Which came first: The addiction or Mental Illness?

Moving Closer to the Root Issues

After engaging for 20 years with the mental health industry, 12-step programs, drug/alcohol rehabs, faith communities and any other organizations interested in “helping” me, I have arrived at this conclusion:  the mental illness was first.

Now, please remember this disclaimer as you read this post:  I am not a medical doctor or licensed counselor.  I have not studied the human brain or examined how/why humans behave in a particular manner.  All I know is that when I reflect on my life, one thing seems clear:  I had anxiety first and then tried to soothe my pain with marijuana and cigarettes.

Believe it or not, I used to loathe cigarettes and marijuana.  I said I would never smoke cigarettes.  I hated their smell and it was illogical to me that someone would voluntarily hurt themselves.  Well, as fate would have it, my judgmental young mind had to live the experience firsthand.  And if it sounds like I am blaming fate, yes, I am. Because I do believe what comes around goes around.  

Certainly my rigid home environment contributed to my anxiety.  It is probably what ignited it.  I’m not blaming anyone here.  This is just the product of the social and historical environment of my African-American, middle-class upbringing.  My dad was, I believe, bipolar and very strict.  I was afraid of him and my mother, in a healthy way, and sought to please them at any cost. 

It was unreasonable to me to disobey their rules.  I completely bought the “follow the rules” commands of God and my parents.  It seemed logical that if I did right, I would get right.  Between Sunday School, Sunday morning worship and my Christian home environment, I caught the subliminal and overt messages delivered Sundays through Saturdays. 

The problem was, when I turned into a teenager, my dad would creatively find ways to keep me and my sister locked in the house all summer and forbid us to participate in normal teenage activities, behaviors and emotions:  reading magazines, teen dances, riding bikes into the city on the summer, crying over spilled milk, etc.

Nothing I did was ever good enough and, in my opinion and my sister’s, I was a “goody two shoes.”  (It’s true.  Ask her.)  I was afraid of my dad and afraid to break the rules and his word was the gospel and the law!

But I still managed to get in trouble. 

The first physical sign of my own psychological, internal trouble were ulcers.  Yes, I had ulcers at the age of 14.  One of the church ladies thought this was strange, odd and a bad sign.  I still remember the look on her face and her expression when I told her.  I don’t know why I opened up to her, but I did.  I knew something was wrong in our homestead.  I knew it in my gut.  But Daddy wouldn’t acquiesce to my pleas for family counseling.

On the back of my school bus, the older students smoked marijuana.  I still remember the look on my best friend’s face when I marched to her house and asked her for a cigarette and the following week began to smoke marijuana on the back of the bus.

In rehab, we are taught if a person’s mental illness is not treated, they will self-medicate (i.e. use illegal drugs to soothe the psyche). 

By the age of 16, for reasons yet to be discovered (medical, emotional, etc.), I tried to commit suicide.  I was not high on alcohol or drugs when I made the decision.  But I do remember being plagued with thoughts that no one loved me or wanted me.  Lies really.  My parents did love me and demonstrated it, at the very least, by providing a food, clothing and shelter.  They showed it in other ways too, but my mind didn’t see it that way.

That, to my recollection, is the only time I tried to kill myself without alcohol or drugs being a contributing factor.  So, I am inclined to believe that the mental illness manifests first, and then, left untreated, drug usage or some form of self-harm will follow.

Please note, I am not saying that everyone who uses drugs has a mental illness.  I do not profess to have that kind of authority or intellectual knowledge.  Certainly, some substance abusers begin their trek in an effort to fit in with their peers.  All I can do is share my experiences.

But, I would also like to know the thoughts of others.  Do you agree or disagree?  I would be interested in reading someone’s comments.

Be blessed,

M