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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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Chasing a Cure for Hepatitis C | The Fix

dorriolds — Tue, 17 Mar 2020 09:32:42 +0000

Hepatitis C Cure

When I quit drugs and drinking, I found out I had chronic persistent hepatitis C. I’d contracted it in 1978 when I was 17. As the years went by, my chances increased for developing cirrhosis, liver cancer, or liver failure. I might even need a liver transplant. I’d heard about interferon and its brutal side effects, including suicidal depression. I had HCV (hepatitis C virus) because I’d been so depressed as a teen I shot drugs and shared needles in hopes I’d croak.

But, in addition to stirring up thoughts of killing myself, interferon would’ve meant six months of using needles to administer the drug. It had been nearly impossible to kick drugs and harder still to stay off them, so I was terrified that injecting drugs might steer me toward relapse. Interferon also had a puny 45% success rate, so I opted out.

A few years ago, I found a primary care physician specializing in infectious diseases and staying up-to-date on HCV treatments. He was waiting and watching for Harvoni (ledipasvir/sofosbuvir) to go on the market. “Now we’ll be able to cure you within 90 days,” he’d said. “And with only one daily pill.”

Hepatitis C Virus is divided into six genotypes. I have genotype 1, the most common type in the US and the most difficult to treat. In October 2014, when the FDA approved Gilead’s miracle drug, Harvoni, my insurance company refused to pay for it—three months of Harvoni costs upwards of $95,000. I was told I wasn’t sick enough. They were willing to gamble with my health, but my doctor wasn’t. He and his staff submitted appeal after appeal. I switched insurance companies three times, hoping to get Harvoni coverage, but to no avail.

Finally, I received an okay for AbbVie’s Viekira Pak with ribavirin. It costs $12,000 less than Harvoni and has a similar cure rate (97%), but Viekira Pak comes with a frightening warning: “It may cause severe liver problems.” My doctor reassured me that the treatment was worth it and that there would be no side effects.

My doctor reassured me that the treatment was worth it. He also said there’d be no side effects. He knew how scared I was. If I’d known how difficult taking the medication would be, I would’ve chickened out. That would’ve been stupid, so I’m glad I took the meds and survived the awful experience.

My three months on this cocktail have included severe gastrointestinal issues, including nausea, constipation, and diarrhea. I’ve had skin rashes and chills, confusion, forgetfulness, high anxiety and depression. The worst was the exhaustion, which often made it impossible for me to work. As a freelancer, no work equals no pay.

The ribavirin caused anemia, and I’ve had to stay in bed most days, not knowing if it was day or night. Instead of one Harvoni pill, I’ve had to take three Viekira Pak pills (two different kinds) with three ribavirin pills with breakfast and one Viekira Pak pill plus two ribavirin pills with dinner. If my husband hadn’t kept me on schedule, I would’ve slept through most of the doses.

Even when I set my alarm, I couldn’t move most of the time. Thank goodness I have a mate who kept track of the pills and woke me up at the correct intervals to bring food and drug cocktails. He also shopped, cooked, did laundry, vacuumed, massaged my aching legs, and took over full-time care of our dog. Without a support system, I don’t know how anyone could manage.

Hepatitis C Blood Tests

On the upside, my blood tests showed that my viral load went from 1,000,000 from the time I began treatment to 20 at the end of the first month. Now, after a total of three months, it is at zero. My liver inflammation has gone way down as well, and my doctor assures me that my side effects will cease now that I’ve finished the meds. Still, I wish I could’ve been treated with Harvoni and had known about the multiple class action lawsuits against insurance companies for not covering it.

Eleanor Hamburger is a lawyer at Sirianni Youtz Spoonemore Hamburger, the Seattle firm litigating two class action lawsuits against Washington state health insurers Group Health Cooperative and BridgeSpan, a subsidiary of Regence BlueShield. Hamburger told me, “We had people approach us who had been denied Harvoni. In most states, there’s just a handful of lawyers who do cases involving denials of treatment that people need by their insurance companies.”

She explained, “Here’s the problem. The insurance companies and payers, like Medicaid, are putting patients in the middle of this tug-of-war with pharmaceutical companies. Payers, whether it’s Medicaid or private insurance, have a responsibility to pay when all the requirements for coverage are met. The whole point of health insurance, and the safety net provided by Medicaid, is to be there with medically necessary treatment when those terms and conditions are met.

The fact that it’s expensive requires the payers to take action against the pharmaceutical companies to get the right price. What clearly should not happen and what has been occurring is, instead of pushing on that process to get to a fair price between pharmaceutical companies and insurance companies and payers, the payers have been saying, ‘No, we’re just not going to give coverage.’ The ones that get harmed are the patients. It’s wrong.”

Hep C Hadn’t Made Me Sick Enough?

When I told her, “Insurance companies told me I wasn’t sick enough,” she raised her voice in anger. “No one should be forced to walk around with a viral time bomb in their body, gambling on the chance that they’re not going to get sicker while they’re waiting. When you pay your premium, the whole point of insurance is transferring the risk of having that catastrophic cost to the insurance company.

At the end of the year, you don’t get your money back if you haven’t needed anything expensive for your health insurance! The same is true if you have a year when you’ve got high healthcare costs. Insurance companies can’t suddenly say, ‘Well, even though you’re entitled to coverage under the terms and conditions of our policy, we’re not going to cover it for everyone because it’s too expensive.’ The policies do not allow insurance companies to wait around saying, ‘Oh, but it’s so expensive we have to ration it.’”

Hamburger led me to Michael Ninburg, the executive director at the Hepatitis Education Project (HEP), a nonprofit whose mission is to provide support, advocacy, and services for those affected by HCV. He was eager to discuss updates regarding the Washington state class action lawsuits. The lawsuits allege that denying treatment to HCV patients unless they demonstrated significant liver damage was illegal and improper.

“We applaud the Regence group,” said Ninburg. “They’re one of the largest insurers in the Pacific Northwest, and as of February 16, Regence will conform to recommendations of the HCV guidelines issued by IDSA and AASLD.”

He said, “This change is important to HCV patients because Regence and its affiliated pharmacy benefit manager, Omega Rx, removed all previous restrictions on coverage.”

Ninburg then put me in touch with Sean Hemmerle, a 43-year-old ex-heroin addict and ex-con who is now a full-time college student in Olympia. Hemmerle served time in prison “for a robbery related to my heroin use,” he said. He was diagnosed with HCV in 2010 at Harborview Medical Center in Seattle while undergoing surgeries “to repair wounds from injecting black tar heroin.”

Hemmerle said he was sure he’d gotten Hepatitis C Virus from “sharing cookers because I’ve never shared a needle in my life.” When he was on his way to prison, he said, “I looked forward to receiving interferon while I was locked up. I figured it would be an opportune time to go through all the BS associated with it. Unfortunately, the prison medical staff, once they finally got my genotype and viral count, told me that I had too little in my sentence left to begin.”

“When I got out [of prison],” Hemmerle said, “Obamacare happened, and I got a primary care provider in the winter of 2013, who referred me to the liver clinic at Harborview in the summer of 2014. Once the liver clinic saw me, they sent a script for 12 weeks of Harvoni to DSHS [Washington State Department of Social and Health Services]. DSHS denied it, but the clinic appealed.

DSHS denied it again. The clinic then sent my script to the patient assistance program at Harborview, which contacted Gilead. Once the patient assistance program got involved, it was only a week before I received my first month of Harvoni. I completed my 12 weeks in July 2015 with absolutely no side effects, and my viral load was undetectable by week 5.”

He added, “I have loads of survivor’s guilt because I lucked out—literally days after approving me, Gilead began approving only levels 3 and 4 for patient assistance for Harvoni. Some HMOs, like Group Health, have recently begun approving 1s and 2s for treatment.”

While the drug companies battle it out in a price war, Merck’s rock-‘n’-roll-sounding pill, Zepatier (elbasvir/grazoprevir), became available January 29 for $54,600 per three-month treatment. Like the other meds, Zepatier has a cure rate of 97%. Due to its lower price tag, insurance companies are more likely to cover it. Unfortunately, Zepatier’s side effects are similar to those I’ve experienced on Viekira Pak with ribavirin.

Gilead has earned approximately $20 billion for HCV treatment, and AbbVie has earned billions from its Viekira Pak. It’s too soon to know how much money Merck will earn from Zepatier.

Regulus Therapeutics is the newest threat to Gilead’s profits. On February 17, Regulus announced test results showing that RG 101 administered two times in one month, along with a month’s worth of Harvoni, can reduce an HCV cure to a total of four weeks. Regulus is working on testing RG 101 with GlaxoSmithKline’s NS5B inhibitor, which would eliminate Harvoni. If that pans out, Gilead will suffer, but insurance companies will benefit. Hopefully, that means that more people with HCV will receive coverage.

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Cat Marnell Gives the Addiction Memoir a Makeover

dorriolds — Mon, 16 Jan 2017 11:40:11 +0000

Written for The Fix. Cat Marnell gives the addiction memoir a makeover. The book is action-packed, shocking, darkly humorous and gut-wrenching. Embedded in every funny line is the heartbreaking tale of Adderall addiction and a world that enabled it for a “lucky” white girl of privilege. It’s a brave and courageous account of drug hell on earth.

Marnell is an American writer based in New York City. She’s a beauty who built her brand on writing about beauty for Lucky, xoJane, Vice, SELF, Nylon, and Glamour. She’s been labeled a “socialite” and “enfant terrible” based on her years of struggle with addiction. Her memoir held me rapt but made me so mad at addiction. How it robs us of dignity, common sense, self-esteem. I’m rooting for the author. She wrote an honest and deeply disturbing book about what can happen when one is lost in a world of drugs and enabled at every turn.
Her Twitter bio reads, “WRITER / EDITOR / PREDATOR / DOWNTOWN DISASTER.” And, yes, it’s in solid caps. I had been eager to hear about Marnell’s debut memoir with the inspired title, How to Murder Your Life. Marnell and I met up in Greenwich Village. When she walked in, I was surprised. She didn’t look as I’d expected. Every photo I had Googled showed her, now 34, as a Barbie-beautiful blonde in heavy make-up. The woman I met was brunette, childlike and vulnerable.

An Original Voice

“I had more issues than Vogue,” Marnell wrote in her book and described herself as “a weepy, wobbly, hallucination-prone insomniac” and a “tweaky self-mutilator.” Her brains, she wrote, were “so scrambled you could’ve ordered them for brunch at Sarabeth’s.”

Rooting for Her

Cat Marnell Memoir (Simon & Schuster)

When asked about her number one tip about turning weaknesses into strengths, she said, “I’ve got this slogan. It was on a reality show [Push Girls]. It was these girls in wheelchairs and the slogan was, ‘If you can’t stand up, stand out.’ And for me, I felt like that really, you know, this whole media career I have orchestrated from my bed. My career popped off in the press a couple years ago. I did it. While I can’t stand up, stand out… I lost my job and because of the Internet or whatever, I got the most attention so I was on disability getting contacted for, you know, by The New York Times Magazine. It was just crazy. So yeah. When you can’t stand up, stand out. Unique is always good.”
Marnell’s voice is original. She’s startlingly honest and writes things nobody should. Her career is based on a can-you-top-this approach, but as she describes horribly embarrassing details, she’s hilarious. She described the décor in one of her apartments as “midcentury meth lab.”

“It’s Like Cooking”

Her thoughts on how the book will be received were, “I’m not saying everyone gets it. I feel like with a book—I mean it’s like cooking. I don’t feel immodest saying it’s, I mean, if you taste food that you’ve cooked and you know it’s good then it’s good to you. It’s not like everyone’s taste, know what I mean? I feel like it’s good to me and I worked so hard on it.”
Selling film rights is already in the works. And you should check out the Marnell-inspired fictionalized character—fashion blogger Jade Winslow—on TV Land’s Sex and the City-ish series Younger.

Courtesy of Cat Marnell Instagram account.

Available Now

How to Murder Your Life is what every addict memoir should be: adventure-packed, shocking, darkly humorous, and gut-wrenching—the only thing missing is sobriety. The book will be published January 31. You’re likely to read it in one fast sitting.

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20/20 Anchor Elizabeth Vargas Talks About Anxiety, Alcohol and Her Moving Memoir

dorriolds — Thu, 15 Sep 2016 10:39:00 +0000

Celebrity newscaster Elizabeth Vargas told me, “I was nearly fired from my job. My husband left me while I was in rehab, I hurt my kids tremendously, and I nearly lost my life.”

Written for The Fix

“A huge part of my alcoholism was anxiety,”20/20 anchor Elizabeth Vargas told me. “I had panic attacks since kindergarten.” During our interview and in her new book, Between Breaths: A Memoir of Panic and Addiction, the veteran newscaster was candid about almost losing everything.

Between Breaths: A Memoir of Panic and Addiction by 20/20 Anchor Elizabeth Vargas

She went to her first rehab in 2012, but denial said she only needed two weeks of treatment. It’s no surprise that didn’t work and the disease progressed. In 2014, she went to a second rehab but left prematurely. She went home and drank again. Resigned and humiliated, she returned to that second rehab. Now sober for two years, Vargas is committed to sobriety but understands we only have a daily reprieve from alcohol.

“My story is different than others I’ve heard ‘in the rooms,’” she told me. “I drank moderately for 20 years. It wasn’t until my 40s that I fell off a cliff.”

Vargas described a day in 2012 when she showed up at ABC too drunk to work. “I stepped out of the car and stumbled. That’s when I knew I was in no condition to conduct an interview. My friend took one look at me and knew.” Her first rehab was that year at Cirque Lodge in Utah. “I look back on a lot of the writing that I did,” she said. “I’m struck by the lectures and therapists there. It was a very good experience.” But after leaving the Utah rehab after only two weeks, she was not able to stay sober and her alcoholism progressed. Vargas blames a combination of factors. “Stress at work, and then being diagnosed with post-partum anxiety. My drinking was suddenly on steroids and I had huge consequences.”

“I’d had lots of brownouts,” she said, “but never a blackout.” That is until one day when she began drinking in the early afternoon after work. “The next thing I remember is waking up at four a.m. in the emergency room with zero memory of what happened. I had a blood alcohol level of .4, which is lethal. I’m told a woman saw me at Riverside Park in my work clothes and wobbling in high heels.”

Two predatory men were eyeing Vargas so the concerned passerby intervened and got the drunk newscaster home safely. But Vargas passed out in the lobby and was taken away in an ambulance. The incident scared her enough to stop drinking and she went to her second rehab.

“It was a rude awakening. I woke up in Tennessee. My husband and therapist picked that rehab. I don’t understand how anybody would’ve picked it. Even my therapist there said, ‘This is not the right place for you. I don’t know how on earth you ended up here.’ But once there, I couldn’t get out.”

In the memoir that second rehab in 2014 is referred to as The Center. But Vargas told me, “I wrote that it was in rural Tennessee so most people can figure out it’s really The Ranch. For some people I’m sure it’s a life-saving gift but it wasn’t the best place for me. Most of the patients were in their teens and twenties. We had different life experiences and different issues.”

The newscaster confided that she already suffered with guilt. “Making my shame front and center wasn’t the best way to go. I wasn’t thinking about getting better and saving my life. I was thinking, ‘How do I get home?’ I wasn’t seeing my children and was desperate to know what was going on. I feared that my husband was hiring divorce lawyers and starting to date other people.” Frantic, she left prematurely against advice and learned her suspicions were correct.

I asked if she thought drinking caused the divorce. “My husband would say it did,” she said. “It’s easy to judge him but I didn’t walk in his shoes. I don’t know what it was like to be married to an alcoholic. I’m sure it was really difficult.”

Vargas said she would die for her sons. “I love them more than anything in the world. I would do anything for my children. But I couldn’t stop drinking for them.”

I pointed out that many interviewers still don’t seem to understand alcoholism. Vargas agreed. “They don’t. Trust me. Many people have no concept that this is a disease. To tell an alcoholic to stop drinking is like telling someone born with depression to be happy….”

* * *

Vargas said, “I asked my son last night, ‘Why do you think I’m writing this book?’ He said, ‘Because you’re brave and want to help people.’ I hope people will be kind.”

She confided, “As a child, I was shy and quiet because of my tremendous anxiety.” As an “army brat,” she moved almost every year. “I was bullied mercilessly from third grade through junior high. You’d have to learn how to fit in,” she said. “A lot of times, I didn’t.”

I asked if she thinks: Yeah, well, look at me now! Vargas said, “No, you never shed those horrible feelings. My earliest memories are infused with fear.”

Three Addicts Talk About Kicking Opiates in Jail With and Without Suboxone

dorriolds — Sat, 16 Jul 2016 09:21:38 +0000

Written for The Fix

Nobody strives to become a heroin addict. Even misguided souls with a romanticized notion of H never intended to go through the nightmare of withdrawal on a jail cell floor. But that’s what happens to many users caught in the whirlwind of our nation’s opiate crisis. Science is teaching us that addicts are not morally flawed or weaklings. Addiction is a mental illness that needs treatment. The Fix‘s Dorri Olds reached out and found three formerly-incarcerated addicts willing to talk under pseudonyms. We were especially interested in whether Suboxone was provided and if it helped.
Mike, 63, has a lovely Irish accent but sounded world-weary. “I moved from Ithaca to Burlington, Vermont where I lived this double life: well-paid bank executive by day, heroin dealer by night. In 2002 I got arrested in my 40s for dealing. I’m from a middle-class family and had never spent a night in jail [so it] was a shock to my parents, both retired college teachers, and my brother, who I’m very close with.”
Mike is unmarried and childless.
“In jail I was extremely sick for four days, puking and shitting; a miserable existence. The only medical attention was a gallon of lemonade to make sure I didn’t dehydrate. It took a week until I was human enough to interact with inmates.”
Transferred to prison, he lived there for a year and a half. “In retrospect,” Mike said, “it was a good thing because it got me clean.”
For a while, anyway.
“I made the most out of prison. I was college educated and did jailhouse lawyering, which was enjoyable. When you do that, though, you become an enemy of the system so I got moved around—a grand tour of Vermont prisons.”
After prison, Mike returned to Cornell University. “I arranged financing to go back full-time to finish my undergraduate degree, 30 years late. But after six months, I went back on the juice [heroin] during school.”
He tried 12-step meetings. “But the minute I was using I no longer went” and he never stopped drugging voluntarily. “The only thing that ever got me clean was being taken away in handcuffs or being on probation with the threat of jail.”
He’d been shooting heroin on and off for four years when he got arrested again. Mike had dealt to an undercover cop. “It was either a drug court or a long prison term.” He chose drug court where he had close supervision by a judge, a probation officer, mandatory intensive outpatient treatment and 12-step meetings. “After graduating from drug court, I admitted to a lesser misdemeanor rather than a felony.”
Mike said he finally realized he’d been limiting his life’s options and became serious about staying clean. That didn’t last. “You think you have choices but you don’t,” he said. “You’re in a self-built prison. I told myself, ‘I could stop tomorrow’ [but] opiates are so different from other drugs; the purpose isn’t to get high anymore, it’s to be un-sick. The minute you stop, within 24 hours, you’re in withdrawal. You can’t go to work and you can’t get out of bed.
He said he was “a big believer” in Suboxone: “One of the clinics in Vermont [was] doing human testing in the last phase before it became legal. I was a guinea pig and it worked.” But then he relapsed a year ago. “I had a knee injury and went from [opioid] pain pills to heroin.” He couldn’t get Suboxone legally so found a way to buy some. “I’ll be on Suboxone for a while but I’d like to get off it eventually. For now, I’m sure I’ll stay clean today and probably tomorrow. What will happen from there I don’t know.”
Chuck was 49 (but looked over 60), clean-shaven and attractive with skin the color of coffee with milk. We met in a government-run residence for men with AIDS. His gaze darted around like a manic squirrel.
Living in Los Angeles in 1989, Chuck was arrested and sent to a county jail. “They didn’t provide any type of maintenance for addicts, like methadone,” he said. “I had a hard time and it was messy. I was curled up around the toilet and people were standing over me urinating. I wasn’t regarded as somebody worth anything.”
He served 60 days. “First they tried to charge me with possession and intent to distribute but they dropped it to just possession after a public defender pleaded my case. I hadn’t ever tried to stop [shooting heroin]. I couldn’t wait until I hit the streets so I could get high again.”
After jail, he wasn’t given probation nor sent to rehab. Without any program or anyone to answer to, Chuck went right back to using.
We asked how many times he went to jail. “I can’t count,” Chuck said. Five times? “Yeah.” Ten times? “Yeah.” More than 20? “Yeah, and I did some state time for armed robbery, that was five years for a violent felony. Inside, I got jumped; I fought. Once, waiting in line for the phone I seen this guy who got stabbed. It was a really traumatic experience because it wasn’t like the movies. He was hit in the neck and it must’ve hit a main artery because the blood shot out five feet.”
Chuck joined a gang. “It’s not just a matter of protection,” he said. “You also have to prove yourself and…make certain moves—beat somebody up, or worse.” When asked if he ever raped anyone. “Nah,” he said, “that wasn’t my thing and I myself never got raped. They left me alone because I didn’t seem like I was afraid, which was all an act.”
The only time he smiled during our interview was when he said, “I just got cured from Hepatitis C!” He spoke of meetings in prison. “Missionaries came bringing Christianity and there were groups by a certified alcohol addiction treatment counselor based on 12-step anonymous [sic],” he said. Then his shoulders slumped and he curled in on himself. “When I had five years [sober] from ’93 to ’98, I was in a relationship. The lady was struggling with drugs. I was clean but codependent—chasing her around the streets, worrying. I wasn’t paying no attention to my recovery, too preoccupied with her. That ended when her family found out I had AIDS and she left me. I didn’t relapse right then but I was in deep shock and deep depression. A year later I relapsed.”
We asked about Suboxone. “I tried it once. I had an appointment for today but I didn’t go because I don’t have any money to pay for it.” He has no dreams of ever getting sober again or of romance and is estranged from his only child, a daughter in her 30s. “I think only five percent of my problems is the drugs. I think the other 95% is the experiences I’ve had—all the trauma. I don’t see any light at the end of the tunnel.” Then Chuck said he had to leave. “I need to go steal something so I can get high.”

Treatment options for prisoners could change.

Julie, 37, sounded street-tough. She began with only brief “yes” or “no” answers before she let her guard down to tell more of her story. Arrested with enough drugs to garner a B felony, she was 26 when she landed in jail, then was transferred to prison.
“I was shooting up multiple times a day [when] I got arrested. I was lucky they had Suboxone in jail. They didn’t give it out to everyone, it was based on who the nurse liked.”
Julie said it’s important to understand how helpful even short-term detox medication can be “because most people assume Suboxone or methadone are helpful for deterring relapse but only when they’re used for long-term maintenance.” For Julie and other addicts, having access to Suboxone during withdrawal makes a big difference.
“I wasn’t consumed every minute thinking about how I could get more [opiates]. I wasn’t writhing in pain. I wasn’t trying to…get some smuggled in…. It gave me the opportunity to think about whether [heroin] was something I wanted to be doing at all.”
Julie began doing drugs at age 17. Before that, she and her parents had tried family therapy. “I had issues with eating disorders but therapy didn’t seem effective. I’m not sure that I was in a place where I was going to be receptive to it. I was a stubborn shitty teenager, you know.”
We asked if she began with pot and pills before escalating to injecting drugs. “No, I pretty much went straight to the hard stuff. I was…self-destructive. I smoked pot once, then did Ecstasy once, and then went right to heroin. I was dealing with some serious depression [and] wanted to be numb or dead. Heroin seemed to be a good vehicle for either.”
After going to a rehab, she was able to stay clean from age 18 to 19 but then she tried to commit suicide with an overdose of heroin. “I had such a high tolerance by then, it didn’t work. Another time I jumped off a bridge but still did not manage to succeed in killing myself.”
Julie said she went to a few AA meetings in jail, but prison was different. “People didn’t always show up. Prison can be a very difficult environment to have much in the way of 12-step support.”
She has stayed clean for her 11 years since prison. “In the beginning, I could’ve gone either way but I had a few moments of clarity. One was when the guy I was dating at the time was still using. He was visiting me and was noticeably high, doing and saying embarrassing and shitty things, and telling all the lies you tell as an addict. I was watching him doing this when I was sober, and looking at everything from that other side was one of the moments that made me realize I didn’t want to be that person anymore. I didn’t want to be the one putting people through this or embarrassing myself in that way.”
Regarding post-prison Julie said, “I was required by parole to do an outpatient program but that turned out to be counterproductive because I was in a new area and wouldn’t have known where to get drugs but I met people in that program who knew where to get them…. At that point, I was almost two years clean and was suddenly being drawn into that program with people who were only, like, two days clean. I did that for nine months then that was it.”
She said about 12-step meetings: “It’s not for me. I think there’s some principles of it that can benefit anyone who’s in recovery but it wasn’t a good fit. I don’t think that abstinence is the only approach, and it bothers me the closed-mindedness of the belief that it’s the only thing that works. I’m not trying to use, but I know people who decided to smoke pot and I don’t think that diminishes the fact that they are in a good place and they’re not doing heroin.”
Suboxone seems the obvious answer for assisting opiate addicts through withdrawal yet it remains elusive to most. According to The National Center on Addiction and Substance Abuse, “Each year federal, state and local governments spend close to $500 billion on addiction and substance abuse, but for every dollar that federal and state governments spend, only 2 cents goes to prevention and treatment.”

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Why Does the FDA Care About Kratom?

dorriolds — Thu, 26 May 2016 07:27:34 +0000

Written for The Fix
It’s caused no overdose deaths. It feels like coffee and a light painkiller. Is there any reason for the FDA to crack down on kratom?

The FDA makes vague disclosures about their lack of available resources to determine the level of safety with the plantMitragyna speciosa(kratom). But it seems that some individual states are opting for a tougher guilty-until-proven-innocent approach. The most recent legislation came on May 5. Alabama added kratom to the state’s list of Schedule 1 controlled substances.
The process of determining the legality of a substance—in this case kratom—is not something most laypeople are familiar with. The FDA says they need information from the DEA. The DEA says scientific tests take time and money but if and when they have anything, they’ll surely send it along to the FDA.
Each state is independent. Last February in Georgia, Rep. Bruce Broadrick brought a proposal for House Bill 783 to include plants which have no medical use and thus cannot be legally prescribed by a doctor. Travis Lowin, a member of the board of directors for the Botanical Legal Defense (BLD), was in attendance to testify in favor of keeping kratom legal.
The Fix spoke with Lowin via telephone. He said, “I’ve been in the botanical industry for a decade specializing in analytics and plant pharmacology.” He further explained that during his presentation to the committee, he brought to their attention that the Georgia Poison Control from the Georgia Health and Public Safety Department has no relevant information, or any data, on kratom being an issue in the state of Georgia. “None whatsoever,” Lowin stressed. He felt his job was to make it clear that kratom is not dangerous and therefore not a threat.
“According to the Georgia Drugs and Narcotics Agency (GDNA),” Lowin said, “kratom was referred to as a drug because it had been brought to the agency’s attention by the Georgia Bureau of Investigation Division of Forensic Sciences Crime Lab as a problem. Georgia government agencies are aware that kratom is currently illegal in Indiana, Tennessee, Vermont and Wisconsin and of the pending legislation in other states.”
The three sponsors for the Georgia Bill are Lee Hawkins, Buddy Hardin and Bruce Broadrick. Said Lowin, “One of the issues that we had with Bruce Broadrick in Georgia was that he’d said in a TV interview that young kids can become addicted to kratom and then they’ll overdose on it. I let Broadrick know there are no deaths from kratom alone. For any supposed deaths from kratom, I’ve obtained death certificates and coroner’s reports. In every case it has always been in correlation with other substances. The overdoses were from polydrug use, and often included legal prescription medications.”
At the Georgia meeting Lowin said, “The Georgia Poison Control had nothing concrete to offer. The head of the Georgia Crimes Unit even said, ‘This is a natural compound, not a synthetic,’ and when he was asked if he’d found kratom at any Georgia crime scenes, he was like, ‘No, ma’am.’”
Lowin said, “We were all scratching our heads wondering why is kratom even in question. There is no logic. It’s like we’ve all entered the Twilight Zone.”
Susan Ash, the director of the American Kratom Association (AKA) told us via telephone, “I was at the Georgia committee meeting and GDNA Director Rick Allen testified that there is no synthetic version of kratom that could be labeled as a drug.”
Ash shared her excitement about the new addition to the kratom legality cause. “Paul Pelosi, Jr. is the son of former Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi,” said Ash, “and he’s AKA’s new executive director. We’re so excited to have him on board to help with our mission to keep kratom legal. With his strong political background, he knows what’s up with Big Pharma.”
On that topic Lowin told us, “At every committee meeting I always point out that the pharmaceutical industry is a for-profit industry. That’s the bottom line. That’s a for-profit business and obviously cured patients aren’t returning customers. A patient requiring constant medication is, from a business standpoint, preferable to people getting pain relief from a plant.”
Lowin’s mother uses kratom. “She’s 63 years old,” Lowin said, “and she’s had two knee surgeries. My mom uses kratom to go walk the dogs in the morning and to mitigate pain.” When asked if he uses kratom Lowin responded, “I suffered an injury in college playing basketball where I had torn all the ligaments in my left ankle. I had fractured the back end of it in a motorcycle accident and bruised my hip badly. I can’t run because of that injury so now I bike a lot and use it for that. Within an hour of taking a capsule, I notice a stimulating effect similar to coffee. It also gives a pain relieving effect similar to Motrin.”
Lowin said, “In Georgia, based on what we all presented, they tabled the bill and were obviously going to strike kratom off the list of dangerous drugs. Kratom isn’t a drug—there’s a lack of information. News agencies are running sensational news stories and that’s where people are getting their information. For news organizations like USA Today and the New York Times to write articles which blatantly leave out easy-to-find scientific evidence it just boggles my mind.”
AKA’s Ash shared, “All this traveling to states that are trying to ban kratom makes my Lyme Disease symptoms all the more terrible but I am compelled to fight. It always takes me a few days to recover physically from these trips.”
When The Fix contacted the FDA, Linda Meyer who covers dietary supplement issues for the agency replied to our queries via email. She would not openly discuss any scientific evidence that proves kratom is any more dangerous than the more familiar plant in its species: caffeine. Meyer stuck to quoting the FDA’s official statement.
“[The] FDA has limited … data [on adverse effects associated with kratom] but believes the … population using these … products would not necessarily see the effects as being adverse … and therefore would not report them to the agency or a healthcare professional.”
That seems worrisome. Of course addicts don’t complain to organizations that can ban the drugs they’re addicted to. When we asked Meyer why kratom is illegal in four states, Meyer quoted the FDA’s official statement again, “[We have] identified kratom as a botanical substance that poses a risk to public health and has the potential for abuse.”
She added that the FDA attempts “to coordinate with its regulatory partners at DEA, which has identified kratom as a drug of concern.”
We went to the DEA for answers. DEA headquarters spokesperson Barbara Carreno said, “There’s a process we go through in determining whether to control something. You can read the DEA’s enforcement of the Controlled Substances Act. If we determine from our 8-factor analysis that [a substance] is a big enough problem to merit taking it off the free market we have to justify that—we can’t do it all willy-nilly.”
Carreno said, “We send a request along with our analysis to the U.S. Department of Health & Human Services (HHS) which will have the FDA or the National Institute on Drug Abuse (NIDA) do research, usually using animal studies.”
That’s where I became confused. If the FDA and the DEA are not willing to state definitively that kratom is harmful and addicting, then how were four states able to make it illegal?
“Each state has its own standards for making something controlled,” Carreno explained. “If the DEA controls something and the state does also, whoever is the strictest prevails. The DEA has five schedules for controlled substances. Kratom is interesting because, as with any plant, it’s not a pill made in a factory that has x micrograms of ingredients. There’s no quality control with plants and you don’t know about contaminants. We’re looking at kratom and the states are doing the same. For states, a bill can be introduced to make something illegal. There’s a vote. If the bill passes the state legislature says ‘Okay, now this is illegal’ or ‘this is controlled.’ It’s not so easy for the DEA. It’s a more involved process….The standards and priorities vary and states take different approaches on how they regulate. With synthetics, everybody agrees on bath salts and fake pot because they’re harmful with no redeeming qualities. But states can still regulate differently.”
To understand more about state legislatures it is helpful to visit NCSL.org. Regarding the DEA’s research Carreno said, “We are in the process of studying kratom and we haven’t come to a conclusion yet. After we do our 8-factor analysis, it’ll go to the FDA and they’ll do animal studies. Then they’ll come back to the DEA with their recommendation and we’ll make our determination. We study many things simultaneously so it’s not something we can do in a month, or even a year.”
This leads me to believe that unless definitive studies suddenly become available, the FDA will not be making dramatic decisions any time soon.

Click here to read the rest of this article

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CORRUPTION: Filmmakers Tracked Down Dangerous Drug Lord El Chapo When the DEA Could Not

dorriolds — Sat, 09 Jan 2016 22:40:29 +0000

The capture of El Chapo is a farce. There is so much corruption in Mexico, the drug lord does whatever he wants to.
Dorri Olds interviewed the writer and director of the documentary, “Drug Lord: The Legend of Shorty.” Angus Macqueen and his partner, cameraman and co-director Guillermo Galdos, went after the most successful drug lord in history, Joaquin Guzman. “El Chapo” (“Shorty”), his nickname from childhood, is the head of the Sinaloa cartel.
Forbes consistently lists him as one of the richest men in the world referring to him as a CEO. In the film we hear DEA Special Ops Michael Waldrop say that Shorty runs his drug empire like a corporation. “It’s no different than a Home Depot or a Walmart.” This all-powerful man — all 5’6” of him — has evaded capture since his prison escape in 2001.
We watch as the cartel’s worker bees package marijuana into packages the size of bales of hay, while higher ups traffic drugs through tunnels, and fly heroin, cocaine and methamphetamine ingredients to the U.S. and anywhere else there is a demand for it. We’re talking millions and millions of dollars worth of illegal substances.
The two filmmakers wondered why this dangerous murderer that rules Mexico has not been caught for 13 years. Chicago has named Guzman “Public Enemy Number 1.” Mexico and the U.S. say they can’t catch him. To prove that the DEA’s manhunt and Mexico’s search is all a sham, these two filmmakers venture out on a potentially fatal mission — to find El Chapo themselves. And they do. Strangely though, right before their Official Selection film premieres at SXSW, Guzman is captured by the police.
Dorri Olds: What drove you and Guillermo Galdos to put yourselves in danger? Why was making this film more important than your safety?
Angus Macqueen: [Laughs] It was never more important than our safety. Both Guillermo and I have worked in this area for a long time. It’s a funny thing. If you make the right contacts in the right way you can minimize the danger. But, looking back, we did do some extraordinary things and we were in extraordinary places. I think the bet was — and it proved, thank God, correct — that foreign filmmakers, especially ones who look like me, a British gringo with blond hair, if they didn’t want us they would frighten the daylights out of us and tell us to bugger off. If they invited us, which they did, and he [Guzman] did directly, then there was safety. The danger was usually at the bits in between. Actually, the single most dangerous trip was when we went to the mausoleum of [Guzman’s] son and his wife got upset. That was genuinely a scary day. I think it’s a big and important subject and we wanted to prove something, which I think we did. I hope we did.
In the movie, “Goodfellas,” remember how they were all sitting around in jail, cooking and laughing and enjoying themselves? Do you think El Chapo receives preferential treatment like that whenever he is incarcerated?
Yes. In the film we show that after his 1993 arrest he ran that prison. Is it the same now? People say yes. I can’t tell you for sure because I have not personally seen that but most people assume he is very comfortable where he is. He has plenty of money to pay for what he needs and leverage because he can terrify people. This isn’t some cuddly man. He’s absolutely got the ability to terrify anybody. Guards are not going to give him a hard time.
Can you describe how it felt to see dead bodies in Mexico?
If you want to know the truth, death smells. You want to go wash, take a shower afterwards. Death is horrendous. Remember in the film, the pilot is driving? Then he points at a body and says, “He’s guilty. Nobody is innocent here.” I don’t go around with that level of ease with it. The first time I ever came across a dead body it was in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. That body we discovered because of the smell. It turned out that it had been out in the sun for two days. Oddly, it’s less the thought of death that makes you feel physically ill. It’s the smell.
Click here for part II of this interview.
Click here for part III of this interview.

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“My Mom was a Drug Runner” • An interview with writer director Shana Betz

dorriolds — Wed, 25 Nov 2015 05:01:45 +0000

Shana Betz recently wrote and directed her first feature film. “Free Ride” is a drama based on her life in the 1970s. Shana’s mother (named Christina for the film) is played by Anna Paquin. At the beginning of the movie Christina is in an abusive relationship. She wants to protect her daughters and make a better life for them.
One day, Christina surprises her kids after school. She shows up in the car with all of their bags packed and whisks them off to Florida to get a fresh start.
Having very few options, Cristina is easily seduced into transporting drugs. Her friend Sandy (Drea de Matteo) tells her how it’s done. Seven year old Shana is played by Ava Acres. Liana Liberato of “Stuck in Love“ plays MJ, Shana’s 15 year old sister.
Paquin is a producer and Stephen Moyer, Paquin’s husband and co-star on HBO’s “True Blood,” is executive producer.
Betz graciously agreed to an exclusive interview.
Dorri Olds: What inspired you to write “Free Ride”?
Shana Betz: There are several reasons I made this film. First, it’s a love letter to my sister. She was more like a mother than my mom was. My mother was more like a friend. Another reason was to put a face on the real drug dealers. They’re single mothers, not just the stereotypical hooded character on the corner selling crack cocaine. This film hopefully will shed light on what lengths women will go to when they need money to raise their kids. I wanted to put a face on single mothers with limited options. I’ve never seen a female drug runner as the main character in a film. My mom was desperate. She always had three jobs.
What other work did she do?
She was a private nurse. My grandmother had a private-duty nursing agency. You didn’t need a degree in those days. I spent a lot of my childhood with old people.
Was that scary for you?
No! I love old people. My grandmother was old and I loved her so I had a fascination with them. These days I work in prisons.
What is that like?
I go into women’s prisons. I work with the Actors’ Gang Theater, it’s Tim Robbins’ theater group, which participates in a prison program. We go into prisons and rehabilitate inmates. Acting is emotional work and teaching it reduces the recidivism rate tremendously. They’ve done all these studies. There’s a lot of data you can google. It’s a great, great program run through private contributions. You can read about it in The New York Times.
Did you have to “kill your darlings” in the script during editing?
I’m not really precious about things. I came out of producing and being an actress. If it works that’s all that matters. I have no sentimentality about it. But, there were so many stories we couldn’t fit in the movie.
Can you tell one?
Yes, there’s one when my mom jumped off a ship. There was a big storm scene. It was the first drug running trip that my mother ever did. It’s not the one we have in the film now. There was a storm that came on very quickly. She was in a little tiny boat, a 25-footer. She went into the hull in the ship, the worst place to go. It was filled with water and she got sick. There was a wave coming up over the ship. She threw up over the side of the boat. Engines had quit. They were stranded so they called the boss man. She could see the shore and they raced to the shore but almost drowned. She hadn’t realized how far it was to swim. This one guy saved her life in the water. We had low budget and couldn’t do that scene. It just wasn’t feasible. I had to cut it. I used a lot of my footage though. I had a split perspective from the girls and the mother. Then refocused on from the mother.
I’m not an actress anymore. But I am a passionate person. I have a lot of producer in me and know if it works or not. If it doesn’t make sense you have to get rid of it. I’m pretty even keeled. I like actors. I love being able to manipulate the scenes. I’m a very hands-on director. It’s the best part. I love being on set so much. I love working with the actors. That’s my sweet spot.
What’s next for you?
A supernatural thriller in the vein of an old school Kubrick thriller. I’m very excited about it. We should be finished come the first quarter in 2014. I’m also working on another project that takes place post civil war. It’s a mix between “Django” and “Hanna.” I love crossing those genres. Hanna is a great story about a young girl that ultimately kicks ass.
“Free Ride” available On Demand. Unrated. 86 minutes.
Watch trailer:

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Comedian Sarah Silverman Isn’t Funny as an Addict. She is Oscar-Worthy!

dorriolds — Mon, 26 Oct 2015 15:26:35 +0000

Written for TheFix
An exclusive interview with Adam Salky about directing Sarah Silverman in “I Smile Back.”
Oh, addicts. Slippery and charming until everything falls apart. Watching Laney Brooks (Sarah Silverman) unravel is like rubbernecking at an Oscar-worthy disaster. Anyone who has ever been close to an addict or mentally ill person—which is practically everyone, right?—will watch transfixed.

Sarah Silverman and director Adam Salky on set of ‘I Smile Back’ (Broad Green Pictures)

I Smile Back won Official Selection this year at Sundance, Toronto International, and Chicago International film fests. This is the second feature film directed by Adam Salky (Dare) and both of his movies received Grand Jury Prize nominations at Sundance in 2009 and 2015.
Laney lives a cushy life in the suburbs in a big house with two adorable children: Eli (Skylar Gaertner) and Janey (Shayne Coleman), and her handsome, successful real estate hubby Bruce (Josh Charles). But Laney isn’t happy. She sneaks wine, lines of coke and pills—except for her much-needed prescribed lithium. Laney doesn’t even pretend to eat and she’s screwing her friend’s husband Donny (Thomas Sadoski). Yeah, it’s a hot mess.
When we first meet Bruce he seems cocky and overbearing and we can see why she’d want to pour herself a drink. As the story unfolds, though, our sympathy for Laney is tested. She doesn’t have to work, she lives a seemingly charmed life suffering only from the malaise of rich people. Until Salky shows us the cracks.
When Bruce brings home a cute puppy for their kids, she yells, “Fuck you!” and storms out of the room, coming across as a self-entitled brat. She barks at the staff at her children’s school when asked to follow simple parking and security rules. She’s frighteningly inappropriate with her tiny tot daughter who she pleads for reassurance from. “Do you love me? Promise you’ll never leave me.” When her daughter becomes confused, Laney tries to sluff it off with an offhanded, “Oh, c’mon, Janey, I’m only kidding.”
But she is also a loving mom who draws hearts and stars every morning on their lunch bags, and she runs in to comfort Eli when he has bad dreams. It’s impossible not to care and even root for her despite her fatal flaw of annihilating every gift she has been given.
I loved the film and caught up with director Adam Salky to talk about alcohol, drugs, and Sarah Silverman.

Director Adam Salky (Broad Green Pictures)

Dorri Olds: Did you ever struggle with alcohol, cigarettes, drugs, sex?
Adam Salky: I’ve got to think about how I want to answer this. I’m not an addict. Like everyone, I’ve had some experiences with those things but what drew me to the story were people in my life who are very, very close to me and struggle with addiction and that illness.
Do you mean they’re also bipolar like Sarah Silverman’s character, Laney?
The film was based on a novel written by Amy Koppelman. Amy and [her] screenplay cowriter Paige Dylan and I talked a lot about Laney’s condition. We never specifically wanted to name it because struggles like hers are not cut and dry. Mental illness and addiction are so often intertwined. We were striving to create a portrait with true-to-life subtleties.
Are you making a distinction between the traumatic experiences Laney had with a father who abandoned her versus a chemical imbalance?
We definitely felt that the addiction stuff in the movie is coming from a deeper psychological drive. Laney was also struggling with some kind of mood disorder. In the book it is explored very thoroughly but the actual diagnosis is never named.
When you worked with Silverman was she open about her own history with depression?
Yes. One of the things that let me know Sarah could do this role was her book. It’s an autobiography called, The Bedwetter, where she’s very open about her struggles with depression and psychopharmacology from a very young age.
Read more…

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Meet Laila — the Brave Woman Saving Heroin Addicts in Afghanistan

dorriolds — Fri, 02 Oct 2015 22:51:01 +0000

Excerpts from my article written for The Fix
All photos courtesy of Mirzaei Films.

Since the fall of the Taliban, the production of opium has skyrocketed. Afghanistan produces 90% of the world’s supply and 11% of the population there are addicts. Drug addiction is not recognized as a disease there and only a limited infrastructure for treatment exists.
Laila Haidari, 36, is an Afghan woman risking everything to save heroin addicts. Her older brother, Hakim, was an addict for 25 years. Laila is a former child bride, married against her will at age 12 to a much older man. She had her first child by 13 and by the end of her teen years, Laila had three children.
She wanted desperately to help her drug-addicted brother and escape her own unhappy life. At 21, Laila left her husband. It was a bold decision for an Afghan woman then living as a refugee in Iran. By leaving her husband, she was shunned by her family and her husband took her beloved children. With no rights and no help, she returned to her motherland, Afghanistan.

Filmmaker Elissa Sylvia Mirzaei, born in Pennsylvania, has lived in Afghanistan for eight years. She speaks fluent Dari and is drawn to intimate stories that reveal the complexity, beauty and tragedies of Afghanistan from an Afghan perspective. Shocked by the number of drug addicts using openly on the streets, Elissa felt helpless witnessing passersby step over the huddled and skeletal masses of dying junkies. She and her husband, Gulistan Mirzaei, founders of Mirzaei Films, met Laila in 2012 and were inspired to make their first feature-length documentary, Laila at the Bridge.

Dorri Olds: What does your film title, Laila at the Bridge, refer to?
Elissa Mirzaei: Laila Haidari is an amazing woman who courageously fled her situation and with her intense drive created a documentary about Afghan women that won awards at numerous festivals in the country. But, when Laila crossed over a notorious bridge in Kabul, known as pol-e-sokhta, which means “burned bridge,” she found her life’s true calling. She was horrified by the conditions she saw people living in by this putrid river, drug addicts injecting heroin amidst corpses. Men and women from all classes and castes and ethnic groups were suffering. Inspired by Mother Teresa, and desperate to help her addicted brother, she decided to start her own free treatment center.
The title comes from Laila’s work, which is based around the notorious bridge full of tragedy and death, but also because she offers another bridge to a new life. She sees herself as offering a lantern, leading the way down a path out of the darkness, but it’s ultimately up to the individual whether they will follow that path and stay clean. Another unique aspect of Laila’s Mother Camp is that addicts help other addicts. Those who have withdrawn and are on the road to recovery welcome new arrivals, shave their heads, wash their bodies caked in months of dirt from living under the bridge, give them hope and tell them that they’re in this together and they can get clean once and for all.

Do Laila’s “Mother Camps” provide methadone?
No, Laila’s center is a simple, low-cost operation that relies on cold-turkey withdrawal and the 12-step program. While cold-turkey withdrawal from heroin may shock us in the West, in the three years I’ve filmed the documentary about Laila, I have never seen it cause any medical problems for those in recovery. In fact, the opposite is true.
Is Laila in danger?
Yes, the world under the bridge is dangerous but not only due to the desperate addicts under the bridge, but also from the many drug dealers. By treating addicts, Laila is taking away their customers. She has been attacked on several occasions and threatened numerous times, but refuses to give up. Another huge threat is the corrupt policemen that take a cut from every dealer in exchange for not arresting them. As a woman in Afghanistan doing this work on her own, she faces many challenges but Laila is no victim. In our film, one of our intentions is to make sure that Laila never comes across as a victim, despite her hardships. She’s an incredibly strong, brave, and complex woman who is determined to change things.
My husband and I have had some risky situations. Corrupt policemen who became aware of our frequent presence at the bridge for our film have followed us. There are good policemen in Afghanistan, but even high-level government officials are involved in the drug trade. We in the West hear that it’s the Taliban who are profiting from the drug trade but we found out that’s only part of the story. The drug mafia is far more dangerous than the Taliban. One of the aims of our film is to show how complex Afghanistan is and that it’s not always clear who the enemy is. What the West understands about the Afghan people is actually very little. Our film is about a country that is broken after many wars, where every Afghan family has a scar and part of the collective trauma is addiction.

Laila and Elissa
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Learn more about the Mirzaei film, Laila at the Bridge

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