Over the past few months I have been trying to identify the relationship between self care and selfish behavior. Sometimes it feels like a logic rule; all self care is selfish behavior, but not all selfish behavior is self care. Other times it feels like there is a fine line between the two. Is it intention that occupies that dividing space? Is selfishness in the eye of the beholder? And where does self preservation come into play?

When I began my sobriety journey 15 years ago, the narrative presented to me (and others in my treatment program) was that addicts are selfish and engaged in self-centered behavior. As someone who already thought of herself as a piece of shit, this made sense. Yes, I am selfish. Yes, I am cruel. Yes, I must be more humble. Show me how to think even less of myself. I readily sacrificed my character at the altar of recovery.

I am thankful that the “selfish, self-centered” narrative doesn’t quite fit anymore.

I think reading about and listening to stories on the opioid crisis really jumpstarted this whole thought process (shout out to the Last Day podcast) — so many people became addicted to opiates as a result of a surgery and a prescription. They can’t all be selfish, self-centered assholes, right?

The more I think about it, I think addicts are actively engaged in a destructive version of self care, and to a certain extent, self preservation. I’m not sure anyone begins their descent into substance abuse disorder on a selfish spree. Speaking for myself, the beginnings of my addiction were rooted in a false sense of self care; my substances of choice were a medication to remedy an increasingly-tumultuous state of being.

Getting loaded, getting high, getting drunk — these all quieted the deafening narrative that I was worthless, fat, unlovable, dumb, and useless. It was like an emotional Alka-Seltzer plopped into a cup of water to satiate the heartburn of insanity. Plop, plop, fizz, fizz, instant relief.

I didn’t use drugs or drink out of spite, and I certainly didn’t use to harm others. I was trying to live with this constant state of “not-good-enough-itis” and getting fucked up was a very effective way to alleviate all symptoms.

At the time, I didn’t fully understand that I was using to offset the impact of depression, an eating disorder, anxiety, and trauma. The only problem with my self-prescribed course of treatment was that it is not a very good long-term solution, for obvious reasons.

I had suicidal ideation towards the end of my using career and acknowledging that fact about me is what eventually pointed me towards getting sober. Sometimes I wonder if I never used in the first place and just slipped into my disorders instead of medicating against them, would I have gone through with ending it all? Did getting fucked up and hitting a bottom save me from myself? Was the selfish, self-centered addict engaged in an act of true self preservation?

If you have a loved one with a substance abuse disorder, I can completely understand why you might think they are selfish in their ways. Our behavior does cause harm to others. I did lie, cheat, and steal my way into getting fucked up. However, my behavior had nothing to do with my loved ones — I had found the key to getting well and was not about to throw it away and return to my previous state full of fear and pain. A rabbit caught in a snare will do anything to free itself from the trap. Is the rabbit’s escape selfish?

I think for many, drug and alcohol abuse is just a fucked up, distorted version of self care.

I believe that editing the substance abuse narrative of “selfish, self-centered behavior” to instead read “a harmful version of self care” is critical to the healing process of recovery. Like depression, cancer, or diabetes, substance abuse disorder is a disease, not a shitty character flaw.

Now, for the record, I can be an asshole. I can be judgmental and even act out selfishly from time to time. More often than not, I am an asshole because some unmet need or insecurity was triggered, causing me to react in a desperate attempt to remedy that red flag. Am I acting selfishly? Yes. Is my selfishness a product of some flawed, archaic message buried within that reads “this behavior is the only way to fix this need/pain/wound?” Also yes. This flawed response is a form of self care.

When I rewrite the narrative on how I view my own behavior from “selfish and self-centered” to instead read “flawed, reptilian-brained version of self care” it reduces the volume on the inner dialogue that tells me I am worthless, a piece of shit, and unlovable. When the thought is “Why do your friends even like you”, the shitty committee tells me to withdraw from my friendships, stop forcing them to be around me, this is the right move to make, etc. When called out on ghosting my friendships, it’s really easy to sidestep the real cause of this behavior and just chalk it up to being a selfish addict doing selfish addict shit. If you are anything like me, it’s pretty hard to grow and change with this line of thinking.

It took me a long time to be able to draw back the curtain and reveal the shitty committee within that loved it when I called myself worthless, selfish, etc. It’s so much easier to write myself off than take the time to look inward to find the pain and heal it. However, once the construction work begins, it’s a lot easier to engage in helpful, kind, authentic behaviors. The old self care thoughts are still there, but I can talk to them and assure them that while this behavior will not solve the problem long term, other behaviors will.

Learning and trusting my own intentions allows me to learn and trust the intentions of others. Reflecting on my own behavior as a response to a wound allows me to see others in the same light.

“But Rebecca, now that we all see others with substance abuse disorders or other illnesses as ‘self care run riot’, how do we respond when their actions cause us harm? Their act of self preservation is negatively impacting my life.”

Here’s where my thought process really danced between selfish and self care. Is it selfish to disconnect from them? Yes. Is it necessary to preserve my own sanity? Yes.

I learned this lesson the hard way when my husband was at his lowest in depression and anxiety. Obviously I couldn't and still cannot fix his disease, but it also hurt to watch our marriage deteriorate and have basic expectations of my partner remain unmet. To stay sane, to stay centered, I disengaged and loved from an emotional distance. I continue to acknowledge his behavior as a product of his mental state and not a reflection of me.

Sometimes I do the cancer test. Would I be this upset if his behavior was a result of cancer? No. Then why am I upset at this behavior stemming from his mental illness? It’s because I view one as an illness and the other as a character defect.

When his behavior affects physical things like finances, I have to check my intentions on offering accountability. Resentment can mask itself as helpful in an attempt to control a disease like depression or substance abuse disorder. It’s a delicate balance between this innate desire for them to heal themselves so I can benefit, and for me to heal myself so their mental state cannot take me down with them.

I have learned that giving my loved ones space when their behavior causes me harm places a reservation on that relationship to grow and heal longterm. It feels selfish in the worst, most negative way at first. But with practice, it becomes intuitive. The thought process shifts from “He’s being a real asshole” to “He cannot meet this need right now, but I can meet that need though a walk or having coffee with a friend, etc.” That space allows me to do my own work on if its practical to even place that expectation on them in the first place (see the cancer test above).

Self care, self preservation, selfishness — call it what you want. Recovery is about surviving first and foremost. Whatever it takes to get us to this space, acknowledge it, thank it, and investigate it to see if it’s needed anymore.