SEARCH RESULTS

Someone you care about is drinking or using drugs. You can see many ways they are creating problems in their life and creating harm in yours. Whether your partner, child, sibling or friend, you have stood by them in support as they have tried or refused treatment. You may have left them, kicked them out or considered it; begged, pleaded, bargained, been tough, or soft. You are advocating for them because you love this person, fear for them, feel responsible for their well being - or all of the above - yet you feel frustrated, defeated and confused about what to do next. You may be experiencing profound helplessness and have feelings of sadness, anger and isolation. Today’s optimisms induced by a new promise of never again is replaced by tomorrows disappointment when promises are broken. You end up with questions about loyalty, love, support and limits. How much help is too much? How many times do you cover up or overlook broken promises? How many times do you unbolt the door to let them have a shower or a sleep or feed? Should you give up hope of them changing, preferring family/whānau peace to fighting for change through chaos? Experts may have told you that you need to stop enabling, to start practicing tough love. You hope they’ll recognise how they are hurting themselves and others who care about them. The truth is that there are stages of change that are different for every family/whānau and staying connected helps individuals explore solutions that may be helpful for them. Denial and hitting rock bottom You may have learned that addiction is a disease and that only total abstinence with the support of the twelve steps is the treatment. You’ve come to believe that they must want to continue using or else all the trouble they’ve had would have convinced them to give up their substances. Their denial is so thick that only hitting rock bottom will motivate them to get sober. You’ve been told to stop bailing them out, cleaning up their mess, let them face consequences. Eventually they will hit rock bottom and sobriety will be possible and only with sobriety will come a life. Having believed this you urge them into treatment. However in spite of the acceptance and popularity of abstinence based treatment your family/whānau member has not got better. Despite the advice to abandon them you’ve loved them since they were born and the prospect of their death is too hard to contemplate. Understanding how people change So you’ve had it with promises and disappointments, exhausted by the fear and the suffering the substance abuse has brought, ashamed of their behaviour, feel terrible for those they’ve hurt. You’ve heard of being patient, coping and passive in the face of all this. You’re tempted to take the advice, quit or get out. The problem is though, tough love doesn't work. It’s also awful for everyone to put into practice. It is totally unrealistic to expect people to change complicated behaviors on the basis of an ultimatum. Any approach that limits you to an all or nothing choice ignores the reality of how people change. People change in incremental steps, practicing new behaviours and new ways of coping with life and feelings over time. The crucial ingredients to making lasting changes are understanding and support. When we expect immediate changes and refuse to be with the person during the process we undermine the very goal we seek to accomplish. Separating a person from their behaviour Understanding, however, does not mean that you do not set limits. You set limits with two-year-olds and you set limits with adults. The limits you are setting are on behaviours. Children need limits that protect them from traffic, fire, poison etc. Adults need different limits, e.g. you can’t yell at me, I can’t let you take all our money for drugs. It is more usual to separate a person from his or her behaviour. Spending all our money on drugs and alcohol doesn’t mean we are stupid we may be just overcome by need. Behaviours can be changed. Aspects of our personality can change. First of all we must have a basic sense of being valued to make it worthwhile to take care of ourselves. When we have children we give them unconditional love. As they grow, the older they get, the less we can expect unconditional love to exist between parent and child. Relationships become equal partnerships in which we have to earn love and respect even from our parents. This is normal and healthy. Once we grow up the only place we can get unconditional love or more accurately unconditional positive regard is from a skilled therapist. You are not your child’s, partner’s or friend’s therapist. You don’t have to provide unconditional love to an adult no matter how much they may need it. Harm reduction approach The harm reduction approach suggests that you undertake the same kind of balanced evaluation of different options for taking care of yourself that we have encouraged our drug-using loved one to undertake. Weigh the pros, cons and consequences of actions so that whatever actions you take reflect the complexity of the relationship with your loved one using drugs and the rest of the family/whānau. Just as the drug user needs to respect the complexity of his or her relationship with drugs before making decisions that will actually work and that can be maintained, you need to respect the complexity of your relationship with the drug using loved one. Harm reduction does not mean you have to end a relationship to improve it. Nor is abstinence the basis for an improved life. Nor does a drug user have to hit rock bottom to change. Incremental changes in drug using behavior along with incremental improvements in emotional coping skills are realistic and achievable goals. Abstinence may come at some point but for most people with substance misuse problems it is almost never a first step. For families it means a new way of thinking about the issue. A new way of thinking We know that this new perspective is a lot to swallow. It goes against everything you’ve learned about what addiction is and how it should be treated. How can someone who is still drinking or using the very drugs that make everything worse get better? We’re asking you to develop an entirely new set of ideas about this person you love and his or her relationship with drugs and alcohol. Your ability to be helpful to this person, and take care of yourself, will be enhanced by a change of perspective. Adapted by Tony Trimingham, Founder, Family Drug Support http://www.fds.org.au/, and Barry Lessin and Carol Katz Beyer, Co-founders, Families for Sensible Drug Policy (FSDP) http://fsdp.org/ from: ‘Over the Influence’ by Patt Denning, Jeannie Little and Adina Glickman: Guilford Press. With thanks to Family Drug Support Australia.

Tuhaitara’s Story Tena koutou katoa, greetings all. No Waitaha, ķati Mamoe, ķai Tahu me Tauiwi oku iwi. I am a descendant of the first nations peoples from the southern lands of Aotearoa on my mother’s side with Dutch, English, Irish and Australian bloods on my Papa’s. I grew up in a time where I was fortunate as the eldest daughter of my Mama and Papa to have both sides of my Taua, Poua and grandparents, aunties, uncles and many others. My parents were young parents, living between a city, a port and a papaķaika. I was raised between my parents and my Taua on my Mama’s side. When with my parents I visited my Grandma/Pa consistently on my father’s side. They owned land for market gardens and my Papa gave me a horse that grazed on their land. I loved both sides of my family/whānau staying often with many aunties and uncles. We visited and stayed with family/whānau all the time having Christmas, Easter, all holidays and events together, staying at baches around our marae every weekend. We attended taķihaķa, hui, runaķa etc. When I reminisce those treasured moments, inside, my inner Hine laughs with joy & weeps for those times lost to memories long past. I believe I had the best life as a tamaiti. There were many parties and many gatherings at places I will never recall, where drinking was a part of all occasions. There were lots of arguments, screaming and punch ups. At times when the party came to our home we, including our cousins and friends’ kids, would be shepherded into a sleepout out back of house. There were times where we five kids would be awoken suddenly, made to get in the car, startled, scared and half asleep. We spent many a time in the car with chips & drinks at a pub I soon learned was called “the drain”. I never thought as a kid any of this was bad, and as I grew older, it didn’t change. In my teens I babysat for a Maori/Euro family/whānau down the road. They brought the parties home from the pubs all the time. Those parents gave me alcohol at age 12 to try, saying my parents would never smell it so I would not be in trouble. At a young age I became addicted to alcohol and I took it wherever it became available. Every side as far as I can think back was alcohol/drug related. From my Taua who had card nights with black berry nip, to her pakeha husband, my step-grandfather, who was a full on drunk, and a criminal. My grandfather on my father’s side was part of the 6 o’clock swill and classed as a heavy drinker. There was also my Mama who my Papa would complain could not handle her piss. Alcohol and all other drugs have saturated my whakapapa and family/whānau tree blood lines. We have died through alcohol and other drug related issues, or from mental health impacts, some still undiagnosed as yet, but prevalent none the less. Addiction in any form has amplified the violence, opened the gateway to assaults and sexual abuse on the vulnerable, injured and ended intimate relationships, never to be restored again. Fortunately, I am one of two in my whānau, who have found recovery. I have recently celebrated 18 years of complete abstinence from all mind altering chemicals along with taku hoa rakatira. I have broken the cycle of addiction. Sadly my babies were in their late teens when I did. However the greatest outcome thus far is for my mokopuna, who will know no addicted Taua, and for this I’m eternally grateful. Kia tau te rakimarie Peace be with you.

A myth-shattering look at drug abuse and addiction treatment, based on cutting-edge research. Addiction is a preventable, treatable disease, not a moral failing. As with other illnesses, the approaches most likely to work are based on science not on faith, tradition, contrition, or wishful thinking. These facts are the foundation of Clean. The existing addiction treatments, including Twelve Step programs and rehabs, have helped some, but they have failed to help many more. To discover why, David Sheff spent time with scores of scientists, doctors, counsellors, and addicts and their families, and explored the latest research in psychology, neuroscience, and medicine. In Clean, he reveals how addiction really works, and how we can combat it. New York Times Book Review: "As a journalist, father, and clear-eyed chronicler of addiction, David Sheff is without peer." - Sanjay Gupta, M.D., chief medical correspondent, CNN

Usually when we hear (or often use) the term “recovery”, it has a very specific meaning: nearly always 12-Step oriented, abstinence-only based, and it says to us this is a disease you’ll have forever. I want to definitively make the case for a new kind of recovery in the world of addiction(s): an “inclusive v exclusive” recovery that does not require the elements we’re used to – including abstinence – but whose definition can certainly contain it… and so much more. Recovery. It’s a truly loaded word (pun intended). Let’s go on a bit of a journey to see how and from where our concept(s) of recovery stems as it’s a word that comes with a lot of baggage, both positive and less than positive. According to etymonline.com, the origin/first use of the word “recovery” comes in the mid-14th century and meant “return to health.” “Recovery” originates from the Anglo-French word “recoverie” meaning “remedy or cure.” The additional meaning of an “act of righting oneself after a blunder, mishap, etc.” is from the 1520’s. Could this also be at the root of the word having such moral implications? In his July 2014 article for Psychology Today, well-known addiction expert, author and former Harvard Medical School professor, psychiatrist Dr Lance Dodes discusses some of the problems we have with the word “recovery.” In part, he sees the word as acceptable in the context of “recovering from a medical illness”, meaning that 1) relapse/lapse is normal, and that 2) one is headed toward a cure or an ending of the condition/illness. Quoting from the article, Dr Dodes says, “In most of life, ‘being in recovery’ means a person is making progress even though s/he isn’t ‘cured.’” This is far different than how we too often hear the word used in addiction treatment circles or our greater culture. In both places, “recovery” typically means that one is abstinent and attending a 12-Step group – “working the program” to use the language of AA for example. This is meant to establish an “us vs. them” quality: you’re either attending meetings, working the Steps, and have a sponsor so you’re “in recovery” or you’re not and therefore you’re not in recovery. Black or white; right or wrong. Plus, the implication is that anything short of a 12-Step traditional recovery means you’re not doing recovery “right.” A lot of people – including many professionals – believe this is what the word means and ONLY what it means. I, too, believed this for a long time. I went to residential treatment here in Oakland, CA, in the late 1980’s. These were the “salad days” for residential treatment, coming on the heels of First Lady Betty Ford openly discussing her addiction to alcohol and pain medications. No one of her stature had ever talked about their alcohol and other drug problems in the US and her “coming out” can’t be understated; it was also a huge step in reducing the stigma/shame for others to seek help for their substance misuse/problems. Finally, this event was also partly responsible for opening the doors of treatment to become the Big Business it is today (more on that in another piece). In treatment, we were taught that addiction is a 3-fold disease: bio-psycho-social (some also added “spiritual”). It was like a, sleeping tiger, always waiting to pounce on you unless you were constantly vigilant in your recovery (meaning abstinence, attending meetings regularly, and “working a good program.”). We were taught phrases such as, “Your mind is like a dangerous neighbourhood: don’t go in it alone” and “Avoid old people, places and things to stay sober.” In other words: don’t trust your own thinking because you’re an addict/alcoholic and “your best thinking got you here”, you’re never fully recovered, and you must cut off all your old friends as they were only using friends and therefore not interested in your well-being; your relationships were only based on drug use. I remember someone saying that everything I had done up to the point of my entering treatment/recovery didn’t count – but now my life could really begin: “Today is the first day of the rest of your life” was up on a wall somewhere. Scary stuff. And I was scared straight. Can we ever say we’re “recovered” or even “cured?” I say, “yes we can,” to borrow a phrase. And that we should. Why? Because to those outside of traditional treatment/recovery, I hear folks constantly say, “Apparently treatment doesn’t work because you people are never recovered!” I had never thought of the phrase “recovering” as potentially responsible for this perception. I personally say that after over 30 years of continuous abstinence, I am completely comfortable declaring that I’m “recovered;” the problems I have today have nothing to do with illicit drug and/or alcohol use (sometimes that would be simpler, frankly). A Phrase is Born. While working for the large American HMO Kaiser in the 1990’s, I was charged with developing and leading a relapse prevention track for patients in our Chemical Dependency Recovery Program (CDRP). These were folks for whom the course of treatment we offered (intensive outpatient program or IOP) didn’t work – or, as we phrased things back then, patients who didn’t try hard enough, were in denial of their “disease,” or simply relapsed back into drug/alcohol use due to inattention to “people, place, and things.” During one of our evening groups we were working on a definition for “recovery” and decided to see what we could come up ourselves. After all, we surmised, how can one relapse if you don’t have a clear idea of recovery? Mindfulness, connectedness, and inner growth was the phrase we all agreed described the basic ingredients for recovery. It wasn’t until later that someone noticed we neglected to include anything about abstinence/sobriety, 12-Step attendance, or the other usual things we associate(d) with recovery. I remember that night well because a gigantic light bulb didn’t just light up, it blew up in my head! This was the moment I began to wrap my head around the idea that perhaps alcohol and other drug use itself – and abstinence specifically – really had nothing to do with one’s healing or recovery; recovery wasn’t in fact begun with stopping drug use first (which is what we always told folks). What was at the core of the concept of true recovery of one’s life we decided were these 3 elements defined here – which may or may not include an end to one’s drug use: Mindfulness: paying attention – to what you’re doing, who you’re with, what you’re putting in your mouth/arm/throat/etc., really everything that’s happening as well as you humanly can, plain and simple. Connectedness: this means getting reacquainted with yourself, a vertical connection, we called it – your body, your mind, your spirit – and fully trusting them. This also spoke to the idea that your mind is connected to your body (yes, no matter what Descartes] said, they’re attached; it’s called a neck!). This vertical connection could also be to a higher power or great spirit of some kind. Connectedness includes a horizontal connection, too, or connection with others. Inner growth: this was a bit more difficult to flesh out at the time but we settled on it meaning whatever an individual does that leads to their seeking out new information and new ideas, being a part of the world at large. This could be going to school, walking in the park, dating, making new friends, a yoga practice, meditation, attending synagogue/mosque/church/temple/circle, or even reading. Or anything else that “feeds” a human’s curiosity and need for knowledge. And that was it. Drug use, abstinence, continued using or something in between, wasn’t mentioned. Why? Because we realised that in any other bio-psycho-social illness (which nearly all are), one did not have to recover perfectly. In fact, in my definition humans cannot do this – at least not all the time. And we realised that it wasn’t the alcohol or other drugs that were at the core of the problems we had: they were but a symptom. Therefore, one could indeed be in recovery and use drugs. Not problematically because then you’re not connected or mindful or growing. But we agreed (again to our collective surprise) that yes, one could be using alcohol or other drugs – having a healthy relationship with them – and be mindful, connected, and growing internally: in recovery. And we also agreed that for some folks, to have these 3 elements in their lives could require abstinence: total, partial, forever or for a while, we made no comment on those notions. That would remain up to the individual (which also fits within AA/12-Step guidelines of no one being able to tell another that they are an “alcoholic or addict.”). In fact, we realised that having healthy relationships of all kinds could be achieved through these three elements. What a jolt to the brain this was to us all! “YOU GOTTA GIVE THEM HOPE” Harvey Milk (1) These days, I have come to realise that it appears these elements or ingredients of recovery also build on one another: for example, you first need to improve or have some mindfulness about what you’re doing before you can truly connect with others and yourself, and that action can lead to growing internally. And again, we made the argument then which I’ll repeat here, drugs and drug use (including alcohol of course) don’t necessarily impede one’s ability to recover or regain health from having problems with them – or being “addicted.” The problem is in one’s relationship with substances or behaviours that have become problematic or compulsive, and that we continue to engage in despite negative consequences – what we call “addiction.” So here’s the Big Question: what if we as a collective culture decided to work on these three ingredients and the issues that get in one’s way of achieving them? What if we decided to help those in need to uncover why they – or collectively, why so many of us– need to use substances in order to cope? Hmmm… One of the ways to address these issues of the lack of mindfulness, connectedness, and inner growth is with what the Canadian author, physician, and addiction expert Dr Gabor Mate (2) calls “compassionate inquiry". Dr Mate makes the case for needing people in our lives who can/will listen deeply, compassionately to those of us involved in using substances/behaviours that are causing pain in our lives. Another advocate of doing things differently in treatment is Stanton Peele, PhD, JD (3). In his newest book on addiction, Recover! Stop Thinking Like an Addict and Reclaim Your Life with The Perfect Program. Dr Peele discusses these issues at length, as he has for over 50 years. As an early adopter of harm reduction principles, he has tried to get us all – to see that the way we have come to view addiction is all wrong: it’s not a disease, most people quit on their own (so how can it be a disease), and not all people are susceptible to becoming addicted. In fact, by viewing addiction as a disease, our society has actually increased the possibility of relapse. It reminds me a bit of Charlton Heston’s famous line at the end of the film, The Planet of the Apes, when he realises where he really is – back on Earth: “You finally really did it. You maniacs! …God damn you. God damn you all!” In looking for the reasons for addiction, we have to consider that perhaps, unintentionally, we have done much of the damage ourselves with our racist policies, unscientific treatments/interventions, and blaming of the people who use drugs (and often their families as well). It sure is easier to blame a drug(s). It’s much harder to look within, compassionately and deeply, for the reasons so many of us are in pain (of all kinds) and need relief to cope with living. It’s time to radically change how we view people with substance problems – and their loved ones – regardless of whether you believe this is a condition of their making or not. It’s time to reinvent the word recovery to mean this: “I have recovered my life and my health, with or without abstinence. I am mindful, connected, and growing.” Now that’s real recovery! Footnotes 1 Harvey Bernard Milk was an American politician and author and the first openly gay elected official in the history of California, where he was elected to the San Francisco Board of Supervisors. 2 Dr Mate is a renown author. In The Realm of Hungry Ghosts: Close Encounters With Addiction, she explores addiction as a symptom of distress, from the pain of individual trauma and family history to the spiritual emptiness pervading our entire society. Dr Maté weaves brain science, case studies, personal testimony, and social critique into a powerful and kaleidoscopic look at one of our culture’s most perplexing epidemics. In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts is a best-selling book that won the 2010 Hubert Evans Award for Best BC Non-Fiction Book. 3 Dr Stanton Peele is a psychologist, attorney, psychotherapist and the author of books and articles on the subject of alcoholism, addiction and addiction treatment. About the Author Dee-Dee Stout has worked in the addictions/mental health worlds for more than 30 years and continues to maintain a busy clinical practice where she works with a variety of clients whose behaviour goals include abstinence, moderation, and “anything they want and in any way they want” to achieve their goals. Her book, Coming to Harm Reduction Kicking and Screaming: Looking for Harm Reduction in a 12-Step World is widely available and has received positive reviews. Originally published: www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-heart-addiction/201407/what-does-it-mean-be-in-recovery The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Family Drug Support Aotearoa. We welcome the views of our professional contributors.

This New York Times bestselling memoir of a young man’s addiction to methamphetamine tells a raw, harrowing, and ultimately hopeful tale of the road from relapse to recovery. Nic Sheff was drunk for the first time at age eleven. In the years that followed, he would regularly smoke pot, do cocaine and Ecstasy, and develop addictions to crystal meth and heroin. Even so, he felt like he would always be able to quit and put his life together whenever he needed to. As we watch Nic plunge into the mental and physical depths of drug addiction, he paints a picture for us of a person at odds with his past, with his family, with his substances, and with himself. It’s a harrowing portrait – but not one without hope. ISBN 9781416972198

What had happened to my beautiful boy? To our family? What did I do wrong? Those are the wrenching questions that haunted every moment of David Sheff’s journey through his son Nic’s addiction to drugs and tentative steps toward recovery. Before Nic Sheff became addicted to crystal meth, he was a charming boy, joyous and funny, a varsity athlete and honour student adored by his two younger siblings. After meth, he was a trembling wraith who lied, stole, and lived on the streets. With haunting candour, David Sheff traces the first subtle warning signs: the denial, the 3am phone calls (is it Nic? the police? the hospital?), the attempts at rehab. This story is a first: a teenager’s addiction from the parent’s point of view – a real-time chronicle of the shocking descent into substance abuse and the gradual emergence into hope. Beautiful Boy is a fiercely candid memoir that brings immediacy to the emotional rollercoaster of loving a child who seems beyond help. Read the other side of Nic Sheff’s bestselling memoir, Tweak. ISBN 9781847391612

If New Zealander Mandy Whyte had listened to the 'experts', her son Hemi would probably be incarcerated, or dead. After years of trying to convince him to get to rehab and after being told by various agencies to back off and wait for him to ask for help, she starting researching Hemi’s life and advances in the addiction industry to find out what she could to do to help her son, who was now an intravenous crystal meth user, regularly psychotic and facing eviction from his home and a lengthy prison sentence for crimes related to his addiction. Realising he would never ask for help – because he couldn’t – she fought to get him into involuntary treatment. When he was expelled from two rehabs she ‘home rehabbed’ him herself in Indonesia. She is now an advocate for involuntary and family-led treatment of severe addicts. ISBN 9780995110700

Nicholas's Story Nicholas was a much longed for child. Aware I would have no further children, his birth seemed especially poignant. Lavished with love he flourished growing into a kind, caring, sensitive, intelligent boy. From a young age he was a voracious reader mastering Shakespeare, the bible and war history. For the first fourteen years of his life Nicholas brought us nothing but joy. My husband’s work was such that we were required to live in different countries in the world. Nicholas was raised in privileged environments which included expensive private schooling, drivers and servants. We decided to remain in New Zealand when he was due to go to secondary school as his older brother had not enjoyed boarding school and we did not wish the same for Nicholas. Teenage Signposts A change in behaviour became apparent in his second year at High School. He dropped out of the sports team he had loved, the choir he had enjoyed and his friends changed. Previous good mates avoided him and different friends became part of his crowd. On Friday nights he disappeared and on Saturday he couldn’t get out of bed. He had a part time job and when I went to pick him up one day was told he had been fired three weeks prior. His report cards, previously excellent, were now appalling. Teachers said he had potential but was lacking motivation. He was suspended for getting drunk at a school social. His father’s sleeping pills disappeared. Money vanished out of my purse. What was happening? Nicholas had an answer for everything and I wanted to believe him. I minimised his behavioural changes. Don’t all teenagers do this? Isn’t it normal? Surely this wonderful clever son of ours who had grown up with every advantage would not be doing something like smoking marijuana? (I never imagined anything worse.) Never! We had brought him up strictly and well! It was just a phase. Most teenagers go through phases. I was in denial. Self Blame Finally he was asked to leave school. And so began the merry go round of jobs, flats, geographical relocations, courses, excuses, reasons, hiding, running, criminal convictions and secrecy which goes with drug addiction. As an educational professional with a job of some standing I was ashamed. What had I, as a mother, done wrong? Why was my son not at university? Why wouldn’t he answer my calls? Why wouldn’t he let me in the door of his flat? Denial I stayed in denial for a long time. My older son and Nick’s former friends shielded me from the worst. They didn’t want me to know the extent of his problem (by eighteen he was an intravenous heroin addict) although it was obvious something was amiss. I spent many sleepless nights often pleading with him to come home. Come home for a meal. Come home for a night. Come home for Christmas. Come home for your birthday. He began to move around the country, always in search, so he said, of work. He went north. He went south. He went to Australia. Always, within six months to a year he’d be back penniless and full of bravado. Nicholas never allowed me to see him with his guard down. He presented himself to me, as much as possible, in a positive light. Almost always he worked and kept his habit secret. Then he fell in love with a beautiful girl, they moved in together, he held down a well paid steady job for just over a year and they were happy. The relationship broke up after two years. Neither would tell me why. And now his life spun fully out of control. Coping Strategies Gradually, in the midst of chaos, I developed personal coping strategies. I learned how to detach. I learned to compartmentalise my brain so that I gave what I was doing (usually my work) complete focus and all other problems were shut out. I went to church regularly and prayed. I can’t remember a sermon but found sitting in a pew kept me calm, my prayers repeating over and over in my brain. I did yoga every day, swam and walked regularly. I maintained a circle of women friends with whom I socialised on a regular basis. They did not know of my problems with Nicholas. But my greatest break through came when I finally lost all vestige of denial and with some relief joined a support group. Residential Care In the support group I met other people with drug addicted family/whānau members. The group was a space where we talked freely about problems living with or having an addict in the family/whānau; through this I unburdened and learned. I learned about enabling. I learned I must wait until “rock bottom” before expecting the addict to accept help. I learned about a place of residential care for addicts. I resolved to wait till Nick hit “rock bottom” and then act. I had the phone number ready to call for help. About a year later, having borrowed money and gone to Melbourne, Nicholas rang, distressed, saying he was sick and asking for help. His diary at the time records: “I knew it was only a matter of a couple of weeks before I was either dead or in jail.” I sensed he had hit “rock bottom” and offered a deal. I would pay for air tickets home if he agreed to go straight into residential care. He agreed. The last two years of Nicholas’ life are happy memories for me. He came out of care mentally equipped with the tools necessary to keep clean and manage his life. I will never forget hearing him singing outside the day he came home. Slowly he rebuilt a life for himself, studying, gaining qualifications and getting a job. There were relapses: it wasn’t all easy. Drug addiction is a relapsing disease. But he attended meetings and pulled himself together restoring equilibrium. Death of a son In a new relationship Nicholas became engaged and a wedding was planned. One weekend he and his fiancée had an argument. She left and went to stay with her mother for two days. On her return Nicholas was discovered dead from a heroin overdose. I have been told that because he had been largely clean for the past two years his body could not cope with the heroin dosage he took. In his diary Nicholas wrote: “I have been at war with myself for fifteen years now. Oh, the sorrow of war!”

Rehabilitated is Valeria Tokoar’s raw account of growing up with insecurity and anxiety and with a personality that found it hard to resist temptation. Always looking for the easy way out, Valeria made one wrong decision after another until she found herself in a world of drugs, alcohol and even prostitution. In an abusive relationship, and with the threat of her son’s custody being taken away from her, she knew she had to change. But change was not easy. How did she even become a person like this? And how was she going to sober up? Would she be able to resist a world of mental oblivion that was always calling her back? Is it really possible to get one’s life on track if you’re so far gone? Rehabilitated is the story of how Valeria Tokoar managed to do just that. It’s a tale of love and loss, of family/whānau ties and of hope and faith in the face of everything. ISBN 9781787100237

This downloadable e-book on the subject of Māori and alcohol, covers pre- and early contact with Pakeha, charting the introduction of alcohol into Maori society during the nineteenth century, the impacts of the New Zealand Wars, increased trade and colonisation and the role of alcohol surrounding the Māori prophets Te Kooti, Te Whiti and Rua Kenana. The conclusion summarises the historical narrative and considers the policy implications of the role of history in Māori alcohol policy formulation. Published by the Health Services Research Centre for Kaunihera Whakatupato Waipiro o Aotearoa/Alcohol Advisory Council of New Zealand (ALAC), Wellington, 1999.

Have you just discovered that someone you know is a drug addict? Are you heartbroken? Do you feel overwhelmed? If so, you are not alone. That is what happened to me. I thought I would have to bury my daughter by Christmas 2014. You can read the full account of my perspective of the traumas that led to my daughter’s addiction, the impact of them on me and what I learned along the way. My daughter shares her story in a companion book. Together, we have a miraculous story that has a happy ending. The great triumph after tragedy is that it is always possible to rebuild something with more beautiful results. My daughter and I are now closer than ever and she is doing better than I could have ever imagined. Expect to feel encouraged, empowered and hopeful as you travel through the pages of this book. Where There Is Life, There REALLY Is Hope, the inside story of a mother of a P addict who survived the rigours and now wants to share the insights she learned along the way. ISBN 9781787100268

Tobacco, alcohol and other drug-related harm is experienced by Māori at a higher rate than non-Māori. In recognition of its obligations under the Treaty of Waitangi, the Crown has committed to addressing these disparities for Māori in health legislation and policy over the past two decades. However, despite this commitment, there has been little improvement in these disparities. This report traces key legislative and policy developments, and Māori responses, to understand how the Crown has addressed issues of tobacco, alcohol and other drug abuse for Māori. As detailed throughout the report, there are number of interventions available to the Crown to minimise drug-related harm to society. Broadly, these involve: Supply control (reducing the availability of tobacco, alcohol and other drugs, including through legislation and regulations such as licensing requirements, restricted trading premises and hours, age restrictions, enforcement; and policing the manufacturing, selling, and trafficking of illegal drugs); Demand reduction (reducing the desire to use tobacco, alcohol and other drugs, including through health promotion, education campaigns, restrictions on advertising and marketing, increasing prices and tax); and Problem limitation (reducing existing drug-related harm by providing tobacco, alcohol and other drug treatment services; safer equipment and environments for drug use – such as needle exchange programmes and opioid substitution treatment; and research and workforce training). This report provides an overview of how the Crown has prioritised and used available interventions and strategies, particularly over the past two decades. It also examines whether the Crown’s actions or inactions have impacted on the disparities in drug-related harm experienced by Māori.