I recently saw a film called Thanks for Sharing. The film is specifically about sex addiction, but it really opened up a world to me that a lot of us don't see. More importantly, we don't want to see it. It is the world of the addict. When we hear addict we think junkie, someone holed up in some crack house, or shooting up in some alley. There are all kinds of addicts, and I am sure that some people I interact with every day have some kind of addiction. I just don't know about it. They keep it well hidden, but, oh, what a struggle that must be! I do not have an addictive personality. I've never done drugs. I've never smoked, not even for a role on stage. In fact I almost turned down an amazing role years ago because the character was a chain smoker, and when I was offered the role, I turned it down initially telling the director I would love to do the role, but I wasn't going to smoke. She told me they had already decided, given the small space, to eliminate that part of the character. Break for me. I drink alcohol maybe once or twice a year, and never enough to hardly get tipsy. I have some very strong pain medication that I take when I have kidney stones, but I only take them for the pain, and proof of that is that I have a prescription that is years old, and there are still several pills left. I did not list all those things to say, "Look at me! I'm a saint!" I just believe that people are wired differently, and I thank God that I am not wired to fall prey to addiction.I grew up around addiction. My father was an alcoholic. Now, before I go any further I want to say right now that I loved my Daddy. I don't share this to tarnish him in any way. In fact I was very proud of him when he stopped, and spent the rest of his days as a recovering alcoholic, but it was not easy to be around as his child. When I was very young I don't remember much about it at all, probably because I spent most of the time at my grandmother and grandfather's house just 6 doors down from our own. But.. being the stubborn child I was I do remember once, around age 6 or 7, that I insisted on spending a Friday night in my own house rather than do the usual spending the weekend at my grandparent's as my sister had. My father was not home when I went to bed, but I remember distinctly waking up to yelling and peering through my parent's bedroom door and seeing my father pick up the end of the fourposter bed, and slam it back down to the floor in anger. I quickly went back to bed. I had never seen my dad like that. Let me also add here that my dad was never physically abusive with any of us. As I grew older, in my teens, especially my high school years, my dad never had dinner with us because he would start drinking beer when he got home and would continue beer after beer until around 10 or 11 at night when he was finally ready to eat, and my mother would fix him dinner. If I happened to stick around to interact with my dad after several beers I would almost always leave irritated. When my dad drank beer he would become what I would call a pitiful drunk constantly asking me if I loved him. He would get very thick tongued and unsteady on his feet. I usually didn't stick around for the end stages. I hated it!!!! When my dad drank hard liquor he would get very mean and sarcastic, and often times he would go out driving, something that is incomprehensible to me now. He did this even after I was hit by a drunk driver at the age of 11 resulting in over 100 stitches in my face as the result of the back window exploding in my face. That alone proves it was and is a disease. My father loved me immensely! He would never deliberately put me or anyone else in danger. But I will be honest. I judged him then. I thought how awful it was that he wouldn't stop drinking. He didn't see himself as having a problem. He could handle it. Isn't it that way with so many addicts? I remember how hurt he was when my future in-laws had an open bar at my rehearsal dinner and I asked him to please not drink. It wasn't like it is now back then. People didn't talk about these things. Nobody shared. It wasn't viewed as a problem. I am not sure what the catalyst was that made him stop. It was after I was married and out of the house for a few years, but he did, and he stayed sober for the rest of his days here with us. I was so glad when my children came along that he was sober because they loved him deeply and he them, and they were able to have a wonderful relationship with their Papa because he was not under the influence, but I'm sure every day was a struggle for him.
My last post was about Philip Seymour Hoffman's tragic death due to a heroin overdose. A statement was made by another celebrity over social media that his death was stupid. Maybe that person was trying to convey that taking heroin to begin with was stupid and he should have had more self control and made better choices. Easier said than done, my friend. After all, isn't addiction the very definition of being out of control? A good friend of mine posted an article today on Facebook about this very mentality and how dangerous it is. I don't think anyone has ever said this better to open our eyes to the life of an addict. Why did I share all this today? Because keeping it quiet is part of the problem. Shaming is part of the problem. Judging is part of the problem. I'd rather be part of the solution.
