08/29/2026
I have been thinking a lot about the way we talk about addiction, recovery, identity, and what we believe has to remain true forever.
And I keep coming back to one distinction:
There is a difference between saying, “I have patterns, vulnerabilities, histories, and limits that I need to understand and take responsibility for,” and saying, “I am the problem.”
That distinction matters.
For many people, abstinence is the safest and wisest choice. For many, AA, the Twelve Steps, church, peer support, therapy, medication, community, or some combination of these has been life-changing.
I am not interested in taking any of that away.
What I am interested in questioning is what happens when one pathway becomes a universal explanation for everybody.
When “this is what works for me” becomes “this is what you are.”
When “alcohol is not safe for me” becomes “I have a permanent disease that defines me.”
When a useful metaphor becomes settled biology.
When a recovery identity becomes something a person is expected to carry for life.
And when disagreement with that framework gets interpreted as denial.
That is where I think we lose curiosity.
Addiction can profoundly affect the brain, behavior, relationships, judgment, and the way a person moves through the world.
So can trauma.
So can grief.
So can chronic stress.
So can love, learning, relationships, recovery, and time.
The brain changes.
People change.
Lives change.
Some people will need lifelong abstinence. Some will need ongoing support. Some will remain deeply connected to a recovery community for the rest of their lives because it gives them meaning, belonging, and structure.
Beautiful.
But none of that requires us to tell every person that they are permanently diseased, permanently defective, permanently unreliable, or permanently defined by the worst season of their life.
We can hold people accountable without making them the problem.
We can respect risk without turning risk into identity.
We can honor recovery communities without insisting that one language belongs to everyone.
And we can acknowledge that a person may never safely drink again while still leaving room for the possibility that something inside them has genuinely healed, changed, matured, integrated, and grown.
Maybe the next evolution in recovery is not abandoning what has worked.
Maybe it is becoming secure enough in what has worked for us that we no longer need everyone else to understand themselves the same way.
The person is not the problem.
The pattern may be.
The behavior may be.
The relationship with the substance may be.
The environment may be.
The pain underneath it may be.
And all of those things can be faced with honesty, responsibility, courage, and support.
But I will always leave room for the human being to become larger than the story we once needed to explain them.
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