Chronic Love -Embracing Grace in Relapse
Sitting in the church basement, I felt a knot in my stomach, a mix of failure and embarrassment. Just yesterday, I was on the phone with my sponsor.“Doing great! I’m going to watch some TV and head to bed early.” Later that evening, I found myself on social media, on the brink of ruining another 30-day streak of sobriety.
It’s hard to admit, but I have struggled with relapses in my recovery journey.
I’m all too familiar with the disappointment of phoning my sponsor or a family member to confess that I’ve messed up yet again.
Regrettably, I am what many refer to as a “chronic relapser,” a label I avoid because it only adds to my shame and makes me reluctant to share day counts at meetings.
Following these brief, usually one- or two-day slips, I would often find a quick fix solution or adjustment of my “plan”, hoping it would be the solution to preventing future mishaps. I tried everything from a net nanny on my cell phone, changing my number, restarting the steps, to nightly calls with my sponsor, gratitude journals, varying approaches to counting days, sober living environments, and sharing my location with friends. Unfortunately, none of these strategies worked long-term.
One of the most disheartening pieces of advice came from a best friend. It wasn’t really a solution, more of a statement: “You’ll stop when you’re ready.”
If you’ve struggled with relapse, you know how disheartening it can be. People want to help and see you succeed, but their support often wanes after repeated setbacks. I’ve realized that each relapse increasingly affects my spiritual well-being and self-worth.
Countless nights I’ve lain in bed praying, “Dear God! Why can’t I stop? Why aren’t you helping me? What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?”
I was having a spiritual breakdown.
I often described myself as both “spiritual and religious.” During times where I was spiritually low, religious practice carried me through the difficulties. My religious traditions became a tether, tying me to the God I’d never understand, but wanted to trust. There is something to be said about the way that wrote prayers and set rituals provided an intentional space and discipline for my spiritual life in its ups and downs.
Thank God, I found solace in weekly mass attendance, reciting memorized prayers, and engaging in Morning and Evening Prayer. These practices reconnected me to the Divine.
This led to two key realizations that differentiated my last “slip.”
First, it’s not about needing to seek God. God seeks us. There’s no separation between us and the divine. Many religious traditions teach that the Divine presence is as close as our breath. The concept of seeking God for help needs reframing; God is always there.
The debate about a “higher power of our understanding” was a distraction. My suffering was real, and the idea of a loving God, separate from a broken, depressed addict like me, passively watching my struggles, seemed incongruent.
This leads to my second point, and perhaps the most significant: the role of love in recovery. Despite having supportive sponsors, family, friends, and teachers, I realized that self-love was the missing piece of my recovery puzzle.
As an addict, my perfectionism led me to create facades of control and success. My substance use prevented me from achieving my desires authentically. Each relapse diminished my self-efficacy and self-view. When my facades crumbled, I felt abandoned by God and hopeless.
I am fortunate to be part of a religious tradition that emphasizes love. Contrary to some beliefs, God’s love is unconditional, independent of any recovery milestones. God doesn’t count our days of sobriety; He cares about our wholeness and health.
God isn’t concerned with tallying our flaws or ensuring we meet certain benchmarks like “90 in 90.” God’s primary concern is to stay close to us, helping us realize that our “recovered identity” is the one He cherishes.
Viewing the world through a Christian lens, I’ve grappled with the theology of soteriology, which explains salvation through the cross and empty tomb. Theology and religion provide the language to describe the indescribable, functioning as tools to relate our lives to the divine. The life of God is reflected in His creation and people. Here’s what salvation comes down to. God’s Love is always greater than our destruction and in fact will use Love to turn destruction itself into a means of finding more love.
Addiction has been my cross.
The the cross reveals the emptiness ever power that separates us from God (sin). Crucifixion has to be one of the most isolating, dehumanizing and humiliating forms of death. Death by addiction is not far off. Human desires, and power run rampant always lead to destruction (the cross) Giving power away and accepting and taking on the embodiment of love leads to new life (Resurrection)
God views us through the reality of Resurrection, on the other side of the cross, where there is no separation from us and God. If only we viewed ourselves the same way.
This self love is essential. For me it was found when others showed me a small snippet of what unconditional, Godly, love was like. Facing the loss of everything and everyone, it was the love of those around me that became most apparent. Phone calls from my parents trying to find me, three friends that literally left rehab to find me in an Uber, a best friend opening her home, friends that stuck by me despite my shitty behavior. My addiction shifted from a means of destruction to a means of discovering a new way of being. It’s an important shift that I am sure will bring positive change.
St. Paul wrote, “the message of the cross is foolishness to the wise, but to the ones being saved, it is the power of God” (1 Corinthians 1:18). The cross, once a symbol of suffering, became a gateway to a life of recovery and promise.
This realization has transformed my perspective on recovery. If you’re struggling with relapse, consider shedding the label of “chronic relapser.” God chooses to see recovered self when you and others can’t. God is always there guiding you to that whole self whether you’ve “found” God or not.
For me the daily practice and reminder of perceived “empty ritual” helped me find the empty tomb. I’m not sure I would have otherwise.
If nothing else remember this:
What you seek seeks you.
Keep going. Don’t just seek to understand; seek to feel.
Where is love showing up for you?