Rational Recovery pill

Yes, Virginia, There Is a Cure for Alcoholism
“I just got out of a hospital rehab program. I guess it didn’t do me any good,” she said. “I only stayed sober for ten days.”
I asked, “Why did you go into the program?”
“Because I’m an alcoholic,” she said. “I got real bad, and I needed help drying out. I hate living my life this way, but nothing works. I’ve been in two other rehabs in the last three years, and I’ve been to a lot of support meetings, but I always go back to drinking.”
Notice that she portrays herself as a victim, inexplicably drinking in spite of receiving much treatment, and she describes how painful her life is.
“So, what’s your plan this time?” I asked.
“That’s why I’m calling you now. I still need help,” she answered.
I pressed a little. "Let me ask again. What is your plan concerning the future use of alcohol?"
She was perplexed. “Plan?”
“Yes, Virginia,” I responded. “What is your plan? Are you going to drink some more? Or, are you going to quit drinking?” I waited as her wheels turned.
In American-style recovery, the idea of planning to quit drinking is considered unrealistic, most often a sign of the disease of alcoholism.
Finally, she answered, “I don’t have a plan, one way or the other.”
I asked, “Does that seem strange to you?”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” she said.
I proceeded to draw a rather bizarre picture. "I mean, Virginia, you have been in three expensive hospital rehabs in the last three years, and you say you hate living in the chains of addiction. But when I ask what your plan is for the future use of alcohol, you come up blank. Isn’t that odd?
Although the lack of any plan to quit drinking is a chief characteristic of addiction, addicted people do not perceive that a plan to quit would be of any help.
Annoyed, she said, “Well, if I knew that, I wouldn’t have a problem, would I?”
Pressing further, I said, “Of course not, which is exactly why I ask this blunt question. You have a serious addiction to alcohol that you say is ruining your life. You placed this call to find a way to end that addiction, didn’t you?”
“Well, I think so,” she said, “but you are making it sound like I can just wish this problem away and go on as if I weren’t an alcoholic.”
Notice the antagonism toward anyone who would suggest that one simply quit drinking. You will be learning much more about this common reaction.
I continued, “What did you learn last month during your hospital rehab?”
“Learn?” she asked, puzzled. “Oh, I learned that I will never really recover from my alcoholism because it is a chronic disease. I will have to go to meetings for the rest of my life, and relapse is a normal part of recovery. I can spot signs of relapse, especially denial, by looking for feedback from others. If I don’t go to meetings, I am probably in the process of relapse. I still have a lot to do with getting my Higher Power together, and I have trouble with step one, which is the powerless step. I still have some trouble with that, and there’re still some problems with my personal inventory that I will have to work out. I have no serenity, and my spiritual life is way down. I had post-acute withdrawal symptoms in the hospital, but I couldn’t figure out what they were because I felt normal. Life seems impossible when I look very far ahead, and that’s what scares me, so I try to go one day at a time. I read The Big Book over and over, because they say I will eventually understand the meaning of the steps. There, is that what you mean by what I learned?”
She is fully involved with the formalities of treatment, and she is articulate in discussing her inner life with others. It is common for people “in recovery” to become self-involved, preoccupied with spiritual and psychological matters, and to speak of themselves as if they are subjects navigating an obstacle course.
I leveled with Virginia. “Yes. You just told me that you have no plan to recover from alcoholism. You plan to flounder with your addiction for years to come, experimenting with Higher Power ideas, playing games with the powerless idea, trying to prove to yourself that you’re a decent person, and going to meetings that bore you stiff. And, very importantly, Virginia, you plan to relapse any time you feel like it.”
A long silence ensued. Finally, she quietly said, “That is perfectly correct.”
You may wonder why she didn’t become angry at this confrontation. This is because she is of two minds about addiction and recovery. On the one hand, she wants to keep drinking, but on the other, she wants to solve her problem. Moreover, I didn’t suggest she actually quit, but only described how she flounders in recovery.
She continued, “And I feel like killing myself when I think of it.”
“Have you been thinking of getting rid of yourself for quite a while?”
This was a safe guess on my part. Suicidal ideas are a very common occurrence among addicted people, although they rarely take action on those ideas.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“But, obviously, you do something else instead. What do you do each and every time you think of killing yourself because of your drinking problem?”
“I get drunk.”
Suicidal ideas serve an important purpose of justifying drinking.
“And you have no plan to stop drinking. Isn’t that strange, Virginia? Did anyone in the hospital suggest you stop drinking alcohol?”
“Yes, the pharmacist said I shouldn’t mix alcohol with my antidepressants.”
“So at least someone besides me thinks you can choose not to drink alcohol. But what do you think? Would you like to make a plan to stop drinking, for good?”
Annoyed once again, she said, “It’s not realistic for me just to say I won’t drink anymore. This thing has destroyed others in my family—my father, and two brothers. It is a disease that runs in the family, and that’s part of what’s going on with me. You don’t seem to understand. Have you ever been addicted to anything?”
Addicted people will manipulate never-addicted people, skillfully and endlessly, and they will reject counsel they don’t like if it comes from a never-addicted person.
“Yes, booze, for many years. And I also used to believe the same nonsense you’ve been telling me for the last few minutes. I thought I had a disease that was making me drink, and I thought I was destined to drink forever. But I finally cured myself by quitting drinking.”
She retorted, “Thinking there’s a cure is denial! Alcoholism is incurable.”
There is a pamphlet from Hazelden Publications, an AA-oriented publisher, titled, “Don’t Tell Me I Don’t Have a Disease!” A picture shows a man with an insistent expression, as if his life depended on believing alcoholism is a disease. People in addiction treatment are taught that challenging the disease concept is dangerous and can result in death.
“Oh yes, Virginia,” I explained. “There is a cure for alcoholism, and it’s as old as the hills.”
“A cure? You said a cure for the disease of alcoholism? The counselors at the hospital say we can only arrest it. Isn’t the idea of a cure dangerous thinking?”
“Well, if you think that ‘cure’ means you can keep drinking, perhaps.”
Virginia finally asked, “So, what’s the cure?”
“Abstinence,” I replied.
“Anyone can be a dry drunk,” she said, now sounding well rehearsed.
To discourage people from making a commitment to permanent abstinence, which would result in immediate and complete recovery, the recovery group movement predicts that people who take that approach will disintegrate or explode. “Dry drunk” is a fictitious condition that is said to afflict alcoholics who merely quit drinking and fail to surrender to the 12-step way of life. This condition, called “addictive disease,” is inferred from any irregularity or imperfection that may be noticed in newly abstinent people, and it is said to be progressive and fatal. Dry drunks, it is said, almost invariably relapse, and if they don’t relapse, they can never be happy. The dry drunk concept steers people away from the most obvious, effective, risk-free, and wholesome solution to any substance addiction—an immediate commitment to permanent abstinence.
I interrupted, “Hold on. Let me ask you, what would your life be like if you never drank again?”
“I can’t think of what that would be like,” she said.
“Won’t,” I corrected. “You won’t, because you plan to drink forever. But go ahead, Virginia, take a peek. What would you be doing today if you hadn’t been drinking for the last few years?”
“I would be in business as a graphics designer in Europe, where my ex-boyfriend lives. He would have me, but not in this condition.” She recounted how her fiance finally gave up on their relationship because of her repeated relapses.
“So today is just an outcome of your past drinking, and you can see that your future, likewise, will be an outcome of any further drinking. But, do you want anything better than what’s going on now?”
“Yes, very much. That’s why I called.”
“Then, how about making a plan to never drink again?”
She hesitated, “I can’t. It makes me feel too anxious. I just can’t.”
She knows I’m not kidding, and she realizes that she is capable of quitting anytime she chooses. If this weren’t so, she would not feel anxious or take my suggestion seriously.
“Very good, Virginia,” I said. “You are actually doing very well at what we do in Rational Recovery. Right now, you are feeling your addiction. And you are having conflicting thoughts about the use of alcohol. You are ambivalent about drinking, something all addicted people have in common. On the one hand, you would like to stop drinking and get on with your life, but on the other hand, you are terrified of giving up alcohol. That part of you wants to drink forever.”
Virginia senses she is understanding something for the first time, something extremely important. This early insight will grow rapidly, build on itself, and result in lifetime abstinence.
“Yes!” she exclaimed. “You’ve hit it on the head again! At one level, I do want to flounder with this addiction forever, playing the recovery game and relapsing from time to time, but I also want to get this behind me and get on with my life. I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired. Right now, I have a strong desire to quit drinking for good. But I’m afraid to feel it too much. I may be in denial—denying that my disease is chronic and incurable and progressive. If I relapse again, my hopes will be dashed, and I’ll be more depressed than ever. But I do feel both ways. And I do want to get better. Right now!”
She recognizes that she is of two minds. There is the voice that wants to get better, and there is the voice of her addiction, which wants her to languish in recovery. Most people who call Rational Recovery face the same dilemma, and they are usually excited at the prospect of an actual, immediate cure from the ravages of addiction.
So I made Virginia an offer she would not likely refuse.
“Okay,” I said, “you’re on. If you want to kick your addiction for good, here’s the game plan. Ready?”
“Okay, go ahead.”
“Think right now about the idea of never drinking again. Are you open to that?”
“I’m open to that.”
“Fine. But there’s another voice in your head, and it is saying something else. What does it say?”
Virginia paused and said, “A voice says, ‘You can’t do that. You know you’ll drink again. You’re doomed to a life of drinking. It can’t be any different.’”
I explained, “What you are hearing in your head is what we call the Addictive Voice. It is the part of your own thinking that argues incessantly for more drinking. It tells you how impossible it is for you to decide simply to quit drinking once and for all. Get it?”
“Like there are two of me?” she asked.
“Almost. There is only one of you, but you are of two minds about quitting. You may plan never to drink again, but your Addictive Voice has different plans. You can learn to recognize your own Addictive Voice as not-quite-you. Those thoughts are yours, for sure, but they aren’t you.”
“Oh, that voice! You mean the one that is telling me right now to have a drink once we hang up?”
“You’re doing it, Virginia! You are now practicing what we call Addictive Voice Recognition Technique, after only a few minutes of talking about it. In Rational Recovery we call it ‘AVRT,’ for short. The letters almost spell out the word avert. You can completely recover from your addiction in a relatively short time by doing what you just did.”
Some people have a profound insight after as little explanation as this. Once, after I appeared on a radio talk show, a man called me to say that he had heard my explanation of the Addictive Voice while driving to a business meeting at a hotel. He had struggled with his addiction for many years and was so struck by his insight that he pulled off the highway to think it over. He realized he was rushing to appear at the hotel so he wouldn’t be late, but he also knew he would wait half an hour in the cocktail lounge, having a drink before the meeting. On the phone, he exclaimed, “I can see that it’s like there are two of me, each arriving early for two totally different reasons. I could never see this before, and I can also see that my drinking days are finally over!” Others, such as Virginia, are skeptical about the insight until they understand it better.
I continued, “Now, tell me what you think of AVRT so far.”
Virginia paused, then said, “Well, I can see it could give me some control, some of the time, but I doubt that it would last for long. I can probably use AVRT to do better at times, but no one’s perfect. I really doubt that I can always resist the desire to drink.”
“Let me suggest, Virginia,” I said, “that just now you heard your Addictive Voice, but failed to recognize it.”
“I don’t think so,” she said.
“Here is what I heard your Addictive Voice say: ‘AVRT is neat, but I will still drink any old time I really feel like it.’ Do you see how your thinking predicts you will drink whenever you feel like it?”
“Now that you point it out, yes. I do see. I’m setting myself up so I can drink.”
I said, “Let’s say ‘it’—your Addictive Voice—is setting you up to drink. It disguises itself as you, and you end up doing its bidding. In a sense, you have an enemy voice within you, a voice that overrides your own better judgment.”
Virginia said, “This is already starting to make more sense than thinking I have a disease. This Addictive Voice, as you call it, is a real, uh . . .”
“Beast. We call it the Beast, because it behaves like one and doesn’t care about anything but booze. It doesn’t care about you or anything you value, including your relationship with your fiancé, your career, your health, or even your life. It will tell you that life is so rotten that you may as well commit suicide, gambling that you will drink instead of going to the trouble of killing yourself. But it’s easy to recognize, Virginia, and once it is exposed, it is defeated. I have no trouble hearing your Addictive Voice now on the phone, and with a little practice, it will be just as easy for you.”
Feelings of hopelessness are part of any addiction. They can lead to serious depression. AVRT offers immediate hope and a sense of personal control that some find exhilarating. Like others who learn about AVRT, Virginia responds to this with some very good feelings.
“I get it!” she said. “This feels like a terrific breakthrough! Right now I have a feeling of hope I haven’t had for years. I actually feel like I can do something to help myself. Why haven’t I heard of this before? I mean, with all the treatment I’ve had. . . . Why isn’t this information given in regular treatment programs?”
I told her, “Things are changing. Rational Recovery has been around for over a decade, and is well known by the professional and treatment communities, but most people haven’t heard of RR or AVRT yet. RR is a well-kept secret because the 12-step program dominates almost every addiction treatment program and crowds out all other points of view. AA seems to help some who choose it and appreciate its good points, but it probably harms even more people who, like you, are forced into it by lack of choice. As in your case, many people become very discouraged and depressed-when they find the 12-step program is against their values or does not work for them.”
Virginia asked, “You know what this means?”
“What?”
“This means I’m not crazy. The more treatment I got, the more confused I got. What I’m seeing now is so simple, it seems like I have always known it. Maybe I have, but I didn’t trust myself.”
Virginia enjoys feeling vindicated from the negativism of 12-step recovery. Being able to reject disease/treatment concepts is very important to recovery from addiction.
“I’ll bet that feels good,” I said.
“It’s like a great weight has been lifted,” Virginia said. “I have hope. You can’t imagine.”
“Oh, yes I can. I was there, too.”
Virginia has been abstinent since that call nearly two years ago. She went on to read this book in an earlier version. She has made a lasting commitment to abstinence, and her life is much improved. She went to Europe, as she dreamed of doing, and now functions as a normal person who simply never drinks alcohol or uses drugs, not even at the sidewalk cafes of Paris! Her boyfriend, she says, appreciates her more than ever.
Virginia is one example of how seriously addicted people may finally accept responsibility and take charge of their lives.

https://b-ok.cc/book/11640878/392513
Good luck anon