Planet of Addiction

        Substance abuse destroys thousands of lives and families every year. When a family member has an addiction, it has as much impact on the family as if the member had cancer. The addiction becomes the central issue of the family, whether or not it’s members recognize it or not. And because there is such a stigma around substance abuse, the addict and all those affected are much less likely to seek help than if the afflicted member had a brain tumor. There is help out there, but many do not seek it.
         That reality is alarming, because it’s as painful to witness as a person having leukemia and not getting any sort of treatment for it, even if the treatment is holistic. The family members who love that cancer suffering individual benefit from some form of treatment as well, usually group and individual counseling, and many families undertake that. Much less so with addiction. All too often, the addict and those around them slowly develop very damaging and dysfunctional behaviors, attitudes, and thinking patterns without even realizing that it’s happening, or that there is help available. Denial runs rampant.
         I grew up with substance abuse in my family. I’ll leave it at that.
         I developed some very bad traits that I’ve spent a long time and a lot of effort to change. I will always have lots more to do. This is after all a lifelong journey I’ve committed myself to. But I’ve made progress.
        One of the defense mechanisms I developed, I’ve talked extensively about in this blog. My unconscious reaction to shut down during times of severe emotional stress saved my life when I was a kid. But it’s gotten in the way of intimacy as an adult. I don’t do that as much anymore, and practically never when I’m sad, but it’s something I’ll always have to be aware of. Something I’ll have to stay on top of, because it’s roots go deep.
         Anger has always been an issue for me, but much less so now. I’ve let go of enough of it to not have to carry a little of it with me constantly to feel safe. It can, and occasionally does, rear it’s head. But the head is much smaller, less ugly to me, and doesn’t breathe as hot a flame as it did before. But again, unless I stay conscious, I can revert to rage. But the longer I spend here, in this newer, not angry place, the easier it becomes.
         Hyper-vigilance was something else I automatically did. I was always scanning the room, the situation, the people, for possible trouble. This was mostly unconscious, but not completely. Growing up with a lot of tension and unpredictability, I developed this mechanism to feel safe, figuring that if I could spot trouble before it happened, I’d be better prepared to deal with it. Unfortunately, that’s rarely the case, and all it did was raise my anxiety level and blood pressure. That’s probably why I started exercising as a teenager; to release some of that pent up anxiety.
          Turning to exercise as a way to release this stress and tension and anxiety that was constantly around in my family is a good example of the old “every cloud has a silver lining” cliche. I don’t know if I would have ever become so into fitness if I didn’t have all that stress in me, if I wasn’t a fat kid, or if I didn’t feel so insecure. The dividends that choice has paid, a choice driven by pain and discomfort, are priceless. So in my best moments, I don’t look at my past pain with contempt, but with a sense of gratitude for the gifts it’s given me. That’s still hard for me to do, but the healthier I get, the more able I am to have that perspective.           The last thing I want to do is sound preachy, but I feel an obligation to pass on what I’ve learned. If there’s been substance abuse in your family, you have somehow been affected. Exactly how is as varied as the people who have been touched by addiction, but there are patterns and traits that are somewhat universal. There’s help out there. Please go get it.
         Realizing that you’ve somehow been affected is the first step. That’s awareness. Figuring out how and what to do about it is next. That’s action. Finally, there’s learning to love yourself despite your flaws, and looking at all the events of your life as necessary contributions to who you are as a unique individual. That’s acceptance.
         Sometimes I can’t even get to awareness. I consider myself self aware, but I certainly don’t see everything, and I certainly don’t always see it right away. But eventually, if I stay at it, and I always do, I see it. I become aware. I become conscious. Once that happens, there is hope that I can change. There is hope that I can love myself unconditionally. Ultimately, that’s all I want. Because if I have that, I have my life. All of it. Every moment.


©2009 Clint Piatelli. All Rights (and kilo of Wrongs) Reserved.

Concentration: Camp (part 3)

        I wrote the piece below last year, when I was in a VERY dark place. I present it here for two main reasons. First, it demonstrates how far I’ve come in a year. I remember how I felt writing it, two days after my birthday: absolutely awful. Depressed. Withdrawn. Isolated. Alone. Hopeless. And I pretty much felt that way most of the time, with interludes of joy and levity.
         I spend so much less time there these days. That’s real progress.
         Second, it tells a truthful tale of trauma and tears that I have spent lots of time recovering from. I still struggle with some of the issues that my camp experience created today, but it was my life as a child. This reminds me that I’m a much happier adult than I ever was as a kid. My happiness trajectory is therefore going in the right direction. I’m optimistic that, as long as I continue to work on myself and remain committed to growth and change, I’ll just keep getting healthier and happier as I age. How many people truly feel that way?
         I’m blessed. And there is much I have to be thankful for. Which is much different than how I felt a year ago.


Tuesday, February 19, 2008

         Camp was a month long nightmare that I never really woke up from. I lost whatever enthusiasm I had left for life at camp. To a 10, 11, 12 year old boy, the prospect of experiencing the full agony of a month in hell was unbearable. So I shut down. I knew how to shut down before, because it was how I defended my young self against trauma. But I became a chronic professional at camp.
         What did I learn from camp?
          I learned that to have hope is just a way to exponentially increase pain and disappointment. I learned that I must be defective, that there must be something horribly wrong with me. Everybody at camp thinks it’s great, except me. I must be really fucked up. I learned that the beautiful experience of relief is not only short lived, but merely guarantees a bigger crash when it’s over. I learned that bringing problems to adults for help is not only a waste of time, but makes you feel worse in the end. I learned that asking for help, period, makes things worse, not better. I learned that everything is my fault. I learned that the world is a hostile place that doesn’t like me. In fact, it hates me. I learned that when you trust the people who are supposed to look out for you and care for you and protect you, you get royally screwed. I learned that those people responsible for my well being will lie to me, over and over again. I learned that I am absolutely, completely, unquestionably alone in this world. I learned how to be miserable. I learned despair and hopelessness and anguish. All by age 10, reinforced at ages 11 and 12.
         I learned that to get too excited about something was a sure fire way to have your heart shattered so violently that you may never find all of the pieces again. I learned that to want something more than anything else in the world and to believe that you could have it was nothing but a lie. That to want and to believe only lead to horrible pain and intolerable suffering. I learned that I have no control over my life; no control over how I feel or of what happens to me; no control over myself or my circumstances or my happiness. I learned that my emotions are at the mercy of some mysterious, unknown, random, internal process that guides my thoughts haphazardly and therefore runs my heart and my spirit roughshod along with it. I learned that I couldn’t do what I really wanted to do, that I couldn’t get what I really wanted, and that I couldn’t get what I really needed.
         I learned chronic depression and chronic anxiety and chronic fear and chronic ache that is always with me, even today, even in my moments of great joy. I learned that getting excited and wanting something very badly was indescribably dangerous and ultimately horribly painful. I learned how to live in a cage, in a prison; how to survive but never thrive. I learned how to become strangely and perversely comfortable functioning at this soul numbing flat line equilibrium. I learned to live in a constant fantasy world in order to escape the unrelenting horrible pain of reality. I learned that anything was better than the real thing. I learned how to completely avoid the present and live in the perceptibly less painful past or the can’t possibly be as painful future. I learned how to hate myself and how to hate my life.
         Thanx camp.


©2009 Clint Piatelli. All Rights (and a very grateful amount of Wrongs) Reserved.