Addicts are from all walks of life

It’s a label they’ve given themselves.

Each verbalising it as they take turns introducing themselves in an orderly fashion.

We are at ‘check-in’ at The Cottage; a daily morning ritual required of residents at the drug and alcohol rehabilitation facility in south Shepparton.

Check-in starts with a 10-minute meditation.

Then, a recovering resident reads a passage from the Narcotics Anonymous book Just For Today.

Each person in the circle interprets it their way; finding the relatable bone in the skeleton that pokes out at them.

The word of the day is self-acceptance.

Along with introducing themselves by name and as an addict, and discussing how the Just For Today passage resonates with them, they touch on what the day’s word means to them and let the group know how they’re feeling on a scale of one to 10.

These people come from all walks of life.

Their age range is wide; all genders are represented.

Some are, or at least were, professionals.

Some are here of their own volition.

Some are here because a court ordered them to be.

Hearing them tell their stories as each speaks openly and honestly to the residents, some of whose only commonality is their addiction, stuns me.

I’m floored by their bravery. Their vulnerability.

How difficult it must be to talk to strangers about your deepest, darkest fears.

About the times you screwed up. Admitting the pain you caused others and the self-destruction you caused yourself.

But as a resident tells me, when she first started going to Alcoholics Anonymous she thought, “I don’t want to be around a bunch of addicts, I don’t want to hang out with them.”

She says she doesn’t feel like that anymore.

“You find your people and they understand you. Your family loves you and supports you, but they don’t understand because they haven’t been there. My AA people accept and they understand, without judgment.”

I imagine that’s exactly what’s happening in this circle, too.

The resident says the negative stigma associated with admitting you have a problem is something you have to get used to.

“You’ve gotta get over yourself and just use what you’ve gotta use to get well.”

I am here as a guest, on assignment.

I don’t have a story of addiction to share.

I feel a kind of paralysis when I’m handed the book.

Public speaking has never been my thing, but this feels like something more than that.

I say that I’m grateful to be invited to this space to learn about it and ashamedly, on immediate reflection, give myself a feeble eight out of 10 when residents clearly doing life tougher than I at the moment had scored themselves higher.

Not that these kinds of things are ever a competition.

Maybe, I feel ‘stage fright’ because I’m an outsider.

Because I’m aware that journalists might not be a bailed resident’s favourite species if their stories of incarceration were reported by one of my industry peers.

Maybe it’s because I’m shocked by how relatable some of the stories I’m hearing are and I’m taken aback; my brain trying to stay focused throughout its buzzing in the background as it questions beliefs I’ve never really questioned before.

What I’m learning as I look at these people, from every demographic, and listen to them speak, is that it’s a short step between a social drinker and an alcoholic.

A small jump between a recreational drug user and a user who loses control to addiction.

A resident talks about how she’d go home and drink a bottle of wine each day her boss called her into his office to dissect her work performance.

How many times have you heard someone who’s had a rough day say, “I need a drink”?

Alcohol is socially acceptable because it’s a legal drug.

However, facilitators at The Cottage say it’s the worst of them all. They also know that people who use other drugs usually use alcohol as well. More often than not, it’s the common denominator.

Many of us tend to think it’s not as bad because it doesn’t appear to be the motive behind shocking crimes such as armed robberies and home invasions, as drugs such as methamphetamines are.

The rates of domestic violence, assault and drink driving, however, tell a different story. The people who share homes with alcoholics know how bad it can get.

I’ve blindly — no pun intended — in the past believed that drinking to excess wasn’t necessarily a problem if you were a happy drunk.

But the truth is, whether you’re a happy and friendly or an angry and destructive drunk, you’re still drunk. You’ve still surrendered control to a substance.

And that’s only one element of the disease of addiction.

This check-in opens my eyes.

While The Cottage deals with drug and alcohol addiction specifically, addiction comes in many forms.

Food, sugar, pornography, exercise, gambling, shopping, sex, dieting, gaming, mobile phones — need I go on?

I don’t think I’m so different to the people in this circle.

I don’t think any of us are.

How fortunate we are to have a facility such as this in our backyard to help those in our community and beyond who are struggling.

There are currently beds available for the 12-week program.

∎ For more information on The Cottage, visit thecottage.org.au

∎ If you’re struggling with addiction, call DirectLine 24 hours a day, seven days a week on 1800 888 236