ODYSSEY: A MEMOIR - CHAPTER 1 - POST # 13 - PART C

{ODYSSEY - A MEMOIR - CHAPTER 1 - POST #13}

                        A DREAM COME TRUE {Part C}

 The key to success was to embrace the house, the program, the concept, the ex-addicts, and the staff with absolute faith. Each raw addict was urged  to take heart that if raw addicts before them had been able to become free and whole, then they too could eventually become respected and well paid ex-addicts.                                                                      

Initially each inductee, without exception, put up a defensive front ranging from acting as though they were tough as nails to acting abjectly pitiful. They continued to act their characteristic roles until about the third day in the program. Predictably at that point the 'tough' ones melted, while the soft ones appeared harder.                                                                   

Some reasons for these 'transformations' included: being shaken having to adapt to a new place and a new structure; reacting to the pressure of continual confrontations by the staff and Dr. Judi; and possibly because they felt shocked – in a good way -unconditionally accepted for the first time in their lives.                                                                    

What really happened in these dramatic changes of personality is that the 'real' person that was locked away for years {dissociated} - buried under a ton of what is referred to as 'attitude' - emerged from under their defensive shell. Not everyone appreciated the opportunity to become 'real', thus as soon as they felt something they couldn't tolerate, often dropped out. But for those who allowed themselves to tolerate intimate exposure there was the reward of becoming part of a solid core group of supportive comrades.

I found the residents not unlike a cast for a Damon Runyon movie. Each of them was a unique character-exquisitely sensitive and talented. In this first group were: Willie:  Mr. Fix-It; Peter:-the expert driver; Johnny S: - the expert negotiator; Johnny C: - the expert comedian; Barry - Mr. Organizer; and Jillian, Laurie, and Joan: - the skillful   nurturers.

Two long-term residents completed the team. The one I liked best was Larry. He reminded me of guys I had known and had admired in high school. He was popular, good looking, intelligent, had a way with women, and a natural leader. I wondered what he was doing in a place like this as he didn't seem to fit the profile of what I had thought was a typical addict. In many ways he appeared more 'together' than me.

I would soon realize there is no such thing as a typical addict, as they come in all sizes, shapes, colors, backgrounds, intellects, and sensibilities. The addicts I got to know were no better or worse than any other group of people-including lawyers, doctors, students, Presidents of the United States, and, or Popes.

In learning more about the historical details of each resident's life it was obvious that none of them were typical candidates for boy and girl-scout organizations. Instead, they were hardcore drug addicts who were driven to fulfill their one frantic concern: to pay for their habit by any means-including petty thievery, armed robbery, assault, and battery, white collar scams, prostitution, and sometimes murder.

Thus it was no surprise to find their 'resumes' included multiple jail terms. But despite my growing knowledge of each person's criminal background, it seemed not to matter to me at all. What did matter was the force of their individual and collective personalities as they impacted on me in the here and now.                                                                   

In fact, compared with the pretentious intellectuals expounding their obscure poetry at the White Horse Bar, I had desperately wanted to be a part of in the West Village ten years ago, I felt an oddly surprising kinship with nearly every addict I worked with. I discovered that no matter how initially hard and defensive they were, I felt as if I was in the presence of something real and direct-wherein real and direct means authentic.   

Dr. Judi had this same valued quality of directness. In fact it could be said that she was ultra direct. Probably, because she highly valued this part of her, she often insisted on running induction meetings by herself. I was thrilled when she invited me to join her as her co-professional as I would get to see her in action.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

The format of these 'groups' was uncomplicated.  The addicts on the 'inside' would evaluate the raw addicts on the 'outside' to see if they were sufficiently motivated to come into treatment. If, after a pre-induction group a given addict was judged appropriate for induction-he or she had to be ready, and willing to enter the House that very moment. This meant they would have to leave all drugs and paraphernalia on the street, sever all connections with family and friends for at least the next three months, and fully accept the Odyssey rules and regulations.                                                                                                                           

 Finally to be accepted into the program the raw addict had to demonstrate to everyone's satisfaction that he or she was really prepared to change.  Regularly attending induction meetings was one way to do this. Another and most important requirement was to pass Dr. Judi's 'feelings' test. This test required a candidate for admission to express some intense feeling – like rage or despair, or cry or yell – to convince her that significant change was possible for this person. "You have to get in touch with your guts," she said – issuing one of her stock phrases I would hear on a daily basis.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

Initially, many of the inductees had difficulties  pleasing Dr. Judi, as they were hyper self conscious like hard rocks, or ice cold. But sooner or later she inevitably wore most all of them down. As each new person was taken on as a special project, I could see them becoming mesmerized by her power and technique. She particularly liked working on converting the most resistant addicts. If on rare occasion she was unable to penetrate the outer defenses of a given addict she would enlist the aid of Larry or some other ex addict or professional.                                                                    

Each person on the induction team had his own unique contribution to make. Judi was sharp, clever, incisive, challenging, seductive, and persuasive. Larry was soft yet firm, tactful, sensitive, empathic, and comforting. Carolyn was adaptable, innovative, and exceedingly perceptive. There were few if any addicts who remained unreachable once she trained her imaginatively penetrating manner on them. I contributed zeal and enthusiasm for the place and the process, an ability to tune into some of the unconscious things that were being said, and a dogged persistence in not giving up in the face of seemingly hopeless situations. Thus each of us complemented one another.                                                                   

Complicating our intention for the new resident to have a relatively smooth transition from the street into the program was their fear of the detoxifying process (commonly referred to as going 'cold turkey'). Frank Sinatra's character in the movie Man with the Golden Arm served only to confuse matters in the public's mind. In watching the movie most inexperienced viewers got the illusory notion that going 'cold turkey' subjects the addict to traumatic like electric shock treatments. But in fact, during my seventeen-month stay, the only symptoms I witnessed associated with 'kicking the habit' were some depression (generally moderate but occasionally severe); a degree of agitation, and general discomfort expressed mainly as flu–like symptoms.                                                                                                                                             

My first induction meeting was with three addicts who were defiant, cynical, apathetic, pessimistic, and in the grips of deep despair. My first inductee was Silas.  Silas was a tall, quiet, handsome sad looking black man about twenty years old. He struck me as highly intelligent but equally as cynical. We made a striking contrast: his black blackness, my white whiteness; his tallness, my relative smallness; his lower class background, my upper middle class background; his relative lack of formal education, my relative immersion in it; his studied silence, my animated expressiveness. But despite our surface differences I felt an instant rapport with him on an emotional level that cut across time, space, and conventional socio-economic, cultural, and even philosophical categories.                                                                                                                                       

There was no doubt in my mind that this man had had it. He had reached bottom - hit a wall, as they say in Alcoholics Anonymous. He put up a strong fight when he was first confronted, as if we had somehow personally forced him into the induction meeting instead of it actually being his choice. I attempted to motivate Silas by exhortations to get with the 'real' world.  He replied: "What's so great about the real world? I like dope. It makes me feel good. I feel no pain." (There, dear reader, you have in four sentences the -essence of what motivates the drug addict to sustain his self-destructive habit).                                                                                       

 Being impressed with his rational answer I responded "Fair point". Acting as my own devil's advocate I asked myself: so what is so great about real life?  For a brief moment a doubt overshadowed my certainty but it quickly shifted back as I redoubled my efforts to convince him to give treatment a try. I was sure we could provide him with an alternative to his drug induced highs that would be better for him than was his self-destructive addiction despite his stated beliefs to the contrary. He could come into Odyssey and get 'high on life' instead of the needle.

I was certain that my prescription was an effective antidote to his spiritually poisoned cynicism. Since I had been experiencing a constant natural high since coming to work at Odyssey, I had solid evidence that it was possible to attain this desired state of consciousness being sober. I reasoned that if I was able to feel this way without using drugs why couldn't Silas or any one else for that matter? My enthusiasm not withstanding, Silas appeared singularly unimpressed.

Almost ready to throw in the towel I spontaneously said to him. You know you have a point but there is one major difference between you and me. After this group is over I am free to go home and do whatever I wish. Whereas all you can look forward to is being shut up at Odyssey or going back into the streets to your habit and crummy life.

Upon this last stab at scoring therapeutic points I noticed him gradually begin to soften up.  After four hours of similar dialogue (rather, more monologue) he was finally worn down. Upon hearing him say "OK, I'll try it," I felt a rush of pleasure, judging I had scored my first induction victory. The induction team showered me with praise. I enjoyed every minute of it but secretly I chalked it up to beginner's luck.                                                                                                                                            

I loved working in induction. My job was the equivalent of life among the pinball machines in the back of Jack's candy store – right across the street from my junior high school. Pinball in those days was illegal therefore forbidden, therefore exciting. So, one day, when I discovered the machines in a closed back room I dared to enter - and further – I dared to play: the novelty, the challenge, and the atmosphere, instantly combined, evoking a feeling of love at first pull of the plunger. Of course, the induction 'game' was infinitely more complex than a game of pinball. To master the intri­cacy of my tasks I knew I needed guidance from someone who knew how to make things work. In short I needed a role model.                                                                                                                                   

Coincidentally, later that afternoon, Walter, a tall, lanky, distinguished looking Englishman who was introduced as the intake psychiatrist strode into the staff meeting. Judi made a big fuss over him and related his history. Walter, who had lived and practiced in England and was currently visiting the U.S. was described  by Judi as a humanist making him out to be significantl different from the conventional psychiatrist who sits behind his desk and acts aloof from his patients. Walter believed in dropping the pose of the know-it-all authority preferring, instead, to treat his patients as respected equals. As Judi continued, I observed Walter squirming, obviously embarrassed by her lavish praise.                                                                  

Eventually Walter spoke saying he was happy to meet each of us adding that "we were fortunate to be working at Odyssey House." He went on at length describing his experiences working with addicts for the past year and expressing his hopes for a productive new year. As I listened intently I thought that what he said was less important than the way he said it. I was impressed by his soft voice coupled with his ease of delivery which made him sound kindly and regal. Walter's rare reserve contrasted sharply with Judi's confrontational style.

 Intuitively I felt I could learn a great deal by carefully observing him in action. After the staff meeting I introduced myself.  It took only a few minutes for me to feel that I had an instant friend. He offered to help me out, if ever and whenever I might need it, predicting that I would quickly learn whatever was necessary for me to be a competent professional.

 Walter had a unique style. He listened a lot so that when speaking asked the kinds of organizing questions that resulted in him further listening and then asking more questions. He rarely got upset and seemed not in the least bit interested in pinning a given addict down. Walter was like a kindly mellow grandfather delighting in having small children sit on his knee enjoying them just being there.  Obviously he was fun and safe to have around.

 The next day Judi summoned me to her office. She described the structure of the induction phase of treatment as consisting of two parts. (1) Part 1 was the addict's first engagement with the program which occurred in the basement in the induction groups; (2) Part II was conducted in Judi's office during which she and other staff members would 'probe' the new resident for hours on end.

Probes consisted of the new resident telling his life story trying to understand what was it that led him to come to Odyssey both seeking and denying the need for help. Key questions included: From whom had he heard about Odyssey? What did he expect from treatment? Was he prepared to give himself? Was he open to 'walk the walk'? Was he really ready to admit that he needed help?

Dr.Judi believed that the addict's attitude to this last question was the best predictor of successful treatment. If a new resident could not admit a need for help there would be no possibility for real change. At the very least he had to be willing to give the program a try whether his heart was in it or not. Dr. Judi was particularly insistent about this point, often accusing the inductees of just wanting a safe place to live and hang out as compared with the nasty life on the streets.

While not feeling all together comfortable with  her confrontational style I had to admit that there seemed to be some truth to Judi's harsh assessment. Having had some past experiences with addicts at another treatment program, I was sensitive to the fact that most addicts I had met repeatedly bragged about how they conned their therapist's into believing anything. It was as it they considered therapy to be an elaborate chess game. The object of the game was to be in control and avoid being controlled. To this end, the addict's strategy was to frustrate the therapist at all costs as if he was in a life and death struggle. The major defensive weapons used were lying, cheating, denying, provoking, and verbally attacking. The purpose of these techniques was to avoid {defend against} any direct encounter with any real personal problems.                                                                    

In technical terms many addicts initially seem either unable or unwilling to engage in the therapeutic relationship and thus were considered un-analyzable by the great majority of therapists who tried reaching them in this way. The implications were ominous in so far as a meaningful treatment outcome was concerned. If a given addict faked his treatment he might indeed win the short-term battle (manipulate the system) but lose the long-term war (connecting with his soul).                                                                            

                                 To Be Continued