SOTD: Chandelier
“Understanding the difference between healthy striving and perfectionism is critical to laying down the shield and picking up your life. Research shows that perfectionism hampers success. In fact, it's often the path to depression, anxiety, addiction, and life paralysis.”
― The Gifts of Imperfection
Some facts about addiction in America:
· Almost 21 million Americans have at least one addiction, yet only 10% of them receive treatment.
· Drug overdose deaths have more than tripled since 1990.
· From 1999 to 2017, more than 700,000 Americans died from overdosing on a drug.
· Alcohol and drug addiction cost the U.S. economy over $600 billion every year.
· In 2017, 34.2 million Americans committed DUI, 21.4 million under the influence of alcohol and 12.8 million under the influence of drugs.
· About 20% of Americans who have depression or an anxiety disorder also have a substance use disorder.
· More than 90% of people who have an addiction started to drink alcohol or use drugs before they were 18 years old.
· Americans between the ages of 18 and 25 are most likely to use addictive drugs.
Over the last six months, two people I know and care about lost their battles with addiction. One was my favorite Aunt, the other, the husband of one of my closest friends. One was completely unexpected, the other, the result of years of struggling that took too great a toll on her body. What I've learned in the time since these losses is that addiction is a real problem that we aren't talking about enough.
Don't get me wrong, I have several friends who are recovered addicts and they are beacons of light on social media when it comes to being open and supportive of others who might be going through the same struggles they are overcoming, but in general, addiction is thought of as something that makes one less than -- less than deserving of second chances, less than willing to help themselves, and perhaps the worst of all, less than the value of a non-addict. But the truth is, addicts are just like any of us. Hell, based on the last two years, I'd guess someone reading this is struggling with issues of addiction that none of us know anything of.
One of my favorite writers is Brene Brown. She's a professor and researcher in the areas of shame and vulnerability. Her thoughts on shame have been stuck in my head for months. She believes that our behaviors are a response to how we experience destructive thoughts. And for many who struggle with addiction, shame is the superior underlining emotion, followed closely by guilt. Guilt is just as powerful, but its influence is positive, while shame is destructive. Shame erodes our courage and fuels disengagement. It is this disengagement that fosters the conditions that make it much harder for an addict to overcome their vice. But there is hope, she says that if we can share our story with someone who responds with empathy and understanding, shame can’t survive. It's simply a matter of being vulnerable enough to open the darkest corners of our lives.
There are so many people in my life who can no longer tell their own story. And it's heartbreaking. I cannot tell their stories for them, but I can tell you about the addict I love.
My brother and I have never really been close. Not even as kids. I'm four years older, and he always got in my way. If I'm being completely honest, most days, I'd rather be an only child. Or at least that is how I've felt the last 36 years. But in the last month, I've made an effort to connect with him. He has struggled with addiction for many years. About two years ago he was in rehab for an addiction to prescription medication (and later, harder drugs) following a brief battle with brain cancer. While riding in my car a few days ago, he shared with me that his first experience with drugs was at our grandparent's farm, at the age of 11, our uncle introduced him to pot. He told me they grew it on the property and would smoke it right off the plant. He confessed that he started stealing cigarettes from our mom when he was 12, and by the age of 15, there wasn't a drug he hadn't tried.
I used to think he was worthless. I gave up on him a long time ago. But what I've learned is that addiction is a disease, and like most illnesses, it doesn't change just because you act a certain way, or decide that you aren't going to do something anymore. It is a daily battle to control the urge to give in. He is a father of three. He is a working member of society. He is far more forgiving and zen like than I could ever hope to be. And he is an addict.
I sometimes wonder if it weren't for the influence of our uncle, if he would've ended up on this journey. If he had never tried weed at the age of 11, would he have ended up an addict anyway? I'm not sure there is an answer to that question, but it seems logical that people are wired for certain vices. Why can I drink whenever I want, but my friend in AA can't have a single drink because if she does, it would open the floodgates and upend her life? Are some people just wired for addiction? I think the research seems to think so.
For my Aunt, the pills and drinking were a way to numb decades of pain. The pain of loss, the pain of disappointment, and the pain of not being in control. The only difference between us is that she did all of her coping in private, often starting before breakfast. Years and years of being a functioning alcoholic and using narcotics daily eventually took their toll on her body and when she contracted Covid, she didn't stand a chance. We lost her a few days before my 40th birthday. Because of Covid, I couldn't even go to her funeral and share her loss with my family members. Instead, we shared tears and stories over Zoom and FaceTime.
With my friend's husband, it was an overdose. They were separated and he was in recovery. There were no indications that he was struggling again, and unfortunately, he took something that he didn't know was basically pure Fentanyl. His addiction began after an injury he sustained while trying to help an elderly man who was being mugged. It started with opioids that were intended to help with the pain from his life threatening stab wounds, and like most people who get addicted to opioids, eventually, the pills weren't enough. There's a cruel irony in knowing that had he not stepped in to help that man, not only would he be alive today, but every thing would be completely different. I didn't know him very well. In fact, I only met him twice and spent just a few hours with him each time, but from our conversations, I know he was a smart, loving, and driven man. He carried a lot of guilt and shame about his addiction. He didn't say that, but I could tell by the way he talked about his recovery that it was both something he was proud of, but also deeply ashamed that it had affected so many people in his life in such a negative way.
I think about his situation, and I think about all the addicts who have been in a pressure cooker for the last 14 months as the pandemic continues to rage. I wonder how many people who struggle with addiction have found staying clean nearly impossible during these times of isolation. I also think about the epidemic of deadly street drugs -- especially the issues with synthetic Fentanyl. Our leaders are letting us down by not addressing this problem and at least trying to come up with any approach to reign it in. A few weeks ago, two teenagers in a neighboring town died after smoking pot that was laced with deadly Fentanyl. I have no problem with marijuana. In fact, I think it could be a solution to many other drug problems, as well as an appropriate form of relief for common mental health issues ranging from anxiety to PTSD. But before I heard about those teenage boys, I never once worried about the possibility that weed could be deadly. And to be honest, I'd really love to live in a world were I didn't.
We've got to take the stigma of addiction out of our collective societal group thinking. Until we stop treating addicts like they are worthless junkies, and actually show them empathy, we can't begin to properly support them. Until we stop penalizing addicts with lost employment opportunities and limitations to education, we can't say that we believe in second chances. Before we can say "Love the Addict, Hate the Addiction," we have to universally understand that addiction is a disease for which there is no cure. We have a responsibility to care for all members of society and I think we are at our best when we lead with kindness and understanding. If you or someone you love is struggling with addiction, there are so many people who would love to help, but you have to ask. If you need help, please reach out to SAMHSA (substance abuse and mental health services association) at 1-800-662-HELP.
I'm hopeful about the future with my brother. In many ways, I feel like the success of our future relationships will depend on his willingness to give me a second chance. Which is kind of funny since I am the one who used to believe he didn't deserve any more chances. But the truth is, if you have the opportunity to give someone a second, third, or... millionth chance -- DO IT! Your act of empathy and support could be the one that changes everything. You don't want to be that person who wakes up wondering if there was more that they could've done. Trust me.
No comments:
Post a Comment