Sunday, March 27, 2022

UNECESSARY VICTIMS - How Addicts Get Exploited.


I don’t really understand why I had social anxiety as a teenager. Nor did I understand why I couldn’t drink like other guys did.


At the age of 50, a psychiatrist - after some tests and an exhaustive interview- diagnosed me with Adult ADHD, Atypical Depression and being on the Obsessive-Compulsive Spectrum (knocking back half a bottle after work and smoking 40 cigarettes for a large part of my life does qualify me). 


I’m on medication that has reduced my unhealthy craving for so many damned things (right now it has helped me quit my addiction to nicotine gum - since I am sober and don’t smoke anymore that was my one remaining addiction) - it has also helped me focus better and not go down endless rabbit holes.


I talk to fellow alcoholics regularly. They are one group of friends I have alongside other groups of friends. I was sober from 2005 to 2011 without God or any group of fellow alcoholics, but it got lonely, and I felt left out of many parties and get-togethers. This time medication, a few ex-alcoholic friends and some good mental and physical habits are working wonders. I feel so much better in this – my second spell of sobriety which has already lasted a while.


Despite being an alcoholic who never thought he was one till the age of 34 I managed to keep a job and did not get into brawls, was not horribly manipulative or a compulsive liar, I did not have shady financial dealings, was never corrupt, was not a physically abusive spouse or a cruel parent, was not into office gossip or office politics and never back-stabbed colleagues. Never. 


I was not a person of high character, but neither was I a person of low character. An interview with my colleagues, classmates, family members, daughters, ex-spouses (yes, I’m divorced twice) will testify to that. While I do feel alcoholism and its resultant behaviour contributed to my divorces, I am also happy to say in my sober years, my ex-wife remains my closest friend. I doubt if someone with terrible character defects would manage to pull that off.


I suffered from certain chemical imbalances in my brain which were inherited. Pretty much how I have inherited a pre-disposition to diabetes and cancer. The result of these imbalances pre-disposed me to anxiety, depression and alcoholism. 


Unfortunately, I was a functional alcoholic and not only kept my job but flourished in it from the age of 22 to 45. The reason I say unfortunate is I kept suffering and living with a particular condition for many years which I need not have. 


My only tool was talk therapy which worked wonders for me – I doubt if I could have got a job or kept a job without it. But it was certainly not enough. There were genuine brain chemistry issues which a talk therapist was not qualified to fix. 


The cure for these lies partly in medication, partly in avoiding certain substances and partly in developing healthy habits. It’s the same as diabetics, cancer patients and heart patients are advised.


As I said earlier I had a pre-disposition to cancer. Three years ago I got the big C and have so far had two surgeries to remove tumours and chemotherapy. But the way I felt about my illness of cancer and my other illness of substance use disorder couldn’t be more different.


I did not need to submit to a Higher Power to make my life manageable or confess my sins and bad character in order to recover from cancer. Like any disease there are certain things one must be extremely careful about. With cancer it was smoking, with substance use disorder it is alcohol or drugs. Just like it is very difficult for a person who has cancer to give up smoking and it often requires several attempts – it is the same with substance use disorder. There is no higher power involved.


Exercise and diet are good for everyone – they are essential for heart patients. 


Having less sugar is good for everyone but it is essential for diabetics. 


In the same way giving up all substances, avoiding stressors, taking medication if required and developing healthy mental and physical habits are essential for addicts.


Parents and partners asking an alcoholic in horror why she got drunk the previous evening and behaved the way she did is akin to asking an epileptic why he suddenly had a seizure in front of everyone. At least he could have had it in his room and not in front of others. In addition, he really should be conscious of the shame he’s causing the family’s reputation by having these seizures. Once an alcoholic starts drinking a chemical reaction starts which makes his drinking almost completely out of control. It has absolutely nothing to do with his character.


There are addicts with shady characters like there are in any group of people. 


No. Substance Use Disorder needs to be decoupled from the idea that it is because of a poor character which only God and other addicts can cure. If that were the case, then how was I sober for six whole years with no God and no group? How is Javed Akhtar, the legendary lyricist and poet sober for 31 years with neither? 


In the same way that heart patients don’t need character development with fellow heart patients - all under the close supervision of God - neither do addicts. Statins, diet, exercise and being stress-free will prevent heart attacks – not endless confession and God.


Don’t get me wrong. Character development and healthy mental and physical habits are good for every single human being belonging to every single nationality and every single religion. Not just addicts.


The moment we think that substance use disorder is due to our character defects, parents, partners and patients – in their justified fear – will open themselves to exploitation and shaming by any guru, faith healer, shaman or cult. A friend’s circle of fellow sufferers may help with sobriety, in the same way that a group of diabetics helping and motivating each other would help them (a quick phone call to a friend in case one is very tempted to gulp down cake at a party is useful). 


I am writing this because I was part of a group run by a so-called doctor who charged us a bomb, kept us in his centre for over a year, manipulated us into feeling that our cure was due to our belief in him, encouraged us to feel grateful to him on a daily basis . At the same time he made oodles of money out of patients, falsified figures relating to his centres recovery rate. He told us to form close friendships with other patients at his centre because it was essential for our recovery while having a non-consensual, abusive and manipulative relationship with the daughter of a man who he said was one of his oldest and closest friends.



A guru or endless confession of one’s sins in a group is not what helps addicts. Bonding with other addicts, not feeling isolated in their illness along with medication, stress reduction methods and therapy (if required) is more than enough.



I am writing this to tell myself and others who suffer from the same illness that I do:


It’s not our fault! 

We do not need to join cults out of fear.

We do not need to call ourselves bad people every day.

We do not need to tell ourselves that all our thinking before giving up substances was terrible.

We do not need to tell ourselves that only a belief in a Guru or a Group will heal us.

We do not need to believe in God.

We do not need to let the fear of our illness be exploited.

I repeat:

We do not need Gurus, Groups or God to be healthy and happy.


Saturday, April 6, 2019

Be water my friend (for Maria)

Be water my friend
And then the feeling of Sunlight
Twilight
Midnight
Moonlight

Be water my friend
And then the moonlight
Shivers
Quivers
Bewilders

Be water my friend
And then arise notions of solidity
Identity
Mortality
Totality

Be water my friend
Oh my!
Everything crumbles
Rumbles
Tumbles
Fumbles.

And I think of you
And the ones you care for
And the ones you dare for
And the ones you fear for
And the ones you despair for
And the ones you love for

And the water in your soul
Pours of out like gentle balm
More and more and more
Then some more.

Be water my friend
You have now made a river
Of yourself

And now you and you
You and them
Them and them
Are all just water.

Be water my friend
Your wish has come true
Everyone sails with you
You who now do not exist
Still has a part
That says:
‘’Oh Maria!’’

How does she feel in the water?
Does she swim?
Float?
Drown?

And if she drowns
Then is there anyone left to say
‘’Oh Maria’’?
When Maria has gone.

And where are the clients?
No coacher
Or coached
No healer
Or believer

They’re all water
Flowing uncertaintly
Nowhere to go
But just endless flow
Everyone becomes
One
Or none.

Be water my friend
And now you are not there
And when there is no You and I
There will be no more
Words to write.

And when words disappear
What can I write?
Except:

Be water my friend.

Monday, March 25, 2019

There is a time for everything.
A time to live
A time to die
But when time stands still
And the hands on the clock
That make the present the past
Stop!

Then there is only darkness.
Not "presence."
Not being in the moment
Not being "mindful"
Just darkness

Like eyes closed
Or the groping for a torch
When the lights have gone
Or the dull thud
In a dark heart.

Darkness is home
Shelter
It has neither light
Nor vision
It is blindness
And stumbling.

And you with the light
Why do you stand there
Shining your light at me?
Do you not see
That I am blind
That in the dark
I cannot fathom the light
Not even the shadow

Only people passing by
Their moving silhouettes on the wall
Like a movie that is never still
And you can't hold on
To a single scene
Before it has gone.

But my eyes are stapled tight
It isn't agony
Just pain
Which is the same
As coming out
Of a womb
And crawling back in again

"I stand at the door and knock
If any man hear my voice
And open the door
I will come in to him
And eat with him
And him with me"
Said, the Son of God.

I can't find the door.
I did once
It only led to another door.


Thursday, March 21, 2019

The End of the Beginning



A torn and tattered time table is what I take back with me tonight
I take students torn away from me tonight
I take the incomplete syllabuses.
Of my students
And want to complete those lessons tonight.

I take my love for them tonight
I take conversations
Meanderings
Questions
Debates
And smiles

For those magical journeys
Through time and space
That got us here.
Our human journey.
Our link with all before us.
And the link we’ll leave behind us
For those to come.
That’s what I teach.
History.
And now our relationship?
Is it history too?
As I touch my steering wheel
And watch myself steering away from them

This drive is the loneliest one
Even though it is full of so many people
Some who will go to the next class
Some who will leave the next class
Some who will drift into their next station
Away from school
Another marker in their journey
In another country
To another future

But time stands still
And they carry the same spirit with them
Wherever they go
And I know
At the deepest core of my heart
That their spirits are beautiful
And that makes me smile
As I drive home tonight

Friday, August 19, 2016

Making love - conditions attached

I would make love to you
While Beethoven's Emperor
Was playing
Vigorous
Passionate
Or gentle 
With Mozart's Elvira Madigan
Or long
And soulful
With Miles
Kind of Blue
And if you want the
Inveterate thump
Of EDM
Or the music that's 
Happening
Then I can humbly say
Fuck off!

Thursday, August 18, 2016

Dukkha or tears of smoke

DUKKHA

Do I cry?
Or hold it in?

Hold it in
That's being myself

I last cried in childhood

And then...

Tears became smoke

They don't come
The glands don't work
They turn into red eyed
Smoke

But tears I feel
Vaguely
Uncomfortably
Not knowing why they're there

Dukkha, suffering the Buddha spoke about
Hit the sweet spot of
My hearts bat
My hearts beat

Yes Dukkha
That which....

No promotion
Non stop socialising
Drinking
Smoking
Aimless chattering
Gassing
Planning
Eating
Stressing

Can remove

That quiet Dukkha

The first noble truth

For others - tears reveal it
For me - just smoke.

Monday, August 15, 2016

Untitled Night

I like a life of hushed notes and electric crackle.

I like buzzing neural circuits and a quiet shimmering blue sea

I hold my life in shaking hands
Not knowing a moment from the next
That is till I put my babies to sleep
And then I'm still
A lake of calm with willow trees reflecting in my soul.
A ripple of love quivers gently through my limbs.

My babies
My daughter
My dog
Petting one and stroking the others soft smooth hair

And then they sleep. Dead to the world. One with folded skin and long ears.
The other with the face of an angel.

And then I stay awake in silence.
Lights off.
My children can't be disturbed.
The light of day is harsh enough.

I lie, in those hushed notes
Reading and reading into the AM.

My kindle glow is warm
The words comforting

I travel then with Hobsbawm the historian
From medieval spain to renaissance Italy. I go further east to the Ottoman turks in their robes and then further to Moscow
Under the dazzle of the Kremlin
And the harsh ruthlesness of the Tsars.
Back west, this bed is a travel chamber
England, industrialising
Smoke billowing from factories
Train tracks being laid
Like criss cross stitches across the heart of the island

Further, further, further
The gigantic endless eternity of the plains
In the American midwest

And then for a while like an eagle
My soul drops down on Vienna
Where music plays

Music, divine music!
On carpets under chandeliers
Mozart, Beethoven, Brahms, Bruckner, Schubert.
Their symphonies buzz in my ears.
Oh world! Oh endless journey
Oh life! Oh eternal variations
Beating a drum roll on the themes of lives long gone

And then
Between pages
Before my finger taps
For the next marvel to hang
Like a portrait in my mind
Between page and page
I glance at my sweethearts
And the neural crackle
Synapses of wonder
Pause
And shut down
And there is quiet
And there is love
And there are my children
And there is my stillness

Until I turn the next page.