WE TALK ABOUT LIFE

Twenty years ago when I first started meeting with youth in detention and on probation at the Juvenile Justice Center, I planned to "educate" them about drugs and addiction.

I had lots of knowledge about the short- and long-term effects of different drugs on the developing adolescent brain, the signs and symptoms of physical dependence, and the risks of overdose and even death. 

But every time I started spouting facts and statistics, their eyes turned to glass.  They were all too familiar with the impact of drugs on their brains and bodies. 

What they really wanted to talk about, as difficult as those conversations tend to be, was the devastating effect that their drug use had on their sense of self and their relationships with the people they love most in the world.

I stopped lecturing and started listening, realizing that they were the teachers and I was the student. That's still the way it is in the "Straight Talk" groups.  Sure, we talk about drugs but that's just the beginning.  What we really talk about is life. 

Sometimes, usually after someone in the group admits that drugs are “doing me bad” but insists he or she can handle them—“I’m not addicted, I’m committed”—I stand up and hit my head against the concrete wall.  Not too hard, because those walls don’t give.

I want a visual for the stubborn refusal to see what drugs are doing to their lives.  To their families. To their bodies and their minds.

And their souls. For what I have come to realize is that most of these young people—perhaps most of us, everywhere—are struggling with spiritual dilemmas.

Spiritual sounds like such a heavy word, but I think of it this way:  Human beings thrive on connection and communication.  Drugs cut us off from the people we love, but they also sever the connections to our values and the deepest yearnings of our soul.

Soul is also a bit of a quirky, controversial word, but it makes sense to me when I imagine the soul as the repository of all those intangible realities that give meaning and purpose to our lives—honesty, empathy, kindness, compassion, awareness, acceptance, courage, trust, forgiveness, and simple human decency.

Where else do those values rest and find a home if not in our hearts and our souls?

I try to ask questions that guide the discussion to the things that really matter to them. “What’s hurting you?” I ask.  Their answers are honest and revealing.

I don’t have to draw the connection between the drugs and the loneliness they feel. They know what causes the disconnection.

·      “Knowing that I’m hurting my loved ones.”

·      “Having everyone I ever get close to leave me eventually.”

·      “Being alone most of the time.”

·      “Not feeling loved.”

·      “Being abandoned.”

·      “Not being able to help my family.”

·      “Disappointing my parents.”

·      “People telling me I’m worthless.”

·      “Not being trusted.”

·      “People who judge me.”

Sometimes I hand out a blank piece of paper titled “What I Really Want.”  Their answers range from “get off probation” to “find a job” to my favorite:  “I want my Grandma’s cooking.”  

They often answer with a one-word response:  “Peace.” “Happiness.”  “Health.”  “Forgiveness.”  “Trust.”  “Respect.”  “Education.”  “Control.”  “Freedom.”  “Sobriety.”  “Help.”

One day, Ashley, 17, spent most of the hour-long group working on her list.  She handed it to me with tears in her eyes.

1. I want all the things people say I will never have.

2.     I want my faith to be strong.

3.     I want to help other people.

4.   I want to be a good role model.

5.     I want a healthy family life.

6.   I want healthy friendships.

7.   I want to be loved.

8.     I want to be trusted.

9.     I want to travel the world.

10.    I want God in my heart.

In 20 years of listening to young people talk about what they “really want,” not once has the answer been “drugs.”