Ever since I made a conscious effort to stop using substances, I have been fighting relentless waves of craving.
When I initially decided to stop drinking in 2020, my cravings shifted from alcohol to drugs, which I ultimately buckled and did a few months into my budding sobriety. Over the next few years, I went through sporadic bursts of abstinence from all substances, with each setback/slip/relapse psychologically hitting me harder than the last.
I sensed this was some kind of moral failing on my part—how could I want sobriety so badly, but couldn’t manage to maintain it? Why did I continue to turn back to substances time and time again despite hating myself so much for using them?
I loved how I felt and who I had become while sober, and I looked forward to the future I could now see clearly for myself, so why did I keep slipping?
It’s not even that I loved the feeling of being drunk or high anymore. In fact, I despised the feeling, as it was always a brief numbness followed by severe consequences, excruciating anxiety, and a mountain of self-resentment. Was I just a glutton for punishment?
Although I knew and understood that I wanted to be sober and that I wanted to take my recovery seriously, it was like I had an ineptitude for it. The desire was there, but I lacked follow-through. My recovery felt like an unending series of failures.
I don’t want to use anymore but my cravings have a mind of their own—the obsessive thoughts never cease and I feel powerless against them.
Like compulsive obsessions, cravings are repetitive, consistent, and unwanted thoughts or urges, resulting in intense distress and anxiety until the behavior (drinking or using) is decidedly acted out.
In The Heart of Addiction, Dr. Lance Dodds argues addictions are just that—a subset of compulsions—and should be treated as such, with the compassion we lend to other compulsive behaviors.
Take, for instance, people who obsessively clean, rearrange, and organize. This type of compulsion is often looked at as a basic emotional problem—and in order to better understand it, we often dive deep into the psychology of the person.
It could, for instance, be a direct response to a chaotic childhood. The compulsion to constantly clean, rearrange, and make sure the external world is in order is therefore an effort to find or create safety.
Similarly, “addictions are an attempt to preserve control over your feelings and your life and respond assertively to helplessness,” says Dodds. Addiction, following the same cycle as a compulsive disorder, is just another attempt to find or create safety amidst chaos.
As with other compulsive thoughts, the onslaught of cravings takes over your ability to function despite your better judgment.
The cravings are subtle at first. Fleeting thoughts, flashes, memories. I’d be reading a book, playing with my dog, or doing the dishes and picture a glass of wine in my hand, and then imagine taking that first, refreshing sip. I’d push these thoughts away, but the anxiety had already begun. I’d try my hardest to ignore these intrusive thoughts, but soon it was all I could obsessively think about.
Being drunk or high suddenly seemed like the only plausible solution to the growing anxiety, fear, guilt, and shame. I would attempt to push all of it down, smashing it out of existence, but bits of it always slipped through.
Anger bubbled up inside me and I’d begin to think of how easy it would be to walk to the liquor store or drop by the ATM. I would white-knuckle these cravings for days, weeks, or months. I kept expecting the cravings to lessen in severity over time but even when I wasn’t actively thinking about using, the anxiety never truly went away. Cravings were a perpetual threat in the back of my mind.
I kept hitting this same wall in my recovery. I felt bound to continue relapsing unless I made a change and took control of my ruthless cravings.
Truthfully, until recently, it has felt psychologically impossible to step away from substances completely despite wanting so desperately to be free of them.
I mentioned that I needed to make a change.
Recently, I started taking an anti-depressant that is known to help curb the effects of cravings.
Within less than a week, I was shocked at its effectiveness.
On the first day, my energy felt elevated, and I barely thought to drink my morning cup of coffee.
On the third day, I experienced cravings while working on a stressful project. Thoughts of disappearing for the day with a bottle of wine entered my mind, but I quickly talked myself out of the desire.
Aloud, I told myself what a terrible idea that would be, how awful I would feel, how I wouldn’t get anything done, and that I would be tired + more stressed in the morning.
And just like that, the craving went away. I felt so relieved I started crying. I realized I hadn’t truly been free of cravings and the anxiety they brought on since I started my sober journey three years ago.
This medication has improved my mood and decreased cravings and anxiety, allowing me to focus on further developing skills to sustain my recovery.
While it is still early into this new medicated treatment, I feel I have broken through the impasse I have faced for so long.
I have finally been given time to rest and heal in recovery, free—not of craving, that might always exist—but of the incessant anxiety and obsession that craving brings.
Thank you for reaching the bottom of the page. If you resonated with this content or feel at all moved or seen, feel free to donate directly to me via Venmo.
I currently don’t offer a paid subscription, but thank you to those who have offered a pledge.
For now, like, share, and subscribe!
Take care,
Lindsey