Beyond Rehab

It was a toss-up—should I write about Lindsay Lohan or Kelly Osborne? They are both, along with talk of their substance abuse, in a recent issue of People magazine. Kelly won due to her quotable quotes.

But first let me say this: having fallen into similar habits and rehabs myself at her age and earlier (and later) I feel for her—and Lindsay. I really do feel bad for young people who are not only struggling with addiction but are also having to struggle with the insufficient and very often detrimental treatment they are so often administered. It’s very, very sad for me to see this. But it continues.

Kelly’s quote number one: “This is a disease. I was born with it. I’ll die with it.”

Again, Kelly is a lot like me. There was a time when I was still being coached by therapists, rehabs, and AA-goers who shared that belief—that alcohol dependency is a disease—and who pushed me to believe it as well. Obviously, if you follow my writing, you know I do not accept that alcoholism is a disease. Yes, a person’s body can become dependent, but that is not a disease. And thanks to my refusal to accept that I am diseased, I do not have to spend my life under a false veil, under constant watch and fear, under shame.

Kelly’s quote number two and the reason she is willing to believe alcoholism is a disease: “I just want to be happy. Anything is better than the way it was.”

Kelly is a lot like me. Kelly is a lot like all of us. Wanting to be happy is not a disease. How we attain happiness is a process. True, it is often a misguided process, but being misguided is NOT a disease.

I’ve been slowly making my way through each episode of the reality show, “KITCHEN NIGHTMARES,” starring the internationally renowned chef, Gordon Ramsay. On the show Chef Ramsay goes on a mission to rescue a restaurant in crisis. He shows up at a preselected restaurant and whips everyone into shape by yelling and cursing at them. How he really helps them is with his expert knowledge and skill. Also, his crew spends time and money giving each restaurant a make-over.

Though yelling at people wouldn’t be my way, I very much like the idea of someone coming in to help a person when they are in such despair. Wouldn’t it be nice if there were a Chef Ramsay for everyone in crisis—whether emotional, physical, or economic. In drug and alcohol intervention plans, “rescue” is the goal. However, from what I’ve seen, its rarely achieved. That plan needs work.

We all need help sometimes, but some of us have been absolutely desperate for it. And when that happens it is a crisis. It’s disturbing to learn when someone in such despair and who could have been saved has died. If only someone had been willing to carry them, just for a little while, until they could begin to see and do for themselves again.

Very often a change of circumstances  and absolute support can make all the difference in the life—or death—of an addict. That is why it’s tragic when no one moves to assist. And why don’t we? It could be the very existence of that destitute person is precisely the reason we do not do everything that is needed to help them. I’m guessing that most of us are afraid if we were to fully embrace a person in need, not only could it send us into the throes of poverty and despair ourselves, but we would also be forced to acknowledge that, apart from our own personal charity, society is not set up to truly care for those in need. Helping the person in every way possible means we understand there is no “Chef Ramsay” to save us if we fall into crisis ourselves. So often it is easier to lay all responsibility on the addict.

Our world and each society in it has a long way to go. But there is one thing I’ve learned through all my struggles, defeats, accomplishments, and successes—having a long way to go is NEVER a reason not to persevere.