They have completed treatment. They are no longer using drugs. They have returned home. In theory, this is the moment when they should begin living a “normal life” again.
But what does that actually mean?
Should they return to their old job or look for a new one? Stay in the relationship or leave? Move back in with family or try to live independently? See old friends again? Cut ties with certain people? What should they do in the evenings? How should they spend their weekends? What should they spend money on? Who can they trust? What do they actually want from life?
For someone who has never experienced addiction, these may sound like ordinary questions.
For someone recovering from addiction, they can feel overwhelming.
And sometimes one sentence captures it all:
“I genuinely don’t know what I want.”
Family members may interpret this as avoidance, dependence or a lack of maturity.
“You’re an adult.”
“You have to start making your own decisions.”
“We can’t tell you what to do for the rest of your life.”
The problem is that after a prolonged period of addiction, becoming abstinent does not automatically mean regaining a sense of agency.
A person may no longer be using substances and yet still be learning how to take charge of their own life again.
At first, the substance is usually only one part of life.
There is school or work. Friends. Interests. Family. Plans. Relationships. Holidays. Money. Sport. Dreams.
And there are drugs or alcohol.
Over time, however, the proportions can change.
More and more decisions begin to revolve around the substance:
Am I going to use today?
Can I afford it?
Where will I get the money?
Who should I meet?
How can I hide the state I am in?
What am I going to tell my family?
How do I deal with what happened yesterday?
How do I get through this tension?
How do I feel some relief?
How do I avoid the consequences?
A person’s world does not always collapse overnight.
More often, it shrinks piece by piece.
First, certain interests disappear. Then some friendships. Later, plans, ambitions, responsibilities and relationships.
Things that once mattered struggle to compete with something capable of producing immediate reward or rapid relief.
Addiction can also affect mechanisms involved in reward, impulse control, planning and decision-making. Research into substance use disorders shows that some people experience difficulties involving attention, memory, executive functioning and decision-making. This does not mean that everyone is affected in the same way, nor that such difficulties are necessarily permanent. It does, however, help explain why stopping substance use does not always produce an immediate return to previous patterns of functioning.
And that is why something paradoxical can happen once substance use stops.
The thing that organised a substantial part of life for months or years suddenly disappears.
And in its place there is an enormous amount of space.
That space now has to be filled.
During active addiction, a person’s life may be extremely chaotic, yet their behaviour can gradually become organised around one very powerful mechanism.
Obtain the substance.
Use it.
Feel relief.
Hide what happened.
Survive the consequences.
Repeat.
When the substance disappears, questions that may have been suppressed for years begin to surface.
What do I actually enjoy?
What kind of life do I want?
What sort of person do I want to become?
Who do I want to share my life with?
What really matters to me?
And perhaps the most difficult question of all:
How do I know whether the decision I am making is the right one?
This is where one of the less visible stages of recovery begins.
It is no longer only about learning not to use.
It is about learning how to choose.
A certain paradox can sometimes appear during treatment.
Someone who spent years resisting anyone who tried to tell them what to do may suddenly begin expecting other people to provide the answers.
“Should I get back together with my girlfriend?”
“Should I take this job?”
“Should I move out of my parents’ home?”
“Can I see that friend again?”
“What would you do if you were me?”
This is not always laziness or an unwillingness to take responsibility.
Sometimes making a decision independently means facing something deeply uncomfortable:
if I make the choice, I also have to accept the consequences.
And responsibility can be frightening for someone whose past decisions have repeatedly ended in loss, conflict, shame or guilt.
It can feel safer to say:
“I did it because my therapist told me to.”
“My family wanted me to.”
“They decided it was the best option.”
Even failure can then feel slightly easier to bear.
Because the decision was not entirely mine.
But recovery is not supposed to work that way.
A good therapeutic process does not involve a professional beginning to make decisions on behalf of the person receiving treatment.
Quite the opposite.
One important part of recovery is gradually rebuilding the capacity for self-determination.
Recovery-oriented approaches to substance use disorders emphasise that recovery is not simply about abstinence. It also involves rebuilding health, relationships, meaning, participation in society and the ability to live in accordance with one’s own goals.
A therapist may therefore ask:
“Let’s look at the options available to you.”
“What are you afraid might happen?”
“What could happen if you choose the first option?”
“And what about the second?”
“Does this decision move you closer to the kind of life you are trying to build?”
But over time, the question increasingly becomes:
“What do you want?”
And for some people, that can be one of the most difficult questions they are asked during treatment.
After years of addiction, a person may answer completely honestly:
“I don’t know.”
They do not know what they enjoy doing without substances.
They do not know how to relax.
They do not know whether they genuinely liked the people they used to spend time with, or whether they were simply using drugs together.
They do not know whether they want to continue their previous relationship.
They do not know what kind of work they want to do.
They do not know what their future should look like.
They may not even know whether they are capable of imagining that future.
And that uncertainty does not always need to be filled immediately.
Sometimes “I don’t know” is a healthier and more honest answer than another impulsive “I know”.
Therapy can help a person learn to pause before making a decision.
To examine.
To try.
To observe themselves.
To change their mind.
Not every decision has to become a declaration about the rest of one’s life.
One process that may be important in addiction is the preference for an immediate reward over a distant consequence.
Substances can produce effects very quickly.
Relief.
Escape from thoughts.
Stimulation.
Relaxation.
Numbness.
By contrast, the benefits of many healthy decisions are delayed.
Going to work regularly does not produce euphoria this evening.
Repairing relationships may take months.
Rebuilding trust may take even longer.
Learning a new profession takes time.
Improving physical health requires repetition and persistence.
Saving money means giving up some pleasure today in order to benefit later.
Research into addiction has described impairments in decision-making processes involving reward evaluation, behavioural inhibition and learning from consequences. Such difficulties have also been examined as factors that may influence relapse risk.
Recovery therefore also involves learning a different way of thinking:
not only “what will make me feel better right now?”, but “where will this decision take me in a week, a month or a year?”
A person may spend months dreaming about leaving residential treatment.
And then finally walk through the gates and discover that freedom is more difficult than they expected.
In a treatment centre, there is structure.
There are set times.
Responsibilities.
Meetings.
Rules.
Other people.
A daily routine.
Outside, nobody necessarily tells you in the morning:
“Get up.”
Nobody has to remind you:
“Go to your session.”
Nobody may ask you in the evening:
“What happened to you emotionally today?”
In theory, you can do whatever you want.
But that is precisely when another question appears:
what do I actually want to do?
This is why the period after residential treatment should not be treated as the moment when a person has been “fixed”.
It is another stage of recovery.
Modern treatment approaches recognise the importance of long-term support, community-based care, meaningful activity and peer support as part of recovery-oriented treatment.
It is therefore not only about surviving without drugs.
It is about creating a life that is worth returning to every morning.
After treatment, there can be a strong temptation to think:
“Now I have to change everything.”
A new job.
A new city.
A new relationship.
A new version of myself.
A completely new life.
Immediately.
In reality, a sense of agency is often rebuilt in far less spectacular ways.
I get out of bed even though I do not feel like it.
I go to work.
I return the call instead of avoiding the conversation.
I say “no” when somebody offers me something I do not want.
I do not spend all my money on the first day.
I say that I am angry instead of disappearing.
I ask for help before the situation becomes a crisis.
I do not return to a place I know is dangerous for me.
I finish something I started.
These kinds of decisions gradually create a new experience:
I can trust myself.
And that is an enormous change.
Families can find this process difficult to understand.
Especially when they remember the person before addiction became dominant.
“They used to be independent.”
“They found their own job.”
“They had plans.”
“They could sort things out for themselves.”
That may all be true.
But years of living with addiction can affect more than daily habits.
They can also weaken a person’s sense of competence and self-trust.
If someone repeatedly promised to do something and failed to follow through, repeatedly decided to stop using and then returned to it, repeatedly disappointed themselves and other people, they may eventually stop trusting their own judgement.
A thought begins to appear:
“If I made so many bad choices before, how can I know that I will make a good one now?”
Rebuilding agency is therefore also about rebuilding trust in oneself.
Not through reassurance.
Through experience.
Small decisions.
Consistency.
Mistakes.
Correcting those mistakes.
And then making the next decision.
This can be extremely difficult.
Relatives of someone with an addiction may have spent years living in a state of constant alert.
They controlled money.
Checked phones.
Asked where the person had been.
Monitored.
Arranged things.
Rescued.
Tried to anticipate the next disaster.
They made decisions because it seemed that if they did not, something terrible would happen.
Then recovery begins.
And the family has to do something that can feel deeply frightening:
gradually return responsibility to the person recovering.
This does not mean abandoning boundaries.
It does not mean being naïve.
It does not mean financing risky behaviour or pretending that the past never happened.
It means accepting that an adult cannot learn responsibility if somebody else continues to carry that responsibility indefinitely.
Sometimes helpful support therefore sounds less like:
“Do this.”
And more like:
“That is your decision. I can talk it through with you.”
They will.
Everyone does.
A person in recovery will also sometimes make poor decisions.
They may take a job they later dislike.
They may trust the wrong person.
They may start a course and abandon it.
They may enter a relationship that does not work out.
They may change their mind.
They may overestimate what they can manage.
They may regret something.
Recovery does not mean that from now on a person makes only perfect decisions.
One part of recovery is learning that a bad decision does not have to lead back to substance use.
A mistake can be repaired.
Consequences can be faced.
An apology can be made.
Direction can be changed.
A person can say:
“That did not work. I’ll try something else.”
For someone recovering from addiction, this can represent a profound shift in the way they see themselves.
I do not have to be perfect.
I have to learn how to cope even when I make mistakes.
There is another potential trap.
A person begins to regain independence and concludes:
“I can handle everything on my own now.”
That is not necessarily a sign of recovery.
Mature independence does not mean rejecting other people.
Sometimes the most responsible decision a person can make is:
“I need help.”
Support from other people is recognised as an important element of recovery, while modern recovery models emphasise both personal responsibility and the importance of relationships, community and peer support.
A person can therefore be in charge of their own life while still working with a therapist.
They can make their own decisions while discussing them with people they trust.
They can be an independent adult and still say:
“I’m struggling today. I don’t want to deal with this on my own.”
At the beginning of treatment, the question often sounds like this:
“How do I stop using?”
It is an essential question.
But with time, another one appears:
“How do I avoid going back?”
And eventually there may be an even more important one:
“How do I want to live so that I do not constantly feel the need to escape from my own life?”
This is where a form of therapeutic work begins that is not always visible from the outside.
A person learns to recognise their own needs.
To distinguish an impulse from a decision.
To consider consequences.
To tolerate uncertainty.
To plan.
To take responsibility.
To say “yes”.
To say “no”.
To change their mind.
To accept the consequences of their choices.
To ask for help.
And increasingly, to answer the question:
“What am I going to do now?”
Perhaps this is why recovery from addiction is so much more than simply stopping substance use.
It is not only about recovering one’s health.
Nor is it solely about regaining a family, a job or financial stability.
It is also about recovering something much more fundamental:
the ability to influence the direction of one’s own life.
At first, that ability may exist within one small decision.
Then another.
And another.
Until one day, the person realises that they have not merely gone a long time without using drugs.
Something else has changed.
They have plans again.
They know what they do not want.
They are beginning to understand what they do want.
They are able to choose.
And even if those choices are not always perfect, increasingly it is genuinely their life.
At the MONAR Centre in Kębliny, treatment is not limited to stopping substance use. Recovery also involves learning about oneself, developing healthier ways of managing emotions, rebuilding relationships and responsibility, and creating a life that is no longer organised around drugs.
If addiction has left you struggling to answer the question of what you actually want from life, it does not mean that the answer has disappeared for ever.
Perhaps you simply need to learn how to look for it again.
The aim of therapy is not to create a person who always does everything “the right way”.
It is to help a person regain the ability to make conscious choices about how they want to live.
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