Although “best practices” based on scientific research exist, the purpose of this essay is not to promote any specific “model,” but to ask: what if the SUD treatment community embraced the idea that there may not be just “one truth” or one approach to providing effective treatment? Does everyone with coronary artery disease undergo bypass surgery? Are all individuals diagnosed with depression treated only with medication? Is surgery the only method for treating cancer, with all other approaches somehow being “wrong” or at best ineffective?
It seems that it may be time for treatment practitioners to ask the controversial question, “What is the purpose of addiction treatment? To treat the diagnosis or the individual with the diagnosis?” Individuals mandated to treatment, often by a court or employer, are more likely to respond to a different approach than those who come voluntarily. However, suppose treatment professionals use the “one-size-fits-all” approach. In that case, treating the diagnosis is essentially what is done…and when individuals reject the treatment the practitioner believes the diagnosis dictates, it is deemed “denial” and confronted. William Miller of “Motivational Interviewing” fame asked an important question: Do you want to wrestle with the SUD individual or dance with them? In wrestling, someone has to lose for someone to win. When dancing, both individuals need to respond to each other, interacting proactively rather than reacting.
Sometimes, it is necessary to give people what they want to create the opportunity to provide what they need. Listening to their concerns and helping them focus on what matters most on their agendas can build trust and promote consideration of needed changes. Change occurs in stages, and as SUD treatment professionals, we are committed to meeting individuals where they are in their readiness to make a change, rather than insisting they conform to a “one-size-fits-all” approach to treatment and meet us where we are.
As professionals, especially those in SUD treatment, practitioners need to recognize that their role isn’t to ‘save’ anyone from addiction. On their best days, practitioners are fortunate if they can help someone move toward embracing change. By staying vigilant, keeping current in our field, and staying informed about the latest and most promising advances in treating addictive disorders, we may be able to contribute something to the recovery process for those who choose to work with us in counseling, but when they have discovered that change is what they want. Change is, for all practical purposes, an inside job.
Every time a practitioner chooses to intervene with someone in counseling, they have the opportunity to motivate movement towards behavioral change. As naive as this may sound, changes in behavior begin with changes in thinking, and this is what effective practitioners can accomplish. As a mason builds a brick building, skillfully placing one brick at a time, so do skillful practitioners make the case for change, one interaction at a time.
All practitioners, whether working with individuals or groups, will notice a common trait among those they treat—some hesitancy in embracing change. Some couldn’t see the need for change and were quite firm in their resistance. Today, we understand this resistance—”denial,” if you will—to reflect a “pre-contemplative stage of readiness to change,” which is the first of the stages on a continuum proposed by James Prochaska and Carlo DiClemente: 1) pre-contemplation, 2) contemplation, 3) preparation, 4) action, 5) maintenance, and 6) termination.
All individuals entering treatment are at different places along this continuum of readiness to change. Still, a common factor for all of them, regarding their position on this continuum, is some awareness of the “appropriateness” of change. This “level of awareness” is almost always connected to insight gained through experience. When we address the substance use process with those in treatment, we help facilitate their progress along the readiness-to-change continuum.
Familiarity with the principles and practices of Motivational Interviewing allows practitioners to meet individuals where they are on the readiness-to-change continuum. Consequently, a practitioner might be the first to engage someone in the pre-contemplative stage in a non-confrontational discussion about their situation, showing genuine interest in the individual and understanding the situation from their perspective as someone with the SUD. This can lead the individual to consider the ‘bigger picture’ rather than fixating on their own myopic view. In short, no change can occur without these initial non-directive conversations where the individual does not feel cornered or defensive.
Although progress from pre-contemplation to action may appear slow, especially for those who view the pre-contemplative stage as a form of denial that requires confrontation, it lays the groundwork for the argument that a person’s willingness to act would not have developed without this gradual, non-confrontational progress that begins with the first conversation. Ultimately, the final step toward change wouldn’t have happened without those initial and subsequent stage-appropriate steps.
SUD practitioners must stay current with research that presents new and effective ways to approach and counsel individuals with substance use disorders. Neglecting to do so is irresponsible. Resisting new techniques because they are “different” or oppose what some believe to be “the way we’ve always done it” is similar to the stance taken by individuals we treat who are in the pre-contemplative stage of change. For this reason, these practitioners must be met where they are regarding their readiness to change their approach to treating SUDs so that they, too, can move through the continuum of readiness to change.
Therefore, this essay aims to contribute to the discussion on how best to provide services in the SUD treatment field. For some practitioners, this backdoor approach to working with individuals in the early stages of readiness to change may be dismissed as misguided or even incorrect. For others, this may not be the first time they’ve heard this argument, and they are starting to consider its validity.
There is an old African proverb that says, “The way you eat an elephant is one bite at a time.” Perhaps we should recognize that treatment should occur “one session at a time,” and the approaches we use should be tailored to the specific needs of the person we are treating rather than just the diagnosis they have received. Why must we, as professionals, be forced to choose between treatment models instead of seeing them as all being “tools in the practitioner’s toolbox”—available for use as the situation demands, different tools for different stages of readiness to change? Perhaps we should choose the most suitable tool for the job to ensure the best results upon completion.
I close with a personal experience that might be one of the most meaningful in my 50+ years of counseling individuals with SUDs. I share it both as proof that we can always make a difference and to show that change happens at different times and for various reasons, but always follows a predictable pattern.
ANY PORT IN A STORM
While on vacation on the Outer Banks of North Carolina, specifically in South Nags Head at milepost 19.5, I was walking along the beach south of our oceanfront cabin, collecting bottles and cans that had washed ashore after a storm. As I carried a handful of trash to the bin, I noticed a piece of paper inside a beer bottle—its label long gone from the dark brown glass. Having written notes and placed them in bottles as a boy, I gently pulled the paper out of the bottle, expecting to find a note from a young person with a return address I could reply to. But no young person, at least no non-addicted young person, wrote what I found.
The enclosed letter was from someone clearly struggling with sobriety. Having worked in the addiction field for 25 years, I was almost sure of its authenticity. I knew immediately it needed a response, but it wasn’t addressed to me, and even if it had been, there was no “return address.” However, my years of working with addicts at various stages of recovery have taught me that answers to prayers, and I suppose letters too, often come in unexpected ways.
Kevin’s letter follows, along with my reply to it. Whether he read it, someone who knew Kevin from the few details in his letter would read it, or another “Kevin” would read it, I felt compelled to respond to it, which I believe was given to me for a reason. The challenge was how to reply. After some thought, I decided to send his letter and my response to Recovery Times, a print newspaper serving the recovering community and those who work in the SUD treatment field, where it was subsequently published.
Kevin’s letter:
God, it’s me again, Kevin.
I’m writing to you like this because it seems like a good way to communicate with you. In a way, it seems like you’re so far away from me these days, even though I know this isn’t true.
I’m angry with you, God. It’s been about seven months since Christy died, and I’m still angry with you.
Perhaps it’s because I still don’t understand why you let her die. Maybe it’s because I feel guilty and have regrets, and I’m blaming them on you. I know I haven’t let go of her yet, but I’m trying.
You’ve kept me alive, and clean and sober through all of this. You’ve even sent angels to look over me. You’ve taken great care of my family. And I’m still angry at you. And I’m also somewhat scared of you.
I’ve been very scared and very lonely the past few months that she’s been gone. Right now, I’m wondering how do I find the courage to let others in, and let them love me, and love them in return? I really want so much to do these things, but I’m scared to. If you’re still watching me, please help me find ways and opportunities to do these things. Please, take away my loneliness and show me that I’m really not alone and that you’re still here to help me. And please forgive me for having my doubts.
Sincerely, Kevin
Dear Kevin:
Sorry for reading your mail, but I hope you don’t mind how I came to get it. I found your letter on the beach in South Nags Head, North Carolina, near the 20-mile post, on August 9th of this year.
I know it may seem at times that God is a distant resource at best. But like someone drifting out to sea on the changing tide, believing it is the shore that has deserted them, it is often you and usually I who have strayed from the closeness of God’s presence.
You say you’re angry with God; I believe that isn’t so uncommon. What parent hasn’t felt the pain of a child’s anger in response to their actions? How many children believe that a parent’s job is to give them what they want when demanded, and so they rebuff the parent who says nothing or doesn’t respond as demanded? But, are we not all children of God, no matter how we understand God? Like a loving parent whose true awareness of what’s best for the child leads to a course of action that may go against the child’s demands, so does God sometimes answer our prayers with silence — when silence is what we need.
You ask why God let Christy die. This is an age-old question, and I do not presume to know why God does anything. But I do believe God loves us and that all things that happen happen for a reason, even if that reason escapes me at the moment. I learned a long time ago that death is a part of life, and like the night, which helps define the day, death is part of what makes life meaningful. If we believe that God creates life and that death is part of that creation, then perhaps this is why we and those we love, including Christy, die.
I know Christy’s death must hurt and has created a void that only anger seems able to fill. But anger is really fear directed outward, and I can only imagine that if I lost the “Christy” in my life, I too would be filled with anger—fearful that I could not go on, could not live, share, care, or love. And if I thought God were responsible for this loss, I would be angry—no, furious as well. But sometimes, there are no answers that make sense, at least in the moment.
You wonder if holding on to Christy is the cause of your pain. Remember, letting go does not mean forgetting, and forgetting someone as precious as Christy is not only impossible but would require forgetting a part of yourself and the life God has given you. Perhaps, letting go is recognizing that there may be another, or even many, ways to see the hand we’ve been dealt in this game called life. Kevin, what you are feeling, as uncomfortable as it may be, proves that you are alive and, I might add, working on your sobriety. Pain may be one of God’s greatest gifts to us because it is often through pain — intense pain — that we are motivated to change and grow, especially when change is the last thing we want.
It’s OK to feel scared, and there’s a difference between feeling lonely and being alone. The antidote for fear is trust, and being alone tends to lessen as we become willing to take more risks. However, both fear and loneliness are branches of the same vine that grows from a single seed called doubt -- I doubt anyone is listening, or if they are, that they care; I doubt things will ever change; I doubt there is a God, and if there is, how could He or She care about a mess like me; and so on.
Doubt leads to fear, which causes self-pity, then anger, guilt, and depression. Active addicts often find themselves trapped in this destructive cycle of fear, self-pity, anger, guilt, and depression repeating endlessly. However, it is only by destroying the `tap root’ of doubt that one can break free, because doubt fuels the cycle and the addiction, which in turn sustains doubt.
You ask that if God is still watching, He or She would help you find the courage, ways, and opportunities to address your anger and fear. I suggest that your prayer has been heard and that God has responded to your request. Your bottle could have sunk, but it didn’t. It could have been picked up by someone who couldn’t or wouldn’t understand your plight, but it wasn’t. It could have been thrown away as “garbage,” but it wasn’t.
God works in mysterious ways, often beyond our understanding. For God’s plan to succeed, I don’t need to understand it, approve of it, or alter it. All I have to do is trust that it will somehow work out. The “doubts” you ask forgiveness for are the emotional core of your addiction. Just as you don’t need forgiveness for being an addict, you don’t need it for having doubts. It’s not the `having doubts’ that is the problem, but how you choose to respond to those doubts that can cause issues. I suggest you keep tossing bottles into the sea, which is an excellent metaphor for taking risks in this life we’ve been given.
Peace,
Robert
Post Script
I wish I could tell you that Kevin contacted me after reading my response in Recovery Times, but unfortunately, that was not the case. However, several “Kevins” did, after reading his letter and my reply. When we choose to get involved and meet people where they are, addressing their needs at that moment, there’s a good chance that change can follow.
As I often told my counseling students, when the person who happens to be the counselor meets the person who happens to be the client and they connect as individuals, that’s when the magic in counseling occurs.