Do You Ever Get Tempted to Have “Just a Little?”

I know people do get tempted, because if they didn’t, we wouldn’t see relapses. But what is it that leads a person who clearly devastated their life with drugs and alcohol to give up on the positive path of recovery?  I think there is one word for what causes it: FEELINGS.

Why are feelings so hard for us to take? Is it genetic or environmental? Why do other people seem so comfortable with their feelings?

I wish I could give an easy answer, but I think it’s very complex, and I can only talk about my own experience.

Feelings were not particularly welcome in my home.  If you were sad, you were a sour puss. If you were happy, you were hyper. I also had a father who personalized everything, so your feelings were a reflection on him.  If you had a bad day and your face reflected that, my father interpreted it as an indictment of him. We didn’t appreciate how hard he worked. We were spoiled and selfish.

So what lesson did I take away from that?  Basically, feelings were bad. They were overwhelming. They ruined everything. But it’s not normal to not have feelings, sometimes really strong, visceral feelings. It’s really pretty hard not to have them unless you are a sociopath. So what to do with these dangerous feelings that triggered my father to go into a rage?

Find a way to mute them.

I started with food. And believe me, that wasn’t easy. My mother was obsessed with what food we ate, so we didn’t have treats or the like in the house. We got donuts twice a year on a Sunday after church.  But it didn’t take long for me to discover that sugar makes you feel better.  I certainly wasn’t conscious that I was squelching feelings, only that I really wanted carbs – and I’d do what I could to get around my mother to get them.  In kindergarten that meant making sure I got extra helpings of macaroni and cheese.  At home, that meant searching my dads jacket pockets for change so I could sneak over to the 7-11 and get some M&Ms.

I discovered alcohol pretty early as well. I’d ask my dad if I could taste his scotch or wine. I’d be allowed a tiny sip.  I was enamored immediately.  My mother also thought hot toddies were a great way to get me to settle down at night when sleeping seemed to evade me.  A little brandy in warm milk and off to sleepy land.

I remember the prized bottle of paragoric in the cabinet. My dad was a doctor, so he kept it around as a remedy for the runs. I think I almost wanted to get diarrehea so I could get a teaspoon of the medicine. It’s an opiate. It tasted like licorice. It made me feel all warm and safe.

With this kind of history, it seems almost inevitable now that I ended up using alcohol to mute my feelings and escape the uncomfortableness of strong emotions.

In sobriety, I don’t have that option. I have to feel my feelings. Ugh.

I’ve been fortunate in my almost 24 years of sobriety that I haven’t been tempted to have just a little – but I certainly know why smoeone would be. Feelings are rather inconvenient at times. In those two decades I’ve felt some that were utterly devastating. I have felt feelings that literally caused physical pain in my head, my heart, my stomach. But for some reason, I didn’t give in.

I think because I truly, at the deepest level, know it didn’t do anything for me when I did use alcohol.I didn’t really get rid of feelings, I just felt depressed and miserable – one note, all the time. 

It’s important to recognize it if you are having a feeling you want to squelch, because that can be the first step toward temptation if you don’t.  Knowing that you are fighting natural feelings alerts you to the possibility you will try something to get rid of them: if not drink, maybe spend money or eat a pint of ice cream.

Funny, though, the feelings come back. So you have a choice to make: feel the feelings and work through them, or keep kicking them down and getting kicked in the butt again and again.