By
Andrew John Tucker, LCSW, CASAC
“Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.” ~ Thomas Merton
Introduction
Substance Use Disorder is a complicated illness. You know an illness is complicated when it takes centuries to agree that it’s even an illness in the first place and not a moral failing. Its tentacles reach across the strata of life in the realms of heredity, environment, trauma, experience, and good old-fashioned individualized perception. The variables are countless, and no two illnesses are precisely alike. It doesn’t behave like other health issues with the patient deciding to take medicine or not (most do, of course), rather Addiction defies logic and can be overwhelming and frustrating in its ability to defy the simple directive of……stopping (most don’t – it is estimated that only 1 in 10 get help). Just…..stop……right? (ok…..I’ll get right on that – simple).
Thankfully, there are as many paths to recovery as there are ways to suffering without it. If we are really listening to each other, we quickly realize the moments that make sense to us and become “turning points” moving us further out of the swamp are not (thank god) cookie-cutter and mass-produced. Recovery is an individualized process, and as it turns out, it’s all about seeking it, knowing what it isn’t, and discovering options. When you find the pieces that work – hold on to them.
As a former music and theatre stage employee, I learned a long time ago how art can change people. It validates us, tells our story, speaks to things we didn’t have words for, and has the capacity to put things in their place so we can move on or have hope in the dark. I have always incorporated art into recovery for the people I work with because it’s not up to me to provide all the answers. Recovery from a disease that robs the soul is all about empowerment and finding the voice of self that speaks to the unspeakable in ways a regular conversation never could. It is a proper exercise – it is eliciting – it is summoning, and what comes out of it can move us to tears or laughter or acknowledgment and shine a light on a new path. It is self-discovery in the ultimate lost and found bin. And that’s where Daymond came in…..
At the time, I was half of the clinical team at a Halfway House. I had produced a talent show, as I had so many times before, called “The Voice,” speaking to these very concepts we are discussing now. As we started, I heard a rumor the “new guy” might want to do something. It was his first day, and first days are usually reasonably intimidating in Residential Treatment. But not Daymond. He walked right up to the stage and shared with us some of his writing and promptly unapologetically blew us all away. He took a chance and opened up a dialogue that articulated what so many in the audience were feeling. As soon as he opened his mouth, I knew his chances just increased. He has a visceral way of speaking to both sides of the illness as he reconciles with us its meaning and application. I asked him if he would share it with us, so maybe you can find some pieces that work for you. Hold on to them – and thank you to Daymond for making this contribution selflessly and with permission to use his name loud and proud. We present to you now…..
Living the Dream
By
Daymond W
They say sleep is the cousin of Death. So every night I sleep I count every breath. Dreams are a biproduct of sleep nothing more nothing less… Or are they moments we live among the multiverse? Touching our lives in worlds that are parallel? I’m filled with so many questions, at times it feels as if I might burst. They say in your dreams you’re the star, what does it mean when you’re not the leading player? When you spend your time chasing something, going deeper, layer after layer? I view my dreams in the third person. The path that I take I know I’m not the first one. It leads me to question the tragedy of dreaming, and how do I find the meaning? I go from tragic hellscapes, to people with no face, to battles in space, to running a huge race. Snippets, snapshots, here and there, there then here, one minute my heart is racing, the next I’m bored to tears. Where I go, I have no control, fluttering in the wind like a forgotten handkerchief, used, abused, downtrodden. So I question which reality is mine, which life was and is truly mine. My life, my experiences, are they merely a dream sequence of another? I’ve lived through struggles, hardship, times of greatness, and moments that are completely mundane. So awake, dreaming, is it all the same? Which life is truly the one I’ve lived? And if this is the dream, is it not just lucid? Which existence should I believe? This one? Or the others? What about those who exist in both realities? Traversing both worlds, in between awake and sleep, moving from one to the next with nary a peep. What I wouldn’t give for this natural ability. To create worlds fantastical. To approach things with methods that are radical. My attempts in comparison seem laughable. Heavy handed and impractical. So I keep living this dream while awaiting the next, knowing that each moment is blessed, standing still counting each breath.
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If you or a loved one would like guidance in practicing these techniques or is experiencing substance misuse, depression, or anxiety – call or text for a free 15-minute consultation. 646-504-6212.
