I've successfully identified one symptom of my spiritual "coronavirus" as a lingering legacy of my former alcoholism, or a residue of the so-called dry alcoholism - conflict with other people. My unofficial mentor, who is also a former alcoholic, told me recently that dry alcoholism might linger up to several years. While discussing about its possible symptoms with him, I suddenly realized that I'm still suffering from interpersonal conflict though it happens far less frequently since I became completely sober about two and a half years ago.
I'm still shocked that in the past one year alone I had to sever my relationships intentionally with six people because of my conflict with them. I must have conflicted with more people, and fare more severely at than, before I restored my sobriety.
At his strong recommendation I've decided to try the so-called 12 steps the Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) with a "sponsor" who as a recovered alcoholic keeping his sobriety for decades will accompany this new spiritual journey of mine, which I consider as a preconditiion for another, far more life-transforming, spiritual journey I'm planning to undertake. In parallel I'll start attending regular meetings of the AA in Jerusalem, now online because of the spread of the novel coronavirus here, too.
I've just finished reading the main part of the so-called "Big Book" of the AA. The following passages from this book were especially shocking and eye-opening to me:
Our loyalty and the desire that our husbands hold up their heads and be like other men have begotten all sorts of predicaments. We have been unselfish and self-sacrificing. We have told innumerable lies to protect our pride and our husbands' reputations. We have prayed, we have begged, we have been patient. We have struck out viciously. We have run away. We have been hysterical. We have been terror stricken. We have sought sympathy. We have had retaliatory love affairs with other men.
Our homes have been battle-grounds many an evening. In the morning we have kissed and made up. Our friends have counseled chucking the men and we have done so with finality, only to be back in a little while hoping, always hoping. Our men have sworn great solemn oaths that they were through drinking forever. We have believed them when no one else could or would.
Then, in days, weeks, or months, a fresh outburst.
We seldom had friends at our homes, never knowing how or when the men of the house would appear. We could make few social engagements. We came to live almost alone. When we were invited out, our husbands sneaked so many drinks that they spoiled the occasion. If, on the other hand, they took nothing, their self-pity made them killjoys.
[...]
Under these conditions we naturally made mistakes. Some of them rose out of ignorance of alcoholism. Sometimes we sensed dimly that we were dealing with sick men. Had we fully understood the nature of the alcoholic illness, we might have behaved differently.
How could men who loved their wives and children be so unthinking, so callous, so cruel? There could be no love in such persons, we thought. And just as we were being convinced of their heartlessness, they would surprise us with fresh resolves and new attentions. For a while they would be their old sweet selves, only to dash the new structure of affection to pieces once more. Asked why they commenced to drink again, they would reply with some silly excuse, or none. It was so baffling, so heartbreaking. Could we have been so mistaken in the men we married? When drinking, they were strangers. Sometimes they were so inaccessible that it seemed as though a great wall had been built around them.
And even if they did not love their families, how could they be so blind about themselves? What had become of their judgment, their common sense, their willpower? Why could they not see that drink meant ruin to them? Why was it, when these dangers were pointed out that they agreed, and then got drunk again immediately?
Having read these passages, I've realized how sick I must have been mentally and how sick I may still remain mentally, though hopefully far less. But on the other hand, perhaps I could only restore my sobriety the hard way by causing sufferings to others, including my then dearest person, which in turn has caused me sufferings. Suffering can often be our best life coach.