Campus CrossWalk Magazine: 2006-07 Winter Issue -- Book Review -- Broken:My Story of Addiction and Redemption

I am the sort of person for whom this book was written. No, I am not a recovering addict in any classic sense. In fact, I am one of those who has a hard time understanding self-destructive addiction. I’m a “get over it” sort of guy. It’s not that I trivialize the struggle, it’s just that getting over it is only option.

Redemption came to William Cope Moyers the hard way, when all his options boiled down to two; stay sober or die. In his case, the fire had to get mighty hot to boil off the pretenses, secrets, games and nuances that kept pulling defeat out of the jaws of victory in his life.

Moyers grew up with profound advantages; a legacy of faith, a good family, prosperity and a famous father. Yet, he plunged his life into a mess made of alcohol, marijuana, LSD and cocaine. The drugs did nothing, however, to hamper his skillful ability to lie; to his parents, his wife, and all who loved him most, including himself.

He lied to protect everyone, including himself, from the truth. He admitted, “Everything about me was about living a way of life that wasn’t real. Fact was fiction and fiction was simply my whole life.”

Relating to John Lennon, he saw God as nothing but “a concept by which we measure our pain.” Moyers wrote, “Like Lennon, I didn’t believe in magic or Jesus or the Bible--I believed in me.”

“Follow your bliss” was a mantra he learned early from author Joseph Campbell, with whom his father, Bill Moyers, was enamored. Young William found his “bliss” through cocaine and he followed it like a god. He wrote, “Alcohol had become the foundation of my existence, but cocaine was the elevator that took me to the top floor.”

All this led him first to disaster and then to Hazeldon, a treatment center in Minnesota. There, he learned that recovery must involve “surrender” and that lies and masks were the real shackles that kept him enslaved. “You are only as sick as your secrets” a counselor told him. Still, he kept his cravings secret and after treatment, he relapsed. He tried to keep that a secret too.

His wife’s love was as enduring as it was amazing. But the lies and relapses took their toll and fear eventually displaced her love for him. He hurt her to the same extent that she had loved him--a lot! Then he moved in with a married woman he met while in recovery. Promises meant nothing. Momentary feelings meant everything.

Regarding addicts, Moyers wrote; “We lie not because we are inherently dishonest people but because the nature of addiction is such that we have to lie in order to keep using and we have to keep using because our bodies literally need the drug to function.”

This struck me as self-deception. One cannot say that people who willfully lie are not “inherently dishonest.” That’s what dishonesty means.

After his relapse and another recovery, he married, got a great job, bought a new home, became a new father, and was regaining respect. But his cravings continued, as did his self-pity. One lingering issue was his father’s fame. That came to represent his own deficiencies, which added to his self-pity. He always wondered if his jobs came through his father (they usually did).

With a second child a month away, he binged again on cocaine. He explained that the craving just “hijacks the brain.” He described his cravings as “a howling internal torment that over-rides the need for food, for water, for sleep, for love.” Again, he attained high levels of excellence in lying.

His last relapse occurred in 1994. Since then, he has remained sober. What changed? He said, “My sick soul stopped guarding the door, and the soul of faith found its way in.” He gave up his job at CNN to move to St. Paul, Minnesota where he began working for Hazeldon as a Public Policy Specialist, lobbying for more resources and respect for the recovery treatment process.

Then came cancer; one more battle to fight. Again, he was victorious. Moyers surmised, “I never felt I was to blame for my cancer, but for many years I believed I was responsible for causing my addiction.” Believing drug addiction to be a disease beyond his control, he began to compare it to cancer, which came to him with no shame or stigma. With cancer, sympathy from friends poured in and there were no problems getting his health insurance to pay the bills. It was not a “moral” struggle. But when his addiction to drugs hit (earlier in life), he was ashamed and there were very few “get well” cards.

While I picked up mixed messages, Moyers was still trying to deny that addiction is a moral struggle. He could call it a spiritual struggle and a physical disease, but he could not use the word “moral” to describe it.

This story confirms how crucial it is to get treatment and to embrace fellowship with others who care. It raised my respect for those who never give up. However, if the author’s main objective was to make the reader think that addiction is a disease rather than a moral crisis, he failed with me. It may somehow be both, but we must not minimize the morality connection.

I’m still a “get over it” sort of guy. Different people must travel down different roads to “get over it” and some take much longer than others. Also, stigmas and put-downs can be debilitating and unproductive. But I still believe that the human will is central to the problem. And that is no shallow conclusion. The will is what we must surrender, freely, not merely for the sake of surrendering but so that a higher will can take over, which I would call the Holy Spirit. This is the only solution I know to any serious moral crisis. Until we learn that addiction calls for a significantly different approach than a disease like cancer, we are in for more failures. The true solution is spiritual.

Moyers still thinks he was a good man with a bad problem, but he kept relapsing and shattering the hearts of those who loved him. During one relapse, he was shamelessly feeding crack to a pregnant woman. Yet, to the end of the book, he could not admit that his problem was a moral one.

I still believe what they told him at Hazeldon, “You are only as sick as your secrets.” And keeping secrets is a decision, not just a disease. Taking responsibility is essential for full recovery.

Joel Mark Solliday is the current editor of Campus CrossWalk and he serves as the pulpit minister at the Northern Light Church of Christ in Minnesota. He invites your feedback and welcomes thoughtful articles for future editions. Please see our writer's guidelines at campuscrosswalk.org/guidelines.html.