What is Family Therapy for Addiction, & How Can It Help MY Family?
Addiction family therapists believe that problems exist between people, not within them. Try to understand and validate experiences of all family members to get to the root issues.
Editor’s Note: We’re excited to welcome back award-winning author James Brown to the Intervene community. Earlier this month James released his latest book This River, a memoir providing an honest portrait of an addict and his new struggles with sobriety, relapse and becoming a better father. This book provides a great opportunity for discussion with other parents as well as with your child suffering with an addiction. We are giving away two free copies of This River to two lucky commenters — please see the end of this post for details.
In many ways, This River: A Memoir, is a follow up to my last memoir, The Los Angeles Diaries, which gained a strong following among many young people, at least in part because the material revolves around drug and alcohol abuse. This River picks up where my last left off, describing my once tenuous relationship with sobriety, telling of agonizing relapses, and tracing my attempts to become a better father. It has been considered by some a heartbreaking and at times uplifting tale of my battles, peeking into my former life as an addict and alcoholic, and detailing my subsequent ascent to sobriety and fight for redemption.
I wrote This River for many of the same reasons I wrote The Los Angeles Diaries. I felt compelled to tell the truth about my life, and how drugs and alcohol destroyed so much of it, leaving me lost and alienated from those whom I most loved, my wife and children. I certainly don’t glamorize or romanticize drugs and alcohol, and I like to believe that some people who have struggled with addiction, especially those with their whole lives still ahead of them, have come to respect my work for telling it like it is. I’ve been asked by dozens of colleges where, to my delight, my book has been used as a class text, and many times I’ve been approached afterward by a student with his or her own story to share, and thanking me for sharing mine. Not only is that a tremendous, wonderful honor, but it makes spending all those long hours alone in a room writing my memoirs worth every second.
A brief excerpt from This River from a piece titled “Instructions on the Use of Alcohol”:
You’re young, maybe 9 or 10, and your parents are throwing a party. All the adults are laughing and talking too loudly, in general having a good time, and you put two and two together. What makes them happy comes out of those bottles on the kitchen counter.
The brown ones, you learn soon enough, contain whiskey and scotch. The clear ones hold vodka and gin and that odd-shaped bottle with the long neck, something called Midori, contains a thick, syrupy green liquid. That’s the one that intrigues you most, and when the adults aren’t looking you pour yourself a glass. You sneak it into your room. You lock the door. At first you sniff at it, and because it doesn’t smell so good you pinch your nostrils shut before you take a swallow.
It burns the back of your throat. It makes your eyes water. You shake your head, and for a few minutes, until the alcohol takes effect, you can’t understand how anyone in their right mind could drink this stuff. But then a tingling sensation begins to spread through your chest, your face is warm and flushed, and you’re suddenly light headed. You feel good, you feel great. It’s as if you’ve made a major discovery, a real inroad to the secret of a good life, and it only makes sense that if one drink has this effect on you that a second will make you feel even better. You finish the glass and sneak another. You repeat this action several more times.
In the morning, you wake with a miserable headache, you’re nauseous, too, and right then and there you swear never again to so much as look at a bottle of booze. But what the seasoned drinker knows that the apprentice does not is that those of us predisposed to alcoholism are hardwired to quickly forget our unfortunate drinking experiences. Next time you get the chance, you’ll do the same thing all over again. Drunk, you find yourself smarter and funnier and stronger and braver and even better looking.
For the budding alcoholic, booze seems to do more for you than it does for others, and your only regret, at least to date, is that you didn’t come across this miracle potion sooner.
You’re older now, maybe 15 or 16, and what currently interests you is marijuana and the intrigue that surrounds it. You enjoy scoring weed behind the high school bleachers. You enjoy showing off to your friends how well you can roll a joint, and because the dope world has its own language, all the slang and clever code words, you feel special when you speak it.
Then one day you try to connect with that kid behind the bleachers, the guy with all the Bob Marley stickers on his notebook, and it isn’t happening.
“It’s bone-dry out there,” he says. “Drought season, man.”
But he does have something else, if you’re interested, this stuff he calls blow. “It’s good shit,” he tells you.
And as it happens with your first drink, so it is with the coke. It makes you feel great. It makes you stronger and smarter and braver and even better looking, and you dismiss those lies you’ve heard about coke being addicting. Getting hooked is for weaklings, for losers, though you can see how the stuff might drain your bank account, since the rush is so short, and the more you use, the more it takes to get high.
For the budding addict, the supply is never enough, but your own regret, at least to date, is that you didn’t come across this miracle potion sooner.
To read more from James Brown, read his previous post When It Comes to Addiction, There are No Simple Answers.
WIN a free copy of This River, a new memoir by award-winning author James Brown. HOW TO ENTER: Leave a comment responding to James’ post with a valid e-mail address and two winners will be chosen at random at the end of this giveaway. This giveaway ends Friday April 22 @ 5 PM EST. US only.