“A haze,” is how Pierre describes his first few days of treatment for his addictions to Valium and alcohol.
 

“I can’t remember the first 48 hours,” he says of his 30-day stay at the McShin Foundation in Richmond, Va., last fall.

“A lot of people slept through three straight days. When you’re on drugs, you don’t sleep. Now that you’re not on drugs anymore, you need to sleep.”

At 46, Pierre is a successful businessman working for a national retail company. His addiction to the prescription drug Valium, used to control his cerebral palsy, was exacerbated by his long-standing and increasingly heavy dependence on alcohol.

He also didn’t realize until he was an adult that his father, who died when Pierre was 15, was a heavy drinker. “If I had known that, I would have been more careful,’ says Pierre, aware that medical research has linked addiction to genetics.

Spring is here, and he’s been out of treatment about a dozen weeks now — “110 days,” in the world of day-by-day recovery. But his month at the center, a critical time during which he addressed his addictions, his health and his ghosts, is still fresh on his mind.

“My mindset was, ‘I am a hopeless addict. What’s wrong with me? You feel like you’re pretty much of an outcast. Addiction is a disease. Not drinking — it can be averted. It’s the easiest cure in the world. But total abstinence is the only way because I’ve never met alcohol I didn’t like, and it’s tough to go to a party and you can’t drink. Alcohol is a social lubricant. In the society I’m in, it’s readily accepted.

The social drinking started long ago; he began in prep school in order to “fit in."

“My story goes back many years. I was a heavy drinker since high school … I also went to one of the nation’s biggest party schools, the University of Virginia. It’s probably not a good place to go if you’re an alcoholic.” The stress and pressure of work, and his chasing success, all contributed to even more alcohol, he says.

By summer 2005, his heavy drinking, combined with the sedating effect of Valium, produced results that alarmed his family.

“It got to the point late last summer that I had difficulty walking. I was walking around in a fog. I was out of it,” he remembers. “I was a top performer at my company, and I was slipping. My brother and sister were very concerned. They knew something was wrong. We met for lunch and they suggested a treatment center, and then they went with me to the treatment center. I guess you could call it tough love. I didn’t appreciate it then, but I appreciate it now.”

He also appreciated his siblings’ help with treatment costs. They covered a substantial piece of the $20,000 it cost for his month-long treatment; his employer covered just two days. But Pierre’s company also put him on disability, a move that allowed him to continue receiving his salary.
Intervention by and support from family, friends and employers is key, say physicians and researchers. But the hard work was done by Pierre himself.

“A lot of people think the treatment center is an institution,” says Pierre. “I don’t. It’s not like going to the Plaza, but I couldn’t have done this without the center.”

Dozens of meetings – both in group therapy, individual therapy, Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) and Narcotics Anonymous (NA) – helped him identify difficult personal issues.

“I had some relationship problems,” he says of his breakup with a woman in Texas. “I hadn’t completely gotten over the death of my father. I’m a very driven personality; I work hard and am very successful.”

Few people, he says, could have matched his talent for balancing work and drugs. “Other people taking Valium and alcohol couldn’t have done it. But I couldn’t wait to get home to start all over again.”

Eventually, even he had to admit that he had lost control. “… With addiction, you are killing yourself on the installment plan … There are a lot of pressures in this life. A lot of people use alcohol and drugs to alleviate stress, but when you sober up, all of the problems are a thousand times worse. You don’t solve the problem. You just numb yourself.”

Identifying what’s behind addiction is crucial, he learned during treatment with staff and psychologists, but so is moving forward with a different mindset.

“They (the counselors) are very concerned that you will go back to your old behaviors,” he says, and he’s got some ideas on how to avoid that when he moves out of the recovery house he’s been living in since leaving treatment.

“When I am released, I will change people, places and things. I plan on getting a roommate, especially someone in recovery, and plan on moving into another apartment in the same complex. You have to radically alter your lifestyle.”

He knows he will always be in recovery, so support groups are a part of his future.

“You need to sometimes take it a little slower,” he says of the lessons learned during NA meetings. “No one can do it all in one day.”

Another part of the credo: “Take it easy. I have taken it to heart. I’m not working as hard as I used to.”

(William Celis teaches journalism at the University of Southern California’s Annenberg School for Communication. He is a former reporter for The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal.)

Editor's note: The subject of this story was referred to the reporter by Faces & Voices of Recovery, a national grassroots organization based in Washington D.C., which works to broaden understanding of addiction. The Richmond, Va., resident was willing to talk about his experiences in addiction treatment, saying he considers it a “public service” to others struggling with addictions, but requested that his last name not be used, citing the stigma of substance abuse.)
 

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