The Helper’s Perspective on The Super, Simple Secret to Successful Outcomes in Addiction Treatment
- Brainz Magazine
- 1 hour ago
- 7 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.
Ahhhhh, “The Salad Days.” It was about 13 or 14 years ago, and, man! Was I ever the cocky and arrogant young intern. I remember confidently walking into the clinic where I’d be accruing the hours to eventually become licensed in this field, absolutely knowing, beyond the shadow of a doubt, how people struggling with addictive disorders “got better.” I was going to show that team of clinicians a thing or two about a thing or two.
My wonderful clinical director, an absolute all-star in addiction treatment, right off the rip, felt that energy wafting off me, and the delusion that came with it, as soon as I wandered into the clinic. She promptly and lovingly informed me that I did not know shit about shit. To keep my mouth shut and my ears open. To observe my colleagues, many of whom had been working in the field of addiction treatment for decades, in clinics, hospitals, inpatient units, outpatient units, in the trenches.
Me?
I hadn’t worked anywhere. I had attended school, gone through treatment, survived my own substance use disorder, and achieved a few years of continuous recovery at that stage in the game. But beyond that, she was right. I didn’t know a thing about how to be a “helpful helper.”
One of her famous lines is, “If there was one way to get better, there’d be one book.” There are thousands of books written about how people recover. There will be thousands more written.
So, I did as I was told. I was a good soldier. I loved her from the start. She was the best kind of leader: the kind who has a natural eye and intuition for talent, and who steps back to let her team step forward to figure things out. She’d watch us shine. She was collaborative, and after my very first staff meeting, she ordered me to stop calling our medical director “Doctor” and to refer to him from then on by his first name only.
I complied.
“We are a team,” she informed me. “He’s a doctor, and one of the best doctors in this industry. You’ll learn a lot from him. But, guess what? There’s a lot that he is going to learn from you, too.”
She loved her team.
Always available if we needed to bounce questions or concerns off her, endlessly knowledgeable in her decades of expertise, but otherwise staying “behind the curtain” for the most part. Her approach was to allow us to figure it out, in our own way, in our own style, on our own timeline, and within our own expertise as helpers. She never wielded power over the team. She would either join us in the trenches when things got really chaotic and messy or stand back and smile as she watched us create ourselves as treaters.
And though we still keep in touch, that clinic we once worked in has since been shuttered. Ownership tried and failed to reinvent it into another generic, cookie-cutter cash-grab operation, and under the leadership of a CEO with zero training in human services, the whole thing fell apart in less than five years. So it goes sometimes. But I look back with much gratitude, because for seven years, we were the best damn clinic in Metro Boston. Full stop.
Our team was like the Avengers.
Disassembled in the end, but when we were humming, we were unstoppable.
But back to the point. When she told me that I had zero clue about how people got better from addictive disorders, she went on to tell me the invaluable secret to the success of the clients who “made it” and were able to maintain their recovery for the long term. I remember her asking me one day:
“Josh, do you want to know how people truly get better, stay better, and beat their addictions?”
“Um, der, of course I do!” I replied.
“Well,” she went on, “there are a ton of great resources in recovery, right? Therapy, medication, self-help groups, CBT, DBT, psychiatry, sober living homes, proper nutrition, sleep hygiene, lifestyle changes, getting out of toxic situations like crappy jobs and abusive relationships, and on and on, and all of those things, they all have value, right?” she asked.
“I mean, yeah,” I replied. “Isn’t that what we’re aiming for? Getting people connected to those resources so they have a fighting shot?”
“Sometimes,” she replied, “but that’s not how people truly get better. Those are just guardrails. They help prevent people from driving off the road.”
“So, what is it then?” I asked. “What’s the secret to a client’s success?” She smiled at me and paused for a few beats.
“It’s love,” she told me. “It’s when you show them love.”
“Love,” I responded. “Can you clarify a bit?”
“When people come into treatment, and they never get here by accident, they generally hate themselves and who they’ve become. They shame themselves. The things they tell themselves about themselves are cruel and dehumanizing. They refer to themselves as ‘junkies,’ ‘drunks,’ ‘crackheads,’ ‘tweakers,’ ‘losers,’ ‘scumbags,’ ‘pieces of shit,’ and on and on. You get the point. But there’s never a word of kindness woven into their inner dialogue. It keeps them sick. You are what you tell yourself you are, after all.”
She went on, “When you’re becoming a clinician, you’re going to encounter people who feel about as low as low can get. They’re victims and martyrs and byproducts of neglect, abuse, trauma, and a lack of safety and stability. They use drugs and alcohol because that’s the only thing that makes them feel comfortable in their own skin. But, generally speaking, they hate themselves, and other people, even people in their own families sometimes, hate them too.
You’re going to meet a lot of people who are hard to love because of this, and it’s going to be your job to show them love when they’re acting out, and it’s hard work.”
“Let’s say you’re a parent whose son or daughter has cancer,” she continued. “Those parents are going to be completely embraced by the community. There’s going to be a line around the block of people bringing casseroles and cookies, coming to sit with them and ask how they can help. There’s going to be fundraising campaigns for their treatment expenses. Shit, they might even be on the local news, one of those inspiring stories about the community rallying to save little Johnny from this chronic illness.”
“Now let’s say you’re a parent whose son or daughter has a heroin or alcohol use disorder. Do you think the community is going to line up around the block to come sit with them, to bring them homemade treats?” she asked. “No fundraisers, no news stories, unless the kid commits a crime. In fact, there’s a good chance that those parents’ friends and family members, who once had their backs unequivocally, might turn on them and walk away, whispering to other people, ‘I wonder what was going on in that house, and what was going on with their parenting?’ You get the idea,” she said.
“Our job as treaters is to show these clients love. Kindness. Dignity. Respect. Autonomy. Belief. Agency,” she said, “and in the beginning, there’s gonna be a good chance that they hate you for it, because it’s been so long since they’ve been on the receiving end of anything that resembles it.”
“I get that,” I told her. “I found out who my true supporters were when I was at my lowest. I could count them on one hand.”
“But if they hang in there,” she continued, “and you keep showing them love, especially when they’re being their most unlovable, sometimes, and it can take a long time, but sometimes, they start to buy in. They start with a flicker of hope that tells them, ‘Even though I’m being a complete ass right now, this guy is showing me love. He’s treating me with kindness. He’s letting me be an ass, but he’s treating me with respect regardless.’”
“It can be confusing for them,” she went on, “but when they start to buy in, that flicker of hope that tells them, ‘Maybe I can do this recovery thing,’ turns into an ember. And then it grows into a flame. And then it lights them up inside. And then, instead of hating themselves, they start hoping for themselves. They start buying into the idea that maybe they’re worth it, maybe they’re worthy of a good-enough life. Maybe they can even, one day, start loving themselves.”
“Part of your job is going to be educational, those resources we were talking about? You’ll help people get set up with the ones that seem like a good fit for them. Maybe find them a safe sober house if they’ve got no place else to go when it’s time to leave treatment. And eventually, everyone has to leave treatment. But your real job, the most important job as a counselor, is going to be showing them love under any and all circumstances.
Whether they’re using or not. If they’re yelling at you and calling you mean names. If they tell you it’s impossible, that there’s no way they can ever get better, stuff like that, your mission is to let them know they are loved, no matter what.”
“And that even if they don’t believe in themselves, you do.”
So, there it is. That’s the super simple secret to successful outcomes with people struggling with substance use disorders.
Sounds easy, no?
It’s not. It’s actually incredibly challenging, and you have to stay vigilant in that love you transmit for the long haul, sometimes for a period of literal years before the client starts to buy in.
But when they do?
It can be summed up in saying, from the point of view of a helper, “Job well done.”
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.
