I was nervous when it started. Hunger 4 Healing was one of those meetings that can get out of hand easily. A room of 15 or so in a tight circle of chairs, most from the corrections department and nearby sober houses, many forced to participate.

It started with the familiar and rehearsed, “Who are you and why are you here?” About halfway around the circle, he walked in, not from any house or program, no papers for me to sign. Around the room it went until it landed on him. Mid to late 20s, he looked as normal and average as our society can produce.

“Never mind my name, I am here because I promised my Mom I would go to a meeting and get help, so here I am.” “Welcome Mr. Never Mind, this is a good place to start,” I answered, as the introductions continued.

Our discussion that night was AA step one, admitting powerlessness and the unmanageability of controlling our addictions. As we went around the room, each sharing or taking a pass, a common theme emerged: “I thought I controlled addiction because I chose it, but now I see it was controlling me. My choosing was part of my addictive process.” And so it went until the train fell off the tracks.

Never Mind said, “I do not understand you fucking people, so busy trying not to be high. I love being high. I think everyone should be high. I mean look at the world, it sucks, using only make sense.”

As some nodded in agreement, one loud and forcefully said, “Yea till it kills you or someone you love.” “Or lands you in prison for doing some crazy shit,” said another, anger and frustration in his voice.

Never Mind concluded with a determined, “Give me one good reason to not use.” And the room fell silent.

You could cut the tension with a knife, many wanted to help Never Mind but knew he simply was not ready. Others related and agreed with him, ready to use at the earliest opportunity. The expression, “I wish you all the pain you need to change,” raced through my mind, but I kept it to myself and instead said, “Yea, addiction hides its consequences until it is too late to do anything about them.” It was weak and I knew it, but it was all I had in the moment, and the discussion moved on.

I never saw Never Mind again, but I have spent a lot of time thinking about what he said. In many ways, it began a transformation within me about what recovery is and what it means. If you have nothing to live for, then drugs and alcohol only make sense. It came to me as a revelation: the problem is not the drugs and alcohol as much as it is that addiction robs us of “one good reason to not to use.”

Let’s use the simple math of the addict: “My life sucks, so I use drugs.” It may not start that way, but eventually that is where it ends up. Most recovery programs focus on the latter “I use drugs” and attack it with the zeal of religious abstinence: “just say no,” “turn your life and will over,” or “harness the power of self-discipline and decision making.” These programs offer us sobriety without purpose, abstinence as an end in itself.

But what if we concentrated our energies to the former? What if my life didn’t suck? What if I found a life worth fighting for, a life I love living? Instead of pouring energies into not doing, I could exercise the muscles of my imagination and start dreaming bigger than addiction and sobriety for sobriety’s sake. If I have nothing to escape addiction for, then I will always be bound to it. If I start over and invent or redefine a life I love, I can then use that life as leverage over my temptations.

After all, it only makes sense: if I love being high, then I must find something I love at least as much—or I will always go back to that first love. Just as nature hates a vacuum, so it is with recovery. Finding or creating the life you love is the key to long-lasting sobriety.

As we climb the 12 steps toward sobriety, let’s remember that steps are always found within a structure like a home or building, and their purpose is to help us climb to a higher level of living. Any steps that lead us toward sobriety must include a reason for climbing them other than just sobriety itself. Why be sober if you have nothing to live for, no passion or purpose in life? Sobriety is not an end in itself; it is a means to a greater end—living on the second floor of life, discovering a greater, higher, more meaningful way of living.

When we are willing to give up who we were for who we could be, we begin the journey of self-discovery and reclaim the hope we left behind for using. Within this newly created world, our old lives can fade into background noise as we begin—over and over again—creating “one good reason not to use.”