Often our clients reflect upon what they don't have versus what they do have in their lives today.
I was reminded of this during a peer group as a client talked about his days as an athlete. I could see the pride on his face as he discussed his accomplishments 20 years ago. He referred this period as "the best time of my life."
I wasn't unkind to him. I didn't bother to point out that he was older and many pounds heavier than he was during those former glory days. Or that he didn't exercise anymore and smoked a pack of cigarettes a day.
I like to focus in our peer groups on living in the present moment because the present moment is all we have. In my opinion the past can be beneficial in some ways. It can serve as a template of our potential when are at our best. But beyond that it's not much use in the present moment.
When we show up in recovery most of us are damaged by whatever drug we used. We are depressed and life can look hopeless. Most of our clients come to us emotionally and physically bankrupt. It's probably natural for them to focus upon a time when life was glorious and they were at the top of their game.
But what about right now?
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
There are many victims of our addictions, but the children are the most tragic of all. This was brought to me over the weekend when I was dealing with a couple who were in our program. They had two children under five years old in the care of her mother, who lives in an eastern state.
The couple had been in our program nearly 90 days and had given us notice they were leaving to return home. One of our managers asked me to intervene because he felt they were leaving for the wrong reasons. It seems that there was an impending hearing with the state about who was to have custody of the children. The parents, the couple in our program, understandably wanted to be there for the hearing so that they wouldn't lose the children.
However, one of the issues was that the couple had only been sober about 90 days and had no resources or ability to take care of the children. They had no job, no car, no money. They didn't have enough money to return home, a trip which would've cost under $500.
When I counseled them I suggested they stay longer and allow our organization to intervene in the matter. I told them we were willing to call child protective authorities in their state and explain that the parents were in a recovery program. We have intervened in situations like this in before and when the parents are trying to rebuild their lives, the state usually goes along with the plan. I even offered to help them, if they gained custody of their children, to start a new life in one of the sober apartments that we lease to graduates of our program.
When I discussed this with them they were indecisive. I told them to think about it for 24 hours and to let me know. The husband, who was unemployed, was offered another job the next day by the labor group our company operates. When I heard he had turned down the week's work we offered him, I realized that he and his wife were probably planning to leave our program. Our management team made a decision to discharge them.
There were immediate repercussions from the mother - who is taking care of the children. She was upset when she called me. She said she didn't have the money to buy them tickets to return home, which would've cost her around $400. She also told me she believed her daughter had been discharged unfairly from our program. I understood her anger and patiently explain to her the sequence of events that led to the discharge of the couple.
Once I explained the situation to her she calmed down. She told me that the father had only called the children one time in the 90 days he'd been in our program. She also said that she felt he was incapable of maintaining employment or taking care of the children, at least based on his history.
My hope is that the couple make it back to their home state, start a new life, and regain custody of their children. However, if history is any indication, this will not happen.
And the victims in this situation are ultimately the two minor children.
The couple had been in our program nearly 90 days and had given us notice they were leaving to return home. One of our managers asked me to intervene because he felt they were leaving for the wrong reasons. It seems that there was an impending hearing with the state about who was to have custody of the children. The parents, the couple in our program, understandably wanted to be there for the hearing so that they wouldn't lose the children.
However, one of the issues was that the couple had only been sober about 90 days and had no resources or ability to take care of the children. They had no job, no car, no money. They didn't have enough money to return home, a trip which would've cost under $500.
When I counseled them I suggested they stay longer and allow our organization to intervene in the matter. I told them we were willing to call child protective authorities in their state and explain that the parents were in a recovery program. We have intervened in situations like this in before and when the parents are trying to rebuild their lives, the state usually goes along with the plan. I even offered to help them, if they gained custody of their children, to start a new life in one of the sober apartments that we lease to graduates of our program.
When I discussed this with them they were indecisive. I told them to think about it for 24 hours and to let me know. The husband, who was unemployed, was offered another job the next day by the labor group our company operates. When I heard he had turned down the week's work we offered him, I realized that he and his wife were probably planning to leave our program. Our management team made a decision to discharge them.
There were immediate repercussions from the mother - who is taking care of the children. She was upset when she called me. She said she didn't have the money to buy them tickets to return home, which would've cost her around $400. She also told me she believed her daughter had been discharged unfairly from our program. I understood her anger and patiently explain to her the sequence of events that led to the discharge of the couple.
Once I explained the situation to her she calmed down. She told me that the father had only called the children one time in the 90 days he'd been in our program. She also said that she felt he was incapable of maintaining employment or taking care of the children, at least based on his history.
My hope is that the couple make it back to their home state, start a new life, and regain custody of their children. However, if history is any indication, this will not happen.
And the victims in this situation are ultimately the two minor children.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
The promises of the 12 step programs usually don't come to us overnight.
I was reflecting upon this the other day after I received my certification as a CADAC, which in Arizona is an acronym for Certified Alcohol and Drug Addiction Counselor. This certification is particularly meaningful to me because when I entered the program in January of 1991 the formal education I had was my GED diploma. And I had earned it while incarcerated many years ago.
While this certification likely won't earn me more money, at least it may lend TLC credibility in the eyes of those who value formal education. Also, even though we are a peer driven program, it may have a little influence on those who question the value of what we do.
For me this certification has a great deal of meaning on a personal level. Probably because of self-esteem issues and the years I spent pursuing my addiction and alcoholism, I didn't believe I could succeed academically. I had this belief in spite of the fact that I had done many things that showed I had at least average intelligence. I had written for several years for prison publications. At one time, during the 1960s, I was a staff writer for the Orange County Register, a major Southern California newspaper. I had worked for several years for a major corporation as a vice president of business development. I had owned and operated several small businesses, including a tree service, a small advertising publication, and a garage. Yet I was afraid to undertake any kind of formal education because I didn't want to confirm that I wasn't very smart at all. Yet when I finally did go to school, I was able to maintain a B+ average. Now this is not the perfection that an alcoholic or addict fantasizes about. But it is good enough to graduate, which is what I did.
And when I took the state examination for the ICRC certification I achieved a 75% score, which isn't perfect, but good enough to pass. In fact, I learned that I did as good or better than many people who had worked as counselors for years. For me it was a tough, nerve-racking, examination.
But the idea that I hung in there and passed has a lot of meaning to me today. Another promise came true.
I was reflecting upon this the other day after I received my certification as a CADAC, which in Arizona is an acronym for Certified Alcohol and Drug Addiction Counselor. This certification is particularly meaningful to me because when I entered the program in January of 1991 the formal education I had was my GED diploma. And I had earned it while incarcerated many years ago.
While this certification likely won't earn me more money, at least it may lend TLC credibility in the eyes of those who value formal education. Also, even though we are a peer driven program, it may have a little influence on those who question the value of what we do.
For me this certification has a great deal of meaning on a personal level. Probably because of self-esteem issues and the years I spent pursuing my addiction and alcoholism, I didn't believe I could succeed academically. I had this belief in spite of the fact that I had done many things that showed I had at least average intelligence. I had written for several years for prison publications. At one time, during the 1960s, I was a staff writer for the Orange County Register, a major Southern California newspaper. I had worked for several years for a major corporation as a vice president of business development. I had owned and operated several small businesses, including a tree service, a small advertising publication, and a garage. Yet I was afraid to undertake any kind of formal education because I didn't want to confirm that I wasn't very smart at all. Yet when I finally did go to school, I was able to maintain a B+ average. Now this is not the perfection that an alcoholic or addict fantasizes about. But it is good enough to graduate, which is what I did.
And when I took the state examination for the ICRC certification I achieved a 75% score, which isn't perfect, but good enough to pass. In fact, I learned that I did as good or better than many people who had worked as counselors for years. For me it was a tough, nerve-racking, examination.
But the idea that I hung in there and passed has a lot of meaning to me today. Another promise came true.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Yesterday I spent time on the telephone with my 11-year-old grandson, who lives in California. We weren't talking about anything in particular. He was on his computer at the other end of the phone and was looking up weather reports for different parts of the world. He would ask me to give him the capital of a state or country then he would give me a weather report for that area. It was a silly exercise but when we through talking I realized how much I enjoyed the exchange.
I realized that in his 11 years my grandson has never seen me drunk or high and I felt a rush of gratitude. Nor has he seen his father or mother under the influence of alcohol or drugs. I know that if I hadn't been sober since before he was born I likely would not have had the blessing of this exchange.
One thing I know about alcoholics and drug addicts who are in their disease is that they often have a profound negative influence upon family members. They come home drunk. Or high from a session at the dope house. They have fits of rage when things don't go their way. They spend family resources staying drunk or high. Their chaotic behavior has an indelible impression upon their children, one that can scar them for many years.
Our sobriety has an ongoing influence upon those in our lives. It is like throwing a a rock in a pond. The rock has a ripple effect that spreads across the surface, one we can never bring back.
I realized that in his 11 years my grandson has never seen me drunk or high and I felt a rush of gratitude. Nor has he seen his father or mother under the influence of alcohol or drugs. I know that if I hadn't been sober since before he was born I likely would not have had the blessing of this exchange.
One thing I know about alcoholics and drug addicts who are in their disease is that they often have a profound negative influence upon family members. They come home drunk. Or high from a session at the dope house. They have fits of rage when things don't go their way. They spend family resources staying drunk or high. Their chaotic behavior has an indelible impression upon their children, one that can scar them for many years.
Our sobriety has an ongoing influence upon those in our lives. It is like throwing a a rock in a pond. The rock has a ripple effect that spreads across the surface, one we can never bring back.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
The other day I was approached by a new client who wanted to talk to me. He had just arrived at our program from New Mexico. He told me he once spent 30 days at a famous treatment program, a stay that had cost his insurance company some $30,000. I asked him how long he had remained sober after leaving that treatment program.
“About four years,” he replied.
When I asked him why he had come to a program such as ours, which costs about $5500 a year, his answer surprised me. He said that his wife had been in a woman's recovery program in our city several months earlier. When he started looking for a recovery program after he relapsed, she told him that she'd heard about a really tough program that was in the same city. She said it had a reputation as a "no-nonsense" program for those who were serious about recovery.
I was pleased to hear that our program has that kind of reputation. One thing that sometimes hurts programs such as ours is that there are several halfway house operators in our area who are simply trying to rent real estate – yet they call it a recovery program. Our proram, however, is different because we are serious about one thing: recovery.
We welcome anyone into our program, whether they have money or not. But many leave soon after they arrive because they discover that we have a lot of restrictions, that we drug test people, and have a lot of guidelines about behavior. Once the unmotivated realize we are serious about recovery, they get angry and find an excuse to leave. They usually end up in one of the programs in town that bill themselves as recovery programs. But many of them have few restrictions on behavior. They don't have a drug testing program. And they have minimal requirements as far as meeting attendance or in-house groups. As long as they pay the weekly fee clients can do pretty much as they please.
Our situation is different in that we will close down before we let clients do as they please. Because of this policy we are bashed a lot on the streets and in the prisons. Because they need an excuse for their failure to stay sober, former clients will say that anything goes at our places. Our response to those who believe them is always the same: spend a week with us and see if you can do whatever you want in our program.
No one has ever taken us up on that offer.
“About four years,” he replied.
When I asked him why he had come to a program such as ours, which costs about $5500 a year, his answer surprised me. He said that his wife had been in a woman's recovery program in our city several months earlier. When he started looking for a recovery program after he relapsed, she told him that she'd heard about a really tough program that was in the same city. She said it had a reputation as a "no-nonsense" program for those who were serious about recovery.
I was pleased to hear that our program has that kind of reputation. One thing that sometimes hurts programs such as ours is that there are several halfway house operators in our area who are simply trying to rent real estate – yet they call it a recovery program. Our proram, however, is different because we are serious about one thing: recovery.
We welcome anyone into our program, whether they have money or not. But many leave soon after they arrive because they discover that we have a lot of restrictions, that we drug test people, and have a lot of guidelines about behavior. Once the unmotivated realize we are serious about recovery, they get angry and find an excuse to leave. They usually end up in one of the programs in town that bill themselves as recovery programs. But many of them have few restrictions on behavior. They don't have a drug testing program. And they have minimal requirements as far as meeting attendance or in-house groups. As long as they pay the weekly fee clients can do pretty much as they please.
Our situation is different in that we will close down before we let clients do as they please. Because of this policy we are bashed a lot on the streets and in the prisons. Because they need an excuse for their failure to stay sober, former clients will say that anything goes at our places. Our response to those who believe them is always the same: spend a week with us and see if you can do whatever you want in our program.
No one has ever taken us up on that offer.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
A young person was talking about how few of her fellow graduates stayed clean and sober after leaving the state licensed treatment program she went through. While she had recently celebrated three years, she said there was maybe one other contemporary who hadn't relapsed.
Her comment interested me because TLC is a totally peer-driven program. And even though we are a nonprofessional, privately-funded program, I believe our success equals that of many costly treatment programs.
I don't write this to bash treatment programs that use certified counselors and physicians. In fact, I'm a certified counselor. But I believe there are many approaches to helping others get sober. Some get sober in church, in counseling, or because they fall in love. There are many ways to get sober.
I write this because probably I'm reacting to governmental bodies that periodically try to close our program. My reaction is probably emotional. After all, I got sober in a halfway house where I lived for a year working my way back into the community. And I've seen thousands of others get sober in peer-driven situations.
It's a beautiful thing when addicts and alcoholics help each other into sobriety. When this process works it's best, as it does at TLC, it's a low-cost solution to substance abuse. And from one perspective it makes it makes sense. After all, didn't other alcoholics and addicts introduce us to our disease? Not many of us woke up one day and said I think "I'll become an alcoholic." Or "maybe I'll be a drug addict." Many of us were introduced to drugs and alcohol by our families, friends, or schoolmates. It makes sense to me that we could lead each other out of this wilderness of substance abuse.
At this writing we have nearly 600 people in our program. It's refreshing when I go to the houses and see how well they are functioning in sobriety. Many of our staff members have never held a management job or ran a therapy group. Some of them have never sat down in front of a computer. Nor have they handled other people's money.
Yet, to an outsider it would seem like they've been helping others all their lives. Peer-driven recovery is a viable solution that has helped many substance abusers into recovery.
Her comment interested me because TLC is a totally peer-driven program. And even though we are a nonprofessional, privately-funded program, I believe our success equals that of many costly treatment programs.
I don't write this to bash treatment programs that use certified counselors and physicians. In fact, I'm a certified counselor. But I believe there are many approaches to helping others get sober. Some get sober in church, in counseling, or because they fall in love. There are many ways to get sober.
I write this because probably I'm reacting to governmental bodies that periodically try to close our program. My reaction is probably emotional. After all, I got sober in a halfway house where I lived for a year working my way back into the community. And I've seen thousands of others get sober in peer-driven situations.
It's a beautiful thing when addicts and alcoholics help each other into sobriety. When this process works it's best, as it does at TLC, it's a low-cost solution to substance abuse. And from one perspective it makes it makes sense. After all, didn't other alcoholics and addicts introduce us to our disease? Not many of us woke up one day and said I think "I'll become an alcoholic." Or "maybe I'll be a drug addict." Many of us were introduced to drugs and alcohol by our families, friends, or schoolmates. It makes sense to me that we could lead each other out of this wilderness of substance abuse.
At this writing we have nearly 600 people in our program. It's refreshing when I go to the houses and see how well they are functioning in sobriety. Many of our staff members have never held a management job or ran a therapy group. Some of them have never sat down in front of a computer. Nor have they handled other people's money.
Yet, to an outsider it would seem like they've been helping others all their lives. Peer-driven recovery is a viable solution that has helped many substance abusers into recovery.
Friday, October 1, 2010
The speaker at Sunday's meeting selected gratitude as the topic for the discussion that followed.
Different members of the group shared stories of how gratitude has fueled their recovery. One man was grateful because he hadn't drank or used drugs since he left prison. Another man was grateful for the halfway house that had accepted him after a period of homelessness.
One of my strong beliefs is that if I have gratitude then I will remain in recovery. It is difficult to relapse, I believe, if I am grateful for my circumstances. If I'm ungrateful I create fertile soil for anger, depression or negativity and allow these toxic emotions to creep into my life. It is difficult to drink or put drugs in our bodies while in a state of gratitude.
It's easy for me to find gratitude in everyday things. Yesterday I was reading a newspaper article about a young soldier who had lost his right leg below the knee in an explosion in Iraq. His primary concern was that once he recovered he would be able to return to the battlefield. He worked extremely hard in therapy to regain mobility. He exercised until he was able to run a mile with a 50 pound pack in less than eight minutes. His determination eventually earned him what he wanted. He is now serving as a captain in Afghanistan.
Stories like this illustrate the strength of the human spirit and help me realize that I can do whatever I want with my life if I have a strong desire. The idea that this young man, though severely injured, didn't sink into depression or negativity, and returned to the battlefield, gave me for the life that I have today.
Many of us in recovery from substance abuse may not have visible physical handicaps. Our problem is nearly always emotional and spiritual. But if I look about me I can observe how others deal with the issues they face. I can use these good examples and find gratitude for everything in my life, including the challenges.
Different members of the group shared stories of how gratitude has fueled their recovery. One man was grateful because he hadn't drank or used drugs since he left prison. Another man was grateful for the halfway house that had accepted him after a period of homelessness.
One of my strong beliefs is that if I have gratitude then I will remain in recovery. It is difficult to relapse, I believe, if I am grateful for my circumstances. If I'm ungrateful I create fertile soil for anger, depression or negativity and allow these toxic emotions to creep into my life. It is difficult to drink or put drugs in our bodies while in a state of gratitude.
It's easy for me to find gratitude in everyday things. Yesterday I was reading a newspaper article about a young soldier who had lost his right leg below the knee in an explosion in Iraq. His primary concern was that once he recovered he would be able to return to the battlefield. He worked extremely hard in therapy to regain mobility. He exercised until he was able to run a mile with a 50 pound pack in less than eight minutes. His determination eventually earned him what he wanted. He is now serving as a captain in Afghanistan.
Stories like this illustrate the strength of the human spirit and help me realize that I can do whatever I want with my life if I have a strong desire. The idea that this young man, though severely injured, didn't sink into depression or negativity, and returned to the battlefield, gave me for the life that I have today.
Many of us in recovery from substance abuse may not have visible physical handicaps. Our problem is nearly always emotional and spiritual. But if I look about me I can observe how others deal with the issues they face. I can use these good examples and find gratitude for everything in my life, including the challenges.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)