The Residue Of Shame

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n The residue Of Shame the eighth story from The Monkey In The Tunnel: 10 Stories About Active Addiction, Storm is a complex character who is, on one level a very approachable, elderly lady who socialises with a group of addicts in The Old Sog Church (where group therapy sessions take place) and, on another she is a bit of a ranting old fool.

The back-story of Storm is also revealed when she used to work in Sor City (based on London) and was ‘called-out’ in her office-land job for smelling of, what the story the reveals, was a certain kind of smell associated with her practicing pagan rituals and, generally ‘being a witch’.

As the story develops the congregation of junkies and alcys begin to listen to Storm who they usually either half-listen to or ignore.

The tale of shame resonates on some level and, ultimately, without telling the whole story, they come to hear her through their own identification with being castigated from society themselves and end up wanting to literally embrace her.

In a novel about active addiction the issue of shame, to me as the writer could not be ignored.

The typical addict, after years or even decades of sobriety ‘under their belt’ often finds themselves defined by everyone for their active addiciton period.

Many books, blog posts, podcasts and pieces of media in generally about addiciton are written by professors and experts on the subject which is all well and good (I have personally been helped, sometimes in a ‘life-saving’ capacity by these very people) but sometimes, as with 12-Step recovery groups themselves, it takes another addict with ‘lived experience’ to understand this ‘defining’ aspect of not only active addiction but also long, or even permanent periods of recover.

Often the addict is seen as ‘unable to control his or her impulses’.

Statistics back this up as I have mentioned earlier in this blog. Ninety-percent of addicts relapse at some stage according to official statistics.

This can’t be ignored.

‘Success stories’ seem to be few and far between, even if, for me ten per cent is still a large number and, for the rest the periods of recovery can, like I said last decades.

On top of all this a ‘relapse’ may actually be a one-off event.

Nevertheless, from the perspective of a life insurance company say, this is ‘still not anywhere near enough’ to not define an individual with ‘alcohol treatment’ in their medical notes as ‘high risk’.

Their is a sad irony here.

By admitting to the problem and asking for help, the alcoholic exposes them self to being shut-out of a system which is rigged towards statistics and not individual stories of success.

The outcome is a definite stigma surrounding such admissions of addictive behaviour by individuals.

In my view this leads to a situation where healthcare and finance overlap and give the lie to the notion that a life insurance provider who advertises that they are committed to the nation’s health is anything but.

Context matters too.

It’s of course entirely possible that a ‘seriously addicted alcoholic living in Scotland who moves to Australia’ and doesn’t have it in their medical record that they asked for help with addiction, and who has eschewed all contact with their prior life (family, friends, employers and so on) could then be ‘taken’ completely differently.

There is a very strange irony to this fact.

Many non-addicts and those who are judgemental of addicts hold the view that it is all related to will anyway

Supposing this alcoholic has managed to use willpower (not a ‘thing’ in my view when talking about recovery from addiction which is something I write about quite extensively ‘around here’) or whatever mental mechanism to overcome his or her addiction and they apply for life insurance in Australia.

It will be granted (as it likely would also in the UK with no medical ‘evidence’) yet, in this case, this ‘Recoverer’ would also side-step any ‘defining’ by past associates, family and anyone else who knew them during their active use.

However compare this person to another addict living in their original context.

This recovering addict has sought help through medical channels, overturned their past using behaviour, proven themselves capable of impulse control, become an active and contributing member of society and everything ‘along these lines’.

However this ‘Recoverer’ is treated entirely differently.

However what if he or she complains about this?

People are likely to say, ‘Oh look everyone has a hard life. Suck it up. You were a waster and wreck. Don’t be so sensitive’.

However the treatment is still prejudicial in effect.

Admittedly this ‘junkie love’ narrative I am spinning here could sound like some perhaps overly-liberal and neo-Marxist apology for the behaviour of addicts who I am claiming are victims of a state rigged to exploit human weakness - or at least the ‘missing impulse-control genes’ perhaps inherent in ten per cent of the population - I am not actually suggesting any individual shouldn’t take personal responsibility for their conduct while ‘travelling through life itself’.

Many people struggle, addicted or not and yet the recovering addict is nearly always in a state of - at least ‘technically’ self-enforced - ‘coming from behind’, eternally locked in a battle to maintain even basic equilibrium when dopamine-centred urges take precedence over normal or regular patterns of behaviour.

However shame itself is merely a further compounder of staying stuck in active addiction or trapped in a poor mental state whilst in recovery, particularly ‘early recovery’.

In the story of The Residue Of Shame the factors affecting how addicts, mentors of addicts and the mechanisms of society as it operates ‘in relation to addicts’ is discussed in prose with the intention of uncovering some of these themes in the overall context of the story.