Matthew Flinders' Cat (37 page)

‘Like now we’ve got the strength to face up to things?’ someone asked.

‘Exactly, by admitting we’re powerless and can’t manage, we give ourselves the strength to look for help in facing up to ourselves and begin to rehabilitate.’

Jimmy moved on to the next transparency, which read:

•
P
ROJECTION

•
R
ATIONALISATION

•
I
NTELLECTUALISM

•
M
INIMISING

•
S
UPPRESSION

•
W
ITHDRAWING

•
G
EOGRAPHIC
E
SCAPES

‘So, here are some common types of denial. You may recognise one or two in yourself. Okay, let’s look at
Projection
. This one goes like this: “I don’t have a problem, it’s you that’s got the problem. It’s a free world, I can do as I damn well please. If you think I have a problem with grog that’s your problem, not mine.” That familiar to anyone?’

There followed a grunt or two and several of the men nodded before Jimmy moved on. ‘
Rationalisation
, we’re all good at this one. “I drink because of my crummy job, my wife, growing up, my parents and so on.” The reasons are endless and we learn to defend them to the death. Hands up anyone here who’s blamed someone or something for his addiction?’

Hands shot up everywhere. Billy seemed to be the only one who didn’t put up his hand. While he was now willing to admit that he was powerless against his addiction, he couldn’t remember ever blaming anyone for what he’d become. How could he? He’d had a privileged background and had lacked for nothing in his childhood.

‘Okay, we have lots for rationalisation, that’s a good start.’ Jimmy turned to the screen. ‘How about the next denial?
Intellectualism
. This simply means that you tell yourself that all your problems are in your head. For instance, “I’m not an alcoholic, I’m a problem drinker. All I have to do is make up my mind not to drink and it’s all over, no worries, it’s all about my willpower.” The problem here is that we never quite get around to making up our minds to give up and if we try we always seem to fail.’ Jimmy paused. ‘The point is that intelligence has nothing to do with addiction. Clever people, judges and lawyers, doctors and professors, may have no more willpower than anyone else, because addiction isn’t about willpower or intelligence, the big nobs in society are just as vulnerable as the rest of us if the circumstances are right.’

Although Billy had responded to one of Jimmy’s questions earlier, as the oldest person in the group he could sense that some of the younger blokes were waiting for him to take the lead. ‘I can vouch for that,’ he said quietly, then realising that they might get the wrong idea and think he was saying he was smarter than them, he added quickly, ‘Not about being more intelligent, but the bit about judges and lawyers being just as vulnerable.’ Billy found himself blushing.

Jimmy was quick to respond, covering up for him. ‘Yeah, funny that. Most of us lack self-esteem and sometimes it comes from our backgrounds. You know, a poor education, getting into trouble with the police, bad things happening to us at home when we were young, so we come to accept that maybe we’re not as clever or as good as other people. Billy’s just told us that’s crap. The people
we
think are always in control, given the right circumstances, are just as susceptible to becoming addicted.

‘Here’s an example I read about recently from America. This family seemed to have everything, wealth, leisure, education. The father was a world triathlon champion and a Harvard Law School graduate. This guy was a world-beater, everything he touched he conquered, except for his two boys. He was so busy being a champion of everything, he didn’t notice that his sons, realising they were expected to live up to his standards and couldn’t, were pulling in the opposite direction as fast as they could, deeply resenting his success. At fourteen and sixteen, both boys were addicts, both on heroin, both using the drug to substitute for what they thought was their inadequacy. It isn’t always the kid with the drunken father and broken home that ends up addicted.’

Billy now realised that he’d been sitting back, taking it all in, judging both the lecturer and the responses from the group without recognising that he was himself involved. This was, in itself, a kind of intellectual superiority. He was no better than any of the men seated around him and it was time he got involved. He was guilty of making assumptions, for all he knew he might be sitting with a roomful of computer gurus, young doctors, lawyers, teachers, stockbrokers and accountants. The derelict and addictive world wasn’t simply made up of Casper Friendly and his mates. He silently chastised himself, ‘You of all people, Billy O’Shannessy, what right have
you
got to make judgements?’

‘So let’s get on to the next form of denial.
Minimising
.’ Jimmy grinned. ‘Well, you wouldn’t be here if you were still doing this one, but it’s also something most of us go through at some time or another, with grog in particular, which appears to have a slow addiction time, but also with other drugs. It goes like this, “Sure, I drink a few beers each day but it’s not a problem I can’t manage.” For the guys on heroin or the various pills, their argument is, “I mostly only shoot up for parties, it makes me feel great. Yeah, sure, sometimes I just do it because I’m feeling crappy, so where’s the problem?”’

There were grins all around the room and Billy could remember saying precisely this about scotch when he’d still been a law student.

‘
Suppression!
This one’s a real doozy, I don’t know about you guys but this was me all the way. This is where you abuse family, friends, steal the housekeeping money, snatch handbags, roll drunks and act badly without any sense of responsibility and force yourself
not
to think about what you’ve done. You make the memory go away, often by getting pissed or taking a pill or a needle all over again. Anyone here share this little denial technique with me?’

Several hands went up. ‘Yeah, the tricks our minds get up to,’ said Jimmy.

Billy liked the way the counsellor included himself with the rest of the mob, admitting to his own failings so that they’d feel a little easier talking about their own.

Jimmy turned back to the screen. ‘
Withdrawing
. This is when it all gets too much and rather than face your problems you leave a relationship or a job.’

Billy put up his hand. ‘It’s called running away and I’m currently the world record-holder in this denial subdivision,’ he said.

This brought a big laugh from the group. Jimmy waited until the laughter had died down. ‘Thanks, Billy, that leads on to another denial sub-type known as
Geographic Escapes
. “My life is unmanageable, but if I move to some other place where I’m unknown it will get better.”’

‘Guilty again!’ Billy said, raising his hand. ‘Surfers Paradise, here I come!’

They all turned, laughing and grinning. The old bloke was joining in and to Billy’s surprise they seemed happy about this.

‘Well, that’s about it for today’s lecture. Are there any questions? Anything you didn’t understand?’

‘How come you know so much about me?’ said a bloke with a name tag that read ‘Morgan’.

Another laugh all round. ‘No, Morgan, it’s all of us, everyone ever born. The foundation of the addictive personality is found in all humans. It’s part of a normal desire to live life with the least amount of pain and the greatest amount of pleasure. It’s part of our defence mechanism, our distrust of others, it’s also natural to be somewhat pessimistic about life. But when negativism and pessimism, and a lack of self-esteem, take control that’s when we try to fix the whole calamity called “life” with a substance.’ Jimmy put up his hand. ‘And that’s the whole sad point, the substance works! It makes us feel better, it allows us to cope, it diminishes our fears, and while we have it under control, it even improves our relationships. But here’s the problem, first we use it, then we abuse it, and then it uses us and we become addicts.’

They were free to go, though most stayed to listen. ‘I’m not sure I understand,’ Billy said. ‘Are you saying that we don’t know when enough is enough? When we use whatever, alcohol or drugs, to hide some emotional injury, we don’t see the lights go red and so we don’t slam on the brakes?’

Jimmy thought for a moment. ‘That’s not a bad explanation. Let me put it another way. The fundamental belief that drives any addiction is centred on what we secretly believe about ourselves, the things we’d never tell anyone else about ourselves, because if they knew what we were
really
like deep down they wouldn’t like us.’

‘Don’t we all secretly think that?’ Billy asked.

‘Of course, but with the addict there’s no up side, no normal life going on. In the addict these beliefs are always negative, we believe we are intrinsically flawed, bad, unworthy, defective, and don’t have the right to be loved and so, obviously, we can’t establish any meaningful relationships with other people. When we are unable to endure a relationship or even undertake one, this confirms, reinforces our convictions, what we think about ourselves. We settle for a love affair with alcohol or drugs, and our mindset becomes physically altered so we no longer feel loneliness or despair, or think we must be stupid or inadequate, or feel inferior or hurt. Like I said before, at first it works. The substances we take sometimes make us feel powerful, superior and angry, comforted that it’s not our fault but the fault of others.’

‘But that’s not how I feel when I’m drunk, I don’t feel powerful or superior, or even angry,’ Billy protested.

‘That’s because addicts soon enter into another aspect of substance addiction known as “toxic shame”.’

‘I beg your pardon? Toxic shame? Sounds American.’

Jimmy looked at the others, realising that he was a little ahead of himself and that Billy was leading him into areas that some of the others might take some time and more explanation to grasp. ‘You’re right, it comes from the American AA. You see, rooted in the addict’s core belief that he is fundamentally flawed is the tragic emotion of shame. This we now call “toxic shame”, the increasingly dependent we become on alcohol or other drugs the more we internalise the shame we feel for simply being alive. Any emotion – anger, grief, despair – can be internalised but when we no longer
feel
anger or despair, we’ve
become
completely angry or completely despairing. Now, shame is the same, we no longer feel it as a transient emotion like everyone else does, we have become wholly shameful. Once this happens, we simply live our lives as shame-based identities. We accept our shame with out questioning it, feeling it. It’s like never taking a wash, after a while dirty is the normal way to feel and the idea of washing, of being clean, is completely foreign to us.’ Jimmy paused. ‘And that, Billy, is why you don’t feel powerful or superior or even angry when you’re drunk.’

Billy was beginning to realise that he had a long way to go before he was a healthy little Vegemite again. Jimmy turned off the overhead projector. ‘Sorry about that, we’ve been going for an hour and an extra bit, thanks for hanging in. Better hurry or morning tea will be over. Hey, don’t forget, unless you’re feeling pretty awful, be back here . . .’ he looked at his watch, ‘in twenty minutes. Go to your groups where you’ll discuss the things we’ve talked about this morning in some depth.’

Billy soon slipped into the routine at William Booth. After all, he had always been someone who liked a regular daily pattern and, although this one was forced upon him, he preferred, unlike most of the other men, the predictability of the day’s outcome. Breakfast, lecture, morning tea, group discussion, a small break for a smoke or a chance to go back to your room or have a chat. Lunch at a quarter to twelve was followed by an afternoon group, then an hour and a half of free time for ping-pong, pool, cards, chess or backgammon, with another group session and thereafter a break for a smoke or a visit to the clinic for medication. Dinner was served at a quarter to five, after which they could watch television before another meeting. The only variation of this routine was on Wednesday, when chapel replaced the evening group discussion. Chapel was also held at nine-thirty on Sunday mornings. It was lights out at ten-thirty and wake up at six.

Billy was to discover that talk was the essence of everything. As the men began to feel better, the group discussions started to open up and blokes who hadn’t talked about their problems to anyone for years, some of them never, found themselves bonding with others who had shared similar lives. Secrets that lay buried deep within their hearts now came out and the support, the one for the other, was touching and often heart-warming. They soon learned not to be ashamed or afraid to cry, that childhood sexual abuse was shared by a number of them and a drunken father who’d beaten and humiliated them was almost commonplace. Some spoke of mothers who’d had de facto relationships, with every new ‘bastard’ treating them worse than the ‘uncle’ before, although the men, the fathers and surrogate uncles, in their lives seemed to play little or no part in the general discussion other than to be dismissed as villains. Those moments in childhood when they had felt safe and loved were invariably associated with a female, usually their mother, who was the only control most of them had known that hadn’t been harsh and punitive.