United Way for Southeastern Michigan

I was watching that show Intervention last night, which shows real drug addicts whose families have reached the end of their rope. They call on an intervention specialist to help them with the tough task of convincing the addict to check into a treatment facility. I usually don’t watch those real heavy shows, but this time I got sucked in.

Charlie - a rather young guy probably in his 20’s - was homeless and heavily addicted to heroin. Like many homeless addicts, he would spend every day begging enough money to feed his addiction. What was interesting was that the viewer got to see the back-story of this common act. His family was pretty normal and cared deeply about him. They lived in a nice suburban home where one would expect that everything under that roof was all clean and together. As much as they loved Charlie and hoped he would seek help, they had handed him over to the consequences of his own addiction, which meant allowing him to be homeless and reap what he was sowing for himself.

“I wake up sick, I panhandle to feel better, and I do it all over again the next day” says Charlie. That’s his life.

What kept Charlie on heroin was not stubbornness or rebellion, nor was it a desire to be homeless: it was the strong fear of getting off drugs and the pain that would inevitably follow as his body craved the chemicals it would be starved from.

During the intervention, his family shared the pain of watching their son, brother, and nephew kill himself, and after much resistance, Charlie gave in and agreed to seek help.

After begging up enough money to use one last time, Charlie was admitted into detox and later into treatment to learn the life-skills, and get the support necessary to stay off heroin. The cameras cut to a shot of him clean shaven and confident. He had been clean for 60 days and was experiencing the joy of freedom from drugs. It was beautiful to see him be reunited with his family and no longer tethered to his addiction. It was like the smoke had cleared and he saw that he had been believing a lie that life couldn’t exist without the crutch of heroin.

My heart broke though when the show informed the viewers that about a month later, Charlie had relapsed and was homeless again using heroin. All the joy had deflated and I can only imagine what level of disappointment his family experienced.

I wonder at what point of this story the people our outreach team works with to connect them to resources find themselves at. I think about what their families go through daily, wondering where their daughter is at this very moment, hoping someone is there to catch her. It’s a weird feeling when I think about it in that light to know that I play a role in that story. I can never really know all the damage that has occurred in the addicted person’s life, and all the damage she has caused to those around her. The best I can do is just give these people the resources that would be helpful, and pray that the veil is lifted for good.

Strangely enough, Charlie has been on my mind today. I often disconnect from even the reality tv scenarios of people who are really hurting, but this time I felt like I was one of the people really pulling for him in real life, wanting him to get better and realize a life filled with purpose.

This is happening all around us. Without even knowing it, when we give to panhandlers, we are hurting a whole body of people who want that person to get better. We think we are doing good, but we play a role of the opposing team who are keeping that person addicted and suffering. The takeaway from this is to strongly reconsider - as I have said many times before in previous posts – how we help those who are in need. Are we helping, or hurting? Are we enabling, or empowering? Because enabling looks a lot like empowering if you don’t know what’s behind the veil of need.