Denial and Defensiveness

 

Denial and Defensiveness

 

 

I had the opportunity to go back to Caron Treatment Centers on Martin Luther King Jr. Day.  The counselor that treated me on the relapse unit and I have kept in touch and I have been back a couple of times to speak so it was natural to spend the day in service.

I came a bit early and waited in the patient lounge for the counselor to finish with some phone calls.  The patients had been in a lecture and drifted into the lounge all clamoring for coffee.  Most rehab centers drastically cut down on caffeine and sugar for the patients and this tends to send people into immature desperation.  I introduced myself to people there as they came in and they were curious to figure out who I was and why I was there.  I mentioned the counselor that I was there to meet and one woman asked if I was going to be a part of their 10 am group session and I told her I thought I was.

During that time, one of the assistant counselors came in and I recognized him from my stay previously.  He looked at me and I said hello and that I remembered him.  He said, “I thought I recognized you.  Where is your luggage hun?”  He thought I was back after another relapse.  I laughed and said that I was most definitely going to be able to leave at the end of the day!

I had the opportunity to observe the patients interact.  One woman was busy managing everyone else as though she were a cruise director rather than a patient.  Her denial was so deep.  It seemed easier for her to direct others and orchestrate rather than be inside her own head where she needed to be doing some serious thinking.

Another few patients were so young it broke my heart.  As younger patients do, they seemed more interested in flirting than in getting better.  They are in a different stage of life than the older patients.  They still think they are invincible, where the older patients are more desperate and more resigned to their fate for the most part.

My counselor came to get me at about 9:45 am and we de-briefed in her office before group.  The idea was for me to share my story and experiences with recovery in a casual fashion, allowing for questions as I went along.  We went into the group room where there were about 18 patients sitting in a circle.  I sat among them and was introduced.

I started with a timeline of struggles that I had had from childhood through alcoholism and relapse.  I talked about being molested and growing up with an alcoholic father and a mentally ill mother.  I talked about meeting Frank and how he had from the beginning been a major part of my focus.  I talked about infertility and Frank’s cancer along with Liam’s dramatic birth, his subsequent diseases and ultimate death.  I went on to talk about further infertility and then the birth of both Dermot and Wren.  I talked about gastric bypass surgery and my rapid decline into full-blown alcoholism.  It talked about my first rehab and release to studying to be a certified addiction counselor as well as my relapse and entrance into Caron.  I spoke of my struggles after Caron in moving to the recovery house and the apartment.  I talked about the problems Frank and I had had in trying to reconcile and our ultimate decision to divorce.  I talked about my spiritual journey and the depths that my addiction has brought me down to, the things I did that I can no longer fathom.

There was a lot to say and I held nothing back.  I was rocked by some of their questions and saddened by the grip that addiction still had on their thinking. 

Some were parents like me and concerned their significant others would react as Frank had and ask them not to return home straight away.  I told them that even though I did not see it at the time, the act of not allowing me home at the start ended up being such a huge gift.  I explained that it allowed me time to figure out who I really was and the space to work on myself and my recovery.  They didn’t seem to get it

Some other parents were curious about the custody arrangement that Frank and I have right now.  I explained that we have 50-50 custody but that I had made a decision to have the kids remain with Frank during the week so that they have a home base where they feel safe and from where they did not have to shuttle back and forth so much.  I explained that I would go over a few nights a week and we would trade off weekends and that we still plan to do some things together as a family.  One man asked me why I wasn’t enforcing my right to have them half the time.  I explained that just because I have the right to have them with me 50% of the time, it didn’t mean it was the right thing to do.  I told them that I had to face the fact that throughout all of my comings and goings with addiction since late 2011, Frank has been their constant.  He and his home have been their stability and there is no way I am going to take that away from them.  They didn’t seem to get it.

A couple of them pointed out that I had stood by Frank when he had cancer and wasn’t I resentful that Frank had not stood by me in my addiction.  I explained that yes they are both diseases but they are vastly different in their natures.  No matter how you cut it, addiction hurts those around you, it destroys trust and really can’t be compared in that fashion to cancer.  I also pointed out that it wasn’t as though Frank had left me homeless and starving on the street.  I pointed out that he had brought me to Caron and he had paid for me to go to the recovery house and that he had supported me until I got on my feet.  They didn’t seem to get it.

Then I was rocked by two patients.  They were hung up on my not being allowed to go home.  They couldn’t seem to understand why Frank would not trust me initially.  I explained again that I had driven the kids while I was drunk.  Their response was to say, “So what?”  I was astounded.  The counselor was astounded as well and minced no words in calling one woman on it.  The woman got very defensive and told the counselor she would not be spoken to like that.  I said to her, “What do you mean, “So what?”  I lost a child.  I held my son in my arms as he died.  I know what it is like to grieve for a child and so does Frank, and then I put our two subsequent children in terrible danger.  I could have killed them.  I could have killed Frank’s kids!”  I tried to explain that Frank had done what my parents should have done when I was a kid.  He protected his kids from danger and I had to come and accept the fact that, at the time, I was that danger.  I tried to explain that they were going to have to come to grips with the fact that they are that danger in their families’ lives.  They didn’t seem to get it.

After the session was over, one man came over and asked me how I talk to my kids about addiction.  I told him that I tell them the truth and that I felt I owed that to them.  He has a son who is 9 and he feels that to talk to his son about his cocaine addiction would scare his son.  I looked him in the eye and told him that his son was not stupid.  His son has seen him at his worst and likely has already been scared.  His son is in a genetic pool that makes is more likely that he himself will become addicted to some substance or another and is therefore in more need than most children of knowledge and education.  His son is in need of open communication.  I suggested gently that perhaps he wasn’t really trying to protect his son, but rather protect himself from having to admit to his child that he was sick.

I left grateful that I am no longer in denial of what is happening in my life.  I left being able to measure just how far I have come in the nearly two years since I entered the facility.  I left hoping that just one of the patients that I had spoken to will remember what I said at some point along their journey to recovery. Their defensiveness and denial are going to keep them sick.  If they don’t learn to accept facts as they are and not look away from the reality of their situation, they are in serious trouble.  I hope for them to have the opportunity to live free of shame and guilt and look the world in the eye.  Bu they won’t be able to do that until they walk through their own fire.