Depression and the 12 Steps

In this issue, I give a brief take on the comedian Russell Brand’s brilliant new book on addiction, entitled “Recovery: Freedom from Our Addictions”, and its connection to depression. If depression is a compulsive behavior, both literal and mental behavior (beliefs), then depression would qualify as addictive: it kind of runs on its own, but draws our energy and input, and rewards us with a kind of protection from the overwhelming larger realities of the world, and ourselves. I don’t go into the 12 steps themselves—Brand covers those all in depth—but the basic principles all translate to healing from depression: admit there’s a problem, be open to a solution, get resources to support the change, put in appropriate work towards that change, and be open to feedback.

I’d heartily recommend, even if you don’t struggle with an obvious, literal addiction, to check out his book. It does have a fair amount of rock-and-roll vibe and language, but if that’s normally offputting, try not to let that put you off here. He’s done something quite well here, with a big heart and sharp mind.

Depression and the 12 Steps

Russell Brand, the English comedian and actor, published last year a contemporary rewrite of the Alcoholics Anonymous “Big Book”, entitled “Recovery” (link).  If you can accept his rock-and-roll vernacular, you’ll find (or hear—the audiobook is read by Brand) an incredibly astute understanding of the 12 steps, because he not only talks about chemical addiction—the origins of the 12 steps—but extends that to a discussion of addiction and recovery per se.

What is addiction?  Brand makes a nice summary statement, when asked in an interview about the relation of his addiction to heroin to his addiction to his phone:  “The impulse is the same—to get out of yourself” (link). Addiction is about an object that takes our focus, and gets us out of an intolerable experience, of life, and of self.  That does not mean that there are not biological components, but as Brand says (in the same interview):

“In a sense, the disease model is a metaphor, but everyone recognizes it in an official capacity. I’m more interested in finding a solution than continually reframing the problem semantically. If someone thinks it’s a disease, that’s cool—as long as you believe there’s a solution. If someone believes it’s behavioral, that’s cool—as long as you think you can amend behavior. My personal feeling is that it’s an extreme condition that’s present in everybody.”

Inasmuch as he’s right, that chemical addictions are simply more obvious forms of other, subtler and more difficult to notice addictions, then we can usefully talk about depression using the insights of the 12 steps.  Addiction is what we—or more technically, our deep survival selves—use to get away from ourselves, believing, at some level (not consciously) that it’s impossible to survive in the world and self as we know them.  So we live in a kind of surrogate world defined by the “drug”, whether that’s the life of getting high, then doing what we need to do to get the resources to get high again (as in the film Trainspotting), or staying within the bubble of despair and rejection of the world that is at the base of all but the most biologically motivated (medically induced, thyroid disorders, etc.) depressions.

Which is as tricky a thing to claim, because, as with addictions, because both are so shot through with shame, that the message can easily be read as, “…and therefore, stop your weak behavior and do the right thing.” Which is essentially the old-school response to both conditions, being, essentially, stop being immoral and toughen up.

Were it that easy.  And conscious.  And controllable.

But what they actually are are deep, un- or semi-conscious processes, much more in line with ancient defense responses, old and simple traps in some jungle movie temple, snapping into action when we get too close.  Brand writes, in “Recovery” (link), “The instinct that drives compulsion is universal. It is an attempt to solve the problem of disconnection, alienation, tepid despair… the problem is ultimately ‘being human’ in an environment that is curiously ill-equipped to deal with the challenges that entails.”

In other words, given no better alternative, both depression and chemical addictions are ancient defenses, survival responses from a distant age, yet still relevant and powerful.  The answer to both, as Brand contends and I certainly agree, is both a restoration and a building out of the deeper part of ourselves, that carries a willingness to be in this life, as it is, that sees goodness with the awfulness, not in spite or as washed away by that dark.  This is big work, serious work, noble and deep work; it’s not to be demeaned or prettied up as just this, or merely that, all the handmaidens and supporters of shame.  Rather, as Brand writes (again, from the VICE article),

“It means recovering the person that you were intended to be. If you haven’t gotten caught up in your own individual psychosis and neurosis, you would’ve become something. There’s something in you that’s trying to realize itself—a sense of purpose and connection. It has a spiritual component to it…It presumes that there’s something unique and beautiful in a human being who wants to realize itself.”