Addiction/Recovery

For my 8th birthday my elder sister bought me a pack of Weetabix cereal. I distinctly remember my mother saying “you’re bloody addicted to them you are“. She wasn’t far wrong, I loved them. Is there a difference between addiction for/to something and loving something? Answers on a postcard.

At present, in my mid 50s, and with the benefit of hindsight one could argue the above question for decades. Thousands of therapists and scientists could and would spend the rest of their lives, trying to or rather pretending to try to, answer that question. 

The phenomenal recent increase of therapeutical practices with regards to addiction could not have gone unnoticed. Thousands upon thousands of so-called practitioners, swarm the internet through social media with adverts and promotional offerings with a promise to the addict or rather the addicted customer, a solution to help them take control of their lives and break free from their addictions. It doesn’t matter which addiction, it doesn’t matter why the addiction, it doesn’t matter who is the addict. What matters is that the customer has the finance or funding to pay for the specific therapy. The customer can can choose from a myriad of options available to them, ranging from hallucinogenic drugs to tapping their forehead repeatedly. Many therapists offer a range of solutions/remedies to the addictive customer, all for a special price… of course. Some of these so-called therapists have become millionaire celebrities in their own right. I could reel off half a dozen names of the so-called “specialists“ but I won’t bother. It’s not as if they need the publicity, indeed they have waiting lists as long as airport runways. 

Many of the modern day wizards/healers lay claim to have experienced traumatic events, which have led them to their position in life. Many more are just well read clowns, who make a living by profiteering from the suffering of others. It’s not a new phenomena but any means. 

Anyway back to me. For the past 46 years i’ve been labelled and have self labelled myself as someone with an addictive personality. My most recent addiction is a three year old boy who my daughter gave birth to during the height of a global detention/lockdown. Can my love for him to be described as an addiction? Can his love for his mother be classified as an addiction? There are many who would argue yes, absolutely. Those same people would be quite happy to charge you by the hour to take you through the psychological psychoanalytical physiological and sociological reasons why. I try to avoid such people. 

From 1977 through to 1984 I was unfortunate enough to find myself in the care of the local authority (hardly surprising given both of my parents were alcoholics). I learnt very quickly how to smoke, drink and behave or adapt to my environments. By the age of 14, my addictions ranged from antiperspirants, deodorant, petrol, glue, alcohol, and tobacco. By the age of 17, I had added, amphetamine, cannabis, ecstasy and LSD to the list. By the age of 18, I had served two prison sentences. I was ejected from the care system with very few social skills, no education and no ability to decipher the world around me. I was lost in a haze of sex drugs and rock ‘n’ roll. 

My early 20s arrived with a stumble. I had managed to reduced my addictions/dependencies down to just alcohol, tobacco and cannabis. Although I was living a life, it wasn’t one any parent would choose for their own children. I began to discover the world of employment and all that comes with living an independent  lifestyle i.e. responsibilities, planning, foresight and budgeting. 

However, at the age of 25 I had a new addiction. My daughter was born on November 22, 1994. She was a game changer in many ways. I discovered unconditional love, innocence, compassion, security and many other human emotions that had eluded me. I was now a father. 18 months later our second was born. He was my first son. Another addiction added to the list. Over the next few years we planned for two more. We lost one in the very early stages of pregnancy but had our third nearly a decade after our first. A good set up. I was content with my lot. Or was I? During the entire 30 years of recovering from my childhood disasters I was ignorant of why I had to drink so much so often to such extremes. I had no idea of the depths alcohol had taken me.

It wasn’t until I attended a meeting of similar minded people, that it dawned on me. It was March 15 2019. A small wooden building in the village of Menai Bridge on the island of Anglesey, north Wales. It was cold, it was wet and it was my first realisation that I was, am and have been an alcoholic for many years. Some argue it took hold in the womb. Who knows? Who cares? 

I haven’t consumed alcohol since that day. My sobriety is now an addiction. The more I have the more I want. And as if I any reinforcement of sobriety was required, it came along in the form of my first grandson in June 2020. He’s a gift beyond description.  

It would take an entire manual to describe and evidence the battles, internally and externally, I have fought to reach my station in life. However, I recently arrived at a junction. Decisions were required regarding the next decade or two. Who, what, where and when are we heading? Where do I want to end up? And how do I end up there?

In the very early years, we decided we’d like to be Driftwood artists. Collecting driftwood from the coast of Anglesey cleaning it, tart it up a bit and sell it on. A dream like existence that would involve beach strolls, sunsets and barbecues. it took a while, but we eventually realised dreamers only exist in dreams. So thereafter we embarked on an educational journey through university college etc eventually graduating in the early 2000s. My wife and I both becoming officially recognised criminologists. 

Initially, I was a mentor to teenagers from deprived backgrounds. There was a lot of outdoors stuff and associated physical tasks. They looked up to me, they trusted me and they opened up quite freely on a wide range of subjects. You can guess some of the more negative issues I counselled them for. I had a rapport beyond the comprehension of any other staff members reach. I began working in the criminal justice system only to discover I was different from everyone else employed in the criminal justice. It was never going to work. I left with a bang. I’ve dipped my toe in the children’s residential services, I endured two years of non-governmental organisation trauma working with ex offenders and have more recently ventured into and out of the profit making arena of private rehabilitation. 

The latter providing a sordid example of how bad things have got. The sales team in the private rehabilitation industry, usually the unit managers are evidently able to convince some very well off vulnerable people to spend upwards of £10,000 a month with a promise of solving their addictions. The paying customer is led along a merry path which has been designed with their vulnerabilities in mind. They use tactics, not unfamiliar to second-hand car salesman or scrupulous landlords. They reel you in and hook you using tactics that thus far, are mostly concealed from the publics gaze. Part of my future plan involves close scrutiny of such units. Especially the local offerings here in north Wales.

I am anti-authoritarian. I am a child of the system of government which has repeatedly and perpetually been unable to provide the tax payers any services to a decent standard. Every government since 1967 has failed to provide adequate personal assistance to enable the addicted among us  to climb the economic, social and educational ladders of life. The systemic influences of financial gain are obvious. 

Alcoholic pensioners by the dozen are convinced to part with tens of thousands of pounds to spend some time “with others, among friends, and with people who understand you, in a luxury environment.“ They’ll be told about the clean sheets, the laundry service, the meditation, the yoga, the restaurant styled food, the local scenery, the fresh air, and not forgetting “the program” or the more recently favoured jargon used by the private providers “your individual pathway”. Customers are provided with “schedules“. Failure to adhere to these “schedules“ could result in your discharge. Therefore you will forfeit any remaining payment. In other words, if you don’t do what you’re told we do you have the right via the signed contract to terminate your stay or “pathway” and to keep your money. Shocking. 

My last, and arguably, the most powerful of addictions, tobacco is a battle still being fought. Don’t ask.