The Other Pandemic

When I was 23, I had reconstructive surgery on my eardrum. My right ear had plagued me since I was a kid, but in my early twenties, it had started oozing puss for months on end. It turned out that I had a large benign cyst that needed to be surgically removed.

After surgery, as I recovered in my hospital room, the nurse naturally asked me how I was feeling. Having just had the back of my ear sliced open, my head felt like someone had just hit me with a bat.

I was given an IV drip of Demerol and was instantly and completely pain free. I felt a sensation like I was floating above the covers of my hospital bed like Sigourney Weaver’s character in Ghostbusters. The drug gave me immediate relief from the most severe physical pain imaginable.

The doctors had prescribed me a drug that is similar to Morphine or Oxycodone. On the street, these forms of opioids can be hard to come by and are frequently replaced by a more accessible drug; Heroin. Whatever form, the desired chemical effect is the same — immediate relief from significant pain.

After taking opioids in the hospital I thought, “why on earth would someone choose to take these drugs intentionally or recreationally?” This question is commonly answered with having ‘character weakness’ or the ‘wrong genes.’

Defining substance abuse as a moral flaw or genetic defect makes many of us feel we are not vulnerable to the hazards of illicit drug use or other types of addiction. Such black and white thinking also makes us feel there is a tangible, straightforward strategy in combating drug abuse. Hence the “war” on drugs. In turn, we’ve fought a 50-year war with the intention of getting rid of drugs, dealers, and users to no avail. At the same time, we’ve had a massive influx of legal drugs, which are heavily promoted in every facet of our media landscape.

Make no mistake, drug dependency can have horrific consequences from the devastating destruction of families to the tragic loss of human life. But what if blaming drugs, users, and even sellers is flawed logic? What if this is an us problem, not a them problem? What if the truth of the matter is we’re all one bad break away from insurmountable pain and therefore the possibility of addiction?

The reality is addiction can happen to anyone because escapism is a natural human response to chronic pain and trauma. Drugs, alcohol, and even food don’t discriminate - Rehab centers and 12-step support groups are filled with every walk of life from the rich and poor to the black and white. As author, comedian, and former addict Russell Brand says, “We are all on the addiction scale.”

Susceptibility to drug/alcohol abuse or other types of addiction (sugar, pornography, social media) is kind of like cancer. Some may be more genetically predisposed, but we all carry cancerous cells and anyone can develop cancer. A surgeon I know once commented to me, “if we lived long enough, every single person would eventually get cancer.”

Is it possible that similarly, if we live long enough, we all might struggle with addiction at some point? Given the statistics of obesity, drug overdose, alcoholism, gambling, and even screen time usage, such a conclusion seems feasible if not likely.

Why is this distinction relevant and important? Because when we allow for the capacity of relating to addicts instead of demonizing them, it creates space for empathy, our most powerful problem-solving tool.

‘We’re all in this together’ has worked throughout the course of history. But ‘You’re the problem’ seldom works (see the colossal failures that are the wars on drugs, fat, prohibition and even our current political construct). Characterizing addicts as weak, criminal, and/or genetically flawed has done nothing to solve the epidemic of drug use. In fact, fighting a war on drugs and blaming users has only massively exacerbated the problem.

Studies have shown that the majority of drug use is highly correlated to those who have suffered significant trauma (especially in childhood). To answer the question I asked of myself back when l had ear surgery — “Why do people abuse drugs?” Many take drugs habitually, eat impulsively, and drink chronically to escape severe emotional and/or physical pain. Period.

I’ve had my heart broken and I’ve had my head sliced open in surgery. But surgery and break ups are normal human occurrences, which can create challenging, but temporary circumstances. In the wake of such events, one may medicate for a while, but the equilibrium of life tends to normalize again.

But what happens in abnormal and extreme life circumstances? For instance, the experience of abuse, combat, abandonment, incarceration, chronic unemployment, or severe/permanent injury. This type of trauma is what researchers are talking about when it comes to the “pain” that causes drug abuse. Says Russell Brand, “The reason I became a drug addict is because it was too painful not to.”

Especially now, more and more of us can relate to this pain. Recent studies show that the stresses of the COVID-19 pandemic has magnified an already skyrocketing epidemic of drug and alcohol abuse. In fact drug overdose deaths are now the highest ever on record. But drugs and alcohol are not the causes of our ailments; they are merely symptoms. The real elephant in the room is deep-rooted psychological and societal PAIN — trauma, joblessness, abuse, PTSD, racism, and economic inequality. Every day, jobs are being eliminated, people become homeless, and families are devastated — That is pain.

We must wage a new war on the real causes of addiction. We need to start by asking the right question(s). As renowned addiction expert Dr. Gabor Maté states, “The question is not why the addiction, but why the pain.” We must address systemic pain through community, faith and family-based efforts including support groups, job retraining programs, and drug/alcohol/food abuse treatment centers. We need to give every addict access to treatment if they want to get well. Instead of just holding addicts and criminals accountable, we also need to hold corporations accountable that aggressively promote “legal” addiction.

Addiction and despair is everywhere you look. Consider that since 2000 the opioid epidemic has resulted in over 400,000 American deaths. Author Johann Hari says, “A sense of dislocation has been spreading through our societies like a bone cancer throughout the twentieth century. We all feel it: we have become richer, but less connected to one another…we are increasingly alone, so we are increasingly addicted.”

If we are going to have a serious dialogue in our society about addiction and drug/alcohol abuse, we have to start with seeing addicts as wounded humans instead of selfish individuals or criminals. Just like when I was holed up in a hospital after surgery, addicts simply want their pain to go away. We must help the addicted fight their pain by creating economic opportunity and authentic community. Now more than ever it’s essential that we seek to love and understand those that are struggling.

Where is my mind?

“The best way to get somewhere is to let go of trying to get anywhere at all” - John Kabat-Zinn

One of my acting teachers used to begin each class with the simple instruction of telling us to “feel our feet on the ground.” The request sounds somewhat ridiculous at face value. After all, if you’re standing, where else could your feet be but on the ground?

My teacher wasn’t just making an obvious request though, he was asking us to be present and to genuinely feel our feet connecting to the earth - to breathe and be in the moment. As a physical artist, the only way an actor finds truth is to be wholly present and the only way to be wholly present is to breathe and feel your feet on the ground. That’s where the work begins.

Feeling my feet on the ground has sometimes been an elusive goal. Like many Americans, for most of my life, I’ve continuously drank the Kool-Aid that doing is succeeding. It’s almost as if ‘dream it and do it’ should be inscribed on our nation’s flag.

We are a nation of doers and our culture is predicated on the self-made individual. Making a life worth living in our society means building, climbing, and most of all, doing. In order to sharpen our saws for doing, many of us incorporate the habit of a “practice.” That is, a process of cultivating a skill, craft, or discipline.

Practice helps prepare us for doing more and in turn, succeeding. Or at least, that’s the idea. In fitness, I have been exercising regularly since I was a teenager. As an actor, rehearsal has helped me learn my lines and try new approaches. As a marital artist, sparring kept me sharp and helped me learn to defend myself. I’ve been practicing and doing constantly for much of my life.

Part of why I love fitness are the “laws” associated with the practice, starting with rule number one, effort = success. While you can’t will yourself to be talented or artistic, you can will yourself to be in great shape. Practice doesn’t make perfect with exercise, but it certainly pays off.

But even with well-intentioned effort, exercise isn’t immune from the laws of failure either. The human body often has other ideas than a linear progression of advancement. There is aging and injury to contend with, and life sometimes gets in the way of expressing our physicality.

Fitness is just like any other endeavor from jobs to relationships to daily activities – there are peaks and valleys, waves and calm waters. Our job is simply to be present, learn, and let go.  

The reality is however, that during a setback we tend to stick with our default - staying busy and doing more. When our body breaks down, we seek distractions and new activities. When we lose our professional identity or relationship, we stay occupied by seeking a new one. But what happens when all of our doing, practicing, and trying doesn’t materialize? What happens when doing becomes a distraction from the essential work of observation?

While it’s tempting to double down during failure and keep ourselves occupied, doing so doesn’t necessarily serve us as well. As a wise teacher once reminded me “Eric, you can’t run faster than your shadow.”

At such a crossroads, it’s time to go back to step one – to feel your feet on the ground and know that true ‘success’ isn’t your job, your body, or even your relationships, but qualities and character. A season of change calls for a new form of practice, but not the sort where you count the sets and reps.

We tend to think of the word practice in terms of repetition with the intention of getting better at something. But the practice of mindfulness is simply about paying attention and capturing the present. Becoming more mindful isn’t about doing more or rehearsing more diligently. There’s merely the art of releasing your expectations and allowing the universe to flow through you. As meditation guru and best-selling author John Kabat-Zinn states, “Meditation is not about feeling a certain way. It’s about feeling the way you feel.”

In recent years I’ve had to learn how to stop doing and start being. Being mindful isn’t about trying harder or doing more, but mindfulness does require the same qualities that promote successful doing - intention and discipline. With the art of being mindful, life itself becomes the practice of commitment to the present moment. For now, that’s enough.