When Life Becomes Unmanagable

Feb 18

Ian Morgan Cron

6 min read ⭑

I used to consume heroic amounts of alcohol and prescription meds to relieve the pain I associated with an aching feeling of “not-at-homeness” I felt in the world. I used substances to deaden unexamined pain from my childhood, to sooth the existential, free-floating anxiety that every human being must contend with. Beneath my chemical addictions lay my thirst for completion, for wholeness, for union with God, for peace with myself and others.

My life became unmanageable. Maybe yours has as well?

The Twelve Steps teach that your life is, or eventually will become, unmanageable as the result of your addiction(s) — or simply as the result of being a vulnerable biped prancing around a planet hurtling through space at 67,000 miles per hour, take your pick.

a boxer getting punched — Johann Walter Bantz; Unsplash

I have friends who lost their marriages because of their porn addiction. I know people who lost their relationships with their children and suffered heart attacks as a result of their workaholism. I know gambling addicts who bet gazillions of dollars on the White Sox (at the time of this writing, a sure sign your life is unmanageable). And the list goes on.

It’s possible that your personal misadventures haven’t (yet?) dragged you as far down the scale as these people. Maybe your story isn’t as thrilling or tabloid-worthy as mine or others, but you might want to err on the side of caution. After all, you wouldn’t be meandering around the self-help aisle if a little part of you wasn’t in pain and feeling confused, ashamed, fearful and frustrated that, despite your best efforts, you can’t do what you want to do or stop doing what you don’t want to do.

For example, you might be taking a few too many antianxiety meds or nightly draining a bottle of wine while making mac and cheese for the kids, endlessly scrolling through TikTok, or eating compulsively to self-soothe. Perhaps you find yourself in familiar cycles of controlling or manipulating others to get them to do what you want, or seething with resentment because they didn’t do what you want. Obsessively chasing success at the office to prove to yourself (or maybe your deceased mother) that you’re worthy of love.

Now ask yourself, If I’m managing my issues so well, why do I keep looking for the next fix?

For me, unmanageability revealed itself in the amount of time I spent thinking about getting, taking and concealing substances when I could have been thinking about my relationship with God, myself and others. It revealed itself in the negative thoughts and feelings that consumed me because I hated myself for repeatedly succumbing to my self-destructive behaviors. Unmanageability appeared in my defensiveness and arguments with loved ones who expressed concern about my behavior. It appeared in feelings like shame, apartness, isolation and being stuck.

You might not be ready to walk into a meeting and say, “Hi. My name is ________, and I’m an addict.” I get it. It can take a while. You also may have lived a relatively charmed existence up to this point, or maybe you’re fortunate enough to be crushing life right now. Your addictions aren’t presently causing you enough pain that you feel willing or motivated to put in the effort to work a program as challenging as the Twelve Steps. This program is, after all, for broken crayons, not for folks who haven’t gone through the wringer yet. If you think you’re doing just fine, I suggest you put this book on the shelf until the day comes when you hit the wall and you’re in enough pain that you’ll do anything to get out of it. Though it sounds unkind, I hope that fateful day comes sooner than later. It’ll save you time.

The Twelve Steps don’t say we’re powerless over our lives. What we initially need to cop to is that we’re powerless over our addictions or habitual self-defeating behaviors. We do wield a fair amount of agency in everyday life. We have the power to get out of bed in the morning, take our kids to school and go to work. We even have the freedom and power to love our moocher brother Marty, even though he still hasn’t paid us back for covering his rent 10 years ago.

“We can ... try to boss the world around or cunningly charm it to do what we want ... Or we can learn how to work with life on life’s terms.”

And we have the power to do a lot of damage when we refuse to admit our powerlessness over our addictions. If we don’t feel at home in this world, if we compulsively keep doing stuff that hurts us and others to numb the pain of the present and the past, then we do not have the power to fix ourselves. Listen, how can any of us think we’re powerful and in control of our lives when half of us can’t sneeze without peeing our pants? I mean, seriously.

Once we start indulging our addictions, they take on a power in our lives we didn’t know we were choosing to hand over to them. When I drink water, I can put it down once I’ve quenched my thirst. But if I throw back a shot of tequila, I’ll soon buy a case of Jose Cuervo and lock myself in a hotel room for three days.

I can only maintain my sobriety by remembering my powerlessness over the first drink. The same is true of my addiction to attention and affirmation from the group, conflict avoidance and Sara Lee Iced Orange Sheet Cake (chilled, please), among lots of other stuff. If I’m being completely honest, I don’t have the power or self-discipline to stop these behaviors on my own once they leave the station. I don’t have a record of knowing how to brake. I need help.

Here is the truth that Step One requires us to reconcile with: we need God, and we need a God-initiated solution to heal the wounds that are driving our addictions and all-too-predictable self-sabotaging behaviors.

What is it you’re powerless to control or stop once you start? Is it viewing porn, trying to get your alcoholic partner or child to stop drinking, saying yes with a cheerful but weary smile to every request for help that comes your way, compulsively running from one romantic relationship or marriage to another, looking for someone to “complete” you?

Though the Twelve Steps don’t come right out and say you’re powerless over life, once you admit you’re powerless over your addiction and enter a program of recovery, your eyes suddenly open and you see you actually are mostly powerless over everything in life. The only alternative to this truth is to believe the lie that you can play God in controlling how your life plays out. Please, that’s like believing you can tell your cat what to do. I mean, you can’t . . .

Listen, life is bigger than you are. Reality wins 100 percent of the time. If you refuse to believe me on this one, you will become deeply resentful when life laughs at your self-created programs for happiness, indignant when people won’t follow your wonderful plan for their lives or utterly confused when your partner leaves you, despite your impassioned case for why they should stay.

Life does what life does to us. We can’t successfully control or exercise power over people, places, circumstances and things — only our response to them. We can refuse to believe this and try to boss the world around or cunningly charm it to do what we want, which only leads to our becoming psychiatric patients. Or we can learn how to work with life on life’s terms.