We have to admit something to ourselves: As a community, a culture, a society. We make it difficult for families to throw off the weight of addiction because we really want them to keep it in the family.
The community wants the elephant in the room to stay in the room, nicely and neatly, behind closed doors.
Stigma of shame and silence about addiction is community-wide.
Community services don't want to handle it.
A recent account by a woman who's working hard to detach herself from her husband's drinking, and do her own emotional recovery says it all. One night, after he'd spent most of the day and evening drinking in front of the TV, her husband stumbled out the door - drunk. He got in the car and drove away. She'd warned him, if you drive drunk, I'll call the police. She's done it before - threatened to call the police - but he knows (if he even cares) that it's a bluff.
This time though, she pushed through all the thoughts and fears about the consequences and dialed 911.
About half and hour later the phone rang. It was the police ...
"We've got your husband, what do you want us to do with him?"
Back to her - like every other time she's asked for help, she's got to take responsibility for her husband. She's put in the place of deciding whether he experiences the consequences of his behaviour, or she protects him from it. The protecting is called enabling. She knows it and is trying not to. She reached out for help - and it's thrown right back on her lap. Who's going to protect her from the community enablers?
Next time you see a public service announcement by some community service bragging and posturing about how they're on to drunk driving and what they're doing about it (One of the clever ones has the slogan "get hammered, get nailed"), ... remind yourself that for the most part, the drunks get away with it. Because even when they're caught, the community would rather we keep it in the family.
Wednesday, 2 April 2014
Friday, 7 March 2014
CHANGE IS ABOUT SELF-STUDY
Reading this blog will change your life.
Got your attention? Pretty big claim I'm making.
Not really ...
Not reading this blog will change your life too.
Whatever you do will change your life - from minute to minute - every day of your life from birth till death. That's because the only thing unchanging about life is that it changes. Consider these words on what the Zen Buddhist tradition calls an everlasting truth:
Without accepting the fact that everything changes, we cannot find perfect composure. But unfortunately, although it is true, it is difficult for us to accept it. Because we cannot accept the truth of transiency, we suffer. So the cause of suffering is our non-acceptance of this truth.
What is this truth? It is the simple fact that every moment of your life is change. any given moment changes your life.
But this point is not the main one I want to make.
Saying something will change your life is a common attention-getter in marketing. Whether it's a self-help book promising a new breakthrough technology, program or system, or a product based on a 'new science', the underlying premise is that our current lives aren't that great and some instant change would improve things a whole lot.
I don't know when this desire not to be living the life we're living overtook us, but we've certainly been trained to expect instant, permanent solutions to whatever is wrong - and if one solution doesn't bring immediate results - we're off to see the wizard for another. Or, more likely, we slide back to our old behaviours and attitudes .... and the accompanying restlessness and discontent
When it comes to moods and attitudes, relationships and values, one's sense of well-being, our technologies and instant-changes solutions hardly ever work. But that doesn't stop us from looking for a magic answer - the switch we can flip to fix it. We look for this switch because we've come to expect, if not instant results, at least 'new scientific' solutions that will change our lives and eliminate the deep-down pain, shame and anger we detest in ourselves.
Everywhere there are experts with answers to our problems - with prescriptions to make life better overnight. But we become discouraged when we find that the change we crave and the goals we desire for our lives and relationships are really a matter of slow, steady retraining of our attitudes, actions and reactions - a daily process of vigilance over our own behaviour.
After a lot of my own trial and error, that's how I see it happening. Creating the life and relationships we want is an unending series of tiny victories won over months and years of practise, of sustained effort, of self-awareness and mindfulness. And, in my case, the trial and error continues.
Even Dr. David Burns, the author of the 'clinically proven' 'cure' for depression in the book Feeling Good doesn't claim to have found the instant prescription or switch you can flick for happiness and contentment. He simply offers a program of retraining the mind. He says:
If you're willing to invest a little time in yourself, you can learn to master your moods more effectively, just as an athlete who participates in a daily conditioning program can develop greater endurance and strength."
Our relationships and the heart of inner beings are healed, not by flicking a switch or by the flash of insight brought about by some miracle prescription or breakthrough system or new science.
Healing comes about in the same way that water breaks down rocks.
Last word to Larry Rosenberg in Breath By Breath:
A certain amount of what we're doing is a kind of reeducation, a clear seeing of what has been happening all along. You are the teacher and the taught. You can read books like this one, listen to tapes, go to talks: all those things aim you in the right direction. But finally, you're not studying Buddhism. You're studying you. If you know all about Buddhism but don't know about you, you've missed the whole point.
A certain amount of what we're doing is a kind of reeducation, a clear seeing of what has been happening all along. You are the teacher and the taught. You can read books like this one, listen to tapes, go to talks: all those things aim you in the right direction. But finally, you're not studying Buddhism. You're studying you. If you know all about Buddhism but don't know about you, you've missed the whole point.
Tuesday, 25 February 2014
FRIENDSHIP: BEGINNINGS AND ENDINGS
My mind has a miraculous, sometimes tedious, characteristic: little things stick in it. I don't will it, but whatever the experience - be it random firing of neurons? karmic imprints? providential manipulations? ... whatever, the little thing remains there stored away and can be recalled when the right time seems to have arrived. I can excel at games of trivia (what does the T.S. stand for in T.S. Elliot?). And sometimes it feels like all my mind is capable of retaining is the trivial, the random ..... but at the same time this ability - gift (disability? curse?) can come in handy.
One such fragment of memory is a short passage from a book I read many years ago by the Canadian critic and newspaper columnist Robert Fulford. The passage is in his memoir, Best Seat in the House: Memoirs of a Lucky Man (1988); it has stuck with me, so now I can share it with you:
"In my experience, friendship begins in the exchange of laughter, and dwindles when easy laughter becomes impossible."
Friendship. Mysterious and sacred. One day evoking gratitude and love, another day exasperation and fury. Anybody who's ever had a friend has probably reflected on the nature of friendship, maybe tried to analyze it ....
Fulford's definition seems as good and true as any I've ever come across. He uses that sentence to introduce his recollections of his friendship, which began in their boyhood, with the famous classical pianist Glen Gould. And it works for him because that's exactly what happened to their friendship - it began when they were boys and ended when their easy laughter became impossible when they were men.
The first thing that occurs to me now is what a great gift it is to have a friendship that continues throughout our lifetime and have it retain the grace of easy mutual laughter. It may wax and wane and suffer through periods of tension, but it can remain and endure. A friendship like that is a gift.
Friendships that begin in childhood often feel permanent and everlasting to us - or at least we feel they should be so. But more often than not, they trail off and fizzle out .... that's the way of this life, no matter how hard we strain against it's cyclical, impermanent nature.
Friendships become painful when we cling to them after the easy laughter becomes impossible. They really cease to be friendships, don't they? They become a duty, a trial, an endurance test - and worst of all, we sometimes lose ourselves in them. Preserving the relationship becomes paramount.
Friendships are supposed to be about fun and comfort and mutual acceptance. The are also a refuge of support when difficulties and challenges arise. We can, and should, reach out to friends when we have difficulties. And although they may give you straight-up feedback and challenge you when you're deceiving yourself or others, they won't judge you.
If you ever find yourself assessing a friendship, wondering whether it's worth preserving and spending energy on, ask yourself, is there an easiness in the relationship? Does it feel like a comfortable place to be? And is there mutual respect?
Or does it feel like work? A duty? Does it feel like I have to measure up? (And most of the time it feels like I don't). Am I walking on eggshells, giving in and making accommodations to the other all the time? Is there a lot of comparison going on?
Was there ever an an exchange of laughter in this friendship? Is it still there?
Or has that exchange of laughter become impossible?
Of course there may be times when an exchange of tears is the central experience of the friendship. But it's during those times you most likely discover that 'laughter' is just a metaphor. And, while the laughter may at times be literally present, what is really there is a mutual respect and acceptance - and attention to one another without judgement.
By the way, T.S. stands for Thomas Sterns. But you knew that.
One such fragment of memory is a short passage from a book I read many years ago by the Canadian critic and newspaper columnist Robert Fulford. The passage is in his memoir, Best Seat in the House: Memoirs of a Lucky Man (1988); it has stuck with me, so now I can share it with you:
"In my experience, friendship begins in the exchange of laughter, and dwindles when easy laughter becomes impossible."
Friendship. Mysterious and sacred. One day evoking gratitude and love, another day exasperation and fury. Anybody who's ever had a friend has probably reflected on the nature of friendship, maybe tried to analyze it ....
Fulford's definition seems as good and true as any I've ever come across. He uses that sentence to introduce his recollections of his friendship, which began in their boyhood, with the famous classical pianist Glen Gould. And it works for him because that's exactly what happened to their friendship - it began when they were boys and ended when their easy laughter became impossible when they were men.
The first thing that occurs to me now is what a great gift it is to have a friendship that continues throughout our lifetime and have it retain the grace of easy mutual laughter. It may wax and wane and suffer through periods of tension, but it can remain and endure. A friendship like that is a gift.
Friendships that begin in childhood often feel permanent and everlasting to us - or at least we feel they should be so. But more often than not, they trail off and fizzle out .... that's the way of this life, no matter how hard we strain against it's cyclical, impermanent nature. Friendships become painful when we cling to them after the easy laughter becomes impossible. They really cease to be friendships, don't they? They become a duty, a trial, an endurance test - and worst of all, we sometimes lose ourselves in them. Preserving the relationship becomes paramount.
Friendships are supposed to be about fun and comfort and mutual acceptance. The are also a refuge of support when difficulties and challenges arise. We can, and should, reach out to friends when we have difficulties. And although they may give you straight-up feedback and challenge you when you're deceiving yourself or others, they won't judge you.
If you ever find yourself assessing a friendship, wondering whether it's worth preserving and spending energy on, ask yourself, is there an easiness in the relationship? Does it feel like a comfortable place to be? And is there mutual respect?
Or does it feel like work? A duty? Does it feel like I have to measure up? (And most of the time it feels like I don't). Am I walking on eggshells, giving in and making accommodations to the other all the time? Is there a lot of comparison going on?
Was there ever an an exchange of laughter in this friendship? Is it still there?
Or has that exchange of laughter become impossible?
Of course there may be times when an exchange of tears is the central experience of the friendship. But it's during those times you most likely discover that 'laughter' is just a metaphor. And, while the laughter may at times be literally present, what is really there is a mutual respect and acceptance - and attention to one another without judgement.
By the way, T.S. stands for Thomas Sterns. But you knew that.
Friday, 14 February 2014
LOVE
Trying to define love is like ... trying to define love. Or wonder, or art, or ... any other ineffable human experience. But we continue to try. Here's the one that makes the most sense to me:
And this, from Thich Nhat Hanh:
Attention is love
And this, from Thich Nhat Hanh:
The most precious gift we can offer anyone is our attention. When mindfulness embraces those we love, they will bloom like flowers.
Sunday, 9 February 2014
PETE SEEGER AND THE POWER OF ENCOURAGEMENT
Last evening I watched the PBS documentary on the life and career of Pete Seeger. (Pete Seeger: The Power of Song. You can find the complete program on Youtube)
I'd seen it before but this viewing was a kind of tribute to him because of the news of his death last week at the age of 94. I wanted to stop and remember him because he had a profound influence on me as I made the journey along the rocky road of adolescence.
What was it about him that so impressed me? His music? His activism? His 'lefty' attitudes? All that I suppose, but at the root of it - he encouraged me. I never met him, nor did I ever see him perform live, but I could tell that he had a profound faith in the human heart - in our capacity for love, and co-operative effort. He believed in the possibilities and potential of human communities. He was, in my view, the ultimate humanist - he had, deep in his heart, a profound concern for human welfare and a belief in human values and dignity.
We need people like Pete Seeger to remind us that we need one another - that we are nothing without community, that at our core we are relational beings.
We need people like Pete Seeger to encourage us. People like him teach us to respect and support and encourage one another - because we all, at all times, need to be and to feel respected. And without exception, at one time or another in our lives, we all need support and encouragement.
Pete Seeger's medium of communication was his music. And he was most effective in communicating and connecting when he was in front of an audience. He said that his greatest satisfaction was singing with his audience - whether they be adults or children - and that singing together made him feel hopeful about the future of the human community.
I remember hearing something Pete said to an audience that says better than I ever will what he believed about the power of song - and why his faith in that power has given me courage throughout my life. I can't find the verbatim quote (maybe you can direct me to to it) but it goes something like: "If you know the words, sing out! You'll encourage your neighbour!"
I smile when I remember listening to my vinyl copy of The Best of Pete Seeger, over and over again.
And I smile remembering Bruce Springsteen's cheer (Bruce gives me courage too.) at the celebration of Pete's 90th birthday: "Congratulations Pete! You outlived the bastards!!"
Yes.
I'd seen it before but this viewing was a kind of tribute to him because of the news of his death last week at the age of 94. I wanted to stop and remember him because he had a profound influence on me as I made the journey along the rocky road of adolescence.
What was it about him that so impressed me? His music? His activism? His 'lefty' attitudes? All that I suppose, but at the root of it - he encouraged me. I never met him, nor did I ever see him perform live, but I could tell that he had a profound faith in the human heart - in our capacity for love, and co-operative effort. He believed in the possibilities and potential of human communities. He was, in my view, the ultimate humanist - he had, deep in his heart, a profound concern for human welfare and a belief in human values and dignity.
We need people like Pete Seeger to remind us that we need one another - that we are nothing without community, that at our core we are relational beings.
We need people like Pete Seeger to encourage us. People like him teach us to respect and support and encourage one another - because we all, at all times, need to be and to feel respected. And without exception, at one time or another in our lives, we all need support and encouragement.
Pete Seeger's medium of communication was his music. And he was most effective in communicating and connecting when he was in front of an audience. He said that his greatest satisfaction was singing with his audience - whether they be adults or children - and that singing together made him feel hopeful about the future of the human community.
I remember hearing something Pete said to an audience that says better than I ever will what he believed about the power of song - and why his faith in that power has given me courage throughout my life. I can't find the verbatim quote (maybe you can direct me to to it) but it goes something like: "If you know the words, sing out! You'll encourage your neighbour!"
I smile when I remember listening to my vinyl copy of The Best of Pete Seeger, over and over again.
And I smile remembering Bruce Springsteen's cheer (Bruce gives me courage too.) at the celebration of Pete's 90th birthday: "Congratulations Pete! You outlived the bastards!!"
Yes.
Tuesday, 28 January 2014
A HUMBLE REFLECTION ON MINDFULNESS
The following is a quote from Annie Dillard's A Writer's Life. Aside from the evocative nature and beauty of its imagery, the passage started me thinking about the moments of our lives - and of that trendy word: mindfulness.
How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing. A schedule defends from chaos and whim. It is a net for catching days. It is a scaffolding on which a worker can stand and labor with both hands at sections of time. A schedule is a mock-up of reason and order - willed, faked and so brought into being: it is a peace and a haven set into the wreck of time: it is a lifeboat on which you find yourself, decades later, still living. Each day is the same, so you remember the series afterward as a blurred and powerful pattern.
How we spend our days is how we spend our lives.
You could be even more precise and say: How we spend our moments is how we spend our days ... then automatically it follows, how we spend our days ...
Each moment builds upon and becomes the pattern, the fabric of our lives.
Dillard gives a nod to the need for a schedule, a way to manage and use the fleeting nature of time when struggling to be disciplined, especially when no one else in the world cares about one person's impulse to be creative - at writing or anything else. It's all up to you.
Living by a schedule - whether imposed on you by a someone else as a workday, or created by yourself - is a way to grab hold of life and get things done. A schedule speaks of the need to accomplish, to create and build, to nurture and grow ... and it is a fortress against the forces of sloth and confusion and the weight and inertia of depression. I suppose you could say that this regard for the moment and the unfolding of days is at the heart of living life fully.
Another way of regarding, managing and cherishing the moments of our lives over time, is to pay attention.
That means paying attention to what's happening in each moment - both outside and inside of ourselves. And the word for that of course, is mindfulness. Or, being mindful.
Mindfulness is not just bare attention. Real mindfulness is built upon and rests on an understanding of, and faith in the law of cause and effect. Will this thought, word or deed of mine produce more happiness to me and all those who are affected by me? Or more suffering?
How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing. A schedule defends from chaos and whim. It is a net for catching days. It is a scaffolding on which a worker can stand and labor with both hands at sections of time. A schedule is a mock-up of reason and order - willed, faked and so brought into being: it is a peace and a haven set into the wreck of time: it is a lifeboat on which you find yourself, decades later, still living. Each day is the same, so you remember the series afterward as a blurred and powerful pattern.
How we spend our days is how we spend our lives.
You could be even more precise and say: How we spend our moments is how we spend our days ... then automatically it follows, how we spend our days ...
Each moment builds upon and becomes the pattern, the fabric of our lives.
Dillard gives a nod to the need for a schedule, a way to manage and use the fleeting nature of time when struggling to be disciplined, especially when no one else in the world cares about one person's impulse to be creative - at writing or anything else. It's all up to you.
Living by a schedule - whether imposed on you by a someone else as a workday, or created by yourself - is a way to grab hold of life and get things done. A schedule speaks of the need to accomplish, to create and build, to nurture and grow ... and it is a fortress against the forces of sloth and confusion and the weight and inertia of depression. I suppose you could say that this regard for the moment and the unfolding of days is at the heart of living life fully.
Another way of regarding, managing and cherishing the moments of our lives over time, is to pay attention.
That means paying attention to what's happening in each moment - both outside and inside of ourselves. And the word for that of course, is mindfulness. Or, being mindful.
But paying attention in the moment, although it is a crucial step, is only part of being mindful. Real mindfulness has this moral connotation of
knowing that one is thinking, saying or doing something that is going to produce some happiness now and in the future - or will result in suffering now and in
the future.
Mindfulness is not just bare attention. Real mindfulness is built upon and rests on an understanding of, and faith in the law of cause and effect. Will this thought, word or deed of mine produce more happiness to me and all those who are affected by me? Or more suffering?
And the deeper the understanding, the stronger the faith and the better the ability to withhold from thinking negative things, saying negative things and
doing negative things.
But perhaps the most important thing to understand on the path of moments, days and lives of mindfulness, is the crucial need to develop an attitude of not being judgemental of our thoughts, words and deeds. Judgement causes negativity to scuttle into hiding and mask itself with rationalizations and justifications, shame and guilt.
The effort and attention we pay in each moment helps us to KNOW that we are thinking, saying and doing negative things - things that cause more suffering to myself and others. If we know it, and accept it, we can make an intention to think, speak and do differently without getting stuck or derailed by judgements.
Like the demands of living by a schedule, being mindful requires discipline and attention. It also requires perseverance and self-acceptance ...
Tall orders to be sure, but the rewards - as the western world is discovering all in a rush - are sublime.
By the way, I called this a humble reflection. It's to remind myself that when it comes to mot things, and especially mindfulness, I've got a lot to be humble about.
But perhaps the most important thing to understand on the path of moments, days and lives of mindfulness, is the crucial need to develop an attitude of not being judgemental of our thoughts, words and deeds. Judgement causes negativity to scuttle into hiding and mask itself with rationalizations and justifications, shame and guilt.
The effort and attention we pay in each moment helps us to KNOW that we are thinking, saying and doing negative things - things that cause more suffering to myself and others. If we know it, and accept it, we can make an intention to think, speak and do differently without getting stuck or derailed by judgements.
Like the demands of living by a schedule, being mindful requires discipline and attention. It also requires perseverance and self-acceptance ...
Tall orders to be sure, but the rewards - as the western world is discovering all in a rush - are sublime.
By the way, I called this a humble reflection. It's to remind myself that when it comes to mot things, and especially mindfulness, I've got a lot to be humble about.
Thursday, 23 January 2014
MORE ON THE ALCOHOLIC AND THE PROBLEM DRINKER
Last week I went round and round trying to sort out the difference between what we call 'alcoholism' from what we call 'problem drinking'.
A common exercise, no? ... and it results in a common problem: getting all bound up in the meaning of words and self-doubt while the drinking continues, causing profound damage to untold numbers of people - families and communities.
In the end it's all about words isn't it? Our paralysis I mean. I suppose it's necessary and helpful for some people to sort out the difference - although I'm not sure who. Policy makers?
Our experience tells us (as long as delusion and denial don't get in the way) when our drinking, or a loved-one's drinking is merely a 'problem' or is really 'pathological' ... but, when is problematic drinking not pathological? Uh, oh, there I go again .... words, words ... the temptation to digress.
But we know it. Deep down we do know it.
We know when there's something wrong. The challenge is what to do about it. What am I willing to do about it?
Then again, words like delusion and denial, defiance and grandiosity do have a basis in reality. And the real experience of delusion and so on do prevent us from knowing ... from accepting that there's something wrong here. (Is that what hitting bottom means - when our delusion, denial, defiance and grandiosity lose their power to create reality?)
That said, and plowing ahead here: If the drinker is you - if you're an 'alcoholic' who really would like to be a 'problem drinker', ask yourself a few questions:
- Do I spend time thinking about and planning ways to control my drinking? Do I succeed for awhile then unexpectedly find myself out of control again?
- Is my continued drinking causing negative consequences in my life?
- Do I really resist giving up my drink or other drug of choice no matter the cost?
If the drinker is someone you love, or otherwise care about, ask yourself some questions too:
- Do I spend a lot of my waking time thinking about the drinker?
- Do I spend a lot of my waking time planning how to control him or her - to help them?
- Do I ruminate about how my controlling and helping behaviour has failed?
- Do I blame them for my unhappiness?
The point I'm trying to make is simple but often missed. It is this: dealing with problematic or pathological drinking in our lives is not about understanding labels. It's about being honest with ourselves and others about our experience and the impact it's having on our lives and relationships - on our well-being.
Call it what you will. But see it for what it is and find some willingness and intent to do something about it.
(Here's a parting shot for those of us who want to get all bound up in more words: harm reduction versus abstinence.)
The most sure-fire way to reduce the harm of drinking alcohol or other drug use is abstinence.
A common exercise, no? ... and it results in a common problem: getting all bound up in the meaning of words and self-doubt while the drinking continues, causing profound damage to untold numbers of people - families and communities.
In the end it's all about words isn't it? Our paralysis I mean. I suppose it's necessary and helpful for some people to sort out the difference - although I'm not sure who. Policy makers?
Our experience tells us (as long as delusion and denial don't get in the way) when our drinking, or a loved-one's drinking is merely a 'problem' or is really 'pathological' ... but, when is problematic drinking not pathological? Uh, oh, there I go again .... words, words ... the temptation to digress.
But we know it. Deep down we do know it.
We know when there's something wrong. The challenge is what to do about it. What am I willing to do about it?
Then again, words like delusion and denial, defiance and grandiosity do have a basis in reality. And the real experience of delusion and so on do prevent us from knowing ... from accepting that there's something wrong here. (Is that what hitting bottom means - when our delusion, denial, defiance and grandiosity lose their power to create reality?)
That said, and plowing ahead here: If the drinker is you - if you're an 'alcoholic' who really would like to be a 'problem drinker', ask yourself a few questions:
- Do I spend time thinking about and planning ways to control my drinking? Do I succeed for awhile then unexpectedly find myself out of control again?
- Is my continued drinking causing negative consequences in my life?
- Do I really resist giving up my drink or other drug of choice no matter the cost?
If the drinker is someone you love, or otherwise care about, ask yourself some questions too:
- Do I spend a lot of my waking time thinking about the drinker?
- Do I spend a lot of my waking time planning how to control him or her - to help them?
- Do I ruminate about how my controlling and helping behaviour has failed?
- Do I blame them for my unhappiness?
The point I'm trying to make is simple but often missed. It is this: dealing with problematic or pathological drinking in our lives is not about understanding labels. It's about being honest with ourselves and others about our experience and the impact it's having on our lives and relationships - on our well-being.
Call it what you will. But see it for what it is and find some willingness and intent to do something about it.
(Here's a parting shot for those of us who want to get all bound up in more words: harm reduction versus abstinence.)
The most sure-fire way to reduce the harm of drinking alcohol or other drug use is abstinence.
Monday, 13 January 2014
WHAT THE HECK IS A PROBLEM DRINKER?
I recently read an article that began with this question: Are you an alcoholic— or just a problem drinker? ......
A poser, for sure.
But I have to say, I don't understand the difference.
When I stop and think about it, all I can do is ask question after question ...
Does "just' mean the problems created by the drinker aren't very serious? Like, 'do you have stomach cancer or just indigestion'? Even if it's just indigestion don't you have to do something about the behaviour that caused it if you want it to go away?
Or, even better, are the problems not even connected to the drinking?
"Doc, every time I eat mushrooms I get indigestion."
"Well ... don't do that any more."
"But I like mushrooms."
"When I drink and drive I get charged with impaired driving - it's happened 3 times already. Maybe I shouldn't drive when I drink ... or, should I stop drinking? Nah, I just won't drive when I drink."
Does "just" mean there's hope for you, and if you're an alcoholic there isn't? ("I can drink a lot and still make a rational decision about whether I should drive home ...")
When is an alcoholic not a problem drinker?
Does being an alcoholic not cause problems - for the drinker and everyone else in their life?
Isn't problematic behaviour and the problems in one's life that follow from that behaviour integral to being an alcoholic?
Doesn't the problem drinker have to do something about his or her drinking if it's causing problems for them?
Doesn't an alcoholic have to do so too - if he or she wants to sort out their life - to go on living? (People die of alcoholism. Do they die of problem drinking? .... Wait a minute, maybe I've got it wrong: Maybe they don't die of alcoholism - but if not, what's killing all these problematic drinkers?)
Who makes the diagnosis. The drinker? An expert in the field?
If an expert says you're just a problem drinker do your family, your friends and your employer (and employees for that matter) have to accept all the problems caused by your drinking?
"Sorry, but we're not going to be able to eliminate the problems your husband's drinking is causing - because he's not an alcoholic. But we're all going to work really hard to reduce the harm. I have to let you know that I'll defend his right to have a few drinks on a Saturday night.
Yes, there will continue to be problems and his drinking will cause harm, but if he works on controlling it, there will be less harm."
I hope you understand irony.
But this exercise and all the questions are making my head spin. I can't think straight ... I'll pick this up next time.
A poser, for sure.
But I have to say, I don't understand the difference.
When I stop and think about it, all I can do is ask question after question ...
Does "just' mean the problems created by the drinker aren't very serious? Like, 'do you have stomach cancer or just indigestion'? Even if it's just indigestion don't you have to do something about the behaviour that caused it if you want it to go away?
Or, even better, are the problems not even connected to the drinking?
"Doc, every time I eat mushrooms I get indigestion."
"Well ... don't do that any more."
"But I like mushrooms."
"When I drink and drive I get charged with impaired driving - it's happened 3 times already. Maybe I shouldn't drive when I drink ... or, should I stop drinking? Nah, I just won't drive when I drink."
Does "just" mean there's hope for you, and if you're an alcoholic there isn't? ("I can drink a lot and still make a rational decision about whether I should drive home ...")
When is an alcoholic not a problem drinker?
Does being an alcoholic not cause problems - for the drinker and everyone else in their life?
Isn't problematic behaviour and the problems in one's life that follow from that behaviour integral to being an alcoholic?
Doesn't the problem drinker have to do something about his or her drinking if it's causing problems for them?
Doesn't an alcoholic have to do so too - if he or she wants to sort out their life - to go on living? (People die of alcoholism. Do they die of problem drinking? .... Wait a minute, maybe I've got it wrong: Maybe they don't die of alcoholism - but if not, what's killing all these problematic drinkers?)
Who makes the diagnosis. The drinker? An expert in the field?
If an expert says you're just a problem drinker do your family, your friends and your employer (and employees for that matter) have to accept all the problems caused by your drinking?
"Sorry, but we're not going to be able to eliminate the problems your husband's drinking is causing - because he's not an alcoholic. But we're all going to work really hard to reduce the harm. I have to let you know that I'll defend his right to have a few drinks on a Saturday night.
Yes, there will continue to be problems and his drinking will cause harm, but if he works on controlling it, there will be less harm."
I hope you understand irony.
But this exercise and all the questions are making my head spin. I can't think straight ... I'll pick this up next time.
Monday, 2 December 2013
CONNECTED AND SEPARATE IS A FINE BALANCE
In my last posting I told you about a counselling session I had some years ago with a woman who was desperately looking for some solutions (or so I at first assumed) to her unhappiness about her husband's drinking.I remembered listening to her recount how miserable she was and how much her husband's drinking was ruining everything about their life together. I listened for a good part of the session, appropriately I think - because a counselling therapist's first responsibility is to make an assessment of the situation in order to help her find the solutions she was searching for. An assessment requires data and a sense of the client's personal strengths and resources.
I told you that after about forty minutes of observing her high anxiety and listening to her obvious distress, I began cautiously to shift the conversation from her husband's behaviour to hers.
I did this because I had to begin to direct this conversation.
In a therapeutic relationship the therapist must take a directive role. Even though it can be a collaborative dialogue - the therapist is being paid to blaze a trail to a satisfactory conclusion for the client. And one can't do that by sitting passively and nodding wisely.
To be sure, I could have decided to listen for the full sixty minutes, then make appointment after appointment with her to do the same thing. I could have remained a sympathetic listener and encouraged her to talk about how she felt when her husband drank and acted-out, which certainly could have been helpful to her.
But when addiction has infiltrated a relationship, or when the person in front of me - my client - expresses helplessness in the face of another's behaviour, it's really important to shift the direction of the conversation to my client's part and help them see that they do in fact have some choices. In other words, they may be powerless but they are never helpless. They may feel that way and they can give a mountain of evidence to prove it - but helplessness is a learned behaviour, whereas powerlessness is a profound spiritual reality at the core of human experience.
But I digress.
When addiction has infiltrated a relationship, probably the most difficult thing a loved-one of the addict has to do is take responsibility for themselves - their own behaviour and attitudes - and their own happiness and peace of mind. To put these things in the hands of another person - especially when that person is sick with addiction - is to invite suffering, chaos, disappointment, resentments and so on and so on ....
But as you saw from the conversation I told you about last time, taking responsibility for oneself and not waiting for, or expecting, another person to change is a tall order.
It is a hard road no doubt about it, but the rewards are immeasurable.
Now, to look at this stand-on-you-own-two-feet thing from a different angle: If you're old enough to remember how popular Kahlil Gibran's book The Prophet was in the 1960's you'll appreciate the timelessness of his poetry and his wisdom. I offer the following quote from his reflection on marriage - but it holds true as an ideal and a reminder for any intimate relationship between people:
Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping. For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart, and the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.
I told you that after about forty minutes of observing her high anxiety and listening to her obvious distress, I began cautiously to shift the conversation from her husband's behaviour to hers.
I did this because I had to begin to direct this conversation.
In a therapeutic relationship the therapist must take a directive role. Even though it can be a collaborative dialogue - the therapist is being paid to blaze a trail to a satisfactory conclusion for the client. And one can't do that by sitting passively and nodding wisely.
To be sure, I could have decided to listen for the full sixty minutes, then make appointment after appointment with her to do the same thing. I could have remained a sympathetic listener and encouraged her to talk about how she felt when her husband drank and acted-out, which certainly could have been helpful to her.
But when addiction has infiltrated a relationship, or when the person in front of me - my client - expresses helplessness in the face of another's behaviour, it's really important to shift the direction of the conversation to my client's part and help them see that they do in fact have some choices. In other words, they may be powerless but they are never helpless. They may feel that way and they can give a mountain of evidence to prove it - but helplessness is a learned behaviour, whereas powerlessness is a profound spiritual reality at the core of human experience.
But I digress.
When addiction has infiltrated a relationship, probably the most difficult thing a loved-one of the addict has to do is take responsibility for themselves - their own behaviour and attitudes - and their own happiness and peace of mind. To put these things in the hands of another person - especially when that person is sick with addiction - is to invite suffering, chaos, disappointment, resentments and so on and so on ....
But as you saw from the conversation I told you about last time, taking responsibility for oneself and not waiting for, or expecting, another person to change is a tall order.
It is a hard road no doubt about it, but the rewards are immeasurable.
Now, to look at this stand-on-you-own-two-feet thing from a different angle: If you're old enough to remember how popular Kahlil Gibran's book The Prophet was in the 1960's you'll appreciate the timelessness of his poetry and his wisdom. I offer the following quote from his reflection on marriage - but it holds true as an ideal and a reminder for any intimate relationship between people:
Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping. For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart, and the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.
No matter how close and intimate the relationship, it is important - not only for the individuals, but for the relationship - that each person has a deep and felt sense of themselves as separate from the other.
Monday, 18 November 2013
BREAKING THE SPELL IS HARD TO DO
A few years ago I spoke with a woman in my counselling office about her relationship with her husband who, based on what she told me about his behaviour, was in active addiction. And, his drug-of-choice - his committed love relationship - was with alcohol.
She had a long litany of stories and experiences to tell me: what it was like to live with a man who drank heavily when they got married ("he always drank - we drank with our friends - but up until a few years ago, he could always handle it. It seemed normal."), and how she saw his relationship with alcohol slowly consume him. She described a family that was repeatedly traumatized (my word, not hers) by his behaviour when he drank - which for awhile now had become virtually every day ("our daughter hates him - she doesn't want to be in our house anymore").
She was desperate for a solution. In her opinion she'd tried everything to make him change. She said she was at the end of her rope ... she needed help ... come to think of it though, she never said that.
Actually, I remember her search for solutions more as a stream of accounts about her husband's bad behaviour, his lies and manipulations .. his defiance and grandiosity ... her fear and anger, anxiety and despair, embarrassment and shame. She really wanted me to agree on what a jerk he was.
"Here I am in counselling and he's at home drinking right now", she said.
What I saw, even more than a solution was her desperate need for affirmation from me that indeed this was an terrible situation. She wanted me to hear and understand very clearly that he was out of control and she was not insane - that she was not what he accused her of being - a controlling bitch who spoiled his life's only pleasure, having a few drinks after a hard day's work.
After about forty minutes of observing her high anxiety and listening to her obvious distress, I began cautiously to shift the conversation from his behaviour to hers.
I asked questions like:
How did you feel when ....?
What did you do when ...?
How did you handle yourself ...?
What was it like for you to .....?
What was that like for you when ...?
However, instead of seeing her become more grounded and reflective (which I'd hoped), the more I asked about her the more distant was her manner ...
In the end I had to give up on my cautious tone and speak more directly.
"It sounds like it's survival time in your marriage. It's time for you to look after you own survival. You've got to stop thinking about him or the ways you can get him to change, and start thinking about yourself ... about your own health and happiness."
She wanted no part of that. All she heard was my advice to leave him. (Did you hear that in my words?)
I was trying to help her see that her happiness did not depend on him changing. She didn't have to leave him to find happiness (on the other hand she might) but in my opinion whether or not to leave him didn't have to be her first concern. What that first concern needed to be was to turn her attention to, and take responsibility for, her own behaviour which was, through and through, enabling behaviour.
Enabling is essentially the inability, or the refusal, to allow another person to experience the consequences of their behaviour.
And what's the payoff for the enabler? They don't have to take responsibility for themselves.
I tried to help her see that turning her attention to herself and her own behaviour (to her self-care) was to stand up to her husband's relationship with alcohol. Being attentive to her own happiness was to live no longer at the service of addiction. It would break the spell and begin to set her and her family free.
As I said, she didn't want any part of it ... we ended the session and parted politely without scheduling a follow-up session. I never saw her again.
She had a long litany of stories and experiences to tell me: what it was like to live with a man who drank heavily when they got married ("he always drank - we drank with our friends - but up until a few years ago, he could always handle it. It seemed normal."), and how she saw his relationship with alcohol slowly consume him. She described a family that was repeatedly traumatized (my word, not hers) by his behaviour when he drank - which for awhile now had become virtually every day ("our daughter hates him - she doesn't want to be in our house anymore").
She was desperate for a solution. In her opinion she'd tried everything to make him change. She said she was at the end of her rope ... she needed help ... come to think of it though, she never said that.
Actually, I remember her search for solutions more as a stream of accounts about her husband's bad behaviour, his lies and manipulations .. his defiance and grandiosity ... her fear and anger, anxiety and despair, embarrassment and shame. She really wanted me to agree on what a jerk he was.
"Here I am in counselling and he's at home drinking right now", she said.
What I saw, even more than a solution was her desperate need for affirmation from me that indeed this was an terrible situation. She wanted me to hear and understand very clearly that he was out of control and she was not insane - that she was not what he accused her of being - a controlling bitch who spoiled his life's only pleasure, having a few drinks after a hard day's work.
After about forty minutes of observing her high anxiety and listening to her obvious distress, I began cautiously to shift the conversation from his behaviour to hers.
I asked questions like:
How did you feel when ....?
What did you do when ...?
How did you handle yourself ...?
What was it like for you to .....?
What was that like for you when ...?
However, instead of seeing her become more grounded and reflective (which I'd hoped), the more I asked about her the more distant was her manner ...
In the end I had to give up on my cautious tone and speak more directly.
"It sounds like it's survival time in your marriage. It's time for you to look after you own survival. You've got to stop thinking about him or the ways you can get him to change, and start thinking about yourself ... about your own health and happiness."
She wanted no part of that. All she heard was my advice to leave him. (Did you hear that in my words?)
I was trying to help her see that her happiness did not depend on him changing. She didn't have to leave him to find happiness (on the other hand she might) but in my opinion whether or not to leave him didn't have to be her first concern. What that first concern needed to be was to turn her attention to, and take responsibility for, her own behaviour which was, through and through, enabling behaviour.
Enabling is essentially the inability, or the refusal, to allow another person to experience the consequences of their behaviour.
And what's the payoff for the enabler? They don't have to take responsibility for themselves.
I tried to help her see that turning her attention to herself and her own behaviour (to her self-care) was to stand up to her husband's relationship with alcohol. Being attentive to her own happiness was to live no longer at the service of addiction. It would break the spell and begin to set her and her family free.
As I said, she didn't want any part of it ... we ended the session and parted politely without scheduling a follow-up session. I never saw her again.
Monday, 11 November 2013
THE BEST WAY TO SUPPORT SOMEONE'S RECOVERY
I'm often asked: "What can I do to support my wife/son/father's recovery. Should we have alcohol in the house? Should we drink wine at Christmas? And so on ...
Here's the answer I always give:
The best way to support the recovery of someone you love is to undertake your own emotional recovery. Loving someone who is chemically dependent is a traumatic experience. Accepting that fact is difficult, but the sooner you can do so, the quicker your own recovery can begin - and happier, healthier relationships can be built.
Everything will not be OK just because the chemically dependent person stops drinking or using. New relationships must be built - even with family members.
It's also important to accept that you don't have to wait until the chemically dependent person starts his or her healing before you can start yours.
If you're tired of waiting for somebody else to change, you might think about changing the only person you have any influence over - yourself.
Here are some simple but profound reflections by someone who is doing the work of emotional recovery from loving someone who is chemically dependent. (I've altered some minor details to protect the person's confidentiality).
I'm realizing that I cannot do my recovery alone
- being OK to ask for help ... it's not a sign of weakness.
- being vulnerable is OK ... it's OK to let people in and trust them.
- I need a mirror to be held up to me by somebody I trust so I can become more self-aware.
- I'm so intent on self-control
- I'm too hard on myself and blame myself for my wife/son/father's addiction.
- I've been focusing too much on me and figuring it out on my own instead of letting people in and allowing them to walk with me on my journey.
- I need my support network to help me in my recovery - to work at my resentment - to separate forgiveness from saying what my wife/son/father is doing is OK - and to release the power that my wife/son/father still has over me.
I welcome your questions and comments
Here's the answer I always give:
The best way to support the recovery of someone you love is to undertake your own emotional recovery. Loving someone who is chemically dependent is a traumatic experience. Accepting that fact is difficult, but the sooner you can do so, the quicker your own recovery can begin - and happier, healthier relationships can be built.
Everything will not be OK just because the chemically dependent person stops drinking or using. New relationships must be built - even with family members.
It's also important to accept that you don't have to wait until the chemically dependent person starts his or her healing before you can start yours.
If you're tired of waiting for somebody else to change, you might think about changing the only person you have any influence over - yourself.
Here are some simple but profound reflections by someone who is doing the work of emotional recovery from loving someone who is chemically dependent. (I've altered some minor details to protect the person's confidentiality).
I'm realizing that I cannot do my recovery alone
- being OK to ask for help ... it's not a sign of weakness.
- being vulnerable is OK ... it's OK to let people in and trust them.
- I need a mirror to be held up to me by somebody I trust so I can become more self-aware.
- I'm so intent on self-control
- I'm too hard on myself and blame myself for my wife/son/father's addiction.
- I've been focusing too much on me and figuring it out on my own instead of letting people in and allowing them to walk with me on my journey.
- I need my support network to help me in my recovery - to work at my resentment - to separate forgiveness from saying what my wife/son/father is doing is OK - and to release the power that my wife/son/father still has over me.
I welcome your questions and comments
Tuesday, 5 November 2013
ANNOYING EUPHEMISMS PART II: SUBSTANCE ABUSE
In a recent post I wrote about mild or indirect words or expressions substituted for one considered to be harsh or blunt when referring to something unpleasant of embarrassing - which is the definition of a euphemism according to the Oxford dictionary.
Of course our language is full of euphemisms, they're a normal part of everyday life (rest room, sleep with, .... ).
We use them to speak delicately about something, or to be polite (she's expecting...).
For some reason that I can't figure out, the subject of alcoholism/addiction is full of euphemisms (wild partying lifestyle ... tie one on ... three-sheets-to-the-wind ... getting wasted ...)
I find two of these euphemisms particularly annoying. Last time I addressed the functional alcoholic - this time let's turn to the ubiquitous expression substance abuse.
Something unpleasant or embarrassing ..............
Diseases don't normally have euphemisms - cancer is cancer ... diabetes is named that. They, and other diseases that are potentially fatal, are unpleasant and sometimes embarrassing, but we name them and use that name when talking about them. Why does this disease have so many names? Chemical dependency, addiction, alcoholism and so on. Even if it could be narrowed down to those three, discourse about it would become more direct and to the point.
Obviously the weakness in any discourse (and the temptation to use euphemistic language) begins with the disagreement about what to name the problem itself - in this case, the disease. (At an even more basic level one must admit that there are still - even though decreasing in number - people who deny there is a disease present at all.)
And the terms we use are all too narrow, they don't cover the pervasiveness of the behaviours that characterize the disease. It's more than just chemical dependency - certainly more than alcohol (although alcohol is still by far the behaviour of choice for people who suffer from the disease). Even the word addiction has been domesticated so much that its everyday meaning has been minimized and made cute (being addicted to chocolate brownies, or Seinfeld reruns, and so on.)
So, what are we left with? Euphemistic language - delicate terms designed not to offend or be seen to be judgemental - about a disease that is permanent (incurable), pervasive, progressive, primary and predictable - and above all, fatal.
Even professionals in the field of assessing and treating the disease are not immune to the trap of using euphemistic language when talking about addiction.
An example from the Huffington Post recently caught my eye: "Veterans dealing with substance abuse and PTSD suffer as much from stigma as they do from these very real illnesses."
I certainly do agree there's a stigma associated with the disease. My point is, substance abuse is not the name of this very real illness - substance abuse is a euphemism.
And, the point I'm coming to realize even as I write this, and why I find euphemistic language around this disease so annoying: because it is dangerous.
Why?
Because using a euphemism in itself minimizes, or at least speaks delicately about, a deadly illness that has the potential to destroy lives and relationships - a disease that exacts a toll on communities - societies, cultures, nation-states. A disease that is a plague on families generation after generation after ....
Am I overstating it?
I don't think so. I'm zeroing in on the euphemism because our language reflects our attitudes, and substance abuse is an expression that reflects an attitude that is, at the very least, two-fold:
First of all, that it's all about the substances (eliminate or enforce strict limits on addictive substances and there should be no more problem - declare WAR on the substances if necessary) ...
And secondly, that it's only abuse, it's not an illness (even though, as we've seen from the example above, some use the euphemism to talk about the illness itself). And, directly related to the stigma referred to above, the attitude behind the euphemism is that everyone can control their use of substances - especially alcohol. Using substance abuse when talking about addiction supports and promotes the belief that no one should be denied the pleasure of 'a few drinks' , or (insert here the alcohol-related advertising slogan of your choice ... ) by alarmists who call the relational process between a person and a life-threatening substance a disease.
When someone uses the phrase substance abuse there appears to be no understanding of the pathology - lack of control, obsessive thinking, and so on - of addiction.
The use of euphemisms can be harmless - they are part of the language of everyday life. But when I hear one used to name the disease of addiction I get a little passionate.
Excuse me while I take a few deep breaths. I'll be calmer next time.
Of course our language is full of euphemisms, they're a normal part of everyday life (rest room, sleep with, .... ).
We use them to speak delicately about something, or to be polite (she's expecting...).
For some reason that I can't figure out, the subject of alcoholism/addiction is full of euphemisms (wild partying lifestyle ... tie one on ... three-sheets-to-the-wind ... getting wasted ...)
I find two of these euphemisms particularly annoying. Last time I addressed the functional alcoholic - this time let's turn to the ubiquitous expression substance abuse.
Something unpleasant or embarrassing ..............
Diseases don't normally have euphemisms - cancer is cancer ... diabetes is named that. They, and other diseases that are potentially fatal, are unpleasant and sometimes embarrassing, but we name them and use that name when talking about them. Why does this disease have so many names? Chemical dependency, addiction, alcoholism and so on. Even if it could be narrowed down to those three, discourse about it would become more direct and to the point.
Obviously the weakness in any discourse (and the temptation to use euphemistic language) begins with the disagreement about what to name the problem itself - in this case, the disease. (At an even more basic level one must admit that there are still - even though decreasing in number - people who deny there is a disease present at all.)
And the terms we use are all too narrow, they don't cover the pervasiveness of the behaviours that characterize the disease. It's more than just chemical dependency - certainly more than alcohol (although alcohol is still by far the behaviour of choice for people who suffer from the disease). Even the word addiction has been domesticated so much that its everyday meaning has been minimized and made cute (being addicted to chocolate brownies, or Seinfeld reruns, and so on.)
So, what are we left with? Euphemistic language - delicate terms designed not to offend or be seen to be judgemental - about a disease that is permanent (incurable), pervasive, progressive, primary and predictable - and above all, fatal.
Even professionals in the field of assessing and treating the disease are not immune to the trap of using euphemistic language when talking about addiction.
An example from the Huffington Post recently caught my eye: "Veterans dealing with substance abuse and PTSD suffer as much from stigma as they do from these very real illnesses."
I certainly do agree there's a stigma associated with the disease. My point is, substance abuse is not the name of this very real illness - substance abuse is a euphemism.
And, the point I'm coming to realize even as I write this, and why I find euphemistic language around this disease so annoying: because it is dangerous.
Why?
Because using a euphemism in itself minimizes, or at least speaks delicately about, a deadly illness that has the potential to destroy lives and relationships - a disease that exacts a toll on communities - societies, cultures, nation-states. A disease that is a plague on families generation after generation after ....
Am I overstating it?
I don't think so. I'm zeroing in on the euphemism because our language reflects our attitudes, and substance abuse is an expression that reflects an attitude that is, at the very least, two-fold:
First of all, that it's all about the substances (eliminate or enforce strict limits on addictive substances and there should be no more problem - declare WAR on the substances if necessary) ...
And secondly, that it's only abuse, it's not an illness (even though, as we've seen from the example above, some use the euphemism to talk about the illness itself). And, directly related to the stigma referred to above, the attitude behind the euphemism is that everyone can control their use of substances - especially alcohol. Using substance abuse when talking about addiction supports and promotes the belief that no one should be denied the pleasure of 'a few drinks' , or (insert here the alcohol-related advertising slogan of your choice ... ) by alarmists who call the relational process between a person and a life-threatening substance a disease.
When someone uses the phrase substance abuse there appears to be no understanding of the pathology - lack of control, obsessive thinking, and so on - of addiction.
The use of euphemisms can be harmless - they are part of the language of everyday life. But when I hear one used to name the disease of addiction I get a little passionate.
Excuse me while I take a few deep breaths. I'll be calmer next time.
You can read more articles on Relationships and Recovery at my new blog address: www.dalemacintyre.blogspot.com
Monday, 21 October 2013
HELPING KIDS UNDERSTAND ADDICTION
Especially when it concerns talking about addiction with kids.
Alicia Sparks writes a blog, and this one is called Mom You're a Junkie!: Explaining the Disease of Addiction to Children. (You can read the entire article at http://blogs.psychcentral.com)
Once I got past the first part of her title, I found I don't have any quarrel with anything Ms. Sparks writes about and the advice she offers - except her use of that ubiquitous term "substance abuse". But in this context, it's a minor complaint.
Once I got past the first part of her title, I found I don't have any quarrel with anything Ms. Sparks writes about and the advice she offers - except her use of that ubiquitous term "substance abuse". But in this context, it's a minor complaint.
If you have children and you know you have to talk to them about somebody they love who drinks too much or uses other drugs, there's some good advice in this article.
The following are edited excerpts from Alicia Sparks' blog:
... addiction is not a “junkie” lifestyle choice, but an actual disease that sufferers have to learn to manage.
(It is important to explain) ... the difference between the initial decision to take drugs (a choice) and the body and mind’s addiction to drugs (not a choice):
Addiction is not a choice, a sign of moral weakness or a character flaw. While the initial decision to use drugs may be a choice for some people, drugs change the brain in a way that makes it extremely difficult to stop. Over time, the brain craves drugs like food or water and it’s difficult to feel normal without them.
(Here are) three ideas on approaching a discussion about the addiction as a disease with children:
- Explain that addiction is a chronic disease much like other diseases. “When talking to a child about addiction, it’s important to explain that addiction is a chronic disease similar to diabetes and heart disease.”
- Make sure the child understands his parent’s addiction itself is neither his fault nor his parent’s fault. “Children need to understand that addiction is not their fault, nor is it their parent’s fault.”
- The child should be able to talk freely and safely with the parent and/or therapist about his feelings and his parent’s progress. “Children should be encouraged to talk about their feelings without criticism or judgement, whether with a parent, therapist or other trusted adult, and be reassured that the parent is getting the help they need to get well. “
I think it's important always to remember that children know that something is not quite right in their family when someone they love is suffering from the disease of addiction (even though they can't put their finger on exactly what it is that isn't right).
And secondly, when talking to children about anything - and especially when talking to them about addiction - the best strategy is always the truth.
Monday, 30 September 2013
THE JOURNEY OF GRIEF
Last week I made the point that when encountering grief - yours or somebody else's journey through the natural, normal response to loss in our everyday lives - it is important to remember that the suffering and sorrow of grief is a long journey when the loss is something of great meaning: a close family member, one's health - or a even a career.
Anything other than a feel-good definition of happiness doesn't make sense to us. In the face of grief and the grieving person (including ourselves) we find ourselves needing distraction, cheering up, mood-altering. The idea of acknowledging our pain, allowing it to run its course - of somehow befriending it, talking about it and feeling the loss deeply, strikes most of us as morbid.
Then in one of the sessions she said something very important, and it's stayed with me ever since.
Out of the blue she said, "Y'know I'm sad that my husband has died and I miss him very much. But I don't feel a lot of pain about it. We had a good life together and we loved each other. What I'm finding really hard to deal with in all this are the feelings that are coming up for me over a baby I lost over forty years ago. They didn't let me hold her, I didn't even see her. She was a still-birth and they took her away immediately. The biggest thing I remember was my mother saying to me, 'Don't let your husband see how upset you are'. I stuffed it down and left the feelings behind. Now they're coming up ... it's very hard ..."
Grief is a complicated subject, as are most things about the human experience. But hopefully I've made my point that there two simple things that must be acknowledged and accepted about the journey if grief is to be transcended and a new relationship with the relationship that has been lost is to be transformed.
Those two things are: time and attention.
What often makes the journey more difficult is our cultural discomfort with grief.
We don't like to acknowledge or accept loss of any kind. Especially death. Even though it sounds ridiculous, if we were to admit it, most of us believe in the depths of our hearts that we will not die. If I eat healthy and exercise I won't die. If I stop smoking I won't die. Ever. The everyday encounter with death is a great shock to us - there's a sense of failure about it.
That's why most people aren't given the time they need to grieve. There's an expectation that it should be over and done with in days - or weeks at the most. Friends and relatives don't like to be around grieving people - they're a downer. (Get over it.) Or the the grieving person is a source of worry - maybe they're getting depressed ... or they won't be able to cope. (What'll happen then?)
A grieving person is evidence before our eyes that we can't always feel good - that the ideal of perpetual, unrelenting happiness is an illusion. Unless, of course the meaning of happiness is expanded to include the reality of loss and the response to it. But that's not something we like to consider - sadness, pain and sorrow as part of happiness? That's an oxymoron if ever there was one.
Anything other than a feel-good definition of happiness doesn't make sense to us. In the face of grief and the grieving person (including ourselves) we find ourselves needing distraction, cheering up, mood-altering. The idea of acknowledging our pain, allowing it to run its course - of somehow befriending it, talking about it and feeling the loss deeply, strikes most of us as morbid.
But therein lies the paradox. The way to transcend the experience of grief is directly through it. We have to undertake the journey, and most of us are too afraid.
Death is part of life. And it must be given respectful attention.
Consider the analogy of a wound - say your arm is cut. There are a few possible responses: one is to make sure it is kept clean and covered with proper bandages. You pay attention to it - clean and change the dressings as needed. Pretty soon it begins to heal. The bleeding stops. The pain diminishes as a scab covers the wound over. If you guard it from further injury, with time the wound heals. You may be left with a scar, and on certain days, years later, there may be a flare-up of pain. Maybe a change in temperature will cause it to ache briefly for the rest of your life.
Another way to respond to being cut is to slap a moleskin over the wound and ignore it. You pretend its not there and carry on as if nothing has happened. Of course we know that the result will be a festering, infected sore that will cause no end of problems down the road. The wound, if ignored and not tended properly, will become a threat to your long term happiness - maybe even your life.
You cannot avoid grief. Sooner or later you will have to go through it.
Grieving people have taught me a lot. I remember a lady many years ago who came to see me for counselling after her husband of fifty-something years had recently died. She was calm and sad. We talked about her husband and the long life they had shared - happily - together. She reminisced in affectionate tones. Sometimes she cried softly.Then in one of the sessions she said something very important, and it's stayed with me ever since.
Out of the blue she said, "Y'know I'm sad that my husband has died and I miss him very much. But I don't feel a lot of pain about it. We had a good life together and we loved each other. What I'm finding really hard to deal with in all this are the feelings that are coming up for me over a baby I lost over forty years ago. They didn't let me hold her, I didn't even see her. She was a still-birth and they took her away immediately. The biggest thing I remember was my mother saying to me, 'Don't let your husband see how upset you are'. I stuffed it down and left the feelings behind. Now they're coming up ... it's very hard ..."
Grief is a complicated subject, as are most things about the human experience. But hopefully I've made my point that there two simple things that must be acknowledged and accepted about the journey if grief is to be transcended and a new relationship with the relationship that has been lost is to be transformed.
Those two things are: time and attention.
Tuesday, 24 September 2013
GRIEF: THE SORROW THAT CAN LEAD TO NEW LIFE
SORROW PREPARES YOU FOR JOY.
IT VIOLENTLY SWEEPS EVERYTHING OUT OF YOUR HOUSE, SO THAT NEW JOY CAN FIND SPACE TO ENTER.
IT SHAKES THE YELLOW LEAVES FROM THE BOUGH OF YOUR HEART, SO THAT FRESH GREEN LEAVES CAN GROW IN THEIR PLACE.
IT PULLS UP THE ROTTEN ROOTS SO THAT NEW ROOTS HIDDEN BENEATH HAVE ROOM TO GROW.
WHATEVER SORROW SHAKES FROM YOUR HEART, FAR BETTER THINGS WILL TAKE THEIR PLACE.
(RUMI)
Another word for sorrow, is grief.Here's a few things I've learned about grief over the years - my own and the grief I've encountered in the people I've supported (and learned from) as they worked through their grief.
Grief is a natural, normal response to loss.
Loss is a fact of everyday life. Life is about loss; how we encounter and deal with our life's losses has a major impact on the quality of our lives.
It must be said again and again: grief is normal and natural. It is not a sickness. It is not something that needs to be treated medically. It makes me very sad to hear from people that they have been prescribed antidepressants when they are grieving.
The suffering of grief is not the depression we want to call clinical. When we do that we are pathologizing the core of our human experience.
The suffering of grief is about being human. It is about the depth of love. It doesn't need to be treated. Above all, grieving people need to know they are not alone and that there is a way through the pain of loss. They need to know their love and loss can be transformed into something new.
At it's core, grief is relational. It is about meaning.
The depth of one's grief is directly proportional to the meaning one, perhaps unconsciously, has placed in the relationship that has been affected - the relationship that has been lost.
Here's what I mean by that.
If I lose a cheap object - say a pen: my experience of grief is very short, maybe a few seconds. "Oh, I lost my pen. Where's another one?" There has been little or no meaning invested in my relationship with that pen.
But, if I lose a pen my children gave me for father's day - a unique, wooden, multicoloured ballpoint pen, chosen with care and love, my experience of loss is deeper. That pen had some meaning to me and my life. (You guessed it. I really did lose such a pen.) Of course I don't collapse into tears when I think about it, but thoughts and feelings of sorrow do come up - even years later, "I wonder what happened to that pen?" The experience of loss - of grief is a little deeper.
The same thing holds true with our relationships with people. The meaning of the relationship is directly proportional to the grief we feel at its loss.
Say you're in a store. If you stop and look at the cashier for a few seconds just before you leave and say to yourself, "I may never see that person again." You probably won't feel very much in response to such a loss. the cashier may be a lovely, warm and giving person, but you haven't invested very much meaning in the relationship with him or her. You may feel a little pang in that moment as you encounter the loss that reveals the impermanence of our reality. But beyond that you'll most likely go on with your day without giving it another thought.
But the loss of a relationship of greater meaning - through death, or moving or .... any of the thousand other ways people are lost to us, can create pain of great suffering. It touches us at the deepest level of our being. It can make us feel like we may be losing our minds. It may even make us question the meaning of life itself.
The deeper the meaning in the relationship, the deeper the pain of grief when the relationship is lost - and the longer the grieving lasts.
This the pain we dread. It is the pain of our existence.
It is crucial to remember for yourself, or when trying to support someone you care about who is grieving: when a person is living through profound grief - the loss of a deeply important relationship - everything one does or thinks or feels is normal. (Grief is a normal response to loss.) There is no one 'right way' to do it - the only wrong way is to pretend it isn't there - or otherwise (consciously or unconsciously) not acknowledge the pain.
Grief cannot be avoided. It can only be gone through - at some point.
The other thing that must be remembered is that the suffering and sorrow of grief is a long journey when the loss in one of great meaning: a close family member, one's health - or a even a career. (I'll write more about this next week, because it touches on our cultural discomfort with grief.)
One more thing before I stop: Earlier on I said life is about loss. It's true.
But it's only half the story.
Life is also about wonder and awe and the excitement of anticipation - and all the other thousand experiences that bring us joy.
The challenge we must acknowledge and face is that joy and sorrow are always with us as two sides of one reality. They complete one another. There is no joy without sorrow.
That is the truth that defines the word relationship. There are always at least two parts to it - two participants.
It is also the truth of love and meaning. The greater the depth of love, the greater the joy. And the greater the sorrow at its loss.
To paraphrase Kahlil Gibran: When we love, we experience it's joy - and we laugh all our laughter. But when we love we also - cry all our tears.
That is the fullness of life.
Monday, 16 September 2013
HOW WE BEGIN OUR DAY MAKES ALL THE DIFFERENCE
Most days, most people awake from sleep to the sound of an alarm.
Some get up peacefully and happily - rested and energized, joyfully anticipating the challenges of the new day. Others get up under protest ... leaving sleep reluctantly and taking some time to allow the grogginess to dissipate. They may even feel full of fear with anxiety clutching at their throat or gut.
For some, the day brings excitement.
For others, the only thing that gets them up are the responsibilities they shoulder. And sometimes, even the demands of job and family aren't enough to get their heads out from under the covers. The bliss, the escape of unconsciousness will be their daily temptation. That is until guilt bids them into the world.
You may be of the first type. If so, you are very lucky - some would say you are naturally skilled like a gifted athlete, musician or artist. You don't know why or how you are able to begin the day so positively. You just do. You may not need to read on.
But for those of us of the second type, waking up and beginning our day requires some attention - some mindfulness - because it's not easy.
But why not? Why isn't it easy and exciting for everybody? Who knows? It seems to me that it's a combination of factors including natural inclination based on temperament, the development of habits, circumstances - and, the old stand-by of western thinking - genetics.
Waking up and getting up well may require some skill development.
Here's why.
Based on my own experience and what I hear from others, I'm becoming more convinced that how we wake up and begin our day has a great bearing on our happiness, our sense of well-being, our creativity and our productiveness. The first minutes of the day even have a bearing on the quality of our relationships.
The first few minutes of the day can determine the quality of the whole day. And, as Annie Dillard said, how we spend our days is how we spend our lives.
Looking at it that way, those first few minutes are pretty important if the quality of your life is a value for you ...
The first few minutes of the day can determine the quality of the whole day. And, as Annie Dillard said, how we spend our days is how we spend our lives.
Looking at it that way, those first few minutes are pretty important if the quality of your life is a value for you ...
There are many ways of developing the skill of establishing a good beginning to our day
Recently I came across some advice that I really like and has been a big help to me. It's from a Tibetan lama, Tai Situ Rinpoche:
We should begin our day, with a very clear decision.
And that should be: I will do one or two or three good things today - at least.
And that should be: I will do one or two or three good things today - at least.
And with that, if we start our day as a routine then it will stay in our mind.
Also, we should get up as early as possible.
How does it sound, if you have to say - I have never seen the sun coming up?
It doesn't sound good.
Something is missing. Right?
So, nature is rising. The sun is rising. So you should rise.
And you should be able to see the sun rise.
In order to do that, you should go to bed as early as possible - so that you can get up early.
These things are interdependent.
And when you get up with nature, the birds, the sun, the plants ... everything together ... then you feel you are part of the universe.
Sounds really simple and straightforward, maybe deceptively so. But experiencing and accepting oneself as a part of the universe is a powerful antidote to the death loneliness of an anxious morning.
You could add, as Rinpoche encourages, some prayers and meditation.
Then, the day can unfold peacefully and with some serenity.
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