My Child’s Father Is an Addict

When we think the parent-child dynamic in the context of addiction, we almost always think about the parent at their wit’s end trying to get help for their addicted son or daughter. The reality is, however, that it’s often the parents of underage and adult children who struggle with addiction, and often wind up impacting their children for years to come as a result. Between alcohol addiction and the escalating opioid crisis affecting baby boomers and older seniors, addiction is a public health issue that doesn’t discriminate based on age.
If the father of your child is struggling with addiction, there is a whole other level of urgency you need to observe in your attempt to get them help in order to ensure the safety and long-term well-being of you and your child while getting your partner or co-parent a second chance at life in recovery. Data from the United States Department of Health and Human Services indicates parental alcohol or other drug use as a contributing factor for child removal increased from 18% to over 35% in the last 16 years. At the same time, while there is obviously no guarantee, a commonly cited body of research suggests that children of addicts are eight times as likely to become addicts themselves.
In order to break the cycle of addiction and protect you child from immediate harm, here are some steps you can take to get the father of your child the help they need.

Make Sure You and Your Child are Safe

You need to be able to help the father of your child from a position of strength and stability. The reality of addiction is that it puts both the addict and the people they love in dangerous situations, and very often jeopardizes their immediate health and safety. Before you can take steps to help your loved one, make sure your living situation is secure and that you and your child have somewhere to go in the event of escalation. Call a friend or family member, if necessary.

“Tough Love”: Consequence-Based Treatment Motivation

While it may seem initially harsh, sometimes the best thing you can do is show the addicted father of your child what can happen if they don’t get clean. Tell the father of your child as calmly and rationally as possible, without exercising judgment, that you simply can’t put your child at risk by allowing visitation until they get clean. It may be necessary to take legal action in this case. Courts may automatically intervene and mandate treatment, depending on the specific circumstances.

Some of the signs that the father of your child may have a drug problem can include:

• Increasing Irresponsibility Regarding Care (Forgetting about Important Events, Not Showing, Driving them around While, Etc.)
• Professional or Financial Problems (Job Loss, Spending Savings on Drugs, Etc.)
• Prolonged Periods of Absence or Isolation
• Erratic, Risky and Potentially Illegal Behavior
• Lying about Whereabouts and Other Things

If your child’s father is exhibiting these physical indicators or any behavioral signs of addiction, it’s time to get them help.

Engage Them Calmly and Rationally about Treatment

Before things escalate to the point of consequences; however, try talking to the addicted father of your child about the prospect of getting help for both themselves and your child. Offer to help them in their search for care. If they see that they have a partner in this endeavor, and that they can lean on you for support, they might be more receptive to entering treatment. Help can mean anything from assisting in their search for a treatment center by calling or going online to offering to help cover some of their treatment costs through your insurance if they aren’t adequately covered by their own plan. There is no blueprint for this, but as along you are willing to help, let them know.

Get Others Involved in their Treatment

Even though your child’s safety and emotional well-being may be tied to their father’s recovery, and you have a tremendous personal stake in their progress, this can’t be entirely up to you. Reach out to his family, close friends and other important people in his life to try and organize a meeting or intervention. An intervention should be led by an experienced, trained and qualified professional who can keep the process from becoming overtly emotional, assist with making treatment arrangements and help your group coordinate actual logistics of the meeting. It’s important to make treatment arrangements ahead of time to avoid any the pitfalls of any second thoughts your child’s father may have.

We’re Ready to Help Your Child Get His Father Back

The Ridge has helped thousands of co-parents just like you start to reconnect your family through comprehensive alcohol and drug addiction treatment. Whether you and your child’s father are married, separated or share parentage in any other model, your child deserves to have two parents who love, support and show up for them.

Contact our admissions representatives today at 513.613.4026 for a full insurance verification and to learn more about what The Ridge can do to help your loved one recover from addiction.

Resources:

• Child Welfare and Alcohol & Drug Use Statistics
• Familial Transmission of Substance Use Disorders
• Millennials and Baby Boomers Hardest Hit by Opioid Epidemic
• Aging And Addicted: The Opioid Epidemic Affects Older Adults, Too

Stigma Creates Resistance: Learning the Truth About Alcoholics and Addicts

“My name is Amy, and I’m an alcoholic.”

When I first publicly admitted that I was an alcoholic, and after I published my memoir, friends and colleagues told me I was brave. I suppose many people think that I should have shame around my alcohol use disorder, but I do not. I’m conscious now and a person in long-term recovery. It takes courage to look within and be honest with ourselves. Many people are ashamed or unwilling to see their addiction, partly because of the stigma that exists in our society.

Before I knew I had a problem with alcohol, a relative had a series of DUIs. Back then, they called them DWIs, driving while intoxicated. He got five of them within the span of a few years. I was shocked. I harshly judged this person. I believed that anyone who got DUIs or arrested and continued to use substances was weak. I thought it was a moral failing. Why didn’t he stop? Why can’t he put it down? Why would he do that to himself and his family? I didn’t realize that he didn’t have a choice. His brain and addiction were in charge. He was powerless. I learned about this first hand in my own experience of the progressive disease of alcoholism.

An alcoholic or addict suffers from an illness. It has nothing to do with morals or a sense of right and wrong.

When I was actively drinking, I lied to my doctor about how much wine I consumed. I’d check the box for two drinks or less a day. I didn’t want my doctor to know the truth. I knew it was too much. I continued to rationalize my choices. I read articles about the benefits of drinking one glass of red wine a day for heart health. I thought that more must be even better. Everyone drinks more than they tell their doctor. I thought I had this under control. If I told them the truth, they might ask me to cut down, or worse, to stop. I couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop. I needed it.

I was high functioning, with a master’s degree, a great job in advertising, good relationships with friends and family, and relatively good health. If life was good, I couldn’t be an alcoholic, right? I was wrong. I’m grateful I learned about my illness before it destroyed my life, while I still had time to do something about it.

The stigma of alcoholism was partially responsible for keeping me away from recovery. Back then, I didn’t understand that addiction is a disease with stages. I also didn’t realize that recovery is a process, like it sounds, of recovering one’s life and health. It’s a positive experience for me and many others. I wouldn’t trade my sober life for anything today.

My sober colleagues are from all walks of life, regardless of their sex, gender, race, ethnicity, age, class, citizenship, marital status, sexual orientation, nationality, socioeconomic status, religion, physical ability, mental ability, and expression. We are writers, bankers, chefs, painters, accountants, surgeons, teachers, sculptors, waiters, store clerks, lawyers, and the list is endless. There are also the unfortunates who lost everything.

According to the 2015 National Survey on Drug Use and Health (NSDUH), 15.1 million adults ages 18 and older had Alcohol Use Disorder, including 9.8 million men and 5.3 million women.*

If you catch yourself judging others for their drinking and drug use, consider this. Would you blame someone for having cancer, or having some other affliction?

There are some things in this life we have no control over. However, we do have choices of how we respond to the truth of our condition, once we are ready to hear it. The mentality and behavior of drug addicts and alcoholics are wholly irrational until you understand that they are completely powerless over their addiction and unless they have structured help, they have no hope.

For additional reading on this subject, check out these articles: 

1. Alcohol and Alcoholism, Volume 46, Issue 2, March-April 2011, https://academic.oup.com/alcalc/article/46/2/105/198339
2. The Stigma That Undermines Care, American Psychological Association, June 2019, https://www.apa.org/monitor/2019/06/cover-opioids-stigma

*Source: https://www.niaaa.nih.gov/alcohol-facts-and-statistics

Amy LaBossiere is an author, multi-disciplinary artist, and small business owner. She is Managing Partner of Still Waters Retreat Center, and Administrating Director of Art of Tao LaBossiere, a Hartford-based creative services company. An award-winning, intuitive and conceptual artist, Amy loves to create when the spirit moves her. She has exhibited her mixed media artwork in more than 65 group shows in the past 15 years and had a solo art show, Conscious Evolution: Reflections on a Master’s Program in 2011. Amy creates art in various forms including visual (mixed media and collaborative paintings), writing, voiceovers, acting, and cooking. She is passionate about her healthy lifestyle and finds joy in connecting people and new ideas. Amy is also volunteer co-director of Hartford ArtSpace Gallery.

When thinking of how to describe our Medical Director, Dr. Marc Whitsett we couldn’t think of a better point of view than from his own daughter Natalie Whitsett. This is a guest post from Natalie which describes her dad Dr. Whitsett and his journey to an addiction doctor and our Medical Director.

The line rings three times before a voice answers by inquiring, “Dr. Whitsett?” These words are spoken with a practiced intonation that implies amicability yet formality, a formality that, as his daughter, I am unaccustomed to hearing. These words also catch me off guard without fail. During working hours, my dad is responsible for myriad patients, nurses, psychiatrists, and doctors; it is natural that this leadership position would encroach on his tone of voice. When I remind him that he’s talking to his daughter, not his patients, the stiffness in his voice evaporates. Suddenly, my dad is on the line, not Dr. Whitsett.

It is strange to juggle the two identities my dad inhabits – one as a father figure, the other as a respected physician. I have no doubt this dichotomy is striking for me because my dad is so… dorky. He wears his cell phone belt clip with oversized athletic shorts. He bought an umbrella hat for the solar eclipse this past August. I even think he is capable of subsisting solely on diet root beer, granola, and Nestlé’s semi-sweet chocolate chips. And yet, this same man is also the Medical Director at The Ridge Addiction Recovery Center, in Milford, Ohio.

While my dad has worked at The Ridge for three years now, his medical career began as a student at the University of Cincinnati College of Medicine in 1976. Over the last four decades, his professional experiences have included clinical work on the Arapaho Reservation, long hours in the emergency room, and occupational medicine. Since being introduced to addiction medicine in the late 90’s, though, he has found his true calling by offering effective treatment and compassion to stigmatized patients.

As I sat down at our surprisingly clear dinner table, my dad joked that he would fall asleep in his chair if we didn’t start the interview now. I checked my watch; the time was only 7:30. Perhaps this is a testament to the long hours he works every day.

Sitting adjacent to him, I noticed that my dad is starting to look his age – his once black hair has become a charcoal-grey color with flecks of silver. He was wearing a ratty t-shirt from Marco Island, our family vacation spot in Florida, and fleece pajama pants covered with red-nosed reindeer. His attentive blue eyes drifted between me and our rambunctious dog, Rudy, who was seeking out an unwilling playmate.

Our discussion turned to my dad’s decision to attend medical school at the University of Cincinnati. To my complete shock, his parents did not support the idea of medical school. “My mom actually thought I should be a minister or a nurse,” he shrugged. I was dumbfounded. My dad is spiritual, but certainly not a devout Christian. Yet, he managed to discover both inspiration and encouragement from a different family member: his brother, Jeff, who was about to accept a medical research fellowship at UC as well.

Upon starting the program, my dad recalled that his initial aspirations of becoming a surgeon were quickly derailed. He explained that “The demands and lifestyle [of surgery] were just not consistent with how I view happiness.” However, he named three professors in particular who stood out during his time at UC: Dr. Richard Vilter, Dr. Herb Flessa, and Dr. Vester. “They’re what I’d call ‘old-time’, great physicians,” he reminisced. “They demonstrated an enormous amount of compassion towards their patients.” I have no doubt their empathic approach to medicine shaped my dad’s own practice.

After a grueling eight years, my dad completed medical school. “But,” he emphatically remarked, “I was also broke.” To pay off some of his debt, he enlisted in the Public Health Service and worked on the Arapaho Indian Reservation in Ft. Washakie, Wyoming. For two years, he was the Clinical Director at the Arapaho Health Clinic. “I think I learned more than I gave back,” he said, reflecting on his time in Wyoming.

Following his work on the reservation, my dad began to practice emergency and occupational medicine – simultaneously. My mom chimed in saying that he was easily working at least 60 or 70 hours per week. Moreover, many of these hours were draining, stressful, even devastating. It was also at this time, though, that my dad was introduced to addiction medicine.

“I got a call from an orthopedic surgeon friend of mine,” my dad recounted, “asking if I would be willing to help them with the heroin addiction crisis in Clermont County. And I remember thinking, really? An addiction crisis?” The intonation of his voice expressed both incredulity and astonishment. Two decades ago, the opioid epidemic was not yet as sensationalized as it is in contemporary journalism, yet its epidemic nature was attracting the attention of medical professionals, such as my dad.

The pervasiveness of the opioid crisis in Clermont County demanded immediate action, so my dad and his colleagues created an O.T.P., or outpatient treatment program, which offered medication-assisted treatment (MAT) to opioid addicts. During the program’s inception, my dad initially tried to negotiate with the doctors who were feeding their patient’s addiction by over-prescribing opioids such as OxyContin and Percocet. With a sigh, he lamented, “These doctors would either hang up on me or flat out refused to listen to me.” It was unproductive to contend with a doctor’s ego.

Unfortunately, negotiating with willful doctors was not the only obstacle. There was, and still is, a resistance to MAT programs within the medical community and the public. Specifically, this opposition is due to the drugs administered in MAT programs, for Buprenorphine, or Suboxone, is an opiate like heroin or Percocet. “However,” he cautioned, “Buprenorphine is slightly different than other opiates because it’s a mixed agonist-antagonist. This means that when Buprenorphine hits the mu receptor – the heroin receptor in the brain – it stifles it.” In spite of its classification as an opioid, the chemical composition of Buprenorphine mutes the all-consuming craving to use. Moreover, since addiction irreversibly alters neural pathways in the brain, these patients will always crave their drug of choice. This is why medication-managed patients who also receive psychological treatment are by far the most successful patients.

Yet, there is still what he called a “widespread misconception” among professionals and the populace alike. “Many people mistakenly think that Buprenorphine treatment only replaces one opioid with another, but this is simply not the case,” he emphasized. “Unlike most opioids, there is no physical high or euphoria that accompanies buprenorphine even though there is physical withdrawal coming off of it. It’s not a drug of abuse.” His controlled frustration was palpable. He is trying to save these patients from imminent death, and this is no exaggeration. Statistics from the CDC state that “heroin-related overdose deaths have more than quadrupled since 2010.”[1] Due to the availability of opioids and sadistic nature of this disease, such numbers will only continue to increase.

On top of opposition to MAT programs, many people stigmatize addiction as a willpower problem, or as poor choices, rather than a legitimate medical disorder. “It is a chemically-based brain disorder,” my dad impressed. Further expounding this statement, he explained that studies show that certain parts of the brain – the amygdala, the nucleus accumbens, the hippocampus –  light up on scans when images of drugs of choice are shown to addicts. He said definitively, “The brain is responsible for this insatiable desire to use. Not the person.” In spite of empirical scientific evidence, though, the opinion that addiction is a choice is still pervasive.

This toxic stigma even persists within the medical community. My dad bemoaned that many doctors and nurses in hospitals shame addicts or simply don’t want to deal with them. “What gives these professionals the right to treat my patients poorly just because they stick needles in their arms?” he demanded. “They don’t need to be judged; they need treatment because they’re sick.” It is disheartening to think that trained, medical professionals are cruel to patients simply because of cultural stigma.

To combat widespread misconceptions which ignore the biochemical nature of addiction, treatment centers such as The Ridge Ohio exist. While these facilities treat a variety of addictions, including alcoholism, they frequently admit struggling opioid addicts. My dad first explained that “Any form of substance addiction is lifelong, un-curable, yet treatable.” There is no such thing as a recovered drug addict, but they can remain sober addicts.

“When a patient enters my facility, I ask them two questions,” he told me. “Do you like being an addict, and did you become an addict on purpose? They always answer no. And I tell them that you’re no different than my diabetic patients. I’m here to tell you that it’s not your fault.” As the medical director, he is able to offer these stigmatized patients something which they have seldom experienced as addicts: compassion. My dad disclosed that he felt such a connection with his patients because “they are unloved and judged by everyone in their lives.” That is why he feels an overwhelming responsibility to show them kindness and a lack of judgment.

When I asked him what The Ridge’s success rate was, he expressed that it has been challenging to gather data. He estimates that within the first few months, approximately 30% of his patients will relapse; after six months, they will lose another 20%. However, those six months mark a major milestone in a person’s recovery, for it is indicative of future success in managing this disease. “If I have nine patients in a row that fail,” he elaborated, “and I have one patient that succeeds, that’s all I need. It’s a miracle.” Without facilities such as The Ridge and doctors such as my dad, so many lives and identities would be lost: mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, sons, and daughters. Addiction is not just a medical condition; it is a disease that impacts the entire family.

As my dad and I concluded our interview, we shared a comfortable silence at the dinner table. I absently rifled through my notes, trying to process the magnitude of my dad’s position. For my dad, being the Medical Director at The Ridge Ohio is not simply a title on a resume. It reflects the moral responsibility and deep affection he feels for these patients.

My dad looked at me, grinned, and let out a long sigh. “You know,” he said. “Maybe my mom was on to something.” I looked at him quizzically, remembering that she wanted him to be a priest. “Sometimes, I feel as though my job is similar to a minister’s. It’s my job to give these patients hope.”

[1]“Heroin Overdose Data.” Center for Disease Control and Prevention, 26 January 2017, https://www.cdc.gov/drugoverdose/data/heroin.html.