saying “I’ll get back to that one.” Exactly how is that admitting powerlessness? How do you do Steps 2 through 12 before handling Step 1?  Ever try that with a ladder?

The bottom line is that there is really only one way I found to break the stranglehold of drinking and using – I had to put the booze down and pick up the Steps. I truly wish there were an easier, softer way, but all those other things I tried were just the disease using my self-delusion to win the battle for another day.