I Watched Helplessly as He Turned Yoga Into Heroin, and the Fallout That Ensued
- Brainz Magazine
- Jul 24
- 6 min read
For nearly 14 years, I've helped individuals navigate the complex landscape of addiction in order to achieve recovery. Nicknamed "The Casual Counselor", my approach is unconventional but undeniably effective.
When a client arrives at a clinic with a substance abuse issue, let’s say, for the sake of the hypothetical, they’re struggling with alcohol and cocaine use, it’s not uncommon to see them put in the work presented by their care team, “kick the habit” (or habits), and YAY! All is well again, right? Well, usually, “no.” All is not usually well. The slang term often used in my field is that, as treaters, we get to see a version of the old game “Whack-A-Mole,” but with other sources of pleasure substituting the furry creatures that keep popping up every time you knock one down.
The client puts down the bottle. They put down the powder. And then, a month later, their mom or dad gets in touch with the care team, convinced that their son or daughter has relapsed, because, just like before, the client is calling them up with requests for money so they can make their car payment or cover expenses for something or other. Often, it’s not a story of a return to drinking and cocaine use at all, and we have the laboratory drug test to prove it, but it is a return to a compulsive drive for some other source of pleasure.
They put down the vodka and blow, and they start gambling. They put down gambling, and they start paying escorts for sex. They put down the sex, and they go on rampant shopping sprees on their smartphones, often spending their entire paycheck on stuff they impulsively want but definitely do not need: things like sneakers, jewelry, and tech gadgets. They stop doing that, and they find something else, eating sugary sweets, day trading what little income they have in volatile cryptocurrency stocks. The road goes on forever.
America is the nation of vice. Vice sells, and it sells really well. Most addiction specialists will tell you that an individual with a substance use disorder, if and when they discover a source of pleasure that gives them a hit of dopamine in their brain’s pleasure center, will return to that source 100% of the time, even if it’s not their substance of choice. From methamphetamine to scratch tickets to predatory pay-for-play games promising cash payouts from their smartphones, an addictive disorder, in the most general sense, is just a proclivity for obsessive and compulsive pleasure seeking, no matter the pleasure.
What is encouraging to see is when a client discovers a source of pleasure that can best be described as, well, healthy! Enter “Yogi” (not his real name, obviously), who kicked a very severe heroin use disorder, and after a few months of getting his faculties back, decided that he might like to try something like yoga or meditation. A mindfulness practice of some sort. We did a single group each week, sort of an intro to yoga group, and it was by far Yogi’s favorite.
So, Yogi found a studio close to where he lived, enrolled, and started off doing some beginner classes, and it was a match made in heaven. Yogi and yoga went together like peanut butter and jelly. It started becoming the cornerstone of his recovery, and in his free time, Yogi began progressing in his yoga acumen and spending more and more hours at the studio. Yogi had a full-time job, a pretty active social life, and he attended Dharma meetings, self-help groups for people in recovery that incorporate guided meditation into their sessions, a perfect match for him, and he generally lived a busy and dynamic lifestyle, but one that was nicely balanced, or at least close to it.
As time went on, Yogi made a big decision: he was going to sign up for a two-year program in order to learn how to be a yoga instructor. This was going to be a big commitment, but one that he was certain he’d be able to incorporate into his already busy weekly routine, even if it meant going to a few fewer self-help groups and dropping his individual therapy sessions down to twice a month, instead of once a week. Yoga was the lynchpin, Yogi was sure of it. And by all accounts, the plan looked pretty good on paper. Busy? Sure. But he was motivated as hell to share the gifts of yoga with students once he earned his teaching certification.
Now, what this meant was that Yogi, already commonly spending upwards of 2-3 hours each day in the yoga studio, would be committing more time to his own personal practice. 2-3 hours became 4-5, and, over the course of a few months, 4-5 started becoming 7-8. Sometimes more. Yoga, by far, was taking up all of Yogi’s free time, but it was also starting to take up some of his not-so-free time. You know, the times when he was supposed to be at work earning his income. Time spent hanging out with friends. Self-help groups soon disappeared entirely, and Yogi informed me, against my professional recommendation, that just “checking in” once a month, rather than doing actual therapy, would be enough for him.
He was only four or five months off heroin at this time, not deep into his recovery, and he had found a new source of pleasure to replace the discomfort that he felt when he wasn’t either injecting himself with heroin or seeing how long he could stand in a tree pose. Yogi had basically replaced his disordered heroin use with disordered yoga practice. The proof was in the pudding: I got a call from his father one day, a very concerned father. Yogi had been frequently asking him for loans to help him “cover his rent,” or to make “repairs on his car.” Yogi informed him that everything was fine; it was just a case of bad luck and bad timing, but the truth was that Yogi had been fired from his job.
7-8 hours of practicing in the studio had turned into upwards of 10-12 hours per day, and Yogi was hitting those poses hard. He was hitting them so hard that it was only a matter of time before a real disaster struck, he essentially overdosed on yoga, tore his rotator cuff in his shoulder, and was now facing an incredibly painful injury, surgery to repair it, and a long convalescence and recovery. It also meant that Yogi was going to be prescribed narcotic painkillers post-op, a drug that had brought him into seeking help in the first place.
Whack-A-Mole. Yogi had turned yoga into heroin. It had created unmanageability in his life, the loss of his job and primary source of income. He could no longer pay his bills. His once blossoming social life was all but defunct now, as his friends had moved on without him. He was always at the studio. Was yoga ‘safer’ than heroin? I mean, yeah, generally speaking, a lifestyle of the heroin user isn’t safe under most circumstances, but neither is a serious injury like the tearing of his rotator cuff. I’ve never experienced it, but I’ve had some friends who have, and they’ve described it as one of the most painful experiences they've ever had to endure. Add to the pain he’d be experiencing, Yogi would also have to find a way to navigate taking opioids again, and his primary source of pleasure, practicing yoga, was stripped from him. Further, his dream of becoming a yoga instructor was dashed, or at least it would be for at least a year or two. Would he ever be able to get back to it?
It’s a question I never found out the answer to: the last I saw of Yogi was that of a sad, heartbroken, and dejected man who was scheduling an appointment with an orthopedic specialist for a pre-op evaluation, the future ahead as uncertain as it was when he had first stepped into the clinic on day one. It was a sad thing to witness. In addition to being in serious physical pain, he was suffering emotionally and mentally, and I never got the opportunity to find out what happened after all was said and done.
I hope he found his way back to his dream, or at least something healthier than an opioid use disorder. Yogi never contacted me or the clinic again. I think of him from time to time, and I picture him able to teach new students downward-facing dog and child’s pose, but the truth is, I think Yogi lost his hope the day he blew his shoulder out. I hope not, but it sure felt that way during our last encounter together.
Yogi, if you’re out there, and you ever stumble upon this article, you’ll know it’s about you. Don’t hesitate to give your old pal Josh a call or an email, and I'll send good juju out into the universe to you in the interim.
Whack-A-Mole. It teaches us that even “healthy pleasure seeking,” in too much abundance, can be a source of real danger. Proceed with caution, and moderate accordingly when you find something that makes you feel good.
Read more from Joshua Bennett-Johnson
Joshua Bennett-Johnson, Licensed Addictions Therapist
After working for 7 years in an amazing clinic, I launched into private practice in 2018. I love my job. I can say that without reservation. Watching people rebuild their lives is something that is worth more than any dollar amount.
