Can I Give Up Drugs (or anything)?

I want to speak to parents and convey a version of a story I heard from an author and speaker named Laura McKowen in her book “We Are the Luckiest.” Laura was in a yoga class and someone said, seemingly out of the blue, “I don’t think I can give up drinking!”

There was a moment of pause. Of complete silence as everyone looked to the yoga teacher for his words. What would he say? Was this person an addict? An alcoholic? Did the yoga teacher have the first idea how to answer this sudden plea? Not just a question, but a plea.

With a smile on his face, the yoga teacher calmly said, “Of course you can. Are you drinking now?” A few seconds later, “and how about now, are you drinking now?”

There is an irony I need to come clean on. I’m neither a parent nor a drug user. I have never been either. But, I have had to give things up. People, things, painful memories. Lots more.

If I can, so can you. Of course you can.

If your child says, “I don’t think I can give up drugs” (I picked this title especially because I can’t relate; that’s how powerful the words are. I don’t need to. They are universal.) — of course they can. Wait for them to not be on any intoxicants and remind them of that question. Or perhaps they are completely sober when they ask it. Of course they can.

Personally, can you give up your ex? Of course you can. Are you with them now?

Can you give up your job with an abusive boss? Of course you can. I have.

Can you give up binge eating? Of course you can. Are you now?

Can you mentally overcome this illness that has unjustly afflicted you? Of course you can. You chose to read this right now instead of thinking about it.

This advice is universal. And it works because it takes out the word — the belief — that damns us all. Forever.

I’m a chronic over-runner. It’s an addiction of mine. I run until I get sick. I ran until I shattered my ankle (and then I ran for 6 more months.) Can I give up running? Of course I can. I’m not running as I happily write this. I don’t need it. If I think I may never run again, I start to spiral. If I think about all of the things I can do — right now — in this moment, I couldn’t care less about running.

Smile and take a long, deep breath. You are in the moment. Close your eyes. Listen. Just for a minute if you want. Take in everything you hear. Your breathing. That ambient background sound.

What did you just do? You gave up plaguing thoughts and stresses and whatever it is you thought you couldn’t give up. I am a disciple of the teachings of modern-day doctor/philosopher Dr. Gabor Maté. We all have something we need to give up is the philosophy of Dr. Maté — that we want to stop because it produces negative consequences, but believe that we cannot. Mate once said to me, “It’s hard to get enough of something that almost works.” Just think on those words for a second. You’ll have yours very soon with that one dictum. Then close your eyes, live in that silent moment for just another moment. Guess what? You just gave it up. You literally have proof. So, of course you can.

-Mike Spivey

We are our own griefs. We are our own happinesses. We are our own remedies.