The Illusion of Insanity: A Sober Reflection
"Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." I first encountered this adage, attributed to Albert Einstein, in an AA meeting in Kalispell, Montana, back when I was still finding my footing in sobriety. I found the saying clever and amusing.
But after hearing it in meetings several times, I began to wonder if I, and everyone else struggling with addiction, was truly insane. After all, the phrase seemed to perfectly encapsulate the alcoholic's plight: despite the pain, the wreckage, the desperate pleas of loved ones, we kept reaching for alcohol, somehow expecting a different outcome each time.
Forty-two years later, I'm not so sure that insanity is what was happening for me or for my fellow recovering alcoholics. The behavior of those struggling with addiction might have seemed illogical to the outside world. But there was always a reason, a twisted logic, driving their actions, even if it was buried deep within the murky depths of their subconscious.
Merriam-Webster defines insanity as "extreme folly or unreasonableness." But what if their seemingly irrational choices were actually rooted in a desperate attempt to cope with unresolved pain? What if these "parts" of themselves, as Internal Family Systems theory suggests, were acting out of a deeply ingrained need for survival, even if that survival meant self-destruction?
Take those struggling with alcohol addiction, for instance. To the part of them that craved the oblivion of alcohol, drinking wasn't just a source of pleasure; it was a refuge, a shield against the overwhelming anxieties and traumas that haunted them.
Similarly, those who engage in excessive binge-watching, disappearing for days into a haze of fictional escapism, might not simply be lazy. These behaviors could be about avoiding the discomfort of facing unresolved issues, about numbing the emotional pain that feels too overwhelming to bear.
The real insanity, I've come to believe, lies not in the repetition itself, but in our failure to understand the "why" behind it. We fight against these parts, these desperate pleas for help, instead of trying to understand their underlying needs. Under the influence of these desperate parts, we keep repeating the same patterns, expecting different outcomes – a classic example of the Einsteinian definition of insanity.
But what if, instead trying to force ourselves to change, we approached our parts with compassion and curiosity? What if we listened to their fears, acknowledged their pain, and offered them a different path to healing?
Breaking free from these self-destructive patterns isn't about brute force; it's about understanding, about compassion, about finding a way to heal the wounds that drive these behaviors in the first place. IFS helps us break the cycle of repetition by helping ouir parts rather than going to war with them.
