Thirty-five dollars
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
When I got my two minors I was forced into a 12 week out patient program, in order to "control my addiction and give me a positive environment to discuss my problems" Needless to say, with a course description like that, I was hardly enthusiastic about my entrance into this program. I would still say that I didn't need it, though I am glad that I went through it, as it helped me discover many things about myself and my drug use, as well as why other people use, and how they interact and cope with their drug habits. I went through all 12 weeks and graduated about 2 months ago.
Shortly after my release from the program, I received a call from the woman in charge of the group. She had an odd request. She wanted me to come back, and speak to her new group of kids. I was a bit dumbfounded, but accepted, and began to ponder what I would say. I had vocalized my opinions multiple times in the group, which I assumed was the reason for her call. So before I continue with my story, I'll explain my opinions on drug use and addiction.
Some people are not fit to use drugs. And yes, some people do need professional help, they need to be forced to quit, some of them might even need meds to keep them on the right side of the fence. It's sad but true. However I feel that people like that are a minority. I feel that often, when put into a position where one must consider addiction as a possible problem, they are bombarded with the idea that they already have a problem. It is very evident in many of the "self-checks" that many drug awareness campaigns promote. You've probably seen one somewhere. They look something like this. While taking a test like this, you will almost never be put at ease, unless you don't drink at all, or only on special occasions (example: new years, birthday, Christmas, but never otherwise).
I think now would be a good time to point out that I am not a conspiracy theorist. I don't believe that the government is out to get me, I don't have a small circle of trust. In fact, I'm practically the opposite. I am a very trusting person, and I feel that trait helped me to come to the conclusion I have about the world of Drug Counseling.
Anyway, about that test. It has a purpose, and it is most certainly not to put your mind at ease. Take it, even if you don't drink, and try to convince yourself that that test, in any situation, could possibly make you think " there's no way I am, or could ever be an alcoholic" or even just "I don't think its something I need to worry about". Unless you're deliberately trying to contradict me, it just won't come off that way. There's a word you could use to describe a test like that. Scare tactics. But why scare people into believing they have a problem? For me, the answer to that is simple as of today. Thirty-five dollars.
I went to the small office in the old downtown area of Edina. The waiting room was dimly lit, and had a very comfortable black leather couch. I took advantage of the free coffee, and dumped at least 5 spoons full of sugar into my cup. Then I sat and waited. Gale was speaking one on one with one of her patients, and I didn't want to interrupt. I took a moment to further explore the small waiting room. Magazines lined a small shelf, there were no pictures hanging from the blindingly white walls, and the carpet was rather plain. However there was one decoration; a small palm tree sat in the corner of the room, looking horribly out of place. I sympathized. I didn't have any right to tell kids how to be clean. Only last weekend I had downed a bottle of Robitussin and smoked weed, then laid on my friend's floor tripping out to 8-bit music. Not only was I about to play the hypocritical role model, I knew that everyone would see right through me. And nobody likes a liar.
She finished with her patient, a pretty dark haired girl. She looked horrible. She had been crying. She passed me briskly as I got up to greet Gale. I shook her hand and she showed me into the room. Comfortable chairs. A nice room. It had a great feeling. I sat myself down in an reclining arm chair and put my feet up on a stool. We played catch up for a few minutes, then she explained that she wanted me to talk for about 20 minutes. I nodded and told her "no problem" without thinking about how long 20 minutes of talking really was. Then the "kids" started showing up. I knew the age group I was going to speak to prior to arriving, but it had only set in that I would be speaking to my peers as they started to show up. Eight showed up total, this group was three times larger than my previous group.
Gale started everything off with the ever-popular, standard addiction group ritual: the check in. Check in's occur every week at the beginning of the group session. The stereotypical view of these is common: "Hi, my name is Joe, and I am an alcoholic. I have been clean for, I struggled with, I'm keeping strong, etc etc etc". We did that eight times. I'm going to assume you've never heard one of these, so I'll explain the two different kinds of check in's. Scenario one: "Every thing's fine, no problems, I'm clean, have been, will be forever". This person is either telling the truth, lying, or just avoiding the vulnerability of exposing themselves to complete strangers. Scenario two: "I fucked up, I did a few lines of coke, toked up, and almost died". I hate this. Without a doubt, one of the most depressing things I have ever experienced is sitting across from someone, and watching their body writhe awkwardly, and their face contort to hold in tears, as they explain their problem. You can truly share their sense of helplessness. People like this belong in the group setting. They need the support that others in their situation have to offer.
Anyway, tonight, we had 7 of the first scenario, and one long, drawn out, and depressed number two. When they finished, Gale got up and left. I was horrified. I introduced myself, and explained why Gale had selected me to speak to them. I then explained that I hated public speaking, and that I was nervous as hell, that I had put no prior thought into my short speech, and that I was winging it. This confession was met with a "Fuck yeah for wingin' it. All day man." which reassured me somewhat. I launched into my short narrative about how and why I was where I was, a story I may post when I get the time. They listened, which was nice, and when I lied, they didn't know, which was even better. They ate it up. They understood where I was coming from. I told them exactly what they wanted to hear: quitting has everything to do with willpower, if you can quit for a month for no reason, you can quit forever. If you can say no, if you can weigh the consequences, and you aren't just drinking to drink, you don't have a problem, you are normal. Which was 100% percent true for seven out of eight of them. The eighth shouldn't have taken my words to heart. He had a problem, and he needed the help he was getting. But everyone else was wasting their time and money. All they needed to hear, and all they needed to gain from that out patient program, was what I told them. And I'm sure by the time they leave, they will have realized that.
But I would like to point something out. After the check in, Gale started a conversation with the boy who had shared his "fuckup" story. She reassured him that the group was there to support him, and that we were all on his side. She asked him what he thought it would take to avoid a situation like that, should one arise again. He replied "a lot of will power". But she shot his response down with a "but that just isn't enough, is it?" everyone replied with a "no" practically in unison. They all believed that willpower was not the way to conquer addiction, and she had just reinforced that belief. For that reason, when she left the room, I told them the exact opposite.
I ran out of things to say about halfway through my 2o minutes, and we veered from my leading a group discussion to simply conversing about weekend activities. Everyone started talking about their drug use, just the last weekend, after claiming "clean" at the check in. This didn't surprise me though. What surprised me was that after about 2-3 minutes of talk, even the guy who had been moved nearly to tears explaining his slip up last weekend, was laughing and talking about all the coke he had done, and showing people pictures of him doing it on his phone. Social pressure is an amazing thing. Eventually, Gale came back in, and I left with her for a moment. She took me into a room, asked a few questions about the group, which I answered correctly, and she was content with the results of my talk, so she got out her checkbook and wrote me a check for thirty-five dollars. $35 for 20 minutes of bullshiting. Amazing.
I left, and on the drive home, considered the amount of money Gale must make. I know of 3 groups that she runs. The one I had been in had 3-5 kids most nights, including myself. That group had 8, and the other, I assumed was somewhere in that range. I then recalled the price for each session, usually covered by medical. $130. That's a killing. Its a part time job for her. She works 3 hours a week for roughly $2990. That's $11,960 a month, and 143,520 a year. Six figures baby. That's a good reason to tell someone they have a problem.
That's all I got.
Peace.
Posted byJoe at 11:15 PM
