A Personal Story

A personal episode brings a deeper perspective

Empathy is the capacity to think and feel oneself into the inner life of another person 

-- Heinz Kohut

Working with and writing about addiction and substances takes one in all kinds of directions. We look at subjects as diverse as the Sundance Film Festival, MRI brain scans, government policy, and corporate philosophy, to name a few recent topics. But today, it is personal and comes from an entirely unexpected (and unwelcome) direction. It shows up in the form of an allergy attack complicated by a sinus infection; all going on while work needs to be done. This illness comes on while there's a delinquent 'to-do' piece needed on the theme of people with addictions report feeling like another person is inside them and taking over their lives.

This attack started as a small inconvenience, but grew to significant proportions and, in the process, has given me a stark reminder of the experiences of many who are the focus of our work. (Note: I am not seeking sympathy and fully expect this thing to run its course and be a fading memory soon, but it has brought home some salient points that are worth sharing.)

First, the obvious: runny nose, watery eyes, low grade fever, coughing, sneezing, congestion, in a word, “misery.” The last time I felt like this, I was in the hospital. This time, we've loaded up on the OTC remedies, large quantities of juice and water, plenty of rest and all that.

The demands of work still are there and give no heed to illness. Colleagues who pay attention quickly notice the signs and keep a safe distance. Others don't, but out of courtesy I warn them, lest they might catch what I have – many an offered handshake is withdrawn. Several voice the reassurance that “Everybody's getting it.” No one says so, but I can't help feel that they'd prefer that I be somewhere else. And I would! Work is overwhelming and nothing seems to be getting accomplished.

I am a lousy patient and don't handle illness at all well. So, as the simplest chores become major challenges and desperation is setting in, I ask my wife for help. She takes on a load of duties, handles tasks that would usually be mine and keeps a respectful silence, except to remind me to take my medicine and keep warm. She is indeed a blessing. As the course of the illness reaches a peak and I am feeling helpless, weak, desolate, as well as miserable, I declare to her:

“If someone offered me a pill right now and promised that it would cure this, 

I'd take it in an instant, no questions asked ... no matter what it was!”

She has no response, just a stoic, patient, silence that (while she keeps a watchful eye on me) allows my anguish to run its course.

Which brings us to the point. Many with substance dependency problems describe being introduced to the source of their problem by the use of medication for a health problem. That is, they had no intention of becoming dependent on a drug, they just wanted relief from a condition or an easing of their pain. I was there, I felt the intensity of desire for something that would stop my suffering. I experienced the feeling that I was not in control of my life and body, that they had been wrested away from me and I had no hope of getting them back. In a word – desperation.

Likewise, my wife, who had done everything possible and suggested every imaginable remedy, knew when things had gone beyond her capacity to help. And at that point, she held her piece, and gave me the 'space' to get through the worst, most unbearable, moment. And, at that point, even though she was right there and could call for help (had any really been needed), she had the wisdom to let me work through the experience on my own.

We stress that every person's dependency or addiction is different. Everyone is an individual and 'cookie cutter' remedies should not be trusted until proven. In our experience, my wife knew, based on a decades-long marriage, what was right for me. She also, knew, that in spite of my complaints that we were in safe territory. With that said, however, the experience for me was no less real, no less frightening, no less painful. For those reasons, I feel that, for a brief time, I shared the desperation, loneliness and pain that is the norm for those to whom this work is dedicated.