News (Media Awareness Project) - US MO: Addicts Find It's A Hard Habit To Break |
Title: | US MO: Addicts Find It's A Hard Habit To Break |
Published On: | 2002-08-15 |
Source: | Kansas City Star (MO) |
Fetched On: | 2008-01-22 20:20:09 |
ADDICTS FIND IT'S A HARD HABIT TO BREAK
Even after 13 years and eight months since her last hit, even after
becoming a manager at a drug treatment center, Carla Ingram can still feel
the tug of cocaine.
Yes, it becomes easier to stay on the tightrope of sobriety. Some of the
physical need goes away, she said. But the vulnerability remains.
"I don't think you're ever recovered."
The death of former Royals catcher Darrell Porter is no mystery to her and
other experts. Porter apparently kept a safe distance from cocaine for 22
years. He wrote a book about his addiction and recovery.
Yet the drug's siren song still called. Authorities this week confirmed
Porter died from "toxic effects of cocaine."
Brian Barash has seen physical proof of the drug's allure.
As medical director of the dual diagnosis program at Two Rivers Psychiatric
Hospital in Raytown, he has seen brain images, known as PET scans of a
former user. The mere mention of the word "cocaine" can elicit the same
sort of chemical activity in the brain as is triggered by a line of white
powder taken through the nose.
"Twenty years later, you mention cocaine and those areas light up like a
Christmas tree again without even using cocaine," he said. "The brain once
exposed to it doesn't easily forget."
It shows that recovery from cocaine is a lifelong battle, Barash noted.
"You can (have) long periods of sobriety. But if you overlook it for one
second and get in the right situation, you can relapse."
Kym Lewis knows the temptations tugging at Porter and any former
cocaine-user. He snorted and smoked cocaine and crack almost every day for
nine years, until he sought treatment 13 months ago. Now the 31-year-old
Kansas City man is an outpatient at the Renaissance West drug treatment center.
He expects that the lovely feeling he associates with a cocaine high, one
of "reassurance and security," will always be a temptation for him.
"The thought of that sensation not in your life can be pretty scary," he
said. "When times get hard and I feel like the world is caving in around
me, I feel like I need some cocaine."
Cocaine is the "magic potion" that covers up all the flaws and makes one at
long last acceptable.
"Most people can get up in the morning and deal with life on life's terms,
and look in the mirror and feel good about what they see," Lewis said.
"Addicts look in the mirror and see something unacceptable. When they use
cocaine, things they found unacceptable become automatically acceptable.
"I'm pretty sure Mr. Porter, even though he had money, had something about
himself he found unacceptable."
Maybe. Or maybe he was bored. Ingram, who flip-flopped from using cocaine
to counseling people who are trying to quit, believes the persistent lure
of cocaine has more to do with the rush it provides.
Cocaine addicts are "always looking for something exciting like a new
relationship, or mountain biking, or jumping out of planes. You're always
on the edge, you like that buzz. There comes a point in everybody's
recovery where they get a little bored. If you don't find something to
replace the cocaine, the risk for going back and using again is really high."
Ingram's addiction developed during her undergraduate years at the
University of Kansas and for a few years afterward. Finally, when she was
eight months behind in rent payments, about to be fired from her job as a
personnel director and on bad terms with many friends and family members,
she sought treatment. She is now the program manager for North Star
Recovery Services in Kansas City.
Quitting can feel good for a time, for the same reason cocaine-use feels
good, Ingram said. There's an excitement in meeting new people, in
cultivating new patterns of healthy living. But in time, novelty gives way
to monotony, and old habits begin to exert their gravity-like power.
Recovering addicts "have to work every day a little harder than the other
guy to make sure they have fun and exciting and healthy things in their
life," Ingram said. If they don't, "they slip up and pretty soon they're
going to go back to what they know makes them feel really high."
She wonders whether Darrell Porter ever found a sufficient substitute for
the thrills he must have felt when on the ball field before tens of
thousands of fans. Ingram thinks that part of recovering is learning to
behave in ways that generate the neurochemicals that produce feelings of
excitement or contentment. She says that could include exercise, doing good
for other people or seeking out excitement that doesn't exact a high price
the way cocaine does.
"If you don't find things to replace those highs you felt," she said,
"you're susceptible to using again."
Even after 13 years and eight months since her last hit, even after
becoming a manager at a drug treatment center, Carla Ingram can still feel
the tug of cocaine.
Yes, it becomes easier to stay on the tightrope of sobriety. Some of the
physical need goes away, she said. But the vulnerability remains.
"I don't think you're ever recovered."
The death of former Royals catcher Darrell Porter is no mystery to her and
other experts. Porter apparently kept a safe distance from cocaine for 22
years. He wrote a book about his addiction and recovery.
Yet the drug's siren song still called. Authorities this week confirmed
Porter died from "toxic effects of cocaine."
Brian Barash has seen physical proof of the drug's allure.
As medical director of the dual diagnosis program at Two Rivers Psychiatric
Hospital in Raytown, he has seen brain images, known as PET scans of a
former user. The mere mention of the word "cocaine" can elicit the same
sort of chemical activity in the brain as is triggered by a line of white
powder taken through the nose.
"Twenty years later, you mention cocaine and those areas light up like a
Christmas tree again without even using cocaine," he said. "The brain once
exposed to it doesn't easily forget."
It shows that recovery from cocaine is a lifelong battle, Barash noted.
"You can (have) long periods of sobriety. But if you overlook it for one
second and get in the right situation, you can relapse."
Kym Lewis knows the temptations tugging at Porter and any former
cocaine-user. He snorted and smoked cocaine and crack almost every day for
nine years, until he sought treatment 13 months ago. Now the 31-year-old
Kansas City man is an outpatient at the Renaissance West drug treatment center.
He expects that the lovely feeling he associates with a cocaine high, one
of "reassurance and security," will always be a temptation for him.
"The thought of that sensation not in your life can be pretty scary," he
said. "When times get hard and I feel like the world is caving in around
me, I feel like I need some cocaine."
Cocaine is the "magic potion" that covers up all the flaws and makes one at
long last acceptable.
"Most people can get up in the morning and deal with life on life's terms,
and look in the mirror and feel good about what they see," Lewis said.
"Addicts look in the mirror and see something unacceptable. When they use
cocaine, things they found unacceptable become automatically acceptable.
"I'm pretty sure Mr. Porter, even though he had money, had something about
himself he found unacceptable."
Maybe. Or maybe he was bored. Ingram, who flip-flopped from using cocaine
to counseling people who are trying to quit, believes the persistent lure
of cocaine has more to do with the rush it provides.
Cocaine addicts are "always looking for something exciting like a new
relationship, or mountain biking, or jumping out of planes. You're always
on the edge, you like that buzz. There comes a point in everybody's
recovery where they get a little bored. If you don't find something to
replace the cocaine, the risk for going back and using again is really high."
Ingram's addiction developed during her undergraduate years at the
University of Kansas and for a few years afterward. Finally, when she was
eight months behind in rent payments, about to be fired from her job as a
personnel director and on bad terms with many friends and family members,
she sought treatment. She is now the program manager for North Star
Recovery Services in Kansas City.
Quitting can feel good for a time, for the same reason cocaine-use feels
good, Ingram said. There's an excitement in meeting new people, in
cultivating new patterns of healthy living. But in time, novelty gives way
to monotony, and old habits begin to exert their gravity-like power.
Recovering addicts "have to work every day a little harder than the other
guy to make sure they have fun and exciting and healthy things in their
life," Ingram said. If they don't, "they slip up and pretty soon they're
going to go back to what they know makes them feel really high."
She wonders whether Darrell Porter ever found a sufficient substitute for
the thrills he must have felt when on the ball field before tens of
thousands of fans. Ingram thinks that part of recovering is learning to
behave in ways that generate the neurochemicals that produce feelings of
excitement or contentment. She says that could include exercise, doing good
for other people or seeking out excitement that doesn't exact a high price
the way cocaine does.
"If you don't find things to replace those highs you felt," she said,
"you're susceptible to using again."
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