science

Think you’re well connected to your fellow species members?

Great. Then answer me this: How many friends do you have on Facebook?

…that you actually in-the-flesh hang out with? Or ever would?

This may seem like a kinda strange way to break into talking about addiction.

However, the issue of connection – or a lack thereof – is indeed one fascinating common denominator most addicts share. And that makes sense, if you think about it. ‘cause as this captivating dude who gave a TED talk recently explains – when we lack any constant, positive, true interaction with others, we seek substitute means to feel connected. Even via artificial means. Stay disconnected – and that can turn into what you ‘n I know as addiction. This sort’ve rivals the old theory – that “anyone can get addicted if exposed to a chemical long enough”. Why? ‘cause my patients who roll into my clinic all doped up on Dilaudid (or whatever they’re peddling nowadays) don’t start hitting up the pill mill for refills when their body recovery time’s ended a week or three later. They don’t switch over and pick up a firewater habit either. They’re anxious to get back to their nice, normal lives. Why? They’ve got something good to return to. A family, friends, job, whatever. Pro’lly all three. True addicts are different.

And it’s not just humans who demonstrate this either.

In a fascinating series of studies, scientists tinkered with (what else but) rats. Or maybe they were mice. Who knows. The point is that they revealed a good bit o’ mindblow while using them to study addiction. How’s that, you ask? Well, to answer that, we hafta look at the first round of experimental designs – which explain why that former “anyone can get addicted” fallacy was so popular for a while. In that preliminary test, the white coats threw Mickey, Minnie, and all their homies in separate cages equipped with nada but two kindsa water. The first? Your average, unfettered agua. The other? A drug puddle; heroin laced H2O. And what happened? Well, in this circumstance, the rats would almost always prefer the drugs. They’d eschew the clean stuff, chug the junkie brew, and overdose pretty much every time. And from this, they assumed, they could draw the conclusion that anyone (any rat at least) could get addicted.

Right? Case closed?

Not necessarily…

Because on the heels of that study, someone with more “outside the cage” thinking came along. And what they noticed was something relevant: the experimental design. The cage layout. The other options the rat had. These poor furry bastards were sat in these dismal digs – no real stimulation other than their daily rations and a sole (albeit synthetic) supply of feel-good. What this scientist knew is that when we’ve got an alternative au natch means of feel-goodery (via our daily doings with other beings), we’re less inclined to pursue the faux version of it. To test this theory, homeboy did something equal parts innovative and brilliant. What he constructed was called a “rat park”. An amusement park for rats. Other rats, toys, tunnels, puzzles, tons of fun stimulation, and… (still) the two kinds of water. One spiked. One not. This bit remained the same from previous experiment.

The results?

While the rats in study one had a 100% OD rate… rat park residents had none.

They didn’t want the heroin laced drank.

When they had better shiz to do, the dope water was avoided like a vat of hot lava.

So… how’d they go from 100% to zero?

Well, here’s a hint. In tennis, zero means love.

And love – stimulating connection with others – is exactly what the park provided.

The takeaway here’s that when we live happy and connected lives, we’ll wanna use far less – if at all. Program’s like NA and AA adhere to this theory brilliantly. Because a reformed addict can well connect with another addict – as they can recall what that life was like. That’s the connection element. The yes-and to this? That – should an addict relapse – they are always welcomed back with open arms. Literally. (Seriously, they love hugging over there.) And that’s another epic pointer the TED dude (his name’s Johann Hari, BTW) brought up about dealing with addicts. (Espesh if you’re a non-addict who can’t identify and has difficulty dredging up empathy.) The idea’s that an intervention’s not the answer. Compassion and willingness to connect is. Because, right now, the user’s chemical of choice is either the only or main sense of connection they feel in their lives. To threaten to take that away only will drive them closer to it.

The compassionate take, on the contrary, proposes the concept of unconditional love. Bear with me here – ‘cause I get if that sounds kinda campy – but there’s a logic behind it. If the underlying problem is disconnection, then coming in with a segue of connection is a far better answer than ripping out the rug from under ‘em. As dumb as it sounds, it’s more likely to work than the use of force. People want some positive connection. If wine’s all an alcoholic feels connected to, they’ll cling to that shiz till their liver throws up the deuce sign. You getting angry does nothing. The idea, Hari says, is to offer unconditional love. An offer to connect. An invitation. A possible replacement, that shows they’ve got more than a toxic means to feel accepted and safe. This is incredibly difficult – as the loved one of an addict. Especially if many people love the addict. Because it means you all have to be on the same page: voicing your concerns, yet letting them know you’re there for them with an offer of unconditional love. No, I won’t help you slowly kill yourself or confirm your poor lifestyle choices – but I also won’t get angry or judge.

(This is also tough logic to follow if the loved ones are co-dependents or enablers.)

And another example Hari pointed out demonstrated the effectiveness of this on a grander scale.

In Portugal, when drugs were decriminalized, they set up a special program for recovering addicts. What it centered on was giving addicts a second chance – by giving them a purpose. Going to prospective employers, they made the following proposition: you hire this ex-junkie, and we’ll foot fifty percent of the bill when it comes to his earnings. Just give him a job for at least a year and we’ll go Dutch on his check. The result of Portugal’s change? Injected drug use went down fifty percent, OD deaths declined significantly, and so did drug related HIV cases. Having a purpose – having a reason to get up and spark those connections we need (but are often hesitant to make outta fear) is crucial for humans. Thus, having a function made junkies recover – by giving them a new life perspective. One with people, stimulation, and work. Just like the Rat Park – with its other rats, toys, and puzzles.

So, I gotta ask: what’s missing from your park?

And is that driving you back to the spiked punch water?

That’s a question that took me some serious meditation and consulting with others to answer. Some days I still even hafta add amendments to my reply. There will always be that vat of aqueous temptation sitting somewhere in the corners of my cage. It might be wine at a family gathering. It might be the bottle of sake at the table next to me when I go out to PF Chang’s. It might be the Fentanyl I’m offered the next time I’m rushed the emergency room with a kidney stone – while in the throes of my weakest condition – pain. However, there’s a perspective now that gets me through. One that jibes with this talk. Because I realize now: so long as I keep the other elements in my life lodgings organized, I’m stable. So long as I keep both my outer and inner toys in my rat park well-maintained, I don’t need artificial comfort.

And so long as I’ve got positive rats around me, I can keep that perspective.