If there is one group besides aspiring saints from whom former New York governor Eliot Spitzer will find empathy for his recent swan-dive into self-destruction it’s recovering addicts.
Being one myself for the past 20 years, I’ve had the privilege of hearing (and telling) all manner of horror stories stemming from the insanity that is the heart and soul of addiction. Stories as equally absurd and painful as, “I became governor of New York as the champion of moral rectitude only to start paying as much as five K a pop for prostitutes,” are as common as coffee at just about any Alcoholics Anonymous meeting I’ve attended. As is the response from those fellow addicts who’ve been recovering long enough to know what they’re talking about.“Makes sense,” they’re likely to say.
“What do you expect?” they’re likely to say. “Craziness and addiction go hand in hand.”
“Welcome to the club,” they’re likely to say.
And as they speak they’re smiling with understanding.
Humankind’s growing experience with addiction reveals its presence in just about every single one of us. This isn’t new news, really. Attachment, said the Buddha, is the root of all human misery. And in essence, attachment is addiction.
It doesn’t matter whether our preferred drugs include alcohol, pot, coke, crack, smack, meth, nicotine, sex, sugar, power, tidiness, revenge, gambling, a gang, eating, being a victim, self-hatred, making money, skydiving, keeping a schedule, patriotism, or having the world tell us how wonderful we are—the first rule of addiction is that, when it comes to making healthy choices, all bets are off. What is a healthy choice? One that grows kindness, compassion and understanding. It’s not that an addict is always going to make a destructive choice; it’s that he or she can’t be counted on (by others or themselves) to make a loving one. While addicts can be sociopaths, addiction, in itself, is not an absence of moral character, no matter how devastating its consequences. Addiction is that compulsion or fixation about which, given the right circumstances (for some of us amounting to no more than waking up in the morning), there is very little, if anything, we will not sacrifice to satisfy. In the extreme, that sacrifice can include the trust of those we love.
Announcing his resignation as governor, Mr. Spitzer said his first priority was healing his relationship with his family. It sounds good, but a sober old-timer might tell him that’s just another way his addiction is talking. When I finally awoke to the reality that my life had become unmanageable and I needed to do something about it, I heard quickly from many voices of experience that it wasn’t my relationship with my family I had to pay attention to; it was my relationship with me. “You get so you can trust you, and the rest will take care of itself,” my AA sponsor said. He wasn’t implying that, sooner or later, my family was going to trust me. He meant that their trust was their business (and maybe it would never come); my business was learning to trust myself to live a healthy life.
I can’t speak for what Mr. Spitzer faces in healing his life, but for me it’s been a long, deliberate process—humbling, often painful, moving through fear upon fear, learning to forgive and to love myself. Yet, as once I lived with unending despair, since day one of recovery I have lived with unending gratitude. The first year was like having survived a plane crash. Two decades later I continue to remove the veils of delusion that separate me from the boundless potential inherent in being human—and as each veil drops, there is more light with which to see the beauty of who I really am; indeed, who all of us really are.
Like many addicts, Mr. Spitzer is a man of considerable talents. Should he choose to embrace his so-called public ignominy as an opening for self-discovery, what he learns, and how his life evolves from it, could be a source of considerable service to not only himself and those close to him, but also to the world at large.
And should that occur, fellow addicts who’ve been recovering long enough to know what they’re talking about will smile with understanding.
“Makes sense,” they’re likely to say.
“What do you expect?” they’re likely to say. “Amazing, beautiful things go with the territory.”
“Welcome to the club,” they’re likely to say.
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