In the beginning ….

I wanted to share a brief story about a friend of mine, with her permission, and one of her (many) experiences which inspired the name of my practice.

A background snapshot

Both she and her husband came from professional backgrounds – she decided to take a career break when she had her children, he started working for himself after being made redundant. She drank rarely and very little when she did, he had come from a background where drinking and long ‘lunches’ in his industry were the norm. He had a been through a difficult period prior to them meeting, something which was clearly unresolved in hindsight.

Coupled with a new regime of working from home, the sigma of being made redundant and easy access to alcohol, drinking became a daily routine. So, there were historic and unresolved issues, some of them traumatic, coupled with the pressure of setting up a business and supporting a family, no longer being part of a working community – an awful lot of emotional needs which were increasingly being met with alcohol as a coping strategy.

Going down the rabbit hole

For a long period he was ‘high functioning’, so could still work, hold a decent conversation, solve problems, but typically as his tolerance for alcohol increased so did his need and the volume he consumed. High functioning had become little functioning, hiding bottles to avoid shame or confrontation, and erratic behaviour towards his family which they found confusing and distressing. At some point he recognised the harm he was doing, both to himself and his family who had been desperately trying to manage the situation; he agreed to seek help and started treatment as an outpatient (involving twice-daily nurse appointments to detox safely).

Right, lots of support for the patient but, erm … what about me?

As a client of the drug and alcohol service there was a great deal of attention and support; a medical detox, groups to help reshape behaviours, coffee mornings, peer support, a mentor … even a small budget to invest in ‘something’ active (ie, buy a bike, join a gym, sign up to college). A long term and not insignificant investment to get someone to abstinence and to maintain it.

And for the family? Nothing. Not a single ‘how are you coping’, cup of tea, or vague attention. And yet the family were the ones expected to support and maintain his continued wellbeing, despite their own traumas and distress. At one point she said to me, “I’m so relieved we’ve got through the worst but what about me? What help is there for me and the kids?”.

This is sadly very common – certainly in the public sector funding is directed towards the person struggling with the substance misuse and there’s very little support for the affected families. Some private rehabs offer family support but of course the family is usually paying an awful lot of money for the family member to be there in the first place. There are a number of charities that can offer an essential community and help/advice (some are listed here) but it still falls short given the sheer number of families and friends needing help.

Having seen the gap in services and support I wanted to help, to make a difference where I can. So ‘What about me’ is focused on providing non-judgemental support for those families and friends who may find themselves in this very difficult environment.

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The language of ‘addiction’

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Riding the “roller-coaster”