Peter’s Story: Alcohol The Gateway Drug

(Thirty-fifth in a series of topical blogs based on chapter by chapter excerpts from Opiate Nation. Translation into most languages is available to the right.)

This week’s Story of Hope is from a friend of JL’s, Peter (not his real name). Here are some excerpts from his story in Opiate Nation (5 min read):

My name is Peter and I’m an alcoholic and addict. This is how I introduce myself at the AA meetings I attend several times every week, as I have done for over 10 years. I am from a fairly affluent family, raised with high moral standards, and attended the best schools. So how is it that I became an alcoholic by the time I was a senior in high school and an opioid addict and dealer by the time I was 20?

The first time I used alcohol was in my junior year in high school. I was new to the school and I felt like I didn’t get the playbook for how to be a part of the group. I had been raised with strong values against using drugs and alcohol – but I wanted to fit in with the popular kids.

I tried a capful of vodka—that was it. I hated the way it tasted. The next day I was sick—not so much from the alcohol, but with guilt. This would be a consistent theme in my drinking and using: I always felt guilt and the consequences of doing something soul-crushing and bending the moral line I had deep within me. Once that barrier had been crossed, then anything was permissible. Initially I only drank on weekends at parties so that I wouldn’t be the outsider.

I barely graduated high school. If I wasn’t drinking, I was restless and discontented and my skin was crawling. As soon as I got little alcohol in me, I felt like I just need a little bit more to feel like I did the first time I drank. But I would get to that tipping point and then would go until it was a blackout again.

Looking back on it, it was so selfish. My family was paying for my education and I was just wasting it. It was continual, repetitive drunkenness and waking up in horrible shape and feeling worse each time. I would continue to screw up and manipulate my parents so they would let me get back into a situation that was really detrimental to me. I was just continually enabled with the free apartment, the no-consequences lifestyle. It was like being a celebrity: you don’t have any responsibilities or pay your own bills—just party.

When I was 20, I first smoked weed. Within a week I was selling enough so that I could smoke for free. It was the first thing that calmed my ADHD. I felt like I could breathe again, and it slowed my rapid thinking way down. It did for me what I was hoping alcohol would do for me. Pretty soon, I was drinking and smoking weed at the same time: “cross-fading.”

Then I tried Percocet and 30 minutes later I felt like I had melted in my seat—I’d never had painkillers before. But then I was on. I’d have one or two of those when I was at work. I felt like I was Superman. I had no anxiety, no problems, living in the moment every moment. I took them with alcohol and pot for over a year. We took them at first as a party drug—deceptively advertised as “non-addictive”. But one time turned into needing it every day.

I got into selling hard drugs and started meeting a lot of very shady people, going to places my friend and I would never have gone to in the past. The majority of buying Oxy’s was from people who were way over prescribed. Every time I had more money, I used more—I was a junkie and there was no profit. Also, when you get blackout drunk every night, it’s easy to give away more product than they pay for, you’re hanging out with pretty seedy people who are stealing things from you—it just goes like that.

Finally, I got pulled over by a cop. They searched the vehicle and found weed in the trunk. I was put on probation. I started back to work, taking cabs, and I started going to AA meetings every day. My dad took me to a meeting. Every member of my family is an alcoholic—both parents’ sides. My dad had been an alcoholic and sold drugs before I was born, and he had gotten clean and sober through AA.

I didn’t think I was an alcoholic. What I failed to realize was alcohol is a “drug,” because you are using it in the same way: for the effect. I thought I could just smoke some weed and drink a beer now and then. But for me, that’s not an option—I can never just have one or two. Within two months I started drinking again, then heavily and blacking out all the time. With court dates looming, I was a mess emotionally and physically—I was broken and decided I would kill myself.

Before I did this, I had a moment of clarity and wanted to call my mom. She had brought me into this world, and I should tell her before I took myself out of it. And I didn’t want her to feel guilty for what I had done. She didn’t try to tell me not to do it. She told me I was right, that I was going to die because I was really sick. She asked, “Are you willing for the first time in your life to put 100% effort into this and abandon every idea that you could ever drink or use again on the hopes that you could have a life that would be normal?” I said yes. Not hearing her say “I love you and it’s going to be ok,” but her telling me the truth is what made the difference.

The next day, I went to a meeting, broken and finally ready for a change. An old guy there said he’d be my sponsor. As we talked, he said I should get quiet and calm, hit my knees every morning and night and thank God for my sobriety, one day at a time. Get to one or more meetings a day. If something feels wrong, don’t do it and call me. It wasn’t easy.

I went through all the 12-steps. Even today, with over 10 years sober, I am tempted because I still can only see the dishonest part of drinking—the fun times, not where that one drink will take me. I need to stay connected and going to meetings because my sobriety is my priority.

*Please listen to SURVIVING OPIOIDS new podcast for relevant discussion re early alcohol use, childhood trauma, and recovery – link at right

Anne’s Story: Cultural Influences

(Thirty-fourth in a series of topical blogs based on chapter by chapter excerpts from Opiate Nation. Translation into most languages is available to the right.)

This week’s Story of Hope is from a young friend of ours, Anne (not her real name). Here are some excerpts from her story in Opiate Nation (5 min read):

I was eleven years old when I first experienced shooting heroin. Looking back, I can hardly believe it and I am so thankful to be alive, and to be sharing my story.

My boyfriend and I watched the movies Trainspotting and Requiem for a Dream and they really piqued our interest in drugs. The way it was portrayed in those movies made me think using heroin would be an amazing dream sequence, when in actuality, it made me violently ill. My boyfriend insisted we keep trying. He became obsessed with all drugs: ecstasy, LSD, cocaine, and various pills and so I tried them all.

Continue reading “Anne’s Story: Cultural Influences”

Hank’s Story: Drinking Loneliness

(Thirty-third in a series of topical blogs based on chapter by chapter excerpts from Opiate Nation. Translation into most languages is available to the right.)

This week’s Story of Hope is from our son’s friend, Hank (not his real name). Here are some excerpts from his story in Opiate Nation (5 min read):

I grew up in a loving home – the youngest of seven kids in a Catholic family. Although there are no alcoholics in my immediate family, my mother’s side of the family consists of proud Irish New Yorkers where alcoholism runs rampant. I experienced my first drunk at the age of 13.

Continue reading “Hank’s Story: Drinking Loneliness”

POWER-less or POWER-ful?

Last week I wrote about regrets that John and I deal with – wishing that we had known about some type of long-lasting recovery option for our son, JL – and the SMART recovery approach and how it differs from traditional 12-Step programs such as AA. Continuing on with the concepts about individuals who struggle with life-threatening addictions of any variety, I have a few more thoughts.

With the genetic / disease model of addiction that scientific research has brought to the table, there are many in the recovery world who feel this mindset gives those living with addiction a green light to excuse their responsibility, their power of choice. But I disagree. It is clear that we had nothing to do with our family tree, our genetic inheritance (1). We were “powerless” as far as choosing to be born into our family. Yet, this doesn’t mean we are powerless to overcome the negative Continue reading “POWER-less or POWER-ful?”

Offering Recovery Options

One of the most recurring regrets John and I deal with is wishing that we had known about some type of long-lasting recovery option for our son, JL. He was becoming recovery resistant after so many cycles of detox and recovery programs and relapse. As the opioid epidemic sped up with mounting deaths by overdose, we now have statistics that make it clear that it usually takes many recovery/relapse cycles before a person can maintain long-term sobriety – especially for the main victims of this epidemic – those who started using opioids at a young age. Like our son. It’s not that he didn’t want to be clean and sober. He did, with all his heart. But opioids don’t let go easily or quickly. Continue reading “Offering Recovery Options”

Family Addiction

I had heard about Beautiful Boy by David Sheff for several years and finally made the time to read it. I wasn’t sure it would be of great interest to me since his son’s drug of choice was mainly methamphetamine – and his son is still alive, while mine is not.

It has been hard for me to put down, for many reasons. Sheff is a great writer and tells their family’s story in a way that brings the people and events to life. But what I find most significant – and, sadly, most similar to our story – are the dynamics of a family living with addiction. And it is also very similar to other families I know and ones I have read about in other books such as Gorgeous Girl by Mary K. Pershall.

The similarities? First, there is the genetic component – mainly alcoholism – in the Continue reading “Family Addiction”

WITH or WITHOUT HOPE?

There is something unique about the Christmas season, even if you do not buy into the Biblical story that lies at its core, even if you hold some other faith, even with no faith at all. For some reason, and not coincidentally, this time of year usually brings a sense of hope to most of us: hope in a better future for us and our loved ones, for society, for the world.

I think it is also tied in with the advent of a New Year, a new beginning, a chance to make changes that need a special impetus. “Hope smiles from the threshold of the year to come, whispering, ‘It will be happier’.” (Tennyson). It seems “Hope springs eternal in the human breast” (Pope) and as we stand at the starting line on the path of a new year, we are forward-focused with possibilities, even unlikely ones.

Hope is optimistic. Hope creates courage. Hope fosters healing. Hope dispels fear. Hope supplies fortitude and persistence. Blind Helen Keller said, “Optimism is the faith that leads to achievement. Nothing can be done without hope and confidence.”

But what about those among us – our family, our friends, even our selves – who see no hope for the future, feel no sense of expectation but instead see only more of the drudgery they have lived with in life, the continual uphill climb with no rest along the way, no way out of an unbearable situation? A relationship, prison, an addiction, an illness, poverty, a loss. I think we all know that for these discouraged and depressed ones this week, among all weeks of the year, is the final straw. Everyone seems happy and contented, planning new goals, possible changes, new adventures – everyone except them, except “me”.

Eight months before our son’s death, he saw a friend overdose and die during the holidays. It was the impetus for him to seek help and go through withdrawals from heroin one more time with the hope that he would be free forever from his addiction. It was a realistic hope – if we had understood what he knew: he needed medication to help him achieve that long-term goal. We had hopes but they were based on mis-information and faulty assumptions. Eight months later we realized our mistake.

If you are among those who feel no hope, who are facing unbearable situations, seemingly unbeatable odds, please remember that we all – ALL – need help at times with feeling hope-full. Take the one step that can help you find the hope you need to envision a different, better future for yourself: call someone or go somewhere. A friend, a help-line, a hospital, a 12-Step meeting, a church service. Reject feelings of shame at admitting you need help by remember that we ALL need help to make it through this life. We were never meant to live life alone. We ALL need the support of a community of some sort. Advocate for yourself – you are worth it – until you find someone who will help. And don’t forget God. His children throughout the millennia have felt despair and depression. But we can remind ourselves of what King David said: “Why are you in despair, my soul? Hope in God, my help, my God.” (Psalm 43:5)

And for those of us who are feeling the anticipation of a new year with new hopes and realistic expectations, let’s be intentionally on the look out for those whose hope is lost and who need a listening ear and a helping hand. Let’s use our blessed life to help someone else.

Woman of Substances

In 1979, the novel A Woman of Substance was published. It was the first in a series of seven portraying the substances and schemes, the means and maneuvers of three generations of a retail empire. Being “a woman of substance” is considered a great compliment for a woman who aspires to be influential, a woman of power, a positive influence. 

In a clever spin on this phrase, journalist and author Jenny Valentish has written Woman of Substances. I picked it up last year while in Melbourne, Australia and I couldn’t put it down. Her narrative flair for relaying her personal experiences while presenting scientific findings on addictions of all  sorts is extremely engaging for women – and men.

Jenny’s nutshell:

A girl falls down a rabbit hole. She obeys every ‘drink me’, ‘eat me’ prompt and meets all sorts of freaky characters. Chaos ensues. Then she wakes up and exploits her position as a journalist to ask experts what that was all about.

Although it is not a memoir per se, her blatant honesty and self-deprecation about her past and her choices is revealing, while not glamorizing the depths to which her addictions took her. She interviewed 35 clinicians, counsellors, doctors and academics about their fields of expertise and shares her personal experiences of her up and down road to recovery and sobriety.

The chapters cover: The roles of temperament and impulsivity in addiction. Hitching adolescent identity to substances. Internalized misogyny as a contributing factor. The relationship between substance use, eating disorders and self-harm. Sexual assault and spiking. The impact of childhood trauma on the brain and behavior. Related foibles, such as gambling, theft, compulsive buying and compulsive sexual behavior. Self-medicating mental illness and PTSD. AA and other forms of treatment. The ways in which research and treatment is geared towards the male experience.

My husband, daughter, and I had the privilege of meeting with Jenny for lunch in Melbourne last week. She is as real in person as she is in print. We discussed current trends of drug addiction in Australia along with recovery and family help groups she is connected with.

What reviewers are saying:

“Raw, revealing, at times heartbreaking, but searingly honest and aimed to support anyone who is wondering if they will ever recover from addiction.”

“This book taught me things I wasn’t expecting about the landscape of substance use. You don’t have to be a spectacular comet of crazy like the young Valentish to find something of yourself in these pages. I can’t imagine there isn’t a young person, friend or parent who won’t get something important from reading this book.”

“Like a tour guide in a foreign land, Valentish waves a flag and provides a path back from the abyss. This is an enormously compelling, confronting and informative piece on addiction and recovery from a female perspective.”

Ultimately, Jenny show us that being a Woman of Substances keeps you from being influential, powerful, and a positive influence. As we told her, we are proud of her determination to truthfully relay her failures and her persistence in walking the uphill road to wellness and freedom. They will assure her place as a powerful and positive influence on this generation.

www.womanofsubstances.com

You can purchase Woman of Substances on Amazon or at your local bookseller.

Spring: New Life?

Spring is the season of regeneration, new life, hope. The time of year when the whole earth seems excited to be alive after being dormant all winter. For those who celebrate Easter, the season begins with introspection through prayer and repentance. As we reflect on our life and behaviors that are destructive to ourselves and our relationships, we hope to shed them like the husk of a seed when it is buried in the ground. We expectantly wait for the transformation that happens deep inside that will spring up as new life, like the sprout from a seed. Yet, as it pushes up through the crusty ground, the process of transformation is not without struggle.
This is what those who are living with addiction hope for when they go to AA meetings and enter recovery programs: as they surrender control, they’re hoping for a total change from agony and depression into a new life.

People, Places, Things is a play about addiction and wearing masks by British playwright Duncan MacMillan and director Jeremy Harren. It opened to rave reviews. In an interview with NPR the creators share that at the center of the play is the 12-step process. It shows that for those who have trouble with AA and surrendering to God perhaps it is easier to understand it as acknowledging that you can’t have control over life. We are all powerless over People, Places, Things. It is literally one day at a time. They visited a recovery center in London to get insights for the play. And as one of the actors said after witnessing the daily life-and-death struggle that addicts fight:

“One day at a time. And Life has to win every single day.
Death has to only win once.”

In Tracey Mitchell’s blog (http://traceyh415.blogspot.com/2018/03/) she shares about a young person she has been corresponding with since 2013 and the cycles of opioid addiction and attempted recovery he went through repeatedly. He voiced his utter frustration: “It’s so insane how this drug has taken hold over me.” Tracey heard from him a few more times and then nothing: “I don’t know all the details. I just know I could have written this story. This was my story. Except I did not die at 25. I didn’t need to worry about fentanyl (in the late 1990’s). I got off everything at 27. I consider myself lucky…No one should ever have to die alone like this.”

Yes, no one, especially a young person, should have to die having failed to experience a new beginning – after so much effort at turning over control and hoping for a normal life. But, with the purity of heroin in America having risen sharply in the last 15 years, and fentanyl now mixed in unbeknownst to users, the physical addiction is beyond comprehension. For those who are overdosing and dying in record numbers, they had no intention that their next use would be their last. This was what happened to our 25-yr-old son. Whatever he bought and used was more potent than what he was expecting and accustomed to. He died alone, with the needle still in his vein. Death only had to win once.

Prevention is the best way to stop these needless deaths. But once addiction to opioids has taken control, harm reduction with a solid 12-Step program is the best way to help addicts emerge from the darkness and be able to have a truly new life.