Those who have spent time “in the rooms” may be excruciatingly familiar with the torment of addiction. For individuals who have finally stepped into circle, the party is long over. They know about jails, institutions, and death. They know about the mind games drugs can play, the struggles, the health problems, the insurmountable debt, and the toll in their personal relationships. They know persecution from work, family, and society. They know how hard it is to change a losing game- keep coming back, the circle members chirp. And we do. We keep coming back, and often, we keep going back out.

How we all love to make jokes about Lindsay Lohan’s cracked out paparazzi photos and failed attempts at rehab, Britney’s breakdowns, and unfortunate friends who have never managed strength enough to overcome their addictions. Inside, we toss around a range of theories to see where we fit in. When does social drinking or prescribed medicating or the natural inclination to experiment and escape become circle-worthy? The lines where our life begins to tear apart at the seams are blurry. When did a good time turn bad? Is it weakness? Is it disease? Is it spiritual hunger? Is it selfishness?

Self-righteous buffoons look down at addicts as if they are another class of people, for the most visible sufferers are easy to dismiss. Though I have spent my fare share of time in church basements, shivering nervously with that Styrofoam cup of coffee in hand, I have also been guilty of sneering at the twitching crack addicts on Parliament Street. But after my husband died right there among the people who were so damaged and dirty, after I watched them zip up the body bag and carry another overdose victim to the morgue, down the filthy stairwell of our cheap-rent building, I wondered if those beggars and pipe-huddlers had stories, too. My husband was a far cry from human garbage-he was hands-down the most enlightened, gentle, intelligent, beautiful, insightful, charming person I have ever known. Now it was clear that once these people too had a life worth living, and that they still might. The two-dollar crack whore may share the same Narcotics Anonymous circle as your professor or doctor. Some have better support systems and a better platform from which to recover, or more money, and that might be the only difference. Addicts and alcoholics are just like you- or perhaps we are you. Among us are artists, scientists, computer programmers, panhandlers, bus drivers, mothers, ministers, prisoners, writers and more.

The social circles I’ve been surrounded by since I was a teenager are filled with club kids, queeny artists, designers, fashionistas, eccentrics, call centre reps, academics, spiritual workers, world travelers and all manner of offbeat thinkers. Many, many of these wonderful, creative people are also addicts and they aren’t crawling in the alleys. They look beautiful, have skyrocket IQs, are talented artists or professionals, and are kind and sweet and funny. In my circle, what other groups may call ‘mental illness’ is actually ‘mental normal.’ It’s the norm. And it’s not new- Mozart, Van Gogh, Hemingway, Freud, Stephen King, Johnny Cash, Hunter S. Thompson, Courtney Love, Eminem, Samuel L. Jackson, and oh- Bo Bice!-to name just a few are all part of this lineage.

It isn’t about weakness, though addicts like all other people have weaknesses. Society often sneers at Alcoholics Anonymous doctrine that addiction is a disease, but scientific studies hinted at this possibility for decades and more and more concrete evidence is coming in to show that our brains are indeed hardwired for psychotropic reward. In times of feast and famine, spiritual or actual, we long for drugs. In other words, both poverty and excess lead to the chemical war we call addiction. Our bodies crave stimulation and delight, and then become sick with it. All animals desire and consume drugs- that includes food- but most do not have consistent access or availability. Some brains need more stimulation than others, and some get locked faster into a cycle of craving, or into a place where the stimulus is needed to feel normal. Getting out of the cycle is difficult or impossible. This pattern is visible in the obesity epidemic and the struggle most fat people have with losing weight. While some might laugh outright at my comparison of eating with drug and alcohol consumption, science does not: the mechanisms of excessive consumption are the same whether food or drug. Just pick up any current copy of Scientific American and see for yourself.

We all celebrate and go to parties. But how do you get home when the party is over? Addiction is genetic and social, and I prefer my own compulsions to the pain of watching loved ones struggle. I can do something about my pain, but not theirs. I am tormented watching friends suffering. Some have already died. Some just live in hell. I spent years of my life in the hospital, prison, and centres with my husband and close friends. Years after accepting my own inclinations to excessive stimulations, something incredible happened. I saw suddenly that addiction has its gifts.

How could I say such a thing after enduring family dysfunction, persecution, loved ones teetering in and out of sanity, early widowhood? How can I say that when my erratic, rollercoaster flings with alcohol and alternative realities and food have contributed to my thyroid disorder and harmed my health?

First, it’s humbling. We all need reminders that we can’t control everything and that we can’t understand everything. It’s incredibly humbling to have to stand before your mother and father and before our Heavenly Father and ‘fess up to being in trouble. The day I told my Dad that my husband was in serious danger was the day my real relationship with him began. Dad began learning about addiction, rather than just screaming and condemning us. It was painful for him but in the long run helped him better understand his whole family. My own parents have not always approved of me, but they have been loving and understanding through the darkest hours of my life and the sunniest. This sense of family is part of the gift. How can you really know how deep your family goes until tragedy tests it? We have this idea that life should be easy, but it is not. It is necessary for our souls to fathom the depth of darkness and see what strength lies there.

That strength is astonishing to me: another part of the gift is the knowledge that I can survive anything. Bring it on. Throw it at me. This revelation resulted in the theme for an entire art show I called Life Addiction. Addiction showed me that my strength is enormous, and if I can live through losing what I’ve lost and the mistakes I have personally made, then I can stop being so cynical and hopeless- one of the causes of addiction- and know how much possibility there is. All of the paintings I did for Life Addiction ran with a positive reinforcement statement culled from pop culture or old sayings. They included messages like “If this heart is gonna break, it’s gonna take a lot to break it” from Cher’s Just Like Jesse James.

Another gift is the friends I have and the people I was open-minded enough to involve in my life. While much of the literature blames addiction on the ‘friends’, and speaks about the need to leave ‘triggers’ behind, as for me and my tribe, we’re in this together. The idea that an alcoholic or drug-addicted person is somehow evil or a bad influence pervades public thinking, which is ridiculous because half the people in your circle are already there and you don’t even know it. The people in my tribe are an assorted lot of fascinating, exciting, interesting people of all sorts. They are influential thinkers, writers and artists, funny, crazy, beautiful, unusual. They are from all walks of life and I thank God that my propensity for experimentation led me to their midst. I had a lot of fun with the most festive, fabulous queens and still do. I met fashion designers, lawyers, travelers, writers, makeup artists, actors, web developers, and more. I’m glad I was never closed to the company of anyone, for the most interesting people may be the ones who take risks.

While addiction’s nature can contribute to selfish behaviours, I wouldn’t call my friends selfish, not more or less than anyone else, and besides, I’m not sure there is anybody else. From my experience, just about everyone’s an addict and the others might by lying. Some are addicted to “healthy” activities like exercise, and it’s also for the rush and perhaps for vanity. Nearly everyone in North America is addicted to sugary, salty foods, and way too many, including myself in the past, are hopelessly addicted to cigarettes. Cigarettes, food, and alcohol are everybody’s gig- and they kill way more people and do way more health damage than any drugs I’ve ever met! In any event, it’s a gift that I didn’t lock myself out of the intimacies and unusual, inspiring friendships I’ve been a part of. I could go on forever about the amazing people I have met, and I’m sorry some are suffering so deeply.

This is where I’m sure to shock- but suffering itself is part of the gift. It may not look like suffering to you when someone is whooping it up at a party- indeed, there’s a lot of fun to be had (and that’s a gift, but all sacred things are dangerous and can turn into a nightmare). The experience of mind alteration may be a social or spiritual quest, it yields profound insights, it gives life colour and well, pizzazz. We use sacred substances to celebrate or to mourn. At some point, though, we have taken enough to make us ill, and then things get compulsive and leave our control. That point is different for everyone. Some people have one drink and go haywire, but most people worldwide use alcohol semi-regularly without ever having a problem. Even so, booze is the most widely addictive substance. Once a person crosses over to compulsion, it isn’t fun anymore. It may seem fun, and that is part of the trickery- the user recalls all the fun, but it didn’t turn out that way today, or tomorrow, or the next. Instead, there is suffering. And as much as suffering sucks, it’s a gift.

It adds complexity to our character. It gives a greater depth to our spirituality. Indeed, Christ suffered to demonstrate his communion- his oneness- with all of us. Chemicals are sacred- they nourish our bodies, give us pleasure, heal our sicknesses. But all sacred things are dangerous, and dangerous substances are windows into both heaven and hell. Those who have opened this tricky and complicated window have glimpsed paradise- and those who have suffered from addiction have also known the torment of hell. This window has given us a wider view of the spiritual world and of others around us. Additionally, the revelations and clarity that come after are like coming from a trip around the cosmos- the adventures and misadventures have made us more complex and experienced and knowledgeable.

The art and literature and creative worlds are also deeply connected to addiction, and addiction has linked us to that realm. Many addicts are brilliant creators. Stephen King’s best work of all was Misery- little did we know that the famously evil captor Annie, who held the writer character prisoner, was symbolic of cocaine, from which King is freed now, partly through the catharsis of writing his misery. We may have a world without music, film, art and literature if we had a world without addicts. Science is beginning to uncover some fascinating links between the creative impulse and the addictive brain. How those miraculous neurotransmissions process information and pleasure and ideas is all linked. Perhaps I would have accomplished a great deal more in art and writing had I never exceeded my limits. But perhaps I would have nothing to say. Would Mozart have had the necessary depth of darkness to write his requiems? Would his genius have been able to flourish without his madness? Mental illness is often linked with substance abuse, either one before the other, as science dissects the meaning of dopamine, a brain chemical that is a major player in the theatres of addiction and madness. Van Gogh is famous for being crazy, sending his ear to a whore and so on. What’s not as commonly known is the role his absinthe addiction played in his psychosis and suicide. But he wasn’t alone- the whole art world had gone absinthe-mad: Picasso, Degas, Hemingway were all lured by its spell.

Not all addicts end up mad or dead, not by a long shot. Controlling or conquering addiction requires incomparable strength, which can lead to esteem or simply connection and understanding that in turn lends more depth to the art or everyday life of a person. Addiction can give soul. For example, though Kurt Cobain tragically went down, Courtney Love kicked heroin while she was pregnant with their daughter. Though she has struggled with various substance ordeals ever since, her career has flourished with the strength and anger from the tragedy of loss. Another example: Samuel L. Jackson kicked his crack habit before starting acting, but by chance his first role was a drug addict and the depth he gave that role led to the recognition he commands now. Angelina Jolie loved heroin- and now she travels around the world visiting refugees and the hungry, adopting children, and acting as an ambassador in Haiti, Cambodia, and most recently, Iraq. She felt trapped by a selfish existence of decadence and decided to turn Hollywood upside down for the better.

And hello, there’s Johnny Cash.

You just can’t get any cooler than J.C. One of rock’s first bad boy heartthrobs got deeper and deeper as he found his mission to minister to the masses with his raw, real spiritual insights. A master storyteller, Cash went crazy from amphetamines and barbiturates. He went to rehab with Ozzy and Liz Taylor. I believe part of Johnny Cash’s gift and fate was to be a ministry and support to addicts everywhere, and there are lots of them- who doesn’t get caught up in escape from this dark world? Johnny Cash was an intense, spiritual figure who told stories of ordinary people and their struggles. His nonjudgmental understanding has healed millions of people. His simple interpretation of God’s love has brought that love to the masses. And after recording hundreds of songs, writing a novel about St. Paul (Man in White), world tours, and more, Cash saved his best for last. While he was sick and dying from diabetes and a broken heart (he died six months after his beloved wife June died), he recorded cover songs for the American Recordings series. His voice skyrocketed into alternative circles after circling country and gospel for years, now guiding generations of lost souls from beyond the grave. These raw, gorgeous masterpieces spanned work from Tom Petty, Soundgarden, and Gordon Lightfoot, but it’s the Nine Inch Nails song, Hurt, that catapulted Johnny into a legendary status that is nearly Shamanic. He didn’t write Trent Reznor’s song, but brought it into the light with his crackling vocal and breaking heart, and Hurt is now an ode for what we must all put behind us.

I hurt myself today to see if I still feel, I focus on the pain, the only thing that’s real … and you could have it all, my empire of dirt- I will let you down I will make you hurt.

J.C said he didn’t like to talk about his addiction, but couldn’t turn his back on the truth of it. He said that the beast was caged now, but still howled to get out. He said that he looked at what he was doing, labeled it sin, and was done with those things.

When June was dying, she told him to keep working. In a sense, he stayed alive just long enough to record a little something for the drug addicts.

There are a couple of things that kept me alive during the incredible depression and grief that followed my husband’s overdose and death the summer of 2005. How do you deal with the shame and loss of not having been able to save something? How do you deal with your own contribution, your own being lost, in the world that led to this? How do you harness your own addictions and live when you have lost everything you ever cared for?

Perhaps Marko knew inside that there was no turning back. The photographs he left behind were all titled things like Descent to Madness, Dragon’s Lair, The Gods They Lied, I Didn’t Fall: He Pushed Me, Looking at Hell and so on. In that time, he told me that nothing stood between us. He told me to work, live my dreams, write and stay alive. And so that is what I must do. It is one of the things that have let me flourish under the worst and look forward to more healing and more amazing creation.

Johnny Cash’s story and somber admonishment to live for God was also healing. When he was dying, June told him to keep working. He was an old man and he finished up his hymns for addicts everywhere, and then went on through the gates to see June and the other J.C. I’m glad he is there to comfort Marko when he misses us on earth, to heal his soul after it was destroyed by compulsions and madness he could not conquer.

I wish J.C. didn’t have to suffer, but I bet that he would not have been the same intense, heroic poet if he had not suffered. He may not have found God in the cave (he tried to commit suicide and had a vision of God, saying go forth and do your mission) and may not have had the blessings if he had not had the hurt. Maybe he would have been a better artist, but I doubt it. If Elvis, another broken believer, had not introduced Cash to speed, his life story may never have unfolded in the miraculous way that it did. Hurt was released and became a hit just months before J.C. died. The cover of the single features Johnny’s withered old hand, wearing a ring featuring Christ on the cross. Jesus Christ was one of many gifts of Johnny’s addiction.

And if Kurt Cobain took Neil Young’s ironic poetry too seriously – he quoted Young’s ‘it’s better to burn out than to fade away’ in his suicide note- Johnny Cash proved that what’s best of all is to neither burn out or fade away but to save the best for last.

So if you feel the persecution of others, the low self-esteem and embarrassment, the pain and suffering and loss, and you fear that addiction has hopelessly ruined everything for you, think again. See things in a different way, and take healing for change. You may have had a one-dimensional life, a boring one, with no depth or humility or deep understanding of the heart. Though it’s easy to focus only on what addiction has taken from you, next time you are in a meeting, try to share its gifts, for they are many.

If I had not been so lost, I would not have been able to love or relate to my soul mate Marko. Though it hurts each day to live without his charm and intelligence and love, it would hurt more to have never known those things, and I wouldn’t even know I was without them. Other gifts are some very special friends I will not name for respect of their privacy but know who they are. Then there is the bonding of my family, and an absolute storm of creativity that has been blowing for three decades and keeps getting bigger. There is my soul-satisfying encounter with the Living Water. There is a lineage of incredible artists and thinkers from Van Gogh to Angelina Jolie. And there’s Johnny Cash.

It’s an incredible honour to view the world from the cool circle. It’s even better that because I have known what it feels like to grieve and to lose everything, I now know how to live.

Matthew 25: 34-45 (NIV)

“Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

“The King will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.’

“Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’

“They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’

“He will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’

“Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.”

www.thegirlcanwrite.net
Lorette C. Luzajic