Woman standing on wooden speaker's box speaking into microphone to an attentive crowd outdoors

Yesterday, I got an email from a friend, asking me to speak to a family member whose loved one is currently in the hospital with liver failure. This is kind of call is a common occurrence. And like any newcomer to a meeting, the friend offered a litany of problems that the family member shared with her about the addict/alcoholic so that I would have the full scope of the problem.

I’m used to that too. Like any newcomer, faced with losing a family member, you always start with listening to all of the things that they want to change about their family member. Then you offer the unwelcome news: You are powerless.

You are powerless over any other adult human being on the planet. There’s nothing that you can do to change them.This is a harsh reality. Who doesn’t want to help their loved ones?

But you’re not powerless over you. There’s the good news. Now you might ask, Jean what does that have to do with anything. I am not the one with the problem…

To which, I would say, Oh yes you are. When we are in relationship with another human being, when they have a problem, we have a problem. Newton’s third law of physics says,“For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.”

Here’s the thing that I see a lot: family members are so gradually drawn into the disease of addiction that by the time that the disease has progressed to something dire, they are unable to see their loved one as someone who is suffering. Their expectations for their loved one are unrealistic. They expect their loved ones to see things rationally when their brain is or has been compromised by a substance.

Let me give you an analogy. I have diabetes, type 2. My pancreas still creates insulin but it doesn’t do a good job of distributing it in my body. Let’s say I have a piece of pie with ice cream. My blood sugar rises quickly. My body takes a little too long to get the memo and so by the time my glucose levels get really high, my body dumps too much insulin into my bloodstream.

Now, my blood sugar drops fast. It gets really low. So much so that my body shakes, my heart beats fast and I feel sick at my stomach. Unconsciously, I look desperately for sugar. I try to find something that will bring it up quickly. My family members often fuss. “What are you doing. You should know better.”

I do know better. But my body scares me in this moment. I need the shaking and rapid heart rate to slow down. I need to feel normal. And so I eat sugar and the cycle starts all over again. Am I a part of the problem? Yes. Yes, I am but if you understand the physical manifestations of my disease, surely you find compassion for me.

The email that I got said that the sister was dealing with all of the fallout from the family member’s failure to take responsibility for his disease. “He’s being immature.” I responded to the email with, “He is not immature, he is suffering.”

There is a huge breakdown in understanding addiction. Because of that breakdown, the stigma continues.

I’m not upset with the family member or her friend. I am upset that the stigma of addiction still exists.

In psychology, I learned that if you want to change a behavior, you first have to change a belief. Addicts and alcoholics aren’t having a good time when they drink or use. (Well, maybe initially) They want to escape pain. They look for something outside of themselves to feel differently–just like I did when my blood sugar went too high and then quickly dipped.

I know it will perpetuate the cycle and so do they. But in that moment, the feeling is desperate.

What if my family member, got up and said, “Let’s try a few sips of milk. It may take a minute longer to work but it will help you avoid the insulin rebound. Then let’s get some protein and fiber in you. Let me help you.” How would that make me feel?

Cared for. Supported. Understood. Accompanied and loved.

I write all of this to say, what if the friend approached her family member this way:

*I’m learning about addiction. I can’t imagine how much you are suffering. What can I do to help you feel better?

*Or maybe they could say, I’m sorry for being harsh. I’m just so afraid of losing you. I love you so much. Will you let me help you?

*They might want to offer clear boundaries–a very loving thing to do. They could say something like: I will not help you with money because I can’t be a party to you harming yourself. I love you too much. But if you want recovery, I’m your person. Put me on speed dial.

What do all of these statements have in common? They put the focus on What You Can Do. Here is your power.

How do you figure out what the right things to say to your loved ones are? You pray about it first. If you’ve been trying to solve this by doing something and praying about it afterwards, your actions are disordered–as disordered as your loved one’s actions.

Then you make sure that your actions support recovery and not the disease. If your loved one refuses help. Walk away but do it while praying. God will guide you along this difficult road.

If you have any questions about this post–because I know that it is a heavy one, leave a comment. Or if you’d rather, email me at [email protected]. Look for a local Al-Anon meeting, talk to a priest, counselor, spiritual director or talk to a friend. Just don’t isolate. It is important to remember that “We are as sick as our secrets.”

Let’s start understanding addiction together. Let’s drag the stigma out into the light where it can no longer thrive.

1 thought on “Soap Box Warning…

  1. Thanks Jean as always for the reminder that Alcoholism is a disease of our loved ones. We must remember : We can’t control it. We didn’t cause it. We can’t cure it. But we can contribute to it!

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