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.

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

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.      

You can read more articles on Relationships and Recovery at my new blog address:   www.dalemacintyre.blogspot.com

HELPING KIDS UNDERSTAND ADDICTION

When I come across something that I think will be useful in demystifying addiction and correcting opinions and attitudes about it, I want to share it with you.

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.

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:

1. 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.”
2. 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.”
3. 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. 

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.

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. 

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.

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 ... 

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 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.