That Fork in the Road

William Moyers
Fri, 04 Jul 2014 21:00:00 -0700
Lifestyle

"Son is Addict." That was the subject line in an unsolicited email sent to me the other day.

Unlike most of the emails I get, this one wasn't followed by the gritty, lurid details of addiction's rampage through another family; there was no anguished plea asking what to do. In fact, when I opened it, the body of the email was blank. "Tell me more" is all I could reply.

An hour later: "My son has trouble with addiction to prescription drugs and gets them on the streets. In jail off & on since 2012, I have paid his rent when he is out, should I stop helping him?"
Updated: Sat Jul 05, 2014

"Son is Addict." That was the subject line in an unsolicited email sent to me the other day.

Unlike most of the emails I get, this one wasn't followed by the gritty, lurid details of addiction's rampage through another family; there was no anguished plea asking what to do. In fact, when I opened it, the body of the email was blank. "Tell me more" is all I could reply.

An hour later: "My son has trouble with addiction to prescription drugs and gets them on the streets. In jail off & on since 2012, I have paid his rent when he is out, should I stop helping him?"

I'm upfront about not being a clinical expert or family therapist. But I know where help is, and to point people to it, I need information about their circumstances — facts such as drug of choice, history of use, where the person is located at that moment and the person's consequences, treatment history, financial resources and overall mental and physical health. Most of all, I need to know whether the person is ready for help. This parent had skipped all that to get to the bottom line. When it came to shelter for a sick son, this parent asked, "Should I stop helping him?"

It's the question roiling all families. When is help help? When is help enabling? There's a thin line separating the addict or alcoholic from coming to grips with the truth that he needs to get well or remaining in the grip of an illness shrouded by the denial of his circumstances — the only two forks in the road, leading to a chance to recover or the continued misery that always gets worse. Usually, it is the family's burden to figure out how to lead, push, threaten, cajole or finesse the sick addict to take one fork instead of the other. Rarely is this a simple process, much less easy. Many go down the wrong fork because of or despite their families' efforts.

From my own experience, I know that had my family given up on me and stopped trying to help 20 years ago, I might have died when I relapsed and fell to the bottom in that crack house in Atlanta. Or three years earlier in St. Paul, Minnesota, or two years before that in Harlem, in 1989, when the reality of my addiction first reared an ugly head and couldn't be ignored by anyone.

I know, too, though, that there were many instances when my family cushioned my crash landing with love, encouragement, patience, money and access to quality treatment, which any sick person would find helpful in fighting a serious illness. Only in my case, the lessening of the pain made it easier for me to believe that it wasn't so bad as it was or would get. I finally woke up to this truth one morning when my father angrily declared: "There's nothing more I can do for you. I'm finished." But he was there to tell me so, and I was finally able to hear. I took responsibility. I was finished being part of the problem.

So to the parent who emailed me, I say:

Help him with rent if it gives him a safe place to come to terms with his problem. Even if he doesn't yet understand the totality of his illness, shelter is a better option than homelessness.

Help him with his rent if you'd do the same as he struggled to overcome any other chronic illness that could bedevil him. Pay the rent directly to the landlord. Don't give it to him.

Tell him why you continue to help him. And don't be afraid to attach conditions to your support and a deadline for him to take steps to get well. Make sure he hears you until you can no longer say it.

The hard part comes if your son doesn't take action. Tell him that you, too, are finished and that there is nothing else you can do for him if he is unwilling to embrace his part of the solution. Stop paying the rent. Then make peace with your choice, in the same way you'll need to come to terms with the choice he makes at his fork in the road.