How the “Wizard of Oz” Relates to Recovery

What the wizard of oz has to do with recovery

When I arrived at Narconon Suncoast on July 8th, I felt angry, ashamed, trapped and a little crazy. What I was, was defiant, hostile, destructive and irrational. It had gotten so bad that regardless of the harm I was doing to my life and others, I would not relent, I was seeking to destroy myself. I was, in essence, in protest against my own survival.

It wasn’t always so. I could remember happier times, having hopes, dreams and promise. But that had been so long ago. One of my very first memories was as a little girl. I must have been 3 or 4, before DVDs, VHS, or even cable. Once a year, The Wizard of Oz would be televised. I can remember begging my mom to let me stay up past my bedtime and watch it; as bedtime was right about the time the flying monkeys would appear.

There was something so captivating about the story of Dorothy, her little dog Toto, and her friends, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Cowardly Lion and that tornado that carried Dorothy from her home in Kansas. Now, I’m not from Kansas, but close. I’m from Oklahoma and it is known as “tornado alley.”

They say that life imitates art, and I think there is a lot of truth to that. Before I got here, my life looked a lot like that. Like a tornado had hit, came through and tore everything apart and I was left standing, picking up the pieces, estranged from my family and looking to find my way home. Now I’m not talking about a literal home. I’m talking about a feeling or sense of being “whole” or happy; before drugs, before heartache, before multiple attempts at self-destruction. You see, I was a chronic relapse; doing well… not doing well… doing well… not doing well. And I am here to tell you that there is only one thing worse than having to say “God, I blew it”, and that’s “God, I blew it AGAIN!”

After one of my episodes, there would be periods of success, I could pull it together, but I just couldn’t keep it together. It was exhausting and I was desperate, looking for a lot of different ways out of my personal hell. I would read books, get a new outlook on life and go out and get another really great job and meet a great guy, but I would always revert to my old self. I would relapse, lose the job, run the guy off and destroy all that I had worked for. I think I actually started to welcome the struggle.

The groove of sabotage ran deep and automatic. It was as though I was an artist at finding my own jugular and while drugs were my favorite weapon, the form of dysfunction was irrelevant, I drank, I worked too much, I was defensive, I isolated or I attacked. I found a lot of different ways to express just how much I hated my life. It was brutal.

I blamed it on the drugs, everyone blamed it on the drugs, but it wasn’t the drugs that were doing me in. It was my personality in general. I wanted help. I wanted to know why I kept sabotaging myself. But by the time I got here, I had given up on finding the answer. I just wanted someone to magically “fix me.” You know, perhaps wave some magic wand. I am sure all of you can relate to wanting that easy fix; we tried to find it in a relationship, or a pill or a powder or a drink. I knew that stuff wasn’t working anymore so I came to treatment hoping someone could fix me, maybe find a Wizard?!

I was a lot like Dorothy wanting to go home, the Scarecrow looking for brains, the Tin Man looking for his heart, and the Cowardly Lion looking for courage. You see, that part about life imitating art, well that was me, the Wizard of Oz is a tale about a girl and the parts of herself that were missing.

But guess what?! In the Wizard of Oz, the Wizard wasn’t really a wizard at all. He was just a man behind a curtain pulling levers, pushing buttons, with a booming voice, creating a spectacle to frighten and create an effect. But even though the Great Wizard of Oz was a bad wizard, he was a wise man. He tells them that he would be happy to grant their requests if they would perform but one small task. Journey through the haunted forest and find the Wicked Witch and bring him her broomstick. And that is exactly what the staff here at Narconon Suncoast asked me to do. Journey through my own haunted forest of pain, drug abuse, loss and harmful acts.

It was a daunting request. There were times I didn’t think I could do it. When I started, I too had no courage, no courage to confront or face things as they were, my heart was cold and broken, and my mind? Well let’s just say a sane, rational person with ½ a brain would never have made some of the decisions I had been making.

But it was through the process of confronting my past and more importantly, assuming responsibility for ALL of it, that something happened, I finally got my answer as to why I kept sabotaging everything. You could say I had a “realization.”

I had somewhere, somehow, decided that I was a victim. Me, a victim? No, way, Miss “Free the People,” Miss “I can do anything I set my mind to,” no way. But yes, it was an ugly truth that I uncovered.

What is a victim? A victim is an unwilling and unknown effect of life. Someone who has been hurt, threatened, or destroyed. Now, the problem with a victim is that a victim ultimately bears no responsibility for what has happened to them. It is always something or someone else that is the source or cause of their condition, so they NEVER become responsible for anything.

I would reinforce this archaic postulate (I am a victim) and set out to prove it, by in essence, re-victimizing myself. The manifestations included but were not limited to: unlawful arrests, addiction, relationships that never “worked out,” physical abuse, financial difficulties, a career that felt stagnant and multiple attempts at law school. Nothing ever truly materialized in my life and, if and when it did, my self-fulfilling prophecy (I am a victim) became in control and I would self-destruct or sabotage everything. You see, I was a “victim” and things HAD to happen to me or go wrong, I was to be “hurt, damaged or destroyed” and if I couldn’t set it up where something or someone did that to me, I would do it to myself.

This was the game I played on myself and throughout my life. This game cost me my courage, my heart and my mind.

I lost my way home.

But just like Dorothy, I had finally gotten so desperate that I had no choice but to accept the task put before me. I set out to confront my situation, my past and the truth about my life. It was during the undertaking of this journey, that process, that I re-discovered my courage. Yes, I can confront and experience anything. I don’t have to hide myself from myself or anyone else anymore. Today I have the courage to follow my dreams no matter what obstacles lie ahead.

I found my heart. Yes, I can feel real emotions and I can love myself and others again, and I have rediscovered my passion and can direct it towards worthwhile pursuits and goals.

And, I found that I do have a brain or a mind and it’s actually a pretty good one. I’m done wasting it and today it is a whole lot less reactive. Today, I am confident in my ability to make sound, reasonable decisions.

So, at the end of my Yellow Brick Road, I found that there was no magic, it was all already within me. It was always there, I just needed to take this journey to find it.

Happy woman

True happiness can only be found inside you! You too can find it… do the work, I know it isn’t easy but it’s worth every tear, every struggle.

And remember, THERE IS NO PLACE LIKE HOME!

S.T.—Narconon Graduate

AUTHOR

Jason Good

Jason has been working in the field of addiction and recovery for over 11 years. Having been an addict himself he brings real-word experience to the table when helping addicts and their families, while also offering a first-person perspective to the current drug crisis. Jason is passionate about educating the public about what’s currently going on in our society, and thankfully, offers practical solutions. Jason is also the co-host of The Addiction Podcast—Point of No Return. You can follow Jason on Google+, Twitter, or connect with him on LinkedIn.

NARCONON SUNCOAST

DRUG EDUCATION AND REHABILITATION