all accounts had ideal childhoods Yet still many family members blame themselves Another thing they do is try to solve it They hide liquor bottles and medication and search for drugs in their loved one's clothes and bedrooms, and they drive the addict to AA or NA meetings They try to control where the addict goes and what they do and who they hang out with It's understandable, but it's futile You cannot control an addict." Later, the speaker says, "An addict can take over the family—take all of a parent's attention, even at the expense of other children and of one's spouse Family members' moods become dependent on how the addict is doing People become obsessed It's understandable, but it's harmful They become controlling in ways that they never were before, because they are so afraid People lose their identity because nothing matters except their addicted spouse or child or parent or whoever it is There is no joy left in their life." When we meet Nic for lunch, he has some color back in his face and some life back in his eyes He is freer in his movements, no longer constricted by pain Nonetheless, he hunches over and seems dejected We talk while sitting in chairs on the balcony of his room "I don't think this is going to work for me any better than last time," he says "All the talk about God " He is quiet "All the God talk I can't get past it." I respond, "They say 'higher power,' not God There's a difference." " 'Higher power' is another way of saying God You have to believe, and I don't You can't get over this unless you believe." Nic explains his conundrum "I have no problem with the first step of the twelve steps," he says "Well, sometimes I do, but I guess it's obvious that I am powerless over drugs and alcohol and my life has become unmanageable But after that, it's bullshit." He reads steps two and three from a bookmark " 'Two: Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity Three: Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.' " I point out, "There's a lot of room in 'as we understood Him.' " "I don't understand Him to be anything." For some people, this—his atheism, a gift from his parents, at least me—is enough to explain Nic's problem I don't believe that any single factor could have changed his fate, but who knows? If a belief in God or a religious upbringing precludes addiction, though, how does one explain all of the people with religious backgrounds and beliefs who have become addicted? The devout are not spared Without being solicitous or disingenuous, I try to offer a way that he can conceive of a higher power Though I raised him without religion, his upbringing was not devoid of a set of moral values I tried to instill the idea that morality is right for its own sake The Dalai Lama, writing in the New York Times, recently explained this in a way that reflects my thinking: "key ethical principles we all share as human beings, such as compassion, tolerance, a sense of caring, consideration of others, and the responsible use of knowledge and power—principles that transcend the barriers between religious believers and non-believers, and followers of this religion or that religion." To me, those principles are a higher power, one accessible to each of us My father once explained his concept of God: the "still small voice" inside us—our consciences I don't call it God, but I too believe in our consciences When we listen to that voice, we do the right thing When we don't, we fail to In my life I haven't paid close enough attention to it—I didn't know how—but I try to now When I listen to it and act on it, I am more compassionate, less self-obsessed, and more loving That, I tell Nic, is my higher power He is unimpressed "Rationalizations," he says, "more bullshit It's a big lie." Counselors at Ohlhoff, people he has met at meetings, and now the staff at St Helena have tried to convince him that one's higher power can be anything one imagines it to be—a source of guidance that comes from outside of oneself when it's dangerous to rely on the warped, drug-influenced guidance that comes from one's own brain, the addict brain "For some, it takes a leap of faith," a counselor told Nic "You have to trust that there is something bigger than us out there—something that can show us the path that will save our lives The first step is honesty: my life is out of control So what are your choices? Continue or submit to a higher power You have to risk it— to be courageous enough to take a leap of faith and trust that there is something bigger than us that can help." We once again eat on the deck outside the cafeteria, where Nic introduces us to two friends he has made here We feel as if we already know them because by now we have been in group sessions with their wives James is an amiable businessman, handsome, with red hair and freckles and the reassuring manner of one of Jimmy Stewart's wholesome characters He is a Vicodin addict The drug was prescribed after back surgery Before checking himself into St Helena, he was swallowing as many as forty pills a day Nic's other friend is his roommate, the chef, Stephen, who has apprenticed in some of the Bay Area's most renowned kitchens According to Nic, the sandy-haired, athletic man with sloping blue eyes abused a variety of drugs, but his primary addiction is alcohol, which has nearly destroyed his marriage and has nearly killed him at least twice In his early thirties, he has already undergone surgery on his liver and pancreas due to alcohol poisoning It is shocking to hear his age He looks fifty We sit at long tables with them and their wives, both of whom seem kind-hearted, loving, and exceedingly tired Nic, James, and Stephen share the same sense of humor and something else: the type of intimacy and affection that normally builds over months or years but is hastened in rehab, where people's souls are exposed Indeed, afterward, Nic tells us how much it means to have connected with James and Stephen "Late at night, when everyone else is asleep, we sneak into the hospital kitchen," he says "Is that allowed?" asks Karen "No one cares," Nic says, speaking quietly "The other night Stephen made an artichoke soufflé and leek soup Last night we had chicken cordon bleu I was sous chef." We talk to Nic about the morning's and last week's lectures, and I ask if he agrees that addiction is a disease—and he has it He shrugs "I go back and forth." "If a switch was thrown, when did it happen?" I ask "At Berkeley?" "God, no," he says "Earlier Much." "How much earlier? When you got drunk in Lake Tahoe? When you first smoked pot?" After a minute, he says, "Maybe Paris." I nod, remembering the ulcer, and ask, "What happened in Paris?" He admits that his language classes at the university couldn't compete with the city's other draws, including an abundance of easily accessible alcohol; French waiters thought nothing of serving wine to a sixteen-year-old As a result, Nic spent much of his time there emulating his drunken heroes—but he forgot the writing and painting part "One night," he says, "I was so drunk that I crawled into a boat tied to the shore of the Seine and passed out I slept there, woke up the next day." "You could have been murdered." His eyes take me in "I know," he says darkly "When I flew home, I snuck some bottles of wine in my suitcase, but they only lasted a few days I was fucked In Paris, I'd been going out to bars and clubs every night, drinking a fucking shitload, but when I got home, I was sixteen, a high school student, living with you guys." He looks down "It was too bizarre I couldn't get alcohol, so I started smoking pot every day It wasn't the same, but it was easier to get." "What about hard drugs?" I ask, not sure I want to hear the answer "When did you start?" "Remember when [he names the boys and his girlfriend] and I left after the barbecue the night I graduated from high school?" He is ... the sandy-haired, athletic man with sloping blue eyes abused a variety of drugs, but his primary addiction is alcohol, which has nearly destroyed his marriage and has nearly killed him at least twice In his early thirties, he has already undergone surgery on his liver and... Last night we had chicken cordon bleu I was sous chef." We talk to Nic about the morning's and last week's lectures, and I ask if he agrees that addiction is a disease—and he has it He shrugs "I go back and forth."... religion, his upbringing was not devoid of a set of moral values I tried to instill the idea that morality is right for its own sake The Dalai Lama, writing in the New York Times, recently explained this in a way that reflects my thinking: "key ethical principles we all share as