this text is wrapped in italics

I know that it’s easy to slip into the feelings of guilt. But guilt is like almost all feelings, best just felt and let go. The danger for me comes when guilt turns into shame, the feeling that I am somehow a bad person for making choices that bring on guilt. I feel it is natural to feel some guilt when I make a choice to take care of myself at the cost of someone else’s needs. It is unhealthy though if I let that turn into shame.

I think that most people who have been affected by alcoholism feel guilt. It’s a powerful tool used by both the alcoholic and the co-dependent. One woman shared in the meeting that her alcoholic son wanted to come home for Christmas, yet she thought his coming home would be a disruption to her and the rest of the family. She felt a lot of guilt about the decision. At this time, she has established a boundary and isn’t ready to have her son come home.

Perhaps as time progresses, her guilt will ease. I know that as I’ve grown in recovery, I’ve let go of the past and realized that I don’t want to harbor resentment for those who have hurt me. Forgiveness is what I can give both others and myself when I let go of guilt. I forgive myself when I put my needs ahead of others. I have learned to forgive my parents for things that hurt me when I was a kid. I don’t make excuses for what happened but I’ve learned to not hold onto the resentment because it will ultimately hurt me.

I know what this does to me. It creates a gut-wrenching reaction. I have to force myself not to move. My eyes tell me that this isn’t anyone that I know but my heart tells me that this is a person who is in a lot of pain and who is causing a lot of pain. It seems so ironic to have a drunk person show up at an AA meeting. But I would guess that’s the best place for anyone drunk to be because they are with people who know how to deal with the situation.

I don’t know how to deal with the situation so I just sit and concentrate on not bolting. I stay put and get through the meeting and then can’t wait to leave. All the way on the drive back to my office, I’m thinking about the nightmare of that woman’s life. And the nightmare of those who love her. It’s hard to get the image out of my head. It’s hard not to imagine a different face being drunk and out of control. It’s hard not to look back.

So, it’s getting cold, right?  It’s getting cold. And I commute 23 miles one-way to my job.  At night it’s another 16 miles bo school, in the dark, and then another 8 miles home.  I commute 55 miles a day on a 49cc, 2-cycle scooter that under the best conditions goes 30 miles per hour.  I’m not even sure my face has thawed since this morning.

I really obviously need a car, so I went car shopping today.  I found a new vehicle that was advertised for nothing down and payments of $199/mo.  Something I can easily afford.  And despite the fact that it will obviously depreciate too much at the beginning, it comes with a great warranty (it’s a brand new Kia, so . . .).

So I’m at the dealership, and I know my credit sucks, and my employer agrees to cosign the loan so that I can get into a vehicle - the condition being that it be a new vehicle.  I fill out the paperwork and I wait.  And I wait.  And I wait.

“NO!” they say.  “You have terrible credit.  Go! Away!”

Actually they were nicer than that - but they did try distract me from the new car and try to railroad me into some repo they had on the lot and wanted 1K down on it which I don’t have.  So we run the paperwork with by boss cosigning.  And the answer comes back that even with my boss cosigning I would require a $2,800 down payment.  My credit is so bad that if you look at me your score goes down.  Other people are buying this car on a signature and from me they want $2800.

And suddenly I feel like the inside of my brain is being scraped out with tiny little razors.  The walls begin to close in on me.  I still haven’t noticed that I haven’t eaten in like 7 hours so I haven’t noticed that I’m really not thinking clearly anymore.  All I notice is that my economic wreckage is so enormous that it’s visible from space.  All I notice is how much cheaper it is to be rich.  The tiny razors make me start thinking about the repo car outside that I could get, but then this panic sets it.

I’ve been at the dealership for 3 hours by this time, mind you.  I’m vaguely aware that I’m hungry.  I do notice that I’m dizzy, but I’m hanging in there.  I’m trying to pretend I’m a grown up and face this perfectly ordinary task of buying a car like a grown up. But I’m not a grown up.  Not really.  Not inside.  I know on the outside I look like an old fool but . . . My grandmother said this would happen.  She said one day I’d wake up and I’d look in the mirror and I’d wonder, “Who the *$%# is that?”

“Seriously.  Who the *$%# do I think I am, anyway, walking into a car dealership and trying to buy a car,” says the voice in my head.  “You’re never going to be able to do that.  *$%#ing loser.”

I turn on my heel and I head out the door as fast as my little poor-credit-risk legs will carry me across the parking lot, and onto my sooter, and out of there.  Away from there.

And 15 minutes later I find myself sitting in a used car dealership; one of those “buy here, pay here, we’ll finance a monkey with a pay-stub” places and I have already filled out a credit app.  Without even thinking I have found myself sitting in front of this little, hairy fat man who’s long, dark hair has expatriated from the top of his head and found political assylum on his arms, and I’m about to sign a contract to pay $9,000 (only 2K less than the brand new car) for a 12 year old Honda that I don’t even like.

“Hold it, hold it, hold it! Stop. Stop! STOP!!” the other, nicer, saner voice says.

And I stop.  And I cool down.  And I ask for an intuitive thought and for guidance.  And the moment I did that I realized that there are a couple of people in my life who could help me navigate this little foray into the big-giant-grownup world, and I realize that I really should eat something before I make another decision of any kind.

And before I’ve hurt myself or others, I push the papers back across the desk and excuse myself.

I’m so afraid of learning to be a grown up.  It is so hard, so exhausting, so confusnig. But I try, I really try.  And I head for home on my scooter, to eat something and to release the tiny razors still at work inside my brain.  And a song starts playing.  It’s only playing in my mind but it’s playing and it’s the theme from Alley McBeal.  “I’ve been down this road, walkin’ the line that’s painted by pride.  And I have made mistakes in my life that I just can’t hide.”

And then I think, if someone can drop a house on my sister, why can’t they roll a car into my driveway?  Which makes me laugh out loud.  And I know I’m still OK.

I have a lot of plans for the weekend, so I’m trying to focus my attention on looking forward to them. I’m trying to focus on ways I can lift my own spirits. I did yoga today, and I have a big yoga workshop tomorrow. There’s a meeting and dinner with friends. On Sunday, I’m going to meet one of my favorite internet friends for the first time, and that’s exciting. It will involve time in the car with two of my favorite program friends. I’m bursting at the seams with healthy stuff to do.

And all I can think of to do is to call my husband. I have a ton of work, and I can’t get it done because I’m so consumed with not calling him.

I was fussing to a friend about how I don’t want to have to feel this pain anymore, and she said something very wise: If you want to quit going through detox, then quit relapsing.

I hate the aptness of that metaphor, but it’s truly perfect. I feel like I’m on fire on the inside.

This coming Sunday, Novemeber 16, at 8:30 pm EST, our very own Ginger Bauler will be the hostess!

Ginger is the content manager for The Second Road and, for most of her “other” professional life, she was the manager of a research laboratory at The University of Virginia Medical Center. She is a native of Chicago, where she did her undergraduate and graduate work at Loyola University. She is a recovering addict/alcoholic and is committed to seeing the vision of The Second Road spread to a worldwide audience. Her honest blogs address issues everyone in recovery faces on a daily basis. She loves her kid, doggies, movies, ice cream, shoes, and working out… in that order.

Did I mention she has a fabulous sense of humor?

Her TSR blogs:
www.cyberbitten.com/tsr/author/chris/

Video clips featuring Ginger’s story:
www.cyberbitten.com/videos.php?videosId=148
www.cyberbitten.com/videos.php?videosId=150
www.cyberbitten.com/videos.php?videosId=151
www.cyberbitten.com/videos.php?videosId=152
www.cyberbitten.com/videos.php?videosId=153
www.cyberbitten.com/videos.php?videosId=154

See you there. And by there, of course I mean the chat room.

I woke up and took the dog for a really long walk, about 2 miles. I made a point to breathe deeply, to take in my surroundings.
Maine is damp right now. Really damp. A few leaves cling reluctantly to the trees, the majority are already decomposing in wet piles. It was neat to walk fast and breathe deep; to avoid my usual cig routine.

Back home I popped open the Smokers Cleanse kit. From my past experience quitting a 6 crystal meth addiction, I know how valuable it is to simultaneously care for the body while reprogramming the mind.  Sure, most of the battle is mental, but your body’s health affects your bio-chemistry and thus your mind. Removing toxins is helpful.

Then I made a nest on the couch, planning to retreat from the world with Netflix Watch Instantly movies.  A long term smoker, 20 years in my case, has to overcome years of patterns.
When I write, I smoke. When I wake, I smoke. When I talk on the phone, I smoke. When I want to get away, I smoke. This is good, I’ve identified my triggers. What is bad is how many of them there are!
I think giving up crystal will have been easier than this.

I was already feeling emotional at 2pm, only 15 hours without a smoke, and 7 of those I was sleeping. I cried for a moment when the computer wouldn’t play my damn movies. This is the plan. Total retreat from the world and patterns. I can’t do it any other way–or the world will suffer. I am not nice right now. I am a wreck.
Finally, problem resolved and I watched two films, The Illusionist and Downtown 81. (really recommend the first one, amazing movie. Watch Downtown 81 if you are a Basquiat, early 80’s New York scene fan)

I was pretty disgusted by my mind chatter, but glad I’ve learned how to listen attentively to it. Fair to note here that I shouldn’t judge myself, just be aware and honest. I listened for the footsteps of my neighbors, thinking I might just run into them in the hallway and ask to bum a smoke….
I knew I should avoid walking the dog, because if I saw someone with a cigarette, I would want one. But heck, I doubt the partner wants to shoulder that responsibility on top of dealing with a cranky detoxing addict.
Tobacco deserves these terms. I don’t know if I need rehab per say, but I have to make a battle plan to take this on. It feels like weakness, but it isn’t that simple. It’s addiction. I’ve been a paid guinea pig for the tobacco industry. I know how one’s brain is affected after habitually smoking.
Just reading this excerpt makes my optimism quiver in the corner.

“Nicotine is known to be an addictive drug. Less than seven percent of all smokers who attempt to quit are successful (2). While some of the addiction may be attributed to the social and psychological patterns created by using products containing nicotine, there is also vast evidence that the addiction is chemical as well.

Nicotine causes a strengthening of the connections responsible for the production of Dopamine in the ventral tegmental area (VTA) of the brain pleasure or reward center (5). This strengthening results in a release of dopamine. This is the process used by the brain to enforce positive behavior. The Nicotine artificially stimulates this process, thus encouraging repetition of the Nicotine intake (5).

The Nicotine is quickly metabolized and altogether absent from the body in a few hours, causing the acute affects of the Nicotine to be short lived. This quickly dissipated state of effects creates the need for multiple doses of Nicotine throughout the day in order to prolong the effects and fend off withdrawal (4). Multiple dosages of Nicotine creates a tolerance within the body. In order to receive the desirable traits of the nicotine, the body must consistently take in more of the chemical.

The ending of a Nicotine habit induces both a withdrawal syndrome that lasts about a moth, and intense cravings that may last over six months. The withdrawal syndrome includes such symptoms as irritability, attention deficits, sleep disturbances and increased appetite.”

I need to avoid sugar and foods that create highs and then lows.
Basically, I need a lot of sex, exercise and meditation to naturally release my dopamine. After twenty years, I’ve become reliant on these little rushes of pleasure from smoking.

Just sitting at the computer and typing this right now makes me want a ciggie.

At 6:21 I walked the dog. I bought a pack of smokes. Then my partner called and asked if she should walk the dog for me. I told her it was too late. I turned over the pack and asked if she minded being my nurse. Later that night we got a call from the landlord, who finally decided after 3 months to come and fix our bathroom ceiling.

This meant we needed to finish the demolition. Two things wrong here. I wanted to lay in bed and hide for the next week. I didn’t want to see him and I didn’t want to move. I gave myself a cigarette as a treat, two hours later, after knocking out at least 50 lbs of plaster from the ceiling.
It’s going to be hard. But I’m going to do it. I’m not going to beat myself up for having 2 ciggies where as I would normally have 10. I’m on the nicotine methadone plan I suppose.
Thanks for reading.

Families tend to pigeon-hole us into the characters we once were, rather than honoring us for the people we’ve become. It’s amazing really. My brothers and father still treat me as the person I was at age twelve! Even more amazing, it is despite my best efforts that I usually become that twelve year old in their midst! How does that happen? Scary efficiency.

Over the past several years, I’ve dealt with holidays by staying home alone, working (so my coworkers with “healthy” families can enjoy their day), or having dinner with friends. I’ve had some of my nicest days at work on Christmas and Thanksgiving. Hospitalized patients are extremely grateful for care they receive on holidays, when many of them are also alone. I’ve had some of my most serene runs, alone with Puck through quiet city streets, while the masses enjoyed ham or turkey dinners. I’ve learned to enjoy the solitude and peace of holidays, yet I’d be lying if I didn’t admit the pang of loneliness, remorse, or ill-will that’s also occasionally crept in on those “special” days.

The approaching holiday season is the reason, I’m sure, behind my brother’s constant presence in my brain.  This is the brother who’s turned into a pompous, arrogant, snob. This brother looks down on most of us in the family, and he only calls any of us when in desperate need. Once he gets what he wants, he climbs back atop his lofty perch and disdainfully ignores us again.

A couple years ago, during an otherwise civil disagreement, my brother lambasted me with a vitriolic, damning tirade so sharp and cruel I’m still stunned. It was incredibly unfair and hurtful, and since making immediate amends for my piece, we’ve not spoken a word. He doesn’t have the apology-gene. Until recovery, I didn’t think I had one either. It’s easier for him to hope it goes away. I’ve prayed about it and prayed for him, but here we are approaching Thanksgiving, and even without seeing him, my trigger’s been tripped. The bullets are flying within my brain. And as you know, bullets are usually dangerous and destructive. I guess I need to start praying all over again.

Dear God, please get January here–quick!

Ahhhh, the holidays…good times. Good times.

But some people who work the Steps tell me that they don’t get five minutes off. No time to play. They’ve played for as many years as they used and abused drugs and alcohol, and want to make up for time lost. The world needs them. People need one another, and as a person, they’ve joined the human race.

So people in recovery work when they work. They don’t cheat the boss, and when anything goes wrong, they immediately look within themselves, assume some responsibility.

Anyone, addicted or not, can look at just about anything, any interaction, and find himself, find his piece of the problem, maybe just a tiny reactive moment or impulse, an unintended cross, insensitive word. It’s hard to control our negativity, our impulse to lash out at others when we feel hurt, and that happens when we interact with people.  We feel hurt.  Being addicted, to add insult to injury, tends to go together with projecting blame onto others, avoiding responsibility, and finding a place on the proverbial “pity pot.”

The therapeutic objective, of course, is to feel the hurt but look inside, examine it to see if it really came from anything at all. Sometimes we think people mean things they don’t mean. If we’re too easily hurt it means we’re not looking beyond ourselves, we’re stuck licking our wounds. We call these narcissistic injuries because we’re thinking everyone else had us in mind, or should have us in mind, when in fact, nobody’s really paying attention or cares.

By narcissistic injury we mean ego slam, as opposed to body slam. It hurts about as much.

A person in recovery will first look at the 12 Steps and puzzle over the words of people who theoretically hurt him intentionally, the possible motives. Deciding that it can’t be, that people in general aren’t out to get him, he’ll admit there’s a great deal about people and their motives that he doesn’t understand. Rather than say the motives must be negative, he’ll turn the whole problem over to a Higher Power, let G-d take care of the issue, the conflict.

Or even better, he might check it out, discuss the problem at a meeting, or maybe with the person he thinks caused him harm, or thinks meant to cause him harm.

And at a meeting, a person in recovery ultimately looks at behavior and talks about better responses, taps into strategies for coping under stress, outside of blaming everyone else. A person will take what is learned at a meeting out into the world, the big playing field. The common denominator in all of life’s aggravation is always ourselves, addicted or not.

So we try to change that person, ourselves.

We’re the people feeling the aggravation, we’re the ones, some might say, creating it. So we change us.

The good thing about this dynamic in the 12 Step program, is that it works on universal principals. Everyone makes drama where there shouldn’t be any, is the truth. Alcoholics and drug addicts might be a little more paranoid and angry than most, a little more depressive-anxious, but everyone gets aggravated. Which came first? Did the emotion cause the substance abuse, or the substance abuse cause the emotion? It doesn’t matter. We’re all emotional creatures and we all have to manage our feelings, especially our aggravation in the great outdoors.

In sobriety, a person working a 12 Step program has had enough alcohol, enough drugs. The thought of another drink, another toxic episode, another foolish social drug-hazed encounter, is aversive. He can’t stand the thought of continuing on this way, comes to see that looking inside, taking a hard look at himself is the ticket. It is his own ego, himself that is the source and the solution of his problems.

And sober or straight, if a person hangs around with other humans, that ego stands to take a beating. Especially with a job in the real world. It can be very humbling, working with people. We take a lot of aggravation, feel a lot of aggravation in our personal concentration camps.

So an addict in recovery is bound to hear someone like me say,

“Sure your job is a hassle and it’s aggravating dealing with people. Life’s tough. But it is on the job, right here in real time, where you and your ego intersect with other souls.  It is on the job that we test ourselves.”

It is you who will have to change, have to take a step back.  It is you, a person controlled by a need to feed your head, who must ask that ego inside the old ‘bod any number of magical questions about socially frustrating interactions. As in:

Did that other person really mean to hurt me with what he said? Or am I too sensitive?

Am I interpreting this situation correctly? Are my feelings creating my thoughts? Are my thoughts upsetting me? Shouldn’t I take a better look at the situation before I go CRAZY emotionally and feel the need to drink?

No better place to work through this stuff than on the job.

Right. You don’t get five minutes to play. The world is your playground. Every second, every encounter, a test. Should be fun and can be, assuming you can stop taking yourself so seriously. It’s possible, although not always, and we’ll get to the not always another day, but it’s possible that your ego can use a little bruising and you’ll be better off for it.

What a therapy. So cognitive. So rational. So effective.  And with a little help from your friends, so hopeful.

therapydoc

• Research published in 1999 by Bennett Fletcher, a senior research psychologist at the National Institute on Drug Abuse, has shown that though 90 days isn’t a magic number, anything less than that tends to increase the chances of relapse. One study, of 1,605 cocaine users, looked at weekly cocaine use in the year after treatment. It found that 35% of people who were in treatment for 90 days or fewer reported drug use the following year compared with 17% of people who were in treatment for 90 days or longer. The study was published in the Archives of General Psychiatry.
• Another study, part of an NIDA-funded project called Drug Abuse Treatment Outcome Studies, followed 549 patients who had several problems in addition to their drug use and who entered a long-term residential program. Those who dropped out of treatment before 90 days had relapse rates similar to those who stayed in treatment only a day or two. After 90 days, however, relapse rates dropped steadily the longer a person stayed in treatment.
• Studies of youth also reflect the connection between longer care and a greater chance of recovery. A 2001 UCLA study of 1,167 adolescents receiving substance-abuse treatment found that those in treatment for 90 days or more had significantly lower relapse rates than teens in programs of 21 days.

One bit of advice we’ve always given people is to investigate what treatment physicians with your problem receive. Well, here you go:
Some of the earliest evidence emerged from high success rates in treatment of addicted health professionals, says Haroutunian: The Federation of State Physician Health Programs has long recommended 90-day treatments and continued follow-up care for doctors who abuse drugs.
Fortunately, Dawn Farm and other programs are finding ways to offer this support in cost effective ways by bundling treatment and recovery support services.

[hat tip: jointogether.org]

One of the things that relatives of alcoholics do is put forth a happy face to the world that masks a mess underneath. I’ve always liked the saying that “Happiness is an inside job”. But one of the challenges in recovery is to understand how to go about fixing my inside so that I am able to feel the happiness that I know is buried within.

I’ve read something in one of the on line forums that it’s best to “live life, and allow happiness to find me”, as opposed to trying to pursue happiness. This is a lesson that is starting to finally make sense to me. I believe in the words, but sometimes have difficulty in actually applying them to my everyday life.

And another truth that I have come to accept is that we really do control our attitudes, outlook and ultimately happiness based upon the perspectives that we bring to things. So basically my inner world has a lot to do with what happens externally and my thoughts and emotions have a huge effect on the course of my life.

Here are some truths that Brenda Ehrler discovered during recovery and highlights in her book Learning to Be You, It’s an Inside Job:

• I was contributing to unhealthy behavior
• I needed recovery and healing
• My own beliefs have prevented me from achieving joy
• If I don’t feel love for myself, I can’t give love
• I have the power to change beliefs that no longer work for me
• My thoughts create my experiences
• I have control of my thoughts
• I have no control over the actions of others
• Everything works together for a purpose
• Discomfort does not go away, it becomes an adventure

I like the idea that the discomfort that I feel can be viewed as an adventure. And another way I can think of this is that my life is a path waiting to be journeyed by an explorer. Through the program I am now following a path and embarking on a journey to find the truth about my own being.

Ωxxxxg

That was a message from her, a beautiful message from my sweet new kitty. I am not sure what it says, but I bet it’s very, very wise. I have to respect kitty’s anonymity, or I’d post a picture of her so you could all see.

Nothing in the world has gotten me back in the moment so wonderfully, and nothing has distracted me from my obsessive thoughts about my husband. This kitty is some kind of spiritual messenger, and I wish you all tiny kittens in gutters.

Meanwhile, Makani Themba-Nixon offers a better illustration:

“If anyone doubts that racism is alive and well in American politics, the fact that more than 55 million people voted for McCain in spite of his negative, racist and politically vacuous campaign; his lack of charisma and terrible media performance; his scary choice of running mate and inconsistent positions on virtually every issue of importance; and in spite of his obvious ineptitude for the bread and butter issues facing the majority of electorate should be proof enough. Being White and male gave him the handicap (in golf terms) that got him 50 million plus votes “just because.”

She also brings up a clear point of contention by asking; “I mean what kind of system won’t mandate time off to vote or allow Ted Stevens (R-AK) to run for Senate as a convicted felon but not allow our ex-offenders to vote who have done their time?”

Just because we had a liberal ticket that seemed to take on the culture war at the top chain of command, doesn’t mean the grassroots armies weren’t busy doing battle with Props that were anti-gay, anti-choice, racist and draconian.
Let’s take California for instance, heralded as a progressive state, yet many props on the California 08 ballot indicated the exact opposite. The CA ballot was ripe and heavy with many frightening props–4, 6, 8.
Prop 4 required a teen to have an immediate family member approve of their abortion. If the teen sought out another adult, the parent could be reported, then investigated and punished by law.
Prop 6 proposed to increase costs for prison and parole operations, shifting money from education into incarceration. It would lower the age that a child could be prosecuted as an adult to 14.
And, well, we all know what Prop 8 was.

But we’ve heard little about the defeat of Proposition 5 in CA; silenced amid the eruptive news of the Prop 8 defeat. Perhaps the Prop generated relatively little national debate because we just aren’t ready for a historical piece of legislation like this which would slowly reverse the War on People Drugs.

The institutional framework of racism is still secure within the nation’s prison industry. Incarceration is another form of slave labor. Sure, you can argue that those who have done the crime need to do the time, but are many crimes truly crimes against society at large?

Prop 5 would have provided addiction treatment to non-violent offenders, even repeat offenders, instead of reliance on incarceration. With high recidivism rates and overcrowded prisons (everywhere, especially CA) it doesn’t appear as though mere jail time is enough incentive to deter a drug user.

Proposal:

* Requires California to expand and increase funding and oversight for individualized treatment and rehabilitation programs for nonviolent drug offenders and parolees.
* Reduces criminal consequences of nonviolent drug offenses by mandating three-tiered probation with treatment and by providing for case dismissal and/or sealing of records after probation.
* Limits court’s authority to incarcerate offenders who violate probation or parole.
* Shortens parole for most drug offenses, including sales, and for nonviolent property crimes.
* Creates numerous divisions, boards, commissions, and reporting requirements regarding drug treatment and rehabilitation.
* Changes certain marijuana misdemeanors to infractions.

Of course, opponents of the Prop shouted hysterically, “It will be the biggest threat to public safety in California in more than 20 years.”
Yes, imagine, offering treatment to those in need of it– who could not only personally benefit from a science based approach to overcoming addiction, but who would also (more than not) contribute to society. In concept, it’s would truly be a benefit to all. But it require a reversal of policies started decades ago.

I don’t believe the only way a person can serve their country is to get a job and pay taxes, but I do know that shifting taxpayer money from incarceration into education therapy is a wiser investment. Taxpayers are continually financing the burden that untreated addiction incurs.

Allem writes:

“NORA extends California’s successful leadership, demonstrated and authenticated by Proposition 36. It provides community-based treatment (instead of prisons), more trained health specialists (instead of guards), and more restoring of lives (instead of recycling offenders.) It also saves significant money for California taxpayers, as demonstrated by UCLA studies.”

So, what does this video with Nancy Reagan, appearing on Diff’rent Strokes (start it around 2:41 for the cameo) have to do with Martin Sheen and Proposition 5?
Ways that iconic characters have used Hollywood’s public access to promote the War on Drugs is the correct answer.

It’s not as though Martin Sheen alone helped to defeat the legislation, offering up his personal experience with his familial snorter/boozer/man whore Charlie Sheen. It was actually a formidable roster that stood in opposition to the Prop, as they stood to lose a lot if it were passed. Sheen has said, ” the threat of jail time by a judge is needed to force addicts to commit to recovery.” Although Sheen is an actor, not a policy expert, the Gov. Shwarzenegger is more the latter than the former, I cough, suppose.

The Gov, joined by four of his predecessors, announced that, “[Proposition 5] is a great threat to our neighborhoods, It was written by those who care more about the rights of criminals.”
It’s not surprising to me that he was joined by all the men who helped to beef up the prison system–most all have accepted large donations from the prison union. To support Pop 5 could indicate that the systems they supported have failed.

Now Talvi, whose article is one of the best I’ve read yet, points out that this legislation was not a whimsical, rushed Prop. I’ve read it and it’s a rather lengthy and rather thoughtful Prop.

“The proposition has been years in the making, in consultation with drug addiction recovery and rehabilitation experts, research scientists, even law enforcement and corrections personnel. The initiative is a big one, both in text length and impact: According to the independent Legislative Analyst’s Office (LAO), the measure would require $1 billion in spending each year, something that would be completely offset by $1 billion in savings from the ever-increasing prison and parole budget in the State of California. To boot, the LAO projects an additional net savings of $2.5 billion over the next few years because unnecessary prison construction would not be undertaken.”

Many opponents claim that billionaire George Soros, who founded the Open Society Institute, has the intention to decriminalize drug laws around the country.
It is rumored that mostly his money supported the campaign for Prop 5., as records show that of the $8 million raised, only about $350,000 came from California donors. Opponents raised only about $2.7 million but they won broad endorsements from elected and law enforcement officials–including our drug czar.

So the Prop was defeated by 60% to 40%. Funny enough, as you study the map, it’s clear that most of the grow spots in CA supported it.
With exception to Mendocino, Humboldt, Marin and Santa Cruz Counties, the Prop was supported by an easy 10% lead throughout the rest of the state.

How come? What did Prop 5 supporters do wrong? If you do a youtube search for Prop 6, there are tons of indy videos made against it. None for Prop 5. I don’t think that just the Governors, prison unions and well known endorsers were able to influence public opinion. I think it is the lack of presence from those who would benefit most from Prop 5 that didn’t influence public opinion.

As an activist, I think about numbers. How do you get the most people to spread the word? You tap into the people who will benefit the most. Then you mobilize them to share the message with others. You canvass, hold up signs, write letters to editors, plant signs; simply, you put a real face and message onto what most people perceive as sterile legal jargon. If a strong message remains sterile legal jargon, intent becomes easily manipulated by the most conniving opponents with the most clout. If people fear that evil, menacing junkys will run the streets, put a face on those junkys.

I did both write and call Prop 5 headquarters. Along with several other questions, I asked:
1.Did you have many addicts/rehabilitated offenders under Prop 36 campaigning for Prop 5?
It seems as though there is a huge number of people in AA/NA/Nar-Nonthat could be utilized for canvassing, holding signs, rallying and offering testimony to the positive results of addiction recovery.

2. Aside from the solidarity that the Governors took against Prop 5, Martin Sheen also spoke against it, as he did Prop 36.
Did Yes on 5 attempt to approach any high profile actors, politicians, musicians to
endorse Prop 5?

3. Is there something you feel was missing from the Prop 5 campaign that might serve us in the future?

To this date I haven’t heard back from them, although I was told someone would respond to my questions.

I’m thinking that with such a high number of drug users, and recovering addicts, one would surmise a lot of people could benefit from Prop 5, or even testify to its strength.

I’m thinking addicts, non-violent offenders, the rooms of AA/NA/Nar-Non, treatment centers, prisoners. After all, those are the faces that remain mysterious and distorted through propaganda campaigns. The public needs to hear their stories, see their faces, get their perspectives. Otherwise, the prison industry can continue to make citizens, “them,” –those dangerous, futureless offenders willing to steal your car and identity at any moment.

I also work with recovering addicts and I’m aware of the sheer numbers of people who could help support it. Prop 8 generated a lot of media attention because there are people who feel passionately about it on both sides. Sadly, it seems that those who would benefit most from Prop 5 were silent. Perhaps they weren’t utilized or directed well enough because Soros was simply sinking money into a campaign without considering the power of grassroots organizing. Because I work with recovering addicts, I’ll just say it–many are only worried for themselves and consumed by the timely process of recovering.

Either way, I hope other states consider the shift away from incarceration and slave labor, and implement a new system of care that addresses the root of the problem–only serving to give a non-violent offender better roots for their future. Let it be said that I rather there be a shift away from our current, ineffective system. This doesn’t mean I believe taxpayers should be held responsible for the actions addicts make. I believe if we directed most of our money into the most brilliant forms of truthful education, made available for all, we would not have these endemic problems. Now that would be true public safety.

She loved interacting with these long-term couples. The enduring love between them was endearingly transparent. Coming from a splintered family, a couple of foster homes, and her own dissolved relationship, this endearing love and commitment both touched and amazed her. She cherished their stories of first dates, old cars, tough times, successful kids, conquered challenges, fulfilled dreams, and world travels. Fifty, 55, and 60 were common answers to her question, with 62 years the longest relationship she had encountered thus far.
“Fifty-three years,” he said. “Pancreatic cancer, we only had six weeks…” his voice trailed off.
The therapist refocused his attention on the task at hand, which was learning to walk with his new hip. He was tall and fit, and he appeared younger than his 77 years.
He continued, “I didn’t think I would make it. I still miss…” And then he said it, the pronoun the therapist hoped he’d feel free to share. It was the reason she followed his lead and used the term partner rather than wife.
“…him,” he said. “I still miss him terribly, but I have to move on, right? That’s why I’m here. I wanted to get this done and move on.”
“I’m so sorry,” responded the therapist. “Of course you miss him. Fifty three years…That’s wonderful!”
“Yes, it was, ” he replied.

The therapist felt sad, not only for his loss, but for the cautiousness he assumed when he revealed his love and loss. Fifty three years, and he still took care before mentioning the person with whom he shared his entire adult life. Even after his partner’s death, he felt the therapist out before he let her in. He had no idea she could feel his losses–the loss of his partner and his freedom–as if they were her own. As his therapist, she couldn’t reveal her background or history. He may have assumed, but the truth was likely more complicated than he figured. She couldn’t share her deep understanding of his cautiousness or fear. She was like him. She was, but now she wasn’t. It was confusing even to her. At least, she thought, her patient realized she was a safe person with whom he could share. She was glad for that.

When she treated him again, the patient shared more about his life. He was an artist, a lawyer, and a concert pianist. His partner practiced healthcare with some of the best. They met in the Army 55 years ago.
“The Army,” she exclaimed! “That must have been tough!”
They chuckled together, and with a sly smile he simply said, “Yes.” As they continued walking, he proudly filled in the details of the love of his life. The therapist was thrilled to listen and learn. Finally, self-consciously, he said, “I have a picture of him…if you’d like to see it.”
“Oh, yes, I’d love to see him,” she enthusiastically replied.

Back in his room, she set his heavy briefcase beside him on the bed. She watched as he removed an object encased in bubble-wrap. She couldn’t help but feel sad. It was a framed 5×7 of him and his partner. Two older, smartly dressed, smiling gentlemen stood arm in arm in front of one of the patient’s paintings.
He apologized for the effects of aging, and then said, “That was on his 72nd birthday. I wish I had known. That was the last picture we ever had taken. He didn’t make it to seventy three.”
Looking up from the picture, she said, “I think you both look great! It’s a really nice picture. I’m glad you’ve got it.” She handed the frame back, and he removed a tattered picture from his wallet.
Smiling broadly, he said “This is what he looked like when we met.” The therapist eyed the black and white photo. It was a picture of a handsome, young, army man.
“I can see what you saw in him,” she remarked, “he’s quite handsome!”
He smiled the smile of a sophomore in love. “I’ve carried that picture for 55 years.”
“Wow,” was all she mustered in response.

He returned the tattered black and white to his wallet. Then, gently, he re-folded the bubble-wrap around the 5×7 frame. Closing the wallet, he stacked it atop the re-wrapped frame and placed them both inside the heavy briefcase. He closed the cover, latched the latch, and locked the lock. His love, pride, and grief emanated as he handed the case back to the therapist.
“Thank you,” she humbly murmured.
“Thank you,” he replied, “for taking an interest and letting me share that with you.”
For a moment, they grasped each other’s hand. She felt honored and sad as she placed the briefcase which encased the love and loss of his still-cautious life back inside the closet.

What is there to say. More of the freak show.

Truth is, most addicts will tell you that they started with tobacco or alcohol. For several years, I’ve been seeing more young clients report pot as the first drug they tried. Now, it looks like pain relievers may be overtaking pot for initiation into illicit drug use.

The other night, my husband and I were watching The Amazing Race, a show in which teams of two people follow clues to race to various destinations around the world. Many of the teams view this challenging competition as an opportunity to work together and become closer to each other, and this is true of one of the current teams, a married couple named Ken and Tina.

In the most recent episode, Ken expressed frustration at where their relationship was and said (I wish I had the direct quote, but I’m paraphrasing here) that he wanted to see more rapid change, that he wanted to get to a better place, because relationships shouldn’t be this much work. He was just fuming, because he clearly believed that a good relationship with the right partner ought to run smoothly and not be so darn much work all the time. And it occurred to me that the destination they were seeking in this race wasn’t anywhere on a map, it was the same place I’d been looking for all my life, a place I thought I’d even found for a time.

Years ago, I thought I had that perfect, glorious marriage. I truly didn’t understand what people were talking about when they said marriage was a lot of hard work, because it never had been for me. I had a wonderful husband who loved and adored me and who shared my hopes, dreams, moral values and spiritual beliefs. People who didn’t have that happiness had obviously done something wrong, because if they had really found the right answer, the right approach, the right fairytale prince (or princess), like I had, then everything ought to flow as easily for them as it did for me. (And believe me, to my embarrassment, I used to tell them so.)

It turns out that Mark and I didn’t seem to have any problems, because our easily happy marriage was an illusion spun out of addiction. Mark pretended never to disagree with me because he was scared of losing me, and I dismissed the weird little things that bothered me because they didn’t fit my world view of a happy marriage.

When Mark and I first began recovery, I thought that someday we’d reach that point again: that easy, happy place where we could stop working. I thought that, even though I didn’t actually have the happily-ever-after that I thought I did, it was still somewhere out there waiting for me. If I worked hard enough and did well enough, I’d get to a place where I could say, “Yeah, we’ve made it” and then I could stop working again. I could retire. I could relax and enjoy myself in my house on Easy Street.

Five years in, I’m still not living on Easy Street. I don’t even live in the same neighborhood. No, scratch that: I don’t even live in the same city or country or continent as Easy Street. In fact, I don’t really believe Easy Street is part of this world. Maybe it’s somewhere on the lost island of Atlantis, or in the Bermuda Triangle, or in Neverland.

I’d hate to whisper to struggling couples like Ken and Tina the secrets I’ve learned , because I hated when people whispered it to me. If they’re like me, they’re running the real and metaphorical races, like I did, for the glory of crossing that finish line, for the triumph of reaching their destination, for the prize of winning and being able to finally stop running. The thought of running a race with no destination and no finish line seems disheartening and exhausting.

Yet, as my yoga teacher says, there is no real rest until death. Breathing, standing, sitting, eating, even sleeping is all work. And yes, relationships are work. But (here’s the beautiful part of this secret) work doesn’t mean pain. Sometimes, often, that work can be joyous: like the work of drawing in a deep breath of ocean air, or the work of journaling, or the work of really connecting to a friend in conversation, or the work of praying, or the work of making love. After all, I can do some of that work on myself and my relationship, sitting beside my husband, snuggled up watching The Amazing Race on TV.

The new issue of Addiction has a provocative editorial on mandated treatment. It’s an issue that I’m very interested in and posted about recently.

The writer makes the case that autonomy is usurped by addiction, making it ethically justifiable to coerce treatment for the purpose of restoring autonomy.

The author then goes on to propose naltrexone as a candidate for mandated treatment. He proposes that mandated addicts could regain their autonomy by complying with involuntary treatment. Kafkaesque, no?

Anyone who witnesses the suffering and insanity of addiction first hand can easily find themselves thinking, “If only we could get this person in treatment and make it impossible for them to leave until their addiction is no longer holding them hostage.”

All this might be wonderful if there wasn’t a history of horrific professional abuse of addicts and alcoholics.

Bill White also recently wrote about choice in the context of treatment and recovery and wrestled with the issue of impairment of volitional control and self-determination:

One way to partially reconcile the dilemma between the traditional and emerging views of choice is to first acknowledge that free will in addiction and recovery is not an all or none phenomena. The capacity for volitional control over AOD use and related decisions is variable across individuals (as a function of the interaction between problem severity/complexity and recovery capital) and is dynamic (shifts incrementally on a continual basis within the same individual through both addiction and recovery processes). Recovery can be viewed as progressive rehabilitation or reclamation of the will — the power to reclaim personal choice (Smith, 2005). There are times the recovery process may involve consciously not choosing — relying on resources and relationships outside the self, and times that the next recovery steps require an assertion of self. At a practical level, this means that the first hours of acute detoxification are not the best time to rely exclusively on client choice. And yet, long-term recovery is not possible without choice. If there is no rehabilitation of the power to choose and encouragement of choice, we are left with, not sustainable recovery, but superficial treatment compliance.

To effectively apply a philosophy of choice requires great skill on the part of the addiction professional, particularly where a client’s immaturity, cellular craving, impulsivity, psychiatric symptoms and impaired judgment severely limit choice generation, choice analysis and the capacity to stick with any personal resolution. In such cases, we must carefully plot a path between complete autonomy (total choice and clinical abandonment) and paternalism (no choice and intrusive control). Most clients have a sense of this need as well.

The import question is, if the addict is denied his or her right to choose, who gets to choose? Their family, a doctor, counselor? Under what conditions. What treatments can be involuntarily ordered?

We already accept coerced treatment with the courts and impaired health professional monitoring bodies, but these people still have a choice. They’ve committed a crime or practiced in a way that endangers patients, and they being offered an alternative to incarceration or loss of their license. There is a great distance between coerced treatment as a sentencing alternative and involuntary treatment “for your own good.”

I understand that well-intentioned people might be drawn to this idea, but there is far too much history of abuse and far too much stigma and pessimism among modern professional helpers.

Besides, how could we ever consider such a thing when treatment isn’t even accessible to millions of addicts and alcoholics? We don’t even know what would happen if addicts had access to high quality treatment of adequate duration and intensity. When we offer every addict the same treatments we offer doctors, maybe…maybe we could discuss something like this, but we have a long, long way to go first.

BTW-In the case naltrexone, what happens if the person gets into a car accident or needs emergency surgery and needs opiates for pain management?

Depression disabled me. I was unable to work, even unable to care for myself at times. Then, after deciding alcohol was good medication for what ailed me, I became an alcoholic! I got sober and my depression symptoms have been slowly improving, finally, over the last several months. I haven’t been in the hospital for over one year, the longest freedom tenure since this odyssey began eight years ago. Yes, eight years now. Eight years ago this month, November 2000, my new, uninvited life with depression began. It’s been a long road.

But now, I am looking at going back to work. I have been working on-call for years, but I’m talking about going back to a regularly scheduled, part-time position. Fortunately, physical therapists are in high demand. Unfortunately, most healthcare organizations no longer hire part-time employees. It’s too expensive to provide part-timers with benefits, I guess. That’s not the point, however. The point is, I’m looking at going back to work, and this is big deal!

It’s big, and it’s frightening. I’ve had a few phone interviews and a couple face-to-face interviews already. It sounds like they may be open to part-time employment, although I don’t know if that would include benefits. I’d certainly like health benefits. I’m sure many of you understand when I say living with a chronic condition, without benefits, is also scary.

I kind of enjoy the interviews. They don’t scare me. I’ve found a new, relaxed attitude during the interviews I’ve done. With what I’ve gone through these past eight years, my perspective has obviously changed. I’m not perfect, but neither are they. They are either going to like me or not. I’m either going to think the position or employer will be a good fit or not. I’m not desperate. I know I can live on very little income. I’ve been doing that for at least 6 of the last 8 years! I also know if I accept a position which isn’t right, I’ll set myself up for failure. I don’t want to fail. Failure scares me!

The possibility of failure is frightening. When I worry about failing, my thoughts race. What if I get in over my head? What if I can’t tolerate even part-time employment? What if I can’t manage the stress of a new job, new co-workers, new patients, more responsibility, and more scheduled time? What if that stress increases my fatigue? What if that fatigue keeps me from doing the other activities which keep me stable? What if losing my balance and stability leads to increased depression symptoms? What if a depression relapse disables me again and keeps me from working? Whew!! Thinking is frightening.

Therefore, I’m trying not to think. There is a lot of uncertainty ahead. I hate uncertainty. I have no idea what is, or is not, going to happen. Clearly, thinking about all of the negative possibilities does not help! I’m trying to stay in the moment. I’m trying to live one moment at a time. I cannot allow myself to think ahead, although that is a very difficult thing not to do. However, if I allow the negative projection to take hold, I’ll likely end up paralyzed, desperate, and discontent. I’m trying not to think.

This is a time for trust and faith. I’m not so great at either of those. I have to trust everything will work out as it should, that I’ll be able to handle whatever is ahead. Thinking about it or predicting the future obviously does not help. But trusting things will work out, and trusting I’ll be taken care of is very, very difficult for me. I can’t think about that either.

Perhaps, as our new President-elect stated a few nights ago, “this is a defining moment…” for me.