Nowadays, addiction is often presented as a pathology that “resides” within the individual. As a flaw in character, a biological or psychological defect, that makes a person “vulnerable,” “defective,” “inadequate.”
This narrative, however “scientific” it may seem, rarely helps. More often, it causes harm.
Because every time we define addiction exclusively as a disease, the person begins to see themselves only through the prism of this definition. Identity shrinks. The “I” becomes: “I who am problematic,” “I who have something wrong inside me,” “I who probably won’t change.”
However, modern research shows something different: addiction is not an identity. It is a process of learning, attachment, and emotion regulation. It is a translation of pain into behavior. It is biology and circumstance seeking balance.
And this is the crucial distinction: addiction is not “me.” It is a strategy, often inadequate, painful, but a strategy nonetheless. Something that perhaps once helped. Something that can be transformed today.
The pathologizing narrative, however, does not allow for this. It traps the person in a label. It forces them to see themselves through a narrow medical lens, as if all dimensions of their life—social, relationships, traumas, and anxieties—have no place in what they are experiencing.
In reality, addiction is a dialogue between the person and their environment. Something shaped by biology, life history, social contexts, cultural messages, and above all, relationships.
And this dialogue often takes the form of an internal voice. A voice that is often confused with personal identity:
“I can’t cope without it.”
“I need something to calm down.”
“This is just how I am.”
But this voice is not you. It is a habit that became a survival mechanism. It is the psyche trying to regulate itself with whatever it found. It is biology seeking balance. It is the nervous system that has learned a path and repeats it.
The scientific turning point is here: whenever someone begins to see that “addiction is something I have, it is not something I am,” it creates space for change.
Because I don’t need to change myself, only the relationship I have with what once served me.
And so, identity reopens. The person becomes a subject again, not a symptom.
They rediscover the right not to be defined by need, impulse, or use.
To see themselves with a phrase that research confirms and the soul needs:
“I am not my addiction. Addiction is a story that can be rewritten.”
