
Illumination-Mental Health
Alcoholism: A Disease of Apathy
A critical review of alcoholism at play
Alcoholism is a disease of apathy. I have always known that alcohol is poison to my body, mind, and soul. But the truth is my disease does not care. I can write about my track record pertaining to alcohol. I can talk to sober friends. I can look someone in the eye, and admit my struggles with alcohol, but that will never stop me from picking up again and again.
It does not matter that I get physically sick or that I embarrass myself. Money is no object because I will find a way. It makes no difference if a person is mean to me, loves me or shouts at me about my alcoholic behavior, I am powerless over alcohol, but moreover, I am powerless over the “ism.” And that is something that I have to live with for the rest of my life.
I remember coming up with this great speech that I would give to young people whenever I had a chance. It goes something like this: Do you know what happens to you when you say you don’t know or you don’t care? The students say no. And I ask again… You don’t know? And they get more interested. And I repeat the question for impact. Do you know what happens to you when you say you don’t know or you don’t care? And then I answer. When you say you don’t know or you don’t care decisions get made for you. You have given up your option to choose. And you don’t even know it.
But the truth with most issues in life is that we do care. Alcoholics care far more than anyone realizes. We are super-sensitive individuals battling a disease with our own mind. We do not want another person, or alcohol, to be making decisions for us.
Indeed, this disease needs to be respected because it is bigger than us, more “powerful, cunning, baffling,” disruptive, and painful than we can humanly handle. And we care. We care that we feel like crap and that our dreams fall to the wayside. We care that we have lost ourselves over and over. But, like a constant wheel that goes around, we lose this battle again and again.
And that is why divine intervention is real. The fact is there will be thousands of days I cannot stop drinking, and then one day I ask God for help, and I stop shortly after is a phenomenon that only the alcoholic can understand. This experience is commonly reported by many recovering alcoholics. Furthermore, our problems soften in time and turn into miracles if we stay on task.
In fact, divine intervention has always preceded my ability to live a sober life. When I get out of my way, my life takes on a new form. Many alcoholics do not like the idea of God. They say that they do not believe it. It doesn’t matter to me anymore if it is true or not. I don’t want to die so I will believe in God. And I cannot believe in God for the sake of another. God does not play that game. My sobriety is meant for me, alone.
Furthermore, there is nothing better than being in a room full of happy recovering alcoholics because recovering alcoholics are far more hilarious sober opposed to when they are drunk. We also get each other’s warped minds. We understand that we are isolators, easily resentful, maimed by our own actions. We know the depths of hell each of us has traveled and we are very grateful to be back. We become awesome leaders, lovers, parents, and people.
But in a split second, we do not care. What people do not understand is that alcoholics battle a blind spot in their thinking: a moment of time where all of the “incomprehensible demoralization” the alcoholic endured, all of the shame, and the humiliation, and the loss, disappears in favor of the juice.
Our lives make a pivotal turn in which we are unaware, and we begin to not complete tasks or become no-shows to our commitments, and we begin to lose interest in our lives, actively choosing non-participation in areas that were once of great importance.
Once again, we unravel. These signs do not always pre-tell a pending relapse but it does say something about the state of mind of the person, and speaks loudly about the “ism.”
At that moment, choices get made for us. We are now the victims of our own lives rather than accountable participants in regard to job performance, relationships, and or responsible behavior. All of our choices are decided by the alcohol itself. And this makes us yearn to not care all over again. For this reason, alcoholism is truly a disease of apathy.
Therefore, our actions must direct our lives. We cannot rely on our thinking. If I am to lead a life free from this substance, all my actions matter. I must do the next right thing. And I must do them consistently.
It takes great humility in surrendering to this fact. And in humility, there is great freedom. I cannot think of a better way to live than to be free. I could ask for nothing more.
Peace out.






