I’m not going to post the name of the miracle cure for alcoholism someone told me about yesterday. I don’t believe it works, but more importantly, I don’t want to encourage that hungry part of my soul always looking for a quick, easy fix.
I googled it yesterday after getting an email from a family member I love dearly but am sadly not close to. Even though our personalities couldn’t be more different, our struggles with alcoholism are eerily similar, proving how genetic and inevitable this disease can be.
His path is different in that he tried recovery meetings “a few years back a couple times” and it did not work for him “for a variety of reasons.” This makes me sad because meetings gave me hope almost instantly. I recognize this as an incredible gift I will not squander.
I want to sit down and talk about this with my family member some time – sharing my experiences in recovery so far (7 months today!) – but I’m afraid to do this right now. He’s very smart and has a way of making me feel like what I see is only part of the picture. He is not someone I can easily appeal to and persuade.
Yesterday he told me about a miracle cure that involves taking a pill before drinking. The pill, which is FDA approved to help curb cravings in an abstinence based program (though still controversial), claims to block alcohol-fueled endorphins, which removes the desire to drink beyond moderate levels, even in heavy drinkers. You can see why this approach would be popular.
As a friend pointed out, though, this method does not bother to define moderate drinking levels. While browsing their forum, I saw one moderator asking a frustrated newcomer if she was blacking out less. Was she having fewer “embarrassing/pathetic incidents”? I know in 12-step programs we’re into progress and not perfection, but isn’t this called denial?
I don’t believe there is a pill that allows alcoholics to drink safely. Maybe one day we’ll have a pill that removes cravings, but then again I found meetings and right now, thank god, that works for me.
Meetings did not work for my family member, so he tried this miracle cure over a year ago and swears the monkey was lifted from his back. Yet when I saw him in November, he drank almost an entire 750ml bottle of vodka in one day. This sounds a lot like alcoholism.
That hollow, hungry part of me still worries I’m missing out on a magical cure which would allow me to have my cake and eat it too. I tell myself I’m just entertaining rational, scientific thoughts, but in my heart I know it’s too good to be true. I wish my family member felt that way too.