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The Darkest Night of My Addiction

dorriolds — Tue, 01 Aug 2023 09:19:36 +0000

Addiction

Cockroaches scampered up the bed and scurried across my Greenwich Village apartment floor. I knew I was hallucinating. The empty liter of Bacardi rum glared at me next to barren packets of coke.

I was 26, sitting cross-legged like a child on my queen-sized bed. It was 6:00 a.m. and I hadn’t slept. It was 1988. A frigid March wind blew in from my windows facing Minetta Lane. Every nerve roared for more cocaine.

I watched with terror as a tarantula writhed on top of my dresser. I closed my eyes, hoping it would disappear. Tarantulas don’t live in New York but when I opened my eyes, the hairy black thing was still there.

My lap was littered with confetti-like shreds of eight-by-ten glossies. My painting portfolio. How could I have done that to the only thing I was proud of? I’d painstakingly assembled each page of the spiral book, with photos tucked safely under plastic sleeves in the hopes of finding a better job than waitressing. On one of the ripped pieces, I’d pressed down so hard with a pen that it left indents on the image. Hendrix lyrics: I don’t live today.

My mind scrabbled at the events leading to this last bender. The day before, my roommate Frederic had confronted me in the apartment. His long elegant fingers dug into my upper arms so hard it hurt. An angry vein popped out on his forehead and he shook me like a ragdoll. With tears streaming down his face he said, “If you don’t stop killing yourself, I’m leaving.”

In his eyes I could see the reflection of what I’d become. Disgusting, pathetic. Shame and self-loathing buckled my knees.

Frederic was the only person that mattered. Boyfriends came and went like subway riders. If any got too close, they’d see who I was. Or I’d decide a man’s hands were too hairy or he chewed too loudly. I’d break up with the bewildered fellow and return to my plague of loneliness. Then I’d fixate on a new crush and brood when he barely noticed me.

Happy couples on the street were a mystery. I wanted to run up and say, “How do you do that? What’s wrong with me?”

But Frederic, he was my best friend, like a loyal older brother who’d adopted me.

Our railroad apartment placed his room at the opposite end. Now, as I sat on my bed with jaw clamped in a coked-out grip and eyes bulging, I begged the universe not to let him wake up and see me like this. I’d sworn to stop after he threatened to move out. I had to because life would be unlivable without him. He was the only reason I didn’t jump out a window.

I remembered stopping off at Jimmy Day’s bar on West 4th Street for just one drink. The rest of the night was a blank.

My ashtray overflowed onto the nightstand, reflecting another broken promise to Frederic. Ever since he’d quit, he hated when I smoked. Gone were the days when we’d drink vodka together and play Scrabble for hours, chain smoking and laughing. He’d quit the cigs, cocaine, and vodka.

I emptied the ashtray into my leopard-pattern tin wastebasket. Suddenly, billowing puffs of smoke and high flames shot out of it. I closed my eyes and rubbed them hard. Slowly, I opened them again. Still roaring flames. I got up from the bed and put my palms on the sides of the tin to feel for heat. It was cold. Relieved there was no fire, I was terrified there was no sanity either.

I heard the long-ago voice of my cousin Angela, “You’re so lucky you can handle the drugs, Dor. But if you ever have a problem I’m the one to call.”

I picked up the phone and dialed.

“Ang?”

“Dor?”

After bursting into tears I slurred, “Uncle Carl had the right idea. I’m gonna get a gun and shoot myself.”

“Wait,” Angela said. “Do you have any more alcohol or cocaine?”

I had only the specs of coke that lined the empty packets and a few airplane-size bottles of Absolut stashed in my underwear drawer.

“Finish everything,” Ang said.

That was a first. People never told me to drink more.

“I’ll be there soon,” she said and hung up.

Her brother Brad called.

“Hey Sweetiepie.” It was soothing to hear his voice. “I reserved a bed for you in Florida.”

“Ooh, Florida?” I said, “Is there a pool?”

I heard the front door slam and realized I’d awakened Frederic. My throat went dry but I kept doing what I was told, scraping the last snortable flakes and downing the vodka minis.

Ang arrived at the apartment and yelled “Hey Dor!” After a bear hug she scanned the closet, grabbed a knapsack, and began to pack.

While she yanked t-shirts out of my dresser drawer I moaned with agony, “I’m out of cigarettes.”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “Everything is fine.”

Being exhausted and stoned made me pliable and obedient.

Angela carried my backpack while I navigated the four flights down to the lobby, gripping the banister to keep from wobbling. When we got to her double-parked car on Macdougal, she helped me into the passenger side and buckled me in. Sure I was going to puke, I unbuckled.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

The thought of eating made me gag. I managed a slurry “no.”

“We have to eat something,” she said. “It’s a long trip to Florida and when did you last eat?”

Before I could answer or stop her, she hopped over to the shake shop across the street and came back with two vanilla shakes. I got down about half of it before I bolted from the front seat and barfed on the pavement. She came around and helped me back into the car.

We headed off to JFK airport. As soon as Ang started to drive, I passed out. I have no memory of the airport or boarding the plane. I came out of the blackout while Ang was checking me into the rehab. There was a pink-skinned lady at a desk with a dopey soccer-mom hairdo who told me to sign paperwork. Then she led me down the hall to a room. Before she closed the door, I asked her to get Angela but the woman said she’d left. My tired bones collapsed on the cot’s thin mattress and I zonked out on the flat pillow till morning.

When I awoke, I tried to piece things together. Only isolated snippets. Frozen snapshots of laughing with a bartender, making out with somebody. I looked around the sparse room and wanted to go home. I got out of the bed and walked to the door but found it locked. There were no lights on. I peeked through the Plexiglas window in the door and could see a woman at a desk. I rapped hard on the window. She smiled and came over to me.

“Where am I?” I said.

“You’re in the detox room at the Hazelden Center in West Palm Beach.”

Her voice sounded like it was coming through a cloud of cotton. I could hardly decipher what she was saying, much less comprehend it.

“What am I doing here?”

She didn’t seem surprised by my question and patiently explained I’d come the day before and my cousin had checked me in, then left, and I’d be staying with them for the next 31 days.

I told her I had to go home and needed to leave right away. I demanded she find my purse. She retrieved it from a locker and handed it to me. I looked for the sliding Bayer aspirin container with my emergency line of coke and mini straw. I couldn’t find it and became frantic. She looked at me kindly and explained they’d searched my purse and disposed of the drugs they found.

Irate, I yelled, “You can’t do that!”

“Yes, dear,” she said, “we do that for all of our patients. You’re here because you’ve agreed to stop taking drugs and you signed the intake permission form.”

I demanded to leave.

“Okay,” she said.

To my horror, I found only two dollars and loose change in my wallet. I was a long way from home with no access to money. Dizzy, I asked the woman if I could lie down again.

“Of course you can, dear. That’s a good idea.”

She helped me back into the creaky cot and I stayed for 31 days.

Written for The Fix

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12 Tips for Coping with Sensory Overload During the Holidays

dorriolds — Wed, 10 Nov 2021 01:18:00 +0000

How to get through the holidays when you hate them. I am honored to have been interviewed for this article in The Fix, the largest addiction and recovery website.

By Olivia Pennell

Excerpt

I have had meltdowns because of too much noise, or too many people talking at the same time. I don’t like parties, crowds, or the demands of the holidays.

Can’t I just hibernate through the whole thing?

I don’t like Christmas. As the holidays approach each year, my anxiety becomes palpable. My senses become extremely overwhelmed. Conversely, I loved it when I was using. I had a false sense of merriment and festive cheer, which, in reality, was just masking my addiction with a seasonal excuse to use more. Today, I feel at the opposite end of that spectrum: I want to go into hibernation and I want it to be over, now. This is common for some people in recovery. However, it is possible to get through the holidays with a few simple tools which calm feelings of sensory overload and keep your recovery on a strong footing.

There are also the pressures and demands to buy presents and attend celebratory parties, meals and events that I don’t want to go to. All-in-all, for someone in recovery-particularly an empath-this can lead to sensory overload. And I am not alone.

Dorri Olds, Freelance Writer and person in long-term recovery says this:

“I don’t like to be known as a Scrooge but bah humbug to the damn holidays. It’s a time filled with family obligations, work-related parties and I’d rather stay home with my dog. I’m recently single after my spouse relapsed on heroin seven months ago so I’m especially sensitive. I have cravings to drink and drug even though I’ve been sober a long time now. Seeing and hearing happy-looking couples clinking glasses at restaurants makes my neck and back tense up.

Walking around Manhattan this time of year gets stressful because of store sales and crowded streets of tourists bumping into me. At parties the smell of liquor wafts up my nose and pulls me towards it. I often leave parties quickly because of that and because small talk tends to make me feel lonelier. Sometimes it feels so awkward to leave early. I never know whether to try to quietly slip out or go find the host to say goodbye when I know I’ll get the big question, “Why are you leaving so soon?” Then I don’t know whether to tell the truth or lie about having to be somewhere.”

Ridley Scott Directs the John Paul Getty Kidnapping starring Michelle Williams and Kevin Spacey

dorriolds — Sun, 17 Sep 2017 00:01:35 +0000

John Paul Getty, III (1956–2011) was the favorite grandson of the wealthiest man in the world, the miserly oil baron Jean Paul Getty. Young John was kidnapped and his billionaire grandpa refused to pay the $17 million ransom. It is a chiller of a thriller coming to the big screen on December 8.
Ridley Scott directs the true crime thriller, All the Money in the World. David Scarpa wrote the screenplay based on John Pearson’s book and the movie boasts an all-star cast. Kevin Spacey is unrecognizable as J. Paul Getty. Michelle Williams plays the terrified mother of kidnapped Getty (Charlie Plummer). Fletcher Chase (Mark Wahlberg) is a security man employed by the senior Getty.
The History
Getty, III spent his young life in Rome where his father was head of the Italian branch of the Getty’s family oil biz. But his Dad left when he was 9. By the age of 15 young Getty had been expelled from 7 schools and was a drug-taking, thrill-seeking partier.
At 3am, July 10, 1973 in Rome’s Piazza Farnese, Getty was kidnapped. He was pistol-whipped in the head, forced into a car and taken to a cave in Calabria. The kidnappers sent a ransom note demanding $17 million. Because Getty had been a rebellious kid who’d actually joked about staging his own kidnapping, when the ransom note arrived Getty’s family thought it might be a trick to get money from his notoriously tightwadded Dad.
The very real kidnappers blindfolded 16-year-old Getty and held him prisoner. He was beaten, tortured and tied to a stake. In November 1973, another ransom note was sent, this time to a daily newspaper but due to an Italian postal strike at the time it arrived 3 weeks late. The envelope contained a lock of Getty’s hair and his now partially-rotted sliced ear and a type-written note, “This is Paul’s ear. If we don’t get money within 10 days, then the other ear will arrive. In other words, he will arrive in little bits.”
That finally convinced Getty’s father to ask his tycoon Dad for the money but was refused. Getty’s grandfather argued, “If I pay one penny now, then I will have 14 kidnapped grandchildren.” Getty’s father agreed to pay the ransom, but begrudgingly. He negotiated! He ended up paying $2.9 million and his son—held captive for 138 days—was freed on December 15, 1973. Some of the kidnappers (an ex-con, a hospital orderly, a carpenter and an olive oil dealer) were caught but most of the ransom was never recovered. Getty’s father demanded that he pay back the ransom money plus 4 percent interest.
Getty married his 5-months-pregnant bride in 1974. His grandfather’s family trust barred him from marrying until he was 26. Because Getty was only 18 when he married he was cut off from the family’s money. In 1977, Getty had an operation to rebuild his mutilated ear. Getty and his wife had only one son before they divorced in 1993.
Getty’s twisted life turned worse. He was an alcoholic and drug addict—not that surprising, or even unusual—but one night in 1981 after combining valium, methadone and alcohol he suffered liver failure and a stroke. Getty was left a quadriplegic, unable to speak and nearly blind. He was 25 years old.
Getty’s father, also a drug addict, and also cut off from the family funds, said that Getty’s stroke was his own fault and refused to pay the astronomical medical bills. Getty needed round-the-clock care to be spoon-fed, changed and washed. His only means of communication were high-pitched screams.
The Getty brood took family dysfunction to epic extremes. In addition to Getty’s father’s heroin addiction, his sister Aileen Getty, was diagnosed HIV positive in 1985. She’s been in 7 institutions, had 12 shock treatments, 7 miscarriages, anorexia and was a self mutilator. Aileen is one of the longest survivors with the AIDS virus.
Getty was nursed for years by his devoted mother and a team of caregivers. He’d been gravely ill for much of that time. Getty died at the age of 54. He is survived by 2 children, son Balthazar and stepdaughter Anna, and 6 grandchildren. He’s also survived by his mother and 4 siblings: Getty Images co-founder Mark Getty, prominent AIDS activist Aileen Getty, Ariadne Getty and his half-brother Tara Getty. His actor son, Paul Balthazar Getty, has the letters BZAR tattooed on the fingers of his right hand. That seems a fitting way to end this heartbreaking tale of a mentally disturbed dynasty.

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Non-Addicts Had Questions About Addiction. Here Are Answers

dorriolds — Sat, 26 Nov 2016 11:03:28 +0000

What are the reasons people get addicted in the first place? How do the drugs make them feel? So many questions.

My family is smart, well-read, and well-meaning. As are my friends and wide network of acquaintances. Yet I’m shocked by how little non-addicts seem to grasp that addiction is a disease. The symptoms are well-publicized.

Frequently, though, many people in my life who are familiar with my horrid drug and alcohol odyssey still offer me a drink. I understand that it’s not their responsibility to worry about my addiction, but it still strikes me as odd. I’m often asked why I can’t have just a glass of wine or why I still consider myself an addict when I’ve been clean for so long. They’re surprised that my cravings never went away, and perplexed why it is still difficult for me to be near liquor.

For 15 years I was a heavy drug and alcohol user. After trying to quit repeatedly—and failing miserably—I finally asked for help in 1988. My recovery began with spending 31 days in a rehab, then decades of therapy, plus 28 years of surrounding myself with sober addicts who “get it.” Am I cured? No. But I’m grateful for the daily reprieve.

It seems that no matter how many articles are written and read, and documentaries made and seen, those who do not suffer from addiction have an inability to relate to my illness. I decided to post a query on Facebook: What is the hardest thing to understand about those that suffer with addiction?

Within two days I had 100 responses. Here are the most commonly asked questions and my answers for The Fix. (Note: These are my answers and represent my experiences and feelings and those of the many addicts and alcoholics I have met in nearly three decades of being in recovery communities. Please note that not everyone who struggles with addiction or who identifies as an addict will have these same answers.)

Questions and Answers

Why do addicts have a skeptical view that others can use substances casually?

In many cases, it’s because we can’t. For me it is a combination of jealousy and disbelief. I minimized and denied my problem for so long, I can make the mistake of projecting my experience onto others and thinking they are in denial.

Heroin withdrawal symptoms sound like a flu. I’ve had really bad flus but I know it’ll end. What keeps heroin addicts from not just powering through it?

Addiction is a physical and mental disorder. Underneath many addictions is an underlying inability to tolerate negative feelings. Addicts believe in a substance in the way many describe believing in god. The substance is soothing, our best friend, our protector, the one thing that will take away our pain. It is mentally-ill thinking because whatever euphoria and pleasure we found at the beginning of our substance use is no longer attainable by the time we are deep into our addiction. But just like Pavlov’s dogs, we practically drool for our substance of choice. Without it, we fear the return of often paralyzing pain and depression. Also, with heroin, the physical malady of quitting is horrific and we know that the one thing to stop it immediately is more heroin. If everyone who had the flu knew of one substance that would immediately take away the nearly unbearable symptoms, wouldn’t they be compelled to take it?

I can almost hear the non-addict saying, “But if I knew it was bad for me, I wouldn’t take it.” Yes, and that right there is the difference between a non-addict and an addict. An addict craves the very thing they are “allergic” to. The compulsion to use is so strong, it often wins out.

When an addict craves a substance, their logical mind is not working. They’re not thinking, “This is bad for me.” They’re thinking, “I need this right now. I must have it. I cannot go on another second without it.”

We don’t think about anything else in that moment. We are not able to care about our loved ones, or our health, or job, or beloved pets. The craving is the loudest thing in our head and forces every other thought out—including the thought that there will be horrible consequences if we use again.

What are the reasons people get addicted in the first place? How do the drugs make them feel?

When I was on a drug, it quieted down the noise of anxiety and depression in my head. The closest comparison I can think of is wrapping myself in a down coat when I was freezing cold. The substance seemed necessary. I found drugs and alcohol as a young teenager and they lit my head up like a pinball machine. At the same time my frontal lobe—the brain region that makes decisions like “Okay, you’ve had enough, go home and get some sleep”—might as well have been in a coma. It did not function when I was under the influence. The pleasure center always took over. When that happened, I basked in the euphoria and the absence of anxiety, self-consciousness, and despair.

Every addict I have ever spoken to in the past 28 years has understood that “noise in my head.” It was a constant gnawing of negative thoughts that I didn’t have the power to shut off. Along came substances that made all the negative chatter shut up. It was new and wonderful and a tremendous relief. It made me feel “normal,” i.e., like everybody else seemed to be.

How do genetics play a role? Why do some people in the same family become addicts while others don’t?

That is the $60-million-dollar question. Science cannot provide a definitive equation to explain how much genetics play a role in addiction and how much is determined by life experiences, but there are many educated opinions. Neuroscientist Dr. Nora Volkow of the National Institute on Drug Abuse (NIDA), believes that addiction can be explained by dopamine in the brain. Another addiction expert, Canadian physician Dr. Gabor Maté, believes “emotions are deeply implicated in both the development of illness, addictions and disorders, and in their healing.”

The National Council on Alcoholism and Drug Dependence (NCADD) states that genetics make up only 50% of the risk for alcohol and drug dependence.

For example, if one sibling underwent a trauma and the other did not, that might explain why only one becomes an addict. Another factor may be personality and it’s not clear how much a personality is formed by nature vs. nurture. There are a multitude of studies on this topic, but as we all know, studies need to be studied in order to determine their accuracy. Most studies can present facts in a way that support the author’s hypothesis.

Does sobriety become easier over time or is there always a temptation to use?

That depends on the particular person. I know many sober peeps who gave up drugs and alcohol and no longer wrestle with cravings. That hasn’t been the case for me. When I smell alcohol, I crave it. I’ve made sure to avoid any situation where someone might have cocaine and ask me if I’d like to snort a line. I don’t know how I’d react in that situation and I don’t want to gamble.

There are sober alcoholics who can bartend and people who were addicted to drugs who can deal drugs. That would never be possible for me. My desire to use remains strong. I stay sober by using the tools that I’ve learned and by staying away from temptations.

Why have a child or children when you are more interested in your addiction?

This question made me tear up. It was asked by a woman who is open about having been raised in an abusive alcoholic home. The phrasing relays pain and resentment. Sadly, it is an unanswerable question. Everyone’s situation is different and none of us believe that our addictions will take over our lives and hurt the ones we love. Most parents have the best of intentions for bringing a child into the world. If they are aware of their addiction, they probably don’t feel that it will affect their ability to parent. Perhaps the pregnancy was accidental and abortion or adoption did not feel like options.

I have chosen to live child-free for myriad reasons. One of the strongest was the fear that I might pass along addiction, depression and anxiety. For me, it was the right decision. My guess is that most parents do not have children with the intention of treating them horribly and causing them enormous pain, but sadly humans aren’t always equipped to take care of themselves, let alone their children.

Why do addicts drag their families halfway into the grave with them?

They don’t. Anyone who loves someone with an addiction needs to get professional help to learn how to protect themselves and their children. People in active addiction can be out of control and may hurt and manipulate the people closest to them.

Why does someone start?

The reasons are different for each person. For me it was a combination of curiosity and rebellion. I wanted to do what I wasn’t supposed to do, like some kind of rite of passage towards adulthood. I romanticized dead rock stars who’d lived fast and died young. I wanted to die because life felt too hard.

Can an addict see how sick they are when they look in the mirror?

Sometimes, but denial is a large part of any addiction. Many addicts lie to themselves. Most minimize, justify, and rationalize what they’re doing to themselves and others.

How is it so easy to lie about everything?

That is part of the mental illness. I believed my own lies. I also felt dissociated. I didn’t have a compass for right and wrong anymore. I ran on the fumes of need. One therapist described me as sociopathic. That may or may not have been true. I was traumatized by a gang rape at 13 by classmates. I became cut off from my feelings and reality. I was enraged and incapable of empathizing with others in a normal way.

Why do addicts blame other people?

When an addict blames other people, it could be that their sense of reality is so altered that they actually believe their problems were caused by other people. Or they might be attempting to gain sympathy and attention. Or maybe they are trying to manipulate others in order to get what they believe they need.

What is it about life that is so hard that an addict can’t handle it without drugs or alcohol?

I can only answer for myself. I had obsessive and horrible thoughts. I hated myself and I wanted to die. I obsessed about ways to kill myself. When I tried drugs and alcohol, all of that was lifted when I was high. It was like magic. When that magic stopped working I kept believing that I could get it back. I’m sure you’ve heard the expression, “Insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results.” Every addict I have ever known had that form of insanity.

Is there a way to prevent it?

I’ve thought about that for decades. I still don’t know the answer. I think if there were a reliable means of prevention, we would have heard about it.

The post Non-Addicts Had Questions About Addiction. Here Are Answers appeared first on Award-Winning Writer and Graphic Designer.

Jon Hamm Opens Up About Recovery And Therapy

dorriolds — Wed, 26 Oct 2016 10:39:25 +0000

Written for The Fix

“There’s something to be said for pulling yourself out of the grind for a period of time and concentrating on recalibrating the system,” said Jon Hamm.

Actor Jon Hamm, 45, is best known for his eight years on AMC’s hit show Mad Men, during which Hamm starred as the deeply flawed ad executive Don Draper, a charming alcoholic and womanizer in a successful ad agency in the 1960s.

Hamm recently gave a candid interview to Mr. Porter’s Journal, during which he talked about his 30-day stay in an alcohol treatment facility. “It has all these connotations, but it’s just an extended period of talking about yourself,” said Hamm. “People go for all sorts of reasons, not all of which are chemically related. But there’s something to be said for pulling yourself out of the grind for a period of time and concentrating on recalibrating the system. And it works. It’s great.”

Hamm’s parents had divorced when he was two, and he lived with his mother until she lost her battle with cancer when he was 10 years old. After that, Hamm went to live with his father, who he spoke fondly of. “I was always fascinated by my dad because he could talk to anyone,” he said. “He was a great listener and he knew a little bit about a lot of things. I aspired to be like that.”

But tragically, his father died when the actor was only 20. He was suffering terribly, so one of his half-sisters convinced him to go into therapy.

He told the Journal, “After I’d lost my dad, I had this horrible paralyzing inertia—and no one in my family was capable of dealing with it. So what do you do? Go and see a professional. I preach it from the mountaintops.”

The actor is sensitive to the fact that not everyone is as fortunate as he’s been, and said about the high cost of therapy, “I know it’s a luxury and it’s not something everyone can afford. But if you can, do it. It’s like a mental gym.”

As for many stars before him, life in the public eye proved difficult. “It is not easy having immediate and huge-scale fame thrust upon you,” he said. “I’m a pretty shy person. I like talking to people one-on-one, but I do not like people taking pictures of me with 400mm lenses across the street.”

Society’s hunger for celebrity pics seemed to irk him. “It’s mystifying to me why we give that any time in our culture,” he said.

The actor refrained from discussing the end of his long-term relationship with actor and director Jennifer Westfeldt. The two never married but were committed to each other for 18 years.

About their split Hamm said, “It’s very personal and specific and I think people tend to draw their own conclusions about that anyway.”

Hamm is now promoting his upcoming film, Keeping Up with the Joneses, which opens Oct. 21.

See more articles by Dorri Olds for The Fix

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Steven Bauer of Ray Donovan Returns to Rehab

dorriolds — Wed, 12 Oct 2016 11:21:10 +0000

Written for The Fix

Showtime’s Ray Donovan is my favorite show. Brilliant writing, brilliant cast including Steven Bauer.

Ray Donovan actor Steven Bauer (Breaking Bad, Scarface) has checked into rehab in Malibu, California, according to In Touch Weekly. Bauer’s rep told the magazine, “In recent months, he realized he was starting to drink more than he was comfortable with. He preemptively wanted to take care of the issue. But in no uncertain terms does he take drugs, nor is he being treated for a drug-related addiction.”

The magazine also quoted an unnamed source, who said, “He loves working on Ray Donovan and wants everyone to know he’s back on the straight and narrow … His mom, son Alexander and girlfriend, Lyda Loudon, have been there for him. He’s serious about staying sober.”

The actor is probably best known for his role as the drug dealer Manny Ribera in Brian De Palma’s movie, Scarface. He also played Mexican drug cartel boss, Don Eladio, in Breaking Bad.

Bauer has lived through quite a few upheavals in life. His first marriage was to actress Melanie Griffith in the ’80s. The couple parted ways in 1989. His next three marriages also ended in divorce.

Griffith and Bauer have remained friends. Radar Online reported last week that Griffith has been helping Bauer with his addiction, fearing that if he “didn’t get help fast, he was going to die,” said an anonymous source.

They added, “Steven has type 2 diabetes and pancreas problems. He was still doing a lot of drugs, mostly cocaine, which he’d been doing since at least the early ’80s!” Apparently his addiction was affecting his work on Ray Donovan and Showtime producers warned him “to straighten up or he’d be off the show.”

Steven Bauer

In a 1990 article in People, Griffith spoke about her marriage to Bauer and their use of cocaine. “We were wild but it was more me than him,” she said. “He was doing it too, but he didn’t have a problem with it. He tried to get me not to do drugs.”

Bauer said about using coke, “I was carelessly casual about it. It was as natural as the ingestion of liquor. But it hurt me in more than a few ways. I behaved irresponsibly when I should have been professional.”