Rehab

Visiting rehab programs in Sedona, Flagstaff, and Prescott, Arizona last week, I connected with a number of extraordinary young adults. Some had been clean for a few weeks, some had been sober for several years. Most attended Alcoholics Anonymous or Narcotics Anonymous meetings. A number of the graduates—my own clients and others—were working at the programs where they had gotten clean, an extraordinary example of paying it forward, of giving back.

It’s not just that the mentors say, “I know from subjective familiarity all the ways you have lied to your family and to yourself.” It’s that the mentors communicate, “I’ve been there, I never would have believed it, but it’s possible to get better, to have a life not based on trauma.”

I can’t summarize the demographics of these folks in recovery. Some come from families of means; some are college graduates; some have been enabled and rescued by parents. But others not. It would be presumptuous of me to suggest commonalities of background or focus on one variable—social class, education, parenting style—to describe young people who are returning the life-saving favor that they received. Twenty-seven-year-olds mentoring 23-year-olds. Beautiful. I don’t mind admitting I got emotional talking to kids who within the past couple years were circling the drain, struggling, using. These kids are now working with the next cohort of kids in recovery, helping them get clean.

Parents frequently ask me if the dangers to our children are more pronounced in this generation. Kids were always sneaking out to have a cigarette and a beer parents say. Everyone knows of a tragedy—a wrecked car, a phone call at two a.m., shattered lives—from years ago. Are things truly worse in 2024?

One fact is not news: the availability of fentanyl is recent. “One and done” is now. 

Driving from one rehab facility to the next, I passed as many CBD and pot shop stores as I did ranches and farms. The easy access to gateway drugs made me angry. Kids with substance use disorder and co-occurring mild mental health issues can easily become addicted, and smoothly transition from addiction to chemical dependency. It’s easier to get hooked now than ever before. The marijuana of 40 years ago was two percent THC. Weed today is ten times as potent and can be laced with horse tranquilizers or opioids. I would argue that the danger to children from drugs is exponentially worse today. All those stores making money from misguided folks made me angry.

My anger led to an insight. So many of us who care about children are furious with big tobacco, with predatory student loans, with the availability of every illicit harmful substance. We are rightfully outraged that process addictions are everywhere. Scratch offs are available at every supermarket. Illicit drugs are accessible at every high school. But I can’t do anything to strike back at a drug lord from overseas. I don’t have access to an arsenal of armed drug runners and I’m fresh out of drone submarines. 

Every parent knows that the war on drugs is lost. Lost generations ago. Communities where children don’t have access to deadly substances no longer exist. As a result of not being able to do anything about the people who smuggle and sell deadly drugs, loving parents direct their anger elsewhere–frequently at one another. Rather than being happy for our neighbors, we blame the child who is valedictorian. My child should have been the one to be graduated first. We blame our neighbor’s kid for winning the soccer game. We blame each other. We spit at one another from our silos. Because we can’t get back at the people who are profiting from harming our children.

I think many parents share my disgust and my feeling of helplessness. Because we can’t control illegal drugs flooding our communities our anger causes us to strike out where we can. 

I don’t know what to tell you to do with your anger. Except to hold your kids close; educate them about the short-term negative consequences of using; don’t sweat the small stuff; and, if you’re lucky enough to be able to talk to young adults who survived, take solace in the fact that recovery is as powerful as it is possible.