Set the World On Fire

Two years ago, May 16, 2016, a Parks and Recreation worker was spraying for Zika Virus mosquitoes along a remote stretch of railroad tracks in Naperville, Illinois when he stumbled across my brother's body.

My brother, Michael, was a sweet boy, bright and capable, who grew up to become haunted by the same disease of addiction that plagues so many of us. He revolved in and out of 12-Step programs acquiring various lengths of sobriety, but the "switch" never fully turned on for him. He would cycle through periods of pink cloud levitation, followed by bone-crushing falls into the crevasse of use and abuse. He would estrange himself from us, his family, during those low periods. It would not be unusual for six months to go by without hearing from him at all. And we knew what was going on. We knew.

I recently spoke at an event hosted by the Delray Beach Drug Task Force called, Sud Talks. It was billed as 20 speakers and artists sharing their collective wisdom and expertise on addiction, delivering "Beacons of Hope," to those struggling with addiction, and their loved ones. Admittedly, I was humbled when I was selected to share a stage with the likes of William Moyers, Heather Hayes and Daryl Strawberry as a "thought leader," because, in my mind, I am and always will be just an addict. However, I have developed some skills and tools over the years that I believe have some value to those who are seeking answers, so I accepted.

I selected the topic of "The Reluctant Hero: Why Addicts Refuse Help." I suppose I was thinking about my brother, Michael.

The term, "The Reluctant Hero," was coined by Joseph Campbell in his landmark body of research titled, The Hero with a Thousand Faces, published in 1949. Campbell traveled the globe and collected the world's myths, legends, folktales and religious parables and found that since the beginning of time, there has been a universal process human beings have created to express the Heroic Journey in our stories. He found that in order to achieve a difficult goal or task, the Hero must successfully traverse this succession of milestones; if he or she does not...bad things await. He poured this collective wisdom drawn from all cultures, across all time, into his book, The Hero with a Thousand Faces, and the model he presents therein has become a ubiquitous template for popular movies, fiction, plays and novels.

I revisited Campbell's book about eight years into my recovery, and it spoke to me on a deeper level than I could have expected. Reading through the steps of the Heroic Journey, I noticed how completely aligned it was to my own recovery process. I became so fascinated with his model that I began urging other addicts to share their stories with me to see if they were likewise aligned with the model. They were. Even more interesting, when I came across a "failure" story, an addict's history that included relapse, we could identify where the model broke down; one of the steps had been missed, or two of the steps had been taken out of order. Further along, I found that this model held true for anyone, not just addicts like myself, who were on a journey to achieve ANY difficult goal or task. In other words, the journey that an addict is on to stay clean, is the same as a law student studying for the bar, or the Olympic athlete, training for a gold medal run. We all need the same things to succeed. Without them, we fail.

Its this universality that clarifies the title of Campbell's book, The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Campbell shares with us that since the beginning, throughout all history and culture, there has only been one hero, and only one heroic journey that is reenacted over and over and over again. The only thing that changes are the costumes and the masks - a hero with a thousand faces.

Campbell first mentions the "Reluctant Hero," in the first step of the journey; The Call to Adventure. He makes the point that heroes do NOT want to go on adventures because it interrupts the smooth flow of our lives. We are busy! We have caller ID so we can gate-keep the incoming calls to ensure we don't inadvertently step into an unwanted Call to Adventure.

How many times have you had a real problem creep up at work, you were in dire need of heroes coming forward to give you a hand, you put the call to adventure out there and all you hear are...crickets? It happens! Hero's do not want to go on the adventure because it interrupts the smooth flow of our lives.

We see this over and over again in myth, legend, folktale and religious parable. God tells Noah to build a boat. Noah pushes back and says, "Hey, there is no water for thousands of cubits, and I have neighbors." God says, "Accidents happen all the time, Noah. People lose their friends, their families, their lives. If I were you, I'd build the boat." Suddenly, Noah is out there with a stone hammer and some nails.

Moses gets the call to adventure, "Hey, Moses, I want you take some friends of mine out for a walk." Moses responds by saying, "But I'm not worthy, its very sandy out there and I'm wearing sandals..." God lights up a burning bush. "Okay, I'll do it!"

The hero does not want to go on the adventure. We don't keep giant white spaces in our calendars open so we can just accept journeys willy-nilly. We have to be convinced to go. We have to be cajoled into going. We have to have a burning bush thrown down at our feet to get our asses moving.

And this is true for the addict.

I have spoken with dozens of Interventionists over time and I have asked them all if they had ever shown up to an intervention to find the addict waiting for them with their bags packed, greeting them at the door, ready to race them to the treatment center? Almost never.

Going on the journey to recovery interrupts the smooth flow of an addict's life. Yes, to an addict, life smoothly flows over the chaos and chasms, through danger and din. Jim Carroll in his book, The Basketball Diaries, said, "Junk is just another nine to five gig in the end, only the hours are a bit more inclined towards shadows." The flow begins with the addict contemplating getting the drug. How to get it. How to pay for it. The addict takes the drug. Experiences the drug. Even through the euphoria, the addict begins contemplating where they will get the drug next. How to get it. How to pay for it. The addict reenacts this ritual, this journey to "bliss," over and over and over again until it is the smooth flow of their lives. The wreckage left in the wake is collateral damage, acceptable losses.

So, what is the burning bush? What signal can we throw down at the foot of the addict we love that will convince and cajole them into going on the journey? I reveal the sum total of my wisdom to you in this response; I don't know.

I don't. Furthermore, no one does. Further-furthermore, if anyone tells you that they do, they are a liar. And you are best to steer clear of their charlatanism.

I can tell you precisely what it is not. Shrugging our shoulders in response to the stonewalled reluctance of our "addict hero," and telling ourselves, "I guess I'm going to have to wait until she hits bottom before she will be willing to get help." I call B.S. on that. Do you know what your addict's bottom is? There is no abuse so terrifying that an addict will not suffer through, there is no loss so great that an addict will not endure, there is no amount of danger that an addict will not risk on their quest to the bottom. When we step back, allowing our addict to hit bottom, we hang the Sword of Damocles above their heads.

On May 16th, 2016, my brother hit bottom. I can only imagine what fresh hell of psychological pain drew him along that lonesome stretch of railroad tracks in suburban Chicago, wearing two fentanyl patches on his chest, to take a knife to his own throat. I myself have walked up to that precipice more than once, but my psychological pain never quite eclipsed my fear of physical pain to propel me to jump. Michael's did.

Michael's decision was his own. I am not responsible for the choice he made. However, this I do know. I left some bushes unburned. There were calls I could have made. There were resources within the community I could have leveraged. There were long stretches of silence I could have broken through . I did not have to sit back and wait for him to hit bottom; I needed to help raise it. That, I own.

My advice to you in how to break through the reluctance of the "addict hero" is to turn every stone. Access every resource. Social workers, counselors, therapists, police, court systems, clergy, interventionists, DCFS, education consultants, employers, family members, childhood friends, yoga instructors, you never know what or who is going to flip the switch for your addict! Never give up. Bring the gasoline.

If your addict cannot see the burning bush you set before them, I say, light the whole world on fire.