The Families that Broke the Stigma of Addiction
I remember the first day I sat in on a group therapy session. The group was for parents of children who suffer from substance use. They reminded me of my parents, full of love and acceptance for me (the intern) as I got over the awkwardness of saying “Hi” to each of them. When the session started, they went around the room and told me their stories.
“We lost contact with her, so we wait for the day we get the call, expecting the worst.”
“Some weeks are better than others; some weeks, he can conquer the world.”
“We lost our son to addiction.”
“She is recovering slowly; I guess we will have to wait and see.”
With each passing story, I began to realize how socialized my views had become towards individuals suffering from addiction. I saw them as “addicts” and stigmatized them based on that label. I was placing them in a category of individuals who would approach me on the sidewalk asking for money. Money that I figured would take them to the nearest liquor store or drug dealer.
In my eyes, these people were loners, and they existed in a realm where families were a fantasy. Roughly 15 weeks went by working with this group, listening to the joys and despairs they were going through. And with these parents, the addicts as I once saw them, became sons, daughters, loved ones, and friends.
Week after week, my definition of being addicted to a substance was challenged. Society had taught me that addiction is just a matter of self-discipline and that those who fall ill to it lack the moral strength to stop. In essence, I placed the blame for their addiction on them — if they wanted to quit, they would.
But I’ve also realized that society’s stigma did more than paint this caricature. It laid out indifference in me on the subject matter. I didn’t care for them because I believed that the solution to this issue was solely contingent on their lack of will. And that meant that they were alone in this fight; they got themselves into it, they can get themselves out of it. The inundation of this information led to a universal message that addicts are bad people.
Now my confrontation with this stigma led to an adjustment in education, thoughts, and perspective. Overall, I wouldn’t say this came with many difficulties, but the experience was different for these parents. They faced stigma in their interactions with others and within themselves. The typical parent question of “How are the kids doing?” became something to fear. Often having to cope with adverse reactions from people who don’t understand; people who may blame them, shame them, and lose interest in them. With friends judging them and their situation, the message that addiction was a lonely battle began to feel like a self-fulfilling prophecy.
They realized they didn’t understand what it means for their loved ones to be addicted to a substance. Their questions stemmed from the same stigma that affected me growing up. Questions like, “Did their children lack the will?” “How could their loved ones do this?” “Where were their morals?”. Society’s stigma filled them with uncertainties as they had to differentiate between what was true and what was a stigma.
So here I am, sitting with these parents battle against something they cannot see and yet is everywhere. I never actively read articles that told me what or how to think of the individuals who have substance use disorder. It was a thought that was formed in me before I even realized what I was thinking. I was narrow-minded and in the process apathetic to the cause.
Why bother looking into a problem that everyone shames? This line of thinking is what these parents were continually going up against. The sense of apathy that this stigma carries made me forget that there are families who love, care, and weep for them.
So now, I don’t see these people as addicts; I see them as loved ones struggling with addiction. And realize that behind every individual suffering from substance use, is a family, fighting and struggling with them.
