Compassion at all times?

As an inclusion leader, I constantly strive to find neutrality and balance in everything I hear and say, but this week I took a pause because someone shared something that made me uncomfortable. We were pausing to reflect on the anniversary of the murder of George Floyd and someone suggested that it was not really appropriate to mark the occasion, given that ‘ he was high on drugs.’ It made me start to question whether we consider the impact of those words, what if I was an addict, what if I had a family member who is struggling with an addiction to drugs or alcohol, what if I had a colleague that fights hard every day to say sober and needs my compassion and understanding, rather than my judgement.

Well I do have a friend who was brave enough to tell me their story and I feel that it’s a topic that we could be more compassionate about and learn more about.

Outwardly my friend has a fantastic life, loving partner, career, kids and a nice house. But they are an alcoholic. When I heard their story I found myself saying “but you don’t look like an alcoholic …” But what does an alcoholic (or addict) look like? My friend doesn’t have stained trousers with string in the belt loop and carrying their possessions in a carrier bag. They are not on skid row. But they have an illness that still carries massive stigma in society which means that very often people suffer in silence, never asking for help and often die trying to prove they don’t have a problem.

I was curious to know more about addiction means – what is it like to live with an addiction to alcohol, drugs, gambling? My friend described it as losing the power to control their drinking. At some point (which they think was 10 years before they finally stopped) they crossed an invisible line which meant they were no longer in control of what and how they drank. Every decision they made was then filtered through an invisible liquor bottle. For years they struggled with trying to understand why they had got so drunk again. Dealing with the anger from family and colleagues when yet another occasion had been spoiled by them getting drunk. Why can’t you just stop? Time and again waking up full of fear and dread about what had happened the night before.

My friend shared some of the darkness they went through in this period. The loathing of themselves, the emptiness inside, the constant turmoil in their head – “I’ve done it again”. Alcohol had robbed them of so much – but the most important thing it had robbed them of was their self-respect. Everyone has a different bottom to hit – but when my friend hit theirs, they spoke about being thrown off the carousel of life – their best friend (alcohol) had left them, and they didn’t know what to do. They were standing at the crossroads an empty shell.

For my friend they found the solution in Alcoholics Anonymous, which is an amazing fellowship of men and women which has been going since 1939. This has given them a programme in their life, a roadmap for living one day at a time. It also gave them hope. Seeing happy smiling faces in meetings where there were people from all walks of life, it gave my friend hope that there was a solution.

I asked them why they hadn’t asked for help before. They explained that to an addict,in the grip of their addiction ,help is a dirty word. You can’t ask for help. They spoke of the shame, the fear of being judged, the stigma with admitting a drink problem. They had to be broken by alcohol for them to finally reach out for help and admit they couldn’t do it anymore.

My friend has been sober a while now but they still don’t talk about their drink problem unless pushed. It’s interesting to hear them say that people still find it hard to accept why my friend can’t just have one drink. That drink that gets pushed into their hand at parties and dinners – “go on, one won’t kill you”. But the thing is it probably will. For an alcoholic it’s the first drink that kills you, not the 100th. That’s because the first drink sets off a chain reaction that results in total loss of control and potential oblivion. I never understood that until it was explained to me. But it’s interesting that if someone has a peanut allergy or is lactose intolerant we tell the restaurant or make it clear before hand. But yet we wouldn’t mention that we had a drink problem so can’t take any alcohol.

Then my friend explained a simple occurrence that they have seen happen many times but one which continues to prevent people with alcohol problems or addictions from speaking up …… how many times have you been at a seminar or meeting and there is a circle of chairs and someone pipes up “it’s been 7 days since my last drink …” and everyone laughs. My friend has experienced this many times yet never ever speaks up and calls it out. Why? Shame. Fear of judgement. But if someone came into that same meeting in a wheelchair or with some other illness nobody would feel it was appropriate to make fun of it. But yet we make fun of the “alkies”.

Society has come a long way recently in our levels of tolerance and understanding but in some cases it is clear there is a long way to go before we can truly encourage those with addictions to speak up and be open without fear of judgement. Until then sadly many will die in silence trying to prove they don’t have a problem.

So the next time, you pull your seat up at the circle of trust, consider who might be sitting next to you and try for  the compassionate, inclusive choice of words.