#twelve step programs

The beginning of Shadow Dancing, Stephen Franklin has been walkabout for days now, and we see Zach Allan talking to Garibaldi about it. And you know both of these guys know what it's like.

And Garibaldi feels like maybe he didn't handle it right, with confronting Stephen about his addiction to stims, and maybe he should have followed him, gone with him, instead of letting him walk away. And you and I know, there was no way for that to work. And maybe Garibaldi technically knows it, but in his gut, it's personal. You don't want your friend to have to hit rock bottom. You don't want your friend to have to go it alone. Garibaldi, in addition to being an asshole, is a compulsive fixer.

But they're having a little meeting here, Michael and Zach, and no matter what Zach feels about the weird details of Stephen's quest to turn his life over to his higher power, he knows it's part of the process. You can't shortcut recovery for someone.

And look at Stephen.

He admitted he was powerless over the stims, and that his life had become unmanageable.

He came to believe that a power greater than himself could restore him to sanity.

He made a decision to turn his will and his life over to this higher power as he understood it.

He made a searching and fearless moral inventory of himself.

He admitted to himself, to his higher power, and to Garibaldi the exact nature of his wrongs.

As a Foundationalist it's not like Franklin believes in God, but he was entirely willing to be rid of his defects of character ...

... and humbly went about the standard process for removing those shortcomings.

Now, we don't know about his list of people he has harmed or his amends to them, but we do know that when he does come back, he is committed to a better way of dealing with his life, which probably involves the usual continued inventory and willingness to admit wrong and make amends. The 12-step program is built into the plot, recognizably and yet without lampshading it.

And so Zach, and JMS for that matter, is reminding us: it's OK if someone is going on their process of recovery, and you're not part of it right now. The point of recovery is not that you can save people. It's that no matter what has happened, you can get better. And so can they.

"Look: he's gotta get his head screwed on straight. You can't do that for him."

"I had no interest in drinking in moderation. And I still don't. Just because all that time's passed doesn't mean maybe it was just a phase. That's you know, that's who I am." ~Philip Seymour Hoffman

Step 1. We admit that we were powerless over our addiction. ~Narcotics Anonymous

The death of one of my favorite actors reopened the maelstrom of my disdain for the twelve step addiction recovery philosophy. I don't know the exact types of treatment he received while in rehab, but he's been in and out a few times – chances are the toxic message of being hopelessly tainted seeped in somewhere along the way.

 "Once an addict, always an addict" is a lie.

Twelve step programs tell people who are young and impressionable, people who are debilitated by ill circumstance, those temporarily riding a wild hare, folks who are depressed for a time and happen to use, and even, especially people who beat addiction - these programs tell all of them, indiscriminately, that they are marked forever.

People are told they're weak, their focus is shifted from substance addiction to "higher power" addiction, and then they're sent out into the world, these ticking time bombs, perpetually anticipating the excuse to embrace that imaginary broken core, no matter what they've accomplished or how much time has passed. 

Further reading on damaging myths about addiction. And more.

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Update: Since posting this, I've run into two common misinterpretations of my statement, in addition to numerous notes of thanks and agreement:

1. People think I'm against support groups 2. People think I'm suggesting that if all drug users would "just toughen up", they would all beat addiction right away