I boast. I'm not as modest as I'd like to be. Sometimes, well ok most times, it is only after a conversation that I question myself. Should I have said that? Too much? Too long? I could rehearse for hours what I said.
Mainly, listening is so boring. I don't mean it to demean anyone, because I know this is an admirable attribute. But honestly why does one listen? Kris listens to investigate, to find out what a person is like. I just kind of get all that without the listening bit.
I just realize some days how young I am.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Addiction and Intervention
A&E has a show called Intervention.
I watch it because I want to feel something real, something moving. That something is never pretty. It is raw, damaged, and on the verge of dying. The addict and the love a person has for an addict. How could someone love an addict? It seems ridiculous, a mistake. I assure you it is easier than you think.
There are times when I watch this show and imagine. I imagine this family whose daughter/son/mother/father is addicted to a serious substance might have imagined their life differently. They may have thought over the beds of their sleeping children about the big dreams and great wonders this child is capable of. Doesn't every parent? And one could blame the parenting of a child to their probability to having a drug issue, but I don't buy it. It is a cop out.
Outside people who see a son or daughter kill themselves, their lives, and their dreams over an addiction see the psychology behind it. Every since Freud, there is an analysis of the childhood of a killer, an addict, or any kind of deviant, looking for clues of what lead to this travesty. I think the problem lies with searching for the explanation of deviancy, which people use to reassure THEMSELVES that a) this could not happen to them b) they havn't done anything deviant as a sign of following the same wrong path c) they convince themselves they are untouchable.
Phrases like "And he was such a good kid." Or "That could never happen to her or him." There is still a problem in our culture where we shy away from what is tough. I watch these gut wrenching episodes of real life and realize how good I have it, how hard it is for others, and that there are real moments in life you can't manufacture in a studio. What is real? Well...
There are moments when a father says to his daughter words he rarely says, words she needs to hear. They embrace and the microphones pick up on their crying, sniffing, sobbing. They desperately cling to each other, burying their pain and tears in the shoulder or chest of the warm body of a person who loves them thick and thin. The scene catches that moment when your heart leaps into your throat, your eyes overflow, and it is hard to breath because you are so overwhelmed with emotion. The person you are hugging knows you, feels your pain, forgives you for the pain you cause them. It is a beautiful moment. A sad moment. But a real moment.
There are times when the addict is so self destructive that they refuse the help being offered to them. They are so removed from that love, they take it for granted, and they self sabotage their own survival. These people feel, but they don't respect that feeling and repeat the damage they inflict.
There are moments when you see the addict struggle. They hate themselves. They hate their family for caring. They find reasons. You see them hesitate to go to treatment, knowing very well they may end up back where they are.
I think there are oh so few moments in life that have not been bastardized, manufactured, exploited, and changed, particularly when it comes to television. There are moments which are ugly and beautiful. I think people are afraid they aren't strong enough to bare the pain of it, let alone watch it. I think they are wrong. Wrong that they couldn't have it happen to them. That they couldn't survive it. or that they can't watch it. I think being aware helps. Hiding these issues in our society perpetuates a lack of sympathy, a lack of identification. Judgment prevails over the real and authentic. I crave the real and authentic because the world can smother that sense of sympathy in me. How about you?
I watch it because I want to feel something real, something moving. That something is never pretty. It is raw, damaged, and on the verge of dying. The addict and the love a person has for an addict. How could someone love an addict? It seems ridiculous, a mistake. I assure you it is easier than you think.
There are times when I watch this show and imagine. I imagine this family whose daughter/son/mother/father is addicted to a serious substance might have imagined their life differently. They may have thought over the beds of their sleeping children about the big dreams and great wonders this child is capable of. Doesn't every parent? And one could blame the parenting of a child to their probability to having a drug issue, but I don't buy it. It is a cop out.
Outside people who see a son or daughter kill themselves, their lives, and their dreams over an addiction see the psychology behind it. Every since Freud, there is an analysis of the childhood of a killer, an addict, or any kind of deviant, looking for clues of what lead to this travesty. I think the problem lies with searching for the explanation of deviancy, which people use to reassure THEMSELVES that a) this could not happen to them b) they havn't done anything deviant as a sign of following the same wrong path c) they convince themselves they are untouchable.
Phrases like "And he was such a good kid." Or "That could never happen to her or him." There is still a problem in our culture where we shy away from what is tough. I watch these gut wrenching episodes of real life and realize how good I have it, how hard it is for others, and that there are real moments in life you can't manufacture in a studio. What is real? Well...
There are moments when a father says to his daughter words he rarely says, words she needs to hear. They embrace and the microphones pick up on their crying, sniffing, sobbing. They desperately cling to each other, burying their pain and tears in the shoulder or chest of the warm body of a person who loves them thick and thin. The scene catches that moment when your heart leaps into your throat, your eyes overflow, and it is hard to breath because you are so overwhelmed with emotion. The person you are hugging knows you, feels your pain, forgives you for the pain you cause them. It is a beautiful moment. A sad moment. But a real moment.
There are times when the addict is so self destructive that they refuse the help being offered to them. They are so removed from that love, they take it for granted, and they self sabotage their own survival. These people feel, but they don't respect that feeling and repeat the damage they inflict.
There are moments when you see the addict struggle. They hate themselves. They hate their family for caring. They find reasons. You see them hesitate to go to treatment, knowing very well they may end up back where they are.
I think there are oh so few moments in life that have not been bastardized, manufactured, exploited, and changed, particularly when it comes to television. There are moments which are ugly and beautiful. I think people are afraid they aren't strong enough to bare the pain of it, let alone watch it. I think they are wrong. Wrong that they couldn't have it happen to them. That they couldn't survive it. or that they can't watch it. I think being aware helps. Hiding these issues in our society perpetuates a lack of sympathy, a lack of identification. Judgment prevails over the real and authentic. I crave the real and authentic because the world can smother that sense of sympathy in me. How about you?
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