Philip Seymour Hoffman: Chasing the Dragon

The outpouring of sadness, anger, and weirdness over the passing on the great actor Philip Seymour Hoffman has shone a bright light on the ugly realities of America's dysfunction around how we deal with (or deny) addiction.  Our love affair with the abusive spouses of booze and drugs is so warped and so distorted that it takes the death of a celebrity to bring it to the forefront.

But there are people who die every day from alcoholism and addiction. They die quiet, lonely deaths, and that is as much a tragedy as when a film star or rock star breathes their last due to these maladies.

Our so-called "drug war" is an impotent and destructive method of responding to the disease of addiction, and like any war it leaves the collateral damage of those it does not help, and often wounds or kills, in its wake. It is a war we are losing with every addict in prison, hospitals, or the cemetery, and to think we can win that war with the same tactics we have always used is insanity.

Hoffman was a talented, brilliant man, but it is not this which I am most stunned and saddened at in his relapse into heroin use and overdose. He amassed over 20 years clean and sober before he succumbed to his illness again, and that is mind boggling. The length of time you amass away from using those substances is no protection against their siren call. And the disease of addiction waits patiently.

As someone who has some experience with addictions myself, I know that I cannot become complacent in my recovery. I have a path that has served me well; total abstinence and service to others. But even that is not enough.

Years ago, a friend of mine who was not a celebrity but who had racked up quite a bit of time clean and sober relapsed around the use of pain medications. He kept trying to get clean again, but, like Hoffman, he kept returning to the demons that were killing him. After a short time, he overdosed alone in his apartment, like Hoffman, but without the fanfare and tributes that a well known actor receives. His death was an important reminder to me of the folly of thinking "this time will be different." I honor him, and Hoffman, by remembering that lesson. Both of them had the same opportunity to get well. Both of them couldn't do it, and the price they paid was their lives. I mourn for both of them as brothers in a struggle that requires vigilance and consistency, and I see them not as failures, but as casualties.

As Philip K. Dick said, some drug users are punished entirely too harshly for what they have done, and yet some of us can pull out of that swan dive before we hit the rocky ground. Some don't. That doesn't make them bad or weak people, it just makes them human.

Roger E.

With all that is being written in praise of Roger Ebert upon his passing---what a great film critic he was (NOT movie reviewer, a HUGE difference), his vocal support of progressive politics, and so on. For me, he most moved me with this piece from his blog in August of 2009: My Name is Roger and I'm an Alcoholic. It had a huge response (almost 1400 comments and still counting) both positive and negative, and is still to me one of the most honest and courageous writings on the subject of recovery from alcoholism I've ever read.

The first sentences of the post set the tone:

In August 1979, I took my last drink. It was about four o'clock on a Saturday afternoon, the hot sun streaming through the windows of my little carriage house on Dickens. I put a glass of scotch and soda down on the living room table, went to bed, and pulled the blankets over my head. I couldn't take it any more.

If you haven't been there, then this passage probably means little to you. If you have, then you can remember the desperation and terror of not being able to stop drinking, and yet knowing you can't continue. He went on further in the post to preemptively answer the charges of violation of the tradition of anonymity thus:

An A.A. meeting usually begins with a recovering alcoholic telling his "drunkalog," the story of his drinking days and how he eventually hit bottom. This blog entry will not be my drunkalog. What's said in the room, stays in the room. You may be wondering, in fact, why I'm violating the A.A. policy of anonymity and outing myself. A.A. is anonymous not because of shame but because of prudence; people who go public with their newly-found sobriety have an alarming tendency to relapse. Case studies: those pathetic celebrities who check into rehab and hold a press conference.

In my case, I haven't taken a drink for 30 years, and this is God's truth: Since the first A.A. meeting I attended, I have never wanted to. Since surgery in July of 2006 I have literally not been able to drink at all. Unless I go insane and start pouring booze into my g-tube, I believe I'm reasonably safe. So consider this blog entry what A.A. calls a "12th step," which means sharing the program with others. There's a chance somebody will read this and take the steps toward sobriety.

Still, the comments are rife with those who take him to task for outing himself in a public forum, but I believe he knew he was closer to the end of his life than the beginning, and he wanted to offer his experience, strength, and hope to those who might be helped. His chance of relapse was certainly small, and at one point he even commented to a criticism of his public statements "Did you miss the part about how I am now physically unable to drink?"

But all that is really beside the point. This was a vital and beautiful bit of "Twelfth Step" work; reaching out to the still suffering alkies, most of whom he would never meet. What a wonderful man! Thanks again for everything, Roger. You are a true hero.

The party of the clueless

(Via Immoral Minority)

The perfect gift for the alcoholic on your Xmas list:

(via Stumbleupon)

Are you a parent? Do you have a child who is old enough to drive? Let's face it, when our kids are first out on their own, they are exposed on a refular basis to things they have never seen before and have to make choices they have never had to make before. We can't go everywhere with them and help them make those choices, but we can equip them to make the best decisions possible when they are out on their own. How much better woudl you feel if you not only educated your kids about alcohol, but gave them a tool like a breathalyzer to help them deal with it?  

That is just one scenario, but you get the idea. A breathalyzer makes a great gift for all the right reasons for any adult in your life, on any occassion that calls for a gift. The only question you have to ask is, "which breathalyzer is right for this gift"? Our feedback has shown that this is the hardest part of the buying decision for most people. The question is not IF to ourchase a breathalyzer, but rather which one?

*SNIP*

On the other hand, you might want to give that important person in your life a tool to use to make decisions that involve things like driving after having a couple of drinks. This is where having a large margin of error simply will not do. A professional grade breathalyzer gives the security you are looking for in this situation. BACtrack offers 3 different professional grade breathalyzer choices. Once again, there are trade offs within that class. The BACtrack S80 is the most accurate breathalyzer offered, and is used by law enforcement and medical professionals across the nation. For a few dollars less you can purchase the BACtrack S75. The S75 is a little more compact, but has a slightly larger plus or minus range for the readings it will provide. Finally, the BACtrack Element is made to be more sleek and compact than the other 2 choices, but still has a fuel cell sensor that provides professional grade results. The overall accuracy of this model is about the same as the S75.

Hey, I'm all for anything that will keep drunks off the road, but if someone is wasted, the chances of them deciding not to drive because a keychain device says they shouldn't are between slim and none. Hell, the chances they will be able to figure out how to use it are low.