Chapter 1

I am my problem

“Hello, my name is Hannah and I’m an addict.”

—Standard A.A. meeting greeting

I’m Hannah. I love someone whose use of (fill in the blank) is a problem for me. I obsess with fear and worry as they are chasing their perfect high. I am also chasing a high; mine is fixing them. I call that other person my sibling, child, spouse, and/or friend. They are addicted to something, and I am addicted to them. Although the details may vary, our overarching problems do not differ, and our lives have become unmanageable.

I’ve cried, threatened, pleaded, bartered, and negotiated terms for their abstinence. They have done the same—mostly to get me off their back. We both have promised, threatened, rationalized, and blamed to explain our thinking and behavior. We are similarly unsuccessful in getting the other to stop and in changing our patterned reactions. We are both harming ourselves and others. We are trapped, in lockstep, walking through the misery of our addictions, both of us living in denial and trying to control the uncontrollable.

Can you see yourself in any of these scenarios? If so, the stories on these pages convey our experience, strength and hope for the purpose of showing you how you too can escape the shroud of darkness that accompanies addiction.

There are lots of people like us

We are not alone or unique in our disease. It is estimated that 5%-10% of the population at large suffers from the disease of addiction. Substance use disorder is an equal opportunity disease. Consider variables such as sex, race, religion, education, income: no one is exempt; young adults are especially vulnerable.1 Alcohol and drugs are abused with similar incidence. It’s been said that the addict affects the lives of 10 people on average, so the numbers get big very quickly. The next time you find yourself in a crowd, look around; about one in every 10 people there with you is an addict of one kind or another.

In addition to suffering from my own addiction (to my addict), I identify as Jewish. My family of origin (parents& grandparents) was actively involved and well known in their local Jewish community. Ritual practice was sporadic in my home, but the Jewish experiences of my youth implanted a sense of identity that is important to me.

Within the community, I grew up believing that Jewish parents can’t possibly be addicts or have kids who are, and that nice Jewish boys or girls don’t do drugs. Myths that Jews are immune to substance abuse or other excessive, self-harming behaviors are pervasive in the Jewish community. This is especially true among the ultra-Orthodox. Considering sex and gambling addictions which are more easily hidden, the problem is even bigger than the numbers suggest. Disinformation, combined with the silence on the topic, makes Jews especially vulnerable to being taken hostage by guilt and shame when facing the realities of the disease. As we become more isolated by the disease in ourselves or those we love, perceptions of normalcy get distorted within the stories we tell ourselves. In the context of addiction and recovery, secrets, shame, and guilt are referred to as ourstinking thinking; it destroys feelings of self-worth and hopefulness, distorts truth and creates senseless barriers to seeking help.

Regarding religion, much research has bee