The Shadow Side of Abstaining from Substances: What They Don’t Tell You About Recovery - Patrick Kitana Ettenes

Hola, it’s your recovering addict, the mixed-race Carrie Bradshaw. Oh geez, don’t you Gen Zs know who she is? Well, Google her. Wink, love heart, XOXO.

On today’s menu, I am going to discuss something that not many people talk about when trying to abstain from substances, and what that has felt like for me. That is the intense isolation and loneliness that comes with staying away from drugs. It feels like punishment for doing the right thing. Then, without even realising it, new addictions seem to creep up - whether you're smoking more, scrolling more, eating more, or becoming addicted to drama.

Yes, Tinker-bell, even drama gives our brain endorphins. You find yourself constantly seeking new fixes. You wonder why the music you loved while high no longer gives you a buzz, why programs on the telly suddenly upset you, and why rage sometimes comes out of nowhere. Let’s not forget the elephant and the hippo in the room: the difficulties with sex, and the total lack of validation that comes when you aren't having it. Why, oh why, would I put myself through all of that, when everything I just described sounds so torturous? I ask myself the same thing sometimes.

There are things that even I am not willing to discuss on here yet - reasons why being sober comes with such a breath of fresh air once you finally realise what your body and mind are going through.

The Reality of the Relapse

Update: I left that previous paragraph exactly as I started it about four months ago, back when I first began to feel confident, sober, and strong. Then, something snapped. Honestly, I was right back on it, every day, for about two months. I’m going to be completely honest because I need my readers to understand the reality of addiction recovery-especially for someone working within the recovery sector. Some people might ask, "How can you work in recovery if you're still vulnerable to relapse?" The answer is simple: that isn't your place to decide.

My worth and credibility aren't defined by critics or by the assumption that recovery must be flawless. They come from the people within this sector who believe I have something valuable to offer—people who recognise that my lived experience can genuinely help others. Their belief, support, and trust have given me the strength, confidence, and opportunity to be where I am today.

Yesterday the 9th of July, I walked back into LGBT Foundation with a brand-new perspective. What is it? Lord knows I’ll write an article about that when I fully figure it out myself, ha-ha! In all honesty, I walked back into the foundation for the third time, still eager to continue this work, even though it is incredibly triggering. To help others, you need to be willing to able to help yourself first. You have to know yourself, trust yourself, and believe that what you are doing will make a difference in someone’s life. Most importantly, it helps you come to terms with your own addiction. There is something incredibly powerful about taking your pain, your struggles, and your hurt, and choosing to give a fuck about someone else. - instead of going down that dark road that says, "Why should I give a fuck? Why should I do this for anyone?” The reality of a relapse differs from person to person.

The more I tried to find out what my triggers are, the more I kept myself secure and safe. You learn that through therapy. I still have to sit there with people who say to me “ Why do I need therapy?’’. My answer: Because bitch you got a drug problem! After centuries of proof that therapy works, millions invested in services to support people around the world, you still have to ask that? What they are saying I believe, is that they are terrified to admit there is a problem. I learned that in therapy. The hardest thing is to ask for help. To admit to yourself, that you need help is a true psychological barrier. The true breakthrough comes from those who actually go and get it! A percentage of us admit we need it, but then next day just casually forget the conversation ever took place.

In today’s world we live in a society of avoidance, where the more we ignore the situation and mask it, the better we think we will feel. OR find those we can associate yourself with, so then they will validate your behaviour and your addiction, so you don’t address the issue, address your addiction. As my late father once said, you either swim with sharks or become one, I’d like to add the third option OR Get out of the fucking water.

Admitting there is a problem isn’t the issue, it’s facing it. That’s where the true fear comes, and the reluctancy comes into play. Relapse can be part of progress - but only if you're willing to face it. That means taking the time to work with a professional who can help you uncover the issues you've buried for years. With the right guidance, you begin to recognise your triggers. More importantly, you begin to understand why you keep doing the things that hurt you.

I'm not here to tell anyone to stop having fun. I'm no saint. When I took substances, it was like a switch flipped. Boom. I became hyper-masculine. The harness went on, my posture changed, my voice deepened, and I wanted to ruin someone's hole. Yes, I said hole. I'm not dressing this up because pretending otherwise wouldn't be honest. For a thousand points, can you guess what was really going on psychologically? I was struggling to come to terms with both my masculine and feminine sides. At that time, drugs were the only place where I felt I could embrace my masculinity. Somewhere along the way, I'd convinced myself that being a "real man" meant taking part in chemsex. I'd spend hours scrolling, looking for the next hookup, then the next, desperate to prove - to myself more than anyone else - that I was a top, that I was masculine enough, that I belonged in this toxic world of hyper masculinity that I both hated and craved. The truth is that I wasn't chasing sex. I was chasing validation. Then, as soon as it was over, I'd kick off my boots, throw on my heels, blast Lady Gaga, spin around my living room, and attempt back-bending moves that probably explain why my back is in the state it's in today. That was me too.

For years, I fought parts of my own identity instead of accepting them. Those hidden parts of my psyche weren't the problem. The problem was believing I had to suppress them to be accepted. Now, I'm learning to embrace all of me - not just the parts I thought other people wanted to see. So do what you want to do. Live your life on your own terms but understand why you're doing it. If you know something deeper is driving your behaviour, ask for help.

The longer you leave those wounds unaddressed, as I did, the longer it takes to repair everything else they quietly damaged along the way. Relapse rarely arrives alone. It brings guilt, shame, disappointment, and the feeling that you've failed all over again. I know that feeling, and so do many of my friends in recovery. Every time we got back up, every time we chose to keep going instead of giving up, it became a little easier.

Recovery has never been about perfection. It's about perseverance. There is no quick fix, and the decision to change will always be yours. To truly know yourself, you have to face your darkest side - the good, the bad, and the ugly.

So, I'll leave you with one question: Which part of yourself are you still hiding from?

Patrick Kitana Ettenes