Is addiction a disease, or is it a choice we make every day? This raw, unapologetic take will challenge everything you’ve been told about recovery.
People love labels. Labels make complicated things feel simpler. Slap a label on it, and suddenly, we have something to blame, something external, something we can’t control.
But what if calling addiction a disease is actually hurting more people than it’s helping?
I don’t believe that addiction is a disease. I never have and never will. It’s not a virus or cancer or diabetes. You can’t catch it by accident and certainly don’t wake up one morning infected out of nowhere.
I was born wired differently. I’ve known that as far back as I can remember. I felt things deeper, chased highs harder, and craved more intensely. But here’s the catch—I was always the one who chose to feed those cravings.
The first drink, the first pill, the first hit—every single time, it was me picking it up, knowing exactly what I was doing. Addiction didn’t ambush me from behind. It wasn’t hiding in a dark alley. It was my choice. Every. Single. Time.
When we label addiction a disease, it might sound compassionate. It might feel like we’re offering comfort to people who struggle. But really, what we’re offering is an excuse. We’re saying, “It’s okay. You’re not responsible. You couldn’t help it.”
That message is deadly.
Addiction always begins with a choice. And just as it begins with a choice, recovery begins the same way. The day I woke up and finally stopped using wasn’t because a doctor cured me or because medicine finally kicked in. It was because I chose, in the rawest moment of my life, to stop being a victim.
At my worst, I weighed 305 pounds. I was hooked on alcohol, benzodiazepines, weed—you name it. My marriage was crumbling, my body was breaking down, and my life was falling apart piece by miserable piece.
If addiction truly were a disease, I’d still be waiting for some miracle cure. Instead, the cure I found was discipline.
I got sober because I made a hard choice, one brutally difficult choice that I repeated day after day. Discipline saved me. Discipline rebuilt me. Discipline—waking up, working out, eating clean, facing pain, facing myself—that’s what ended my addiction.
Ask yourself this: Is addiction a disease? Do people cure cancer by deciding to get up at 5 a.m., by running, by lifting weights, or by making uncomfortable choices every single day? Of course not. Because diseases aren’t choices.
I’ve seen hundreds of people struggle through recovery. Those who label themselves victims of a disease almost always relapse—because they’ve surrendered their power. They believe the lie that addiction is something they have rather than something they do.
But the ones who recover, the ones who build strong, resilient lives—they never call it a disease. They call it exactly what it is: a pattern of choices that led them to a dark place. And they know clearly that their choices can lead them back out.
Here’s the cold, hard truth:
Calling addiction a disease steals your power.
When you see yourself as helpless, you stay helpless. If someone convinces you it’s impossible to change on your own, you’ll never even try. I see it constantly—people waiting for some magical solution, some external force, some pill, therapy, or diagnosis to save them. Meanwhile, their lives slip further and further away.
The minute you embrace personal responsibility—the second you realize the truth that your choices matter—is the minute your life starts changing.
Do you know what happens when you stop calling addiction a disease? You take ownership. And ownership equals power. Suddenly, you’re no longer a passenger waiting to crash. You’re the driver, hands firmly on the wheel, steering your life exactly where you want to go.
Let me be crystal clear: I’m not denying that biology matters. Genetics plays a role—trauma matters. Brain chemistry matters. I’m proof of it. But none of that eliminates your power of choice. If anything, it makes your choices even more crucial.
Think of it this way: Someone born with an aggressive personality isn’t forced to become violent. Someone predisposed to anger isn’t required to act on every rageful impulse. Similarly, someone wired like me isn’t condemned to a life of addiction unless they choose it.
Here’s something practical you can take away right now: Stop hiding behind labels.
If you’re struggling, stop calling yourself a victim. You’re not powerless. Your story isn’t already written. Every single moment, every temptation, every craving—those are crossroads. And at every crossroads, you have a choice.
It doesn’t matter if it’s your first day of sobriety or your ten-thousandth. Sobriety isn’t something you “catch.” It isn’t something you get vaccinated against. Sobriety is discipline in action. Sobriety is a series of tough, relentless, and brutally honest choices made day after day after day.
When I finally realized this, everything changed. I started reclaiming my health, my marriage, my body, and my mind. Addiction didn’t vanish overnight, but suddenly, it lost all its power over me because I stopped waiting for rescue.
Today, at 170 pounds, sober, strong, and clear-headed, I can tell you this with absolute certainty: discipline beats disease every time.
I’m not saying it’s easy. It’s not easy. It’s brutally hard. It’s messy. You’ll fall, fail, and fight like hell. But discipline never promised easy. Discipline promises strength, freedom, and power. Discipline promises you control.
So, is addiction a disease?
Not a chance.
It’s a daily choice you get to make again and again. If you’re struggling right now, this might feel harsh. But you don’t need compassion wrapped in helplessness. You need compassion wrapped in truth. Real compassion empowers you; real compassion challenges you. Real compassion doesn’t make you comfortable—it makes you strong.
If you’re stuck, struggling, or desperate right now, ask yourself: Do you want a comfortable lie or an uncomfortable truth?
The lie is simple and convenient. It says, “It’s not your fault; it’s a disease.”
The truth is harder and more uncomfortable but infinitely more powerful. It says, “You’re responsible, you have the power, and you can change.”
Right now, you have a choice. You can keep believing the lie and stay exactly where you are—or you can embrace the hard, messy, powerful truth that your choices matter.
You’re not helpless. You never were.
Your story isn’t over—unless you decide it is.
Let go of the disease label. Take back your power. Make choices that move you forward. Get uncomfortable. Embrace the struggle. Fight like your life depends on it—because it does.
It’s your choice. It always was.
Discipline or disease?
Victim or victor?
Powerless or powerful?
You decide. Choose wisely.
Stay disciplined. Stay resilient. Live with PRIDE.
Jim Lunsford
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Use of Artificial Intelligence: Jim Lunsford is committed to sharing authentic and meaningful content. To enhance the clarity and effectiveness of his writing, Jim utilizes Artificial Intelligence (AI) as a tool in the content creation process. While AI assists in organizing and refining his ideas, every thought, insight, and story shared on this website is genuinely his own. The use of AI does not alter the authenticity of his work; rather, it helps Jim communicate more effectively with you, his audience. Jim's goal remains to inspire, motivate, and connect, and AI is simply a tool that supports that mission.
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