Is there anything more misunderstood in recovery circles than the word powerlessness? I mean, think of it—have you ever heard the word bandied about in any other setting? Church? Rotary? A political party? A tractor pull? Throw that seemingly insignificant word around people who don’t attend 12 Step meetings and you’ll get all kinds of blank looks as if you’ve just said something in Klingon. Some will point their index finger at you and give you an impromptu lecture as if to say, “What the heck do you mean, telling me to consider how powerless I am?” Others will confuse the word powerless with weakness and let you know in no uncertain terms that they don’t appreciate being labeled a sissy. So perhaps it’s time to stop and take a closer look at the “P” word and see if we can’t sort it out.

First, I believe that human beings are hard-wired to obtain power—not to consider how powerless they are. This probably has something to do with the way we evolved and that’s why our sponsees and patients fight the word so much. It goes against everything we’ve been taught for so many years. We must, we are told, accumulate property, money, and power in order to survive and get our needs met. Fail to develop sufficient power and we might as well cash it all in.

Second, we are often very afraid of life and somehow get the idea that if we make a big demonstration of just how powerful we are (like some strutting, puffed up Tom turkey or something) we can live comfortably in denial and make others believe that we’re not going through life terrified of living and dying. The illusion of power is a cloak we don to keep others from knowing that deep down inside we are suffering and lonely.

Third, we confuse powerlessness with helplessness. If we hear the P-word in our early days of treatment at Valley Hope, we may come to believe that we were right all along and our disease has placed us into a hopeless spiral of negativity. Ironically, once we admit powerless over a disease that we didn’t ask for, we become spiritually, emotionally and mentally strong.

I submit that that the word influence be used as a substitute for power. Can I as a recovering person and a therapist make someone get sober? Can I make someone live if they don’t want to? Can I force someone to walk the straight and narrow long enough to understand just how fun life is without chemical crutches? The answer to these questions is no. However, just because I don’t have the power to make someone “see the light”, that doesn’t mean I don’t have influence. I can live my life in such a way that someone may use it as a role model. I may be able to pat someone on the back and utter a cheerful word—or even to challenge the thinking or actions of someone who is still in their disease. In other words, I can use what I know about my own disease to influence someone into recovery. But if I make the mistake of thinking that I have power over someone, I’m headed toward trouble. I like to think of it this way: I have never gotten anyone drunk and I’ve never gotten anyone sober. If I take credit for someone’s profound psychic change, then I must take credit if they relapse and die.

So I’ve learned the hard way that I have no power over anyone—it’s only by the grace of God that I can function as a normal human being on a day-to-day basis. However, I certainly know that I can lead a life of influence and for this old desert rat, that’s good enough for me.