4 ideas
Rachel Walsh, a 27-year-old Dubliner living in New York, overdoses on sleeping pills. Her family sends her to the Cloisters, a rehab centre in Wicklow, and she agrees because she imagines it as a celebrity retreat with saunas, massages and famous guests.
Addicts protect their denial by looking for ways they differ from 'real' addicts. They note that others drink in the morning, have lost their homes, or use needles, and conclude they themselves are fine. Every difference they find becomes evidence of health, so the comparison can never land on a verdict of addiction.
An addict's own memory is edited to keep using, so self-examination alone rarely produces recognition. Concrete, specific accounts from people who watched the behaviour, such as a partner describing particular nights, are far harder to argue away than general accusations. They force the addict to face events their story left out.
Read the addict's using as a way of managing a long-held sense of being less than others: less loved, less clever, less attractive. The drugs and drink supply the confidence and glamour that feel otherwise unavailable. Recovery therefore means dealing with that underlying self-worth, not just removing the substance.