WHAT IS A "FUNCTIONING" ADDICT?

 Just what is a “Functioning Addict”?

When people think of your standard issue “drug addict”, I believe they picture someone curled up in the fetal position in a crack house that has been on a binger for the last 5 days; possibly, someone unkempt, disheveled, and generally in need of some personal hygiene. Employment and contributions to society are either non-existent, or minimal. To me, this is definitely someone “non-functioning”.

As a functioning addict, I arose on time, shaved, went to work every day, and from the perspective and perception of all outside spectators I was a law-abiding citizen and contributing to society in a positive manner.  I went to church every Sunday, paid my taxes, got the kids ready for bed, mowed the lawn, and worked on my “honey-do” list on the weekend.  Was I a better person and less addicted then the aforementioned? Absolutely not.

In fact, I would argue, I was worse. I was living a life of deception and surreptitious behavior. At least the non-functioning drug addict, consciously or not, had the decency to commit themselves 100% to their debauchery.  I, on the other hand, was expending colossal amounts of energy hiding my addiction and attempting to live a double life, pretending that “all is well” in Garyland.  Oh, it worked for a while. As I lost touch with the reality I projected, and more deeply embraced the true and absolute reality of my addiction, I couldn’t see that everyone around me knew I was chemically aloof.  I actually believed I was pulling it off. I began to isolate from my family and be a recluse at work. I stopped answering or returning phone calls.  I lost my ambitions and never made plans or set goals.  I literally lived from one dose to the next. My job performance plummeted, and my once busy social life began to slide into lethargy. People just knew I wasn’t “me” and didn’t want to be around me.  This perpetuated my isolation and anti-social behavior.  I was physically where I needed to be when I needed to be there, but all sense of purpose and desire to do so was absent.  All of my motives changed.  I could “act” friendly for small increments of time but only to gain trust or intel on how I could use the relationship to continue in my addiction.  It was a terrible shift from light to dark while passing through many shades of grey.

This terrible shift did not begin when I was 12; it began when I was 35! My consummate pursuit of professionalism and respect were replaced with the only worthwhile pursuit in life…chemically altering my mind to hide from feeling emotional pain, guilt, shame, and remorse of the soul.  I knew I was hurting others, but I came first. My addiction. My friend.  My ONLY priority in life was to ensure that I had enough “pain management” to get me through the next day.

I have learned that there are so many of us that are self-medicating to hide from our underlying issues and struggles in life.  We will continue to do so until we have tallied up enough bad karma and life decides to call our tab due. We are skilled professionals.  We are educated.  We are soccer moms.  We are civil servants.  We are housewives.  We are church members.  We are leaders in our careers and our community.  We are family and friends.  We are in pain and we hurt others. We are sorry.  We love you. We are cracked and breaking and running out of duct tape.  We need help, not scorn.

                  We are “FUNCTIONING ADDICTS”.

WE ARE ALL TAKING A DIFFERENT TEST

QUESTION: What comes at the end of a sentence?

MY ANSWER: An appeal.

First Day in State Prison (after 9 months in County Jail)

When you are obligated to disclose, at times, that you are a convicted felon people have a tendency to raise their eyebrows and politely, or otherwise, “distance” themselves from you socially or professionally.  I think it’s just easier to put people in a neat little box and keep them there, never allowing them to change and grow.  You can call it categorizing or stereotyping but to me it’s all the same.  It’s following the path of least resistance because it takes no effort to exercise empathy, compassion or attempt to look beyond the surface of their circumstances. 

On the other hand, I don’t believe in the absolute translation of  “Judge not, that ye be not judged”.  It is absolutely imperative that we all “judge” to some extent.  It is for our own survival and the safety of those we love.  We must judge many times a day what we consider to be right or wrong.  Our decisions and subsequent behavior is based on our own personal verdict. 

I prefer the translation of; “Judge not unrighteously, that ye be not judged; but judge righteous judgment.” This type of judgment is not a foolish or hasty stereotypical judgment. A wise friend once told me it is best to be “Wise as an owl, yet gentle as a lamb.”

I learned after over 6 years in State Prison that there are many good people locked up. There are also many people I feel should never get out. We were all there based on somebody else’s judgment of our behavior, be it jury or secular judge. Some have permanent chemical imbalances; some were temporarily chemically imbalanced; some are just wired for criminal behavior, and some just had ONE really bad day.  All of my poor choices were made while temporarily chemically imbalanced due to my own selfishness.  Once the fog of addiction began to lift, I was able to see more clearly that what got me there was not my natural or default persona.

STORY TIME:  I was sitting with a group of fine, upstanding fellows in my “Gated Community” discussing various topics of life and life incarcerated.  A certain inmate, suffering from severe narcissism, spoke up with a rather copious amount of “righteous indignation” and arrogantly stated, “I have never done a single drug in my entire life.  You guys are here because you’re a bunch of drug addicts.” Oh, how easy it is to justify yourself by comparing yourself to others. This is a dangerous position to take, especially when you are all in the same place, wearing the same clothes, within the same walls. My response to him was direct and framed off of his own pretentious statement. “So, what you’re telling us is that WE are here because we demonstrated poor, unlawful behavior while our brains were chemically altered.  YOU, on the other hand, are here because you demonstrated poor, unlawful behavior while stone cold sober. Which one of us is the real criminal?”

First Day Out!

The simple fact is that we are all here on earth.  We are all supposed to deal with life and the trials that accompany it.  Tragedy, heartache, sadness, joy, and success are disbursed to all, however, not equally.  Remember this before you judge someone: WE ARE ALL TAKING A DIFFERENT TEST! We are all unique individuals with different tendencies, propensities, strengths, and weaknesses.  Problems arise when we start to grade somebody else’s paper. We place our expectations of them on their trials not knowing the complete chemical and internal makeup of the individual. Oh, we think we do. We feel we have all the necessary information to judge or condemn. For me, the only one who has ALL of the information, thus the right to grade our tests in life is our Father in Heaven.  HE knows us completely.  No mortal possesses all the variables factored into our judgment.  Would you place an Olympic athlete and a Special Olympic athlete in the same 100m race and declare one the “winner” and one the “loser?”  They both did their best with what they were given. What is expected of them in the SAME RACE is vastly different. Thus, it should be with our own trials of addiction, divorce, death, mourning, depression, anger…the list is endless. We can help our brothers and sisters by uplifting and helping them achieve their “best effort”.

Not all trials in life are to be overcome decisively and triumphantly; conquering our tribulation, then celebrating on the shoulders of our friends and family to the sounds of cheering and a ticker-tape parade.

The hard truth in life is that some trials were placed in our lives for us to merely survive.  Broken, beaten, fatigued, bloody, alone…but alive. Just getting through it.  We are scored simply as a PASS or FAIL.  As Gordon B. Hinckley stated, “We only fail when we STOP TRYING!”

WHAT IN THE WORLD DID YOU DO ??

 The FIRST time I was arrested I was processed in the County Jail and bailed out within 4 hours.  The circus I came home too was jaw dropping. 

BACKSTORY: While coming down and crashing from my euphoria, I had entered into an acquaintance’s house to ‘appropriate’ their pain medication. (It’s really called stealing). Since I assumed nobody was home, I thought I would just let myself in. (That, boys and girls, is called Buuurglary) Once inside, I discovered that my acquaintance was sleeping on the couch. My subsequent entry had alerted and riled the sentries. (Several little doggies)  I found myself face to face with my newly awakened homeowner and did my very best to “talk my way out of it.” In my sick mind I spun a quick tale, that I had heard some sort of distress call and entered to make sure everyone was O.K.  I may have had the advantage by being scared out of my wits and speaking rapidly to a groggy victim. (Yes, victim) I left for home and breathed a massive sigh of relief realizing the close call.  As the afternoon progressed, I felt pretty good about what a nice guy I was to check in on my acquaintance and enter her home, obviously putting myself in great danger by springing into action in the face of a possible distress call.  Then came the knock on the door; my heartbeat went from 70-140 in a nano-second…”Hello, Officer.  What can I do for you?”

He calmly stated, “Hi Gary, I’m here to talk to you about your addiction.” What happened next is a story in itself. The abridgement is that I was asked if I would be willing to come down to the station and discuss my addiction issues in order to “help myself”.  I believe the exact quote from the Officer at my door was, “Don’t worry. Nothing legal is going to come of this.”  I was reminded that, as a firefighter, we were all on the same side and the hand extended was a professional courtesy.  I collected my wife and drove down on my own to the Police Department to get the “help” I needed.

INTERJECTION: I feel the methods employed by the local law enforcement were marginally ethical at best. In fact, I harbored resentment and, at times, rage for their manipulation. I wanted it all to end. The lie had gone on too long. I was full of shame and guilt. They knew it and took full advantage of it. Nevertheless, this was the first day of reckoning (more were to come) that began the extremely painful process of healing and learning. It was the debridement of the soul, so to speak. It is the painful scouring and scrubbing of open flesh to remove all of the road grime and foreign particles in order to bring about effective healing. Whether Law Enforcement’s motives were pure or punitive in nature, makes no difference to me now. It was a blessing.

After spilling my guilt-ridden soul for hours in an interview room at the police station, I felt exhausted. Cried out. Depleted of all energy. I told them EVERYTHING I had done; taking medication from my patient’s as a paramedic; entering friends houses while they were away; false prescriptions; speeding; wearing white after Labor Day; I think I even admitted to multiple jaywalking offenses when I was seven years old. I purged my soul and was ready to start over.

LESSON TIME: The place to share your soul is in the Bishop’s office, confession booth, or local clergy…NOT THE POLICE DEPARTMENT.  If your sins or wrongdoings are sufficient to warrant (pun) law enforcement intervention, they will help you do so with love, helping you muster the courage to do what is right and supporting you along the way.  True men of God see things through with love.

I was then asked to please stand up and place my hands behind my back.  My “help” was just beginning.  In short, I was being secretly interviewed on a hidden camera. The tape was sent to my Fire Chief. I was sent to County Jail for processing. A collection began from friends and loved ones to gather bail money and secure an attorney. Unbeknownst to me, the Police Chief hosted a news interview in front of the police station stating, in effect, that they had apprehended a firefighter for multiple residential burglaries in the small town of 8,000 where I had resided.  When I had bailed out and returned home, I walked right into a three-ring circus.  There were three news vans parked in front of my home.  I had reporters ambushing me from behind trees on my lawn asking for a statement. I had to go inside, lock the door, draw the shades, and retreat to my bedroom. Thinking I was free from immediate humiliation, and public ridicule, I caught a glimpse of the TV.  There I was…a picture of me in my firefighter ‘Class A’ dress uniform on my own TV in my bedroom. I saw a reporter with my house in the background telling of the “Firefighter predator” that had stalked and preyed on the neighborhoods.  I was physically ill. My young children were curious as to the commotion.  “Wow Dad, did you save someone’s life?”

 ‘No, Son.’ Softly.

 My wife was in tears and a state of panic. ‘Now what?’ I asked myself…’What do I do now?’

The next day I visited one of the three most prominent defense attorneys in the region with an envelope filled with retainer money (none of it mine). He was no stranger to high profile cases, especially those driven by the media. Apparently his phone had been ringing off the hook all morning. Upon entering his office, he stood and said, “WHOM did you kill?” 

‘Nobody, Sir.’ I replied.

 “Then, What in the world did you do?”

ADVICE TO LOVED ONES

Nobody wakes up one morning and says, “Hey, today I think I’ll become addicted to drugs!” (At least I hope not)  I don’t believe children consciously set a life goal to become addicted to anything.  Once in the grips of addiction I believe most of us don’t want to be there at all.  I certainly didn’t.  It doesn’t happen in one moment.  It is a series of choices that enslave you.  

Much of the world believes that you can “Just stop it!”  Guess what? If it was a series of choices, justifications, and concessions that put you in that hole then, logically, it will take a series of choices, resolutions, and perseverance to get you out.  Basic math.

Unfortunately, not all people have the tools, avenues, guidance, and inner fortitude to do it on their own. In fact, I would say almost every body does not.  Our attitude will determine which of these elements we will seek for change and healing. Our attitude towards our addiction changes as our circumstances change.  For some, consequences are of no importance. For others, consequences drive us to seek change.  This is called “hitting your bottom.”  It is a different place for every individual.  My “bottom” may not be your “bottom”. This is a very personal place where you have a grand realization or, “A-ha! Moment” in your life that; the pain of the problem is worse than the pain of the solution.

It is said that untreated addiction will lead us to only three places:

1) Jails

2) Institutions; or

3) Death.

Well, I’m 2 out of 3 now and came dang close to the third more than once.

It is a slide that, for me, was so gradual I didn’t recognize the changes in my life happening so subtly. I was like the frog in the pot of water on the stove.  When the temperature increases so gradually that it goes unrecognized, before you know it, you’re boiled alive. 

I haven’t decided, at this point, whether a graphic re-telling of my mistakes would be therapeutic.  I do know that I want to focus on the possibility of emerging victorious.  I also understand that to comprehend the extent of my joy, you must, to some degree, comprehend the extent of my misery.  My behavior constituted an egregious violation of trust, both public and personal.  The wake of destruction that I had left was wide and thorough.

I would like to share one thought to anyone who has been harmed by addiction, especially at the hands of those we love. Being addicted to something…ANYthing, does not mean we love our wives, children, friends, or Savior any less.  It just means that our addiction makes it very difficult to demonstrate that love.  There is a tremendous amount of guilt and shame that is firmly affixed on our backs that is carried everywhere we go.  This is not justification; this is factual. Until we hit our “bottom”, we will inevitably build walls, isolate, deceive, and pretend.  It’s the only way to function in the midst of our personal chaos.

The best advice I can give anyone who has a loved one gripped in the bonds of addiction, and is continually hurt or betrayed by them is to STEP BACK. Don't drown yourself to save them. Take steps to protect yourself. Distance yourself from their addictive behaviors and, as hard as it may seem, allow natural consequences to occur.  Job, relationship, legal, and social consequences have a way of “helping” people find their bottom. There is a difference between being sorry that you got fired, broke a relationship, or got caught, and being sorry to the point that you’ll do whatever it takes to change.  The first is a list of false bottoms; the latter is the only true bottom. 

Thanks for reading,

Gary the Humbled

Next post: My “Bottom”

I HAD THE WORLD BY THE TAIL...

 Before I spiraled out of control like a vertiginous cyclone, I had it pretty darn well.  I joined the Marine Corps at age 17 and left for boot camp just 11 days after graduating from High School in 1984. I served honorably for over 4 years. I decided to serve a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints upon completion of my enlistment. I left to serve in Buenos Aires, Argentina for 2 years. During that time the deep sealing of my faith occurred.  I went to Paramedic School and placed very high in my class. I had a rigorous internship on the streets of Los Angeles. I married in the LDS temple, and started my beautiful family. I secured a career as a Firefighter/Paramedic and taught at the Fire Academy for years. I promoted and embarked on my career path. I began to serve in leadership callings at church at a fairly young age. We had enough money for our needs. My house was quaint, cozy, and cute.  We were the idealistic family. My parents were proud of me, my superiors valued me, my church leaders trusted me, and my children worshipped me. I was a faithful husband and law-abiding citizen. You could say that I was the epitome of “My future’s so bright, I gotta wear shades!”

On my gratitude pilgrimage (last post), I had the opportunity to speak to a man that I had known and admired very much since my youth.  He was, unfortunately, one of many victims in the path of “Cyclone Gary”. When we met and spoke last month, it had been nearly 10 years since we had seen each other. Over 6 of those years were spent in State Prison. He is not a particularly religious man, and forgiveness was not necessarily in his character or vocabulary. The reason for which he gave me for his anger and disappointment in my behavior stirred my heart and soul, for I had never seen things from this perspective. The conversation went something like this. “Gary, do you know what infuriated me the most about your ordeal?” My head cocked sideways, I was prepared to hear of some deep personal pain I had inflicted because I had stolen from him. Not So. He stated, “You had the world by the tail.  You were the ‘Golden Boy’. People would do anything for you. I could not fathom how you were so fortunate yet allowed this to happen to you.  You had friends and resources. At some point you knew you were in trouble and weren’t smart or strong enough to ask for help before it ended up in such a catastrophe.”  I had no immediate response, but the conversation festered within me for weeks.

For all of the strength it takes to accept your shortcomings, be accountable for your actions and change; for all of the time and energy I expended in prison scrutinizing my choices and consequences; this perspective never entered my mind. Why didn’t I exhibit the necessary strength to avoid rather than repair? I have only reached two definite conclusions that occupied my character at the time of my moral demise…1) I GROSSLY underestimated the power of addiction and my adversary; and 2) As the ‘Golden Boy’, I knew of a certainty that I was immune to harsh consequences and was of the basic mindset; “It will never happen to me.”

So there I sat in my perfect life eager to claim the future lifestyle and respect I was sure to come.  Oh how ignorant I was. Things were about to change, and change they did.