Relapse as Father Martin See’s It
Father Martin's insight that "you don't need brains to get sober, you need desire" cuts through the intellectualization that often becomes a barrier to recovery. Many people struggling with addiction convince themselves they need to figure everything out first - to understand the root causes, to have the perfect plan, to mentally prepare for every challenge. Martin suggests this approach misses the point entirely. Sobriety isn't an intellectual puzzle to be solved but a deep longing that must be honored through action. The desire for something different, something better, is the only prerequisite. This desire doesn't need to be perfectly articulated or fully understood; it just needs to be present and strong enough to motivate that first step, then the next one, and the one after that.
This connects to Martin's observation about overcomplicating sobriety. Recovery programs like AA work not because they're sophisticated or complex, but because they're elegantly simple. The tendency to overcomplicate often stems from the same mental patterns that fuel addiction - the need to control, to have all the answers, to make things harder than they need to be. Martin recognized that sobriety thrives on simplicity: don't drink, go to meetings, ask for help, help others. When people try to reinvent these basic principles or add layers of complexity, they often create obstacles that don't need to exist.
Perhaps most importantly, Martin understood how shame becomes a deadly barrier to recovery, particularly after relapse. When someone returns to drinking or using after a period of sobriety, the shame can feel overwhelming - not just about the relapse itself, but about facing the people who supported them, admitting they "failed," and starting over again. This shame keeps countless people from returning to AA meetings, where they might find the very support they need most. Martin knew that recovery communities must be places of radical acceptance, where relapse is understood not as moral failure but as part of many people's journey toward lasting sobriety. The real tragedy isn't the relapse - it's when shame prevents someone from walking back through those doors where healing can begin again.
Father Joseph Martin's perspective on relapse reframes it from a source of shame into a crucial teacher about the nature of addiction itself. He observed that many people who relapse had been focusing their recovery efforts on managing the external chaos - the broken relationships, financial problems, legal troubles, and other wreckage that addiction leaves behind. While addressing these consequences is important, Martin recognized that treating only the symptoms of addiction without addressing its core often sets people up for eventual relapse. The real value of relapse, painful as it is, lies in what it reveals about where the deeper work still needs to happen.
Martin's insight about downplaying the biochemical reality of addiction speaks to a common misunderstanding in recovery. Many people, including those in recovery themselves, underestimate just how profoundly addiction rewires the brain and changes body chemistry. This isn't about making excuses for addictive behavior, but about recognizing that willpower alone cannot overcome a disease that fundamentally alters how the brain processes pleasure, stress, and decision-making. When people don't fully grasp this biochemical component, they may approach recovery with strategies that are insufficient for the magnitude of change actually required.
Most significantly, Martin emphasized that the real defect requiring treatment isn't the drinking or using itself, but the thinking patterns that drive addictive behavior. The alcohol or drugs are merely the solution the person has found for an underlying problem - typically distorted thinking characterized by self-centeredness, fear, resentment, and an inability to cope with life on life's terms. Relapse often occurs when someone has stopped drinking or using but hasn't addressed these fundamental thinking patterns. They may have achieved sobriety but not recovery, leaving them vulnerable when life's inevitable challenges arise. True recovery requires rewiring not just the brain's chemistry, but the entire framework of how someone thinks about themselves, others, and their place in the world.
Father Martin's wisdom about addiction recovery centers on two profound truths that challenge our culture's demand for instant results. When he says "time takes time," he's acknowledging that healing from addiction isn't something that can be rushed, no matter how desperately we want it or how hard we try to accelerate the process. Recovery unfolds according to its own timeline, requiring us to surrender our need to control the pace and instead trust in the gradual, sometimes imperceptible changes happening within us. This isn't about passive waiting, but about respecting the natural rhythms of healing while staying committed to the daily work of recovery, even when progress feels frustratingly slow.
The principle of "bring the body, the mind will follow" speaks to the power of action over intention in early recovery. When someone is newly sober, their thoughts and emotions are often chaotic, filled with doubt, resistance, and the overwhelming urge to drink or use again. Rather than waiting until they feel mentally or emotionally ready to engage in recovery activities, Father Martin suggests that showing up physically - attending meetings, following routines, going through the motions of sober living - creates the conditions for internal change to occur. The body becomes the teacher, demonstrating to the mind what sobriety looks like in practice, and gradually the mental and emotional aspects of recovery begin to align with these new patterns of behavior.
Father Martin's concept that "attitude is the father of the action" reveals the fundamental truth that our behaviors don't emerge from a vacuum - they're born from our internal posture toward life. In addiction, this means that drinking or using is rarely an impulsive act but rather the inevitable child of an attitude that has been brewing beneath the surface. Someone might maintain sobriety for weeks or months, but if their underlying attitude remains bitter, entitled, self-pitying, or resentful, these feelings will eventually demand expression through action. Martin understood that sustainable recovery requires changing not just what we do, but how we fundamentally approach our circumstances. When someone cultivates an attitude of gratitude, acceptance, and willingness to grow, their actions naturally align with recovery. When they harbor attitudes of victimhood, anger, or superiority, relapse becomes almost inevitable because the attitude is already moving them in that direction.
"Stinking thinking precedes the drinking" captures the specific mental patterns that pave the road back to active addiction. Martin observed that relapse doesn't begin with the first drink - it begins with the first stinking thought that goes unchallenged. This might be thinking like "I'm different from other people in recovery," "I can handle just one," "Life is too hard and unfair," or "I don't really need these meetings anymore." These thoughts create a mental environment where using seems reasonable, even necessary. The danger lies in how these thoughts can feel completely logical to the person thinking them, which is why recovery programs emphasize the importance of sharing thoughts with others who can help identify the stinking thinking before it leads to stinking actions.
Martin's identification of denial as the greatest obstacle to recovery goes beyond simple refusal to admit one has a problem. Denial in addiction is a sophisticated psychological defense system that protects the person from having to face the full reality of their situation. It manifests in countless ways: minimizing the severity of consequences, comparing oneself favorably to others who seem "worse off," believing one can control their using through willpower alone, or convincing oneself that their problems stem from external circumstances rather than their addiction. This denial isn't necessarily conscious deception - it's often a genuine inability to see clearly because the disease has distorted perception itself. Recovery begins when denial cracks enough to let in even a small amount of truth, but Martin knew that denial has incredible staying power and can reassert itself even after years of sobriety, making vigilance against self-deception a lifelong necessity.
Father Martin's insight about resentment and self-pity as luxuries speaks to the harsh reality that people in recovery must live by different rules than those who don't struggle with addiction. For someone without addiction, nursing a grudge or wallowing in self-pity might be unpleasant or unproductive, but it's unlikely to destroy their life. For someone in recovery, these emotional indulgences carry a much steeper price - they can literally be fatal. Martin wasn't suggesting that people in recovery don't have legitimate reasons to feel hurt, angry, or sorry for themselves. Rather, he was pointing out that regardless of how justified these feelings might be, holding onto them creates a dangerous internal environment that makes drinking or using feel like the only relief available.
The connection between unprocessed resentment and relapse runs deeper than simple emotional discomfort. Resentment keeps someone trapped in the story of how life has wronged them, making them the victim of circumstances beyond their control. This victim mentality directly contradicts the empowerment that recovery requires - the recognition that while we can't control what happens to us, we can control how we respond. When someone clings to resentment, they're essentially arguing that their pain is more important than their sobriety, that being "right" about how they've been wronged matters more than staying alive and healthy. Similarly, self-pity creates a mental loop where the person convinces themselves that their suffering is unique and unbearable, making the temporary escape that substances provide seem not just appealing but necessary.
Martin's emphasis on making "at least an attempt to handle" these feelings acknowledges that perfectly resolving resentment and self-pity isn't always possible, but the effort itself is what matters. The attempt might involve working the steps, talking to a sponsor, making amends, practicing forgiveness, or simply acknowledging these feelings without acting on them. The key is movement - refusing to let these emotions calcify into permanent fixtures of one's inner landscape. When someone stops trying to address their resentments and self-pity, they've essentially chosen these feelings over their recovery, and the return to drinking or using becomes almost inevitable because they've created an internal environment where substances feel like the only solution to their emotional pain.
Father Martin's observations about impatience in recovery reveal one of the most challenging aspects of early sobriety - the collision between our culture's expectation of instant results and the slow, often invisible process of genuine healing. When someone gets sober, there's often an unconscious expectation that life should immediately improve, that relationships should quickly heal, and that the chaos created by years of addiction should rapidly resolve itself. This impatience with sobriety itself becomes a form of suffering that can drive someone back to drinking. Martin understood that sobriety isn't a magic wand that instantly transforms everything - it's simply the foundation upon which real change can begin to occur. The person who expects immediate gratification from sobriety is setting themselves up for disappointment, because early recovery often involves feeling worse before feeling better, as the numbing effects of substances wear off and reality becomes unavoidably clear.
The impatience with "the program" - whether AA, NA, or other recovery methods - often stems from the same mindset that contributed to addiction in the first place: the belief that there should be a faster, easier way to achieve what we want. Someone might attend meetings for weeks or months and wonder why they don't feel dramatically different, why they still struggle with cravings, why their problems haven't evaporated. This impatience reveals a fundamental misunderstanding of what recovery programs actually offer. They're not quick fixes but rather blueprints for a completely different way of living, and learning to live differently takes time, practice, and countless small adjustments. Martin knew that the question "Why am I not making progress?" often reflects someone's inability to see the subtle but significant changes already occurring - the fact that they're not drinking today, that they're showing up to meetings, that they're beginning to consider that there might be a different way to live.
Perhaps most painfully, the impatience with family members who aren't "cooperating better" exposes the deep self-centeredness that addiction both creates and feeds upon. Someone newly sober might expect their family to immediately forgive years of broken promises, lies, and hurt simply because they've stopped drinking. When family members remain guarded, skeptical, or emotionally distant, the person in recovery can feel frustrated and even victimized. Martin recognized that this impatience reveals how addiction distorts our understanding of relationships and consequences. The family's cautious response isn't punishment - it's protection based on lived experience. Trust, once broken, must be rebuilt through consistent actions over time, not through good intentions or brief periods of sobriety. The recovering person's impatience with their family's healing process often mirrors their impatience with their own recovery - both require accepting that damage done over years cannot be undone in weeks or months, and that "time takes time" applies not just to personal healing but to the restoration of relationships as well.