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Muskoka has a drug problem.

It might be easier to delve into the statistics of this issue if gathered statistics didn’t group Muskoka with Simcoe County, a larger and more metropolitan area than ours. It might be easier to examine the issue if Muskoka didn’t experience its highest peak of drug overdose death in August, the month in which we have the largest number of tourists in the area.

However, it might also ease the burden of the subject if we decided not to talk about this as a ‘drug problem’ but rather as a community problem.

The heart of addiction is not access, though ease of acquisition doesn’t help. The soul of addiction isn’t ‘chasing the good feeling’, though as far as motivational factors, feeling good is a winner. People who are addicted are not ‘riff raff’ (seen most recently on a local paper’s comment section), they aren’t scum, and they aren’t the dregs of society.

With addiction as rampant as it certainly is, I’m surprised some people still don’t get it. Addiction is a coping mechanism for trauma, and addicts are our neighbours, our servers, our support workers, our loved ones, ourselves.

Please don’t misunderstand me – addiction to drugs and alcohol are major social problems, and from someone who has done dozens of risk assessments with women experiencing abuse, intoxication is a driving force behind the escalation of violence. There is no excuse for abusive behaviour whether the abuser is, if you’ll permit the clichés, stone-cold sober, drunk as a skunk, or high as a kite. This includes physical abuse (putting your hands on someone against their will), emotional abuse (manipulation, gaslighting, passive aggression), financial abuse (controlling money or withholding it for shared expenses, getting someone fired from a job), sexual abuse (not heeding signals like a person’s, usually a woman’s, lack of interest or passive resistance, attempts at convincing or coercing acquiescence, forcible sexual contact). None of these are acceptable, nor should be, regardless of the state of mind of the person enacting them.

Now that that’s out of the way, can we talk about trauma, starting at the beginning, with something called adverse childhood experiences. (Learn more here). It’s been proven that when we have “ACEs” as children, we are more likely to become traumatized adults. ACEs can be childhood abuse, neglect, poverty, racism, colonialism, or dangerous combinations therein. When we collect ACEs without balancing them with resilience (community, positive role models, creative outlets, coping skills, a sense of contribution), we are more likely, by a huge margin, to become addicts.

Addiction is the employment of a coping skill in the absence of others. It is the natural end result of a society that does not value people, does not foster emotional intelligence, and does not teach resiliency at a young age or indeed at any age. People become addicts because they have intolerable pain. Yes, this pain is frequently internal and emotional, but not always. Sometimes people are driven to addiction via subscription medication or physical dependency on legal drugs like alcohol.

But if you ask any person with an addiction – and for those who think they don’t know any, think about why you might not be considered a safe person to disclose this to – they will tell you: they hurt so much. They may not be able to delve into the details; part of addiction is living in the shallows of the details because they are too overwhelming or painful to examine. They may not be able to fully articulate that it’s pain at all; many people with addiction have used substances to successfully block out the traumatic memories or experiences that emotionally levelled them. But I promise you that if you actually listen, with an open heart and without prejudice with the desire to learn, to a person with an addiction, you will see hurt, fear, and shame. So much shame.

And from what we know about shame, (learn more here) we know that we cannot let it remain unexamined. Shame thrives in darkness, under the bed, in the closet, in the shadows. Shame feeds on itself better than any other emotion. Shame is the fear that you deserved every awful thing that ever happened to you: every cruel word, even abuse, every system failure, every systemic oppression. Shame dies when exposed to the light. We are in a life and death struggle against shame. We don’t have the financial resources or the political will, apparently, to actually address this addiction crisis, which is a human crisis. We could, of course, but the funds haven’t been allocated and the steps haven’t been taken to the extent that they need to be (See: Harm reduction works, when you work it).

So here is my challenge to those reading this column, who I am thrilled to report are mostly kind, community-minded, big-picture types (unlike those who read the headlines and rail against their own preconceived notions of what I’m saying). My challenge is to deeply excavate our social attitude toward addiction. It’s to call out the people in the comments section who would rather see people die for want of Naloxone because ‘those types’ aren’t worth the first-aid effort. They are the ones who think addicts themselves are funneling money away from life-saving medical treatments like insulin. Talk to those community members about how there is no profile for an addict other than adverse childhood experiences –  and if we really hold child sexual abuse against the victim, doesn’t that say more about us than them?

To those who don’t understand, can’t understand, or refuse to, I have a challenge for you, too. Listen. Just listen. Focus on your breathing and attempt neutrality. The things you will hear might break your heart, if you can stand it.

And on the subject of ‘us and them’, think about the AIDs crisis. Think about what we, as a society, consider to be acceptable losses. Think about strategic, purposeful divisions in our world – who stands to gain from them, and who loses. As long as we live under these hierarchical, divided strata, there will always be a segment of society that we, at large, are willing to look away from. I posit there are no acceptable losses. None.

I know some people reading this article are experiencing addiction. To you, I hope that you consider the following words a balm, because you have known enough judgement already. You are not alone, you are not bad, you have value, you are worthy of a different way should you desire it. I wish for you, and for us all, a community that sees each and every member, regardless of perceived contribution, as precious, beloved, and good.

The antidote to pain is not ostracism. The antidote to shame is not judgement. In order to have open arms and a loving heart, you have to have good boundaries, true. So if that’s what’s stopping you from trying to understand addiction, let’s talk about that next time. Until then, what do you think – challenge accepted?

Talk to me in the comments, or leave your thoughts on the Doppler Online website.

Kathleen May is a writer, speaker, and activist. Her work in our community includes co-founding the long-running Huntsville Women’s Group, being a Survivor Mentor in the pilot survivor-to-survivor program through MPSSAS, co-facilitating instinct-unlocking workshops for women through I Got This, working as a host and community producer of Herstories on YourTV, volunteering with Women’s March Muskoka, and her role as a front-line counsellor at a women’s shelter. Kathleen is a 2018 Woman of Distinction for Social Activism and Community Development and also received the Best Author award for her 2018 submission at the Muskoka Novel Marathon, a fundraiser for literacy services. Her dream is a sustainable women’s land co-operative in Muskoka.