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By Root 1141 0

wants to be thin, it is not a genetic disease. If someone is stupid, but wants to be smart, it is not a genetic disease. If a drunk is a drunk, but doesn’t want to be a drunk anymore, it is not a genetic disease. Addiction is a decision. An individual wants something, whatever that something is, and makes a decision to get it. Once they have it, they make a decision to take it. If they take it too often, that process of decision making gets out of control, and if it gets too far out of control, it becomes an addiction. At that point the decision is a difficult one to make, but it is still a decision. Do I or don’t I. Am I going to take or am I not going to take. Am I going to be a pathetic dumbshit Addict and continue to waste my life or am I going to say no and try to stay sober and be a decent Person. It is a decision. Each and every time. A decision. String enough of those decisions together and you set a course and you set a standard of living. Addict or human. Genetics do not make that call. They are just an excuse. They allow People to say it wasn’t my fault I am genetically predisposed. It wasn’t my fault I was preprogrammed from day one. It wasn’t my fault I didn’t have any say in the matter. Bullshit. Fuck that bullshit. There is always a decision. Take responsibility for it. Addict or human. It’s a fucking decision. Each and every time.

Sophie finishes answering questions. The mood in the Room is somber. The words genetic and disease and incurable and fifteen percent success rate hang in the air like radioactive poison. Everyone looks around. Everyone looks at each other. We all know that when we leave here, eighty-five percent of us are going to return to the same problems we had before we came. We have now been told that the root of them is something that is incurable.

We take each other’s hands. We hold tighter than yesterday. We try to squeeze hope from each other, try to bond in the hope that bonding will change reality. It won’t. Eighty-five percent of us are fucked.

We say the Serenity Prayer. God grant us the serenity to accept the things we cannot change, the courage to change the things we can, and the wisdom to know the difference. We say it again, we say it again. Sophie has us say it again and again until the poison lifts, until smiles start appearing on faces. God, grant us the serenity, God, grant us the serenity. The People are smiling, but smiles and prayers aren’t going to change reality. Eighty-five percent of us are fucked.

We finish, we stand, we file out of the Room. Primary Patients walk one way, Family Members another. I walk back to the Unit and I get a cup of coffee. I sit down at a table. The afternoon Session is just ending, a Graduation is taking place. The Bald Man is standing before the men giving a speech. He says what he learned here has saved his life. He says that if hadn’t come, he would have never stopped drinking, no matter what the consequences, because, although he had tried, he did not know how to stop. He says he knows how to stop now. He says that AA and the Twelve Steps and his Higher Power have shown him the way. He says that after his Wife and his Children, this way, this knowing how to stop, is the greatest gift he has ever been given. The greatest gift by far. He starts to cry. The men let him cry. Through his tears he says thank you. Thank you for letting me come here and thank you being here for me. He starts to cry harder. He says thank you over and over. Thank you for my life. Thank you for my Family. They mean everything to me. Thank you for everything. Thank you.

As he cries, the men sitting in front of him look at each other, unsure of what to do or how to react. I hear a clap. A single sharp sting of hand on hand, flesh on flesh. It is loud, and it pierces the uncertain looks of the men the way words of a Preacher pierce the hearts of Believers. I hear another clap. Another. Another. From around the room, isolated clapping becomes part of a unified expression of admiration and respect. The Bald Man cries. The men salute him.

He stands and he smiles.