Contributed by Michelle Overstreet
We hear a lot about opiates these days, as we build treatment programs and adjust our legal system to limit opiate prescriptions and manage addicts getting arrested. But this scourge goes far beyond Big Pharma and corrections. It impacts the very heart of our families and relationships, leaving a wake of broken hearts and discarded families. Those left in the wake need support and love, not harsh judgement and slang terms used to describe their loved ones.
Recently at the MY House drop-in center for homeless youth, a 17-year-old came in with a need for housing. This young person had found needles and drugs at home and confronted parents on their drug use, asking that they get help and terrified about the impact on their health, potential for overdose and death. The parents in this situation indicated to the youth that it was none of their concern, and the youth went to spend the night with a friend, bereft, afraid of losing his parents and not knowing what to do or where to get help.
Returning the next day, this young person found his parents were gone. They moved out and left no information on where they were going or where they could be reached. The week before school starts for a senior in high school. It’s hard to imagine the feelings of abandonment, sadness and grief that come from a situation like this. This young person is forced to grieve his parents even though they aren’t dead. They are lost, and seemingly chose the drugs over the child. This is addiction, and people do recover. But it’s a brutal path, and leaves many casualties along the way.
The stigma of addiction, the false beliefs and reactions of other people makes it challenging for families to talk openly about the impact on relationships. It’s hard to discuss trust and stability without judgement being passed and someone referring to the addict (parents in this case) as a “junkie” or another less-than-ideal term. No child wants to hear that, so they hold it inside and don’t talk about it. And sometimes deal with that pain by starting their own drug use.
“Prevention” in this case would be a support system that allows for open conversation, safety -both emotional and physical, and the opportunity to develop coping tools for relationships that hold the addict accountable and relieve the other family members from feeling responsible for the addiction. Relationship tools that continue to support and hold space for a connection, but create safety and non-chemical coping opportunities for the youth involved. Not kicking them when they are down, but keeping a distance to be healthy while supporting recovery for addiction.
This epidemic is not going away any time soon. A recent study showed that the prescription of opiates is not slowing down. And other research shows that 85% of all addicts started with a prescription. These drugs are brutally addictive; and when they run out, it’s not likely that a person will go straight to treatment. It’s a long road of trying to quit, shaking, sweating, aching and throwing up. And then finding a solution that circumvents the shame of the need for treatment.
As a community, let’s make that journey shorter. Let’s stop using terms that denigrate parents of 17-year-old youth, instead supporting them to receive help and loving them no matter what they say, until they can receive help. Let’s not shoot our wounded. Because in the end, that is what works. Caring enough to support the addict on their journey until they find sobriety, heal and return to be parents, spouses or the child that you once knew.
