Hunter Season
When You Accidentally Forget Someone is Loved
Addict.
Junkie.
Loser.
I’ve heard people call Hunter Biden all these labels on national TV. I trust the system and the jury to decide if Hunter broke the law. But the way the case is spoken of by media pundits and private citizens alike breaks my heart.
During the trial, news anchors have remarked that almost everyone either has a loved one with a substance use problem or knows someone who does. Why then, do the media (and the prosecutors) continue to shame and blame so many people?
These insensitive labels tell me not much has changed. Those with substance use problems still become ostracized, ridiculed and shunned. It’s a small step from public pillorying to shaming my own three sons. And your sons and daughters.
I don’t know all the answers, but I do know what I have learned (and am still learning) to help my kids.
A friend calls it Unconditional Positive Regard.
I started out on this very long journey with the common mindset: my child is an addict and it’s up to me to either get him to treatment or kick him out of my life until he does. They call it tough love and so many parents have been told it’s the only way. I went through decades of being labeled “enabler” and “codependent.” I loved too much, helped too much. And by my well-meaning but errant enabling, I crippled my children.
Wait. How did I become the cause of all this trouble? Was I a bad mom because I didn’t force them to eat their broccoli? I tried my best, but along with my “addicts,” I was responsible for the hot mess and deserving of the same kind of labeling as my sons.
Then I began to question all those labels. If God is love, why was treating a person with love and respect ever wrong? I started talking about a “just” love, one that could burn through a scarlet letter. I treated my loved ones as if I loved them.
I’m no snowflake. But pinning a label on anyone strips them of their rightful place in the cosmos—as a person whom God loves. The raw truth was that as I tried to do tough love, my heart got tough as shoe leather. It stopped being soft enough to see that my sons were suffering. My heart hardness spread throughout my being, culminating in rolled eyes and a slight sneer whenever I interacted with my guys.
Soon I approached my three young men as if they were dirty diapers I needed to dunk in the toilet. As bums who were best left alone to stew in their own juices. If I shamed them enough, they’d somehow see the light and get “clean.” Spoiler Alert: It hardly ever works.
If you listen carefully to Hunter Biden’s memoir (played partially in his trial), you hear the self-loathing. You can practically see his head hanging, after he has disappointed his family. His dignity has been ripped away due to his moral failing.
But what if instead of demanding recovery, we encouraged relationship?
The opposite of addiction isn’t recovery, it’s connection.
The saying, the opposite of addiction isn’t recovery, it’s connection, reminds me of Jesus. During his brief ministry, the Lord sought to build connection and relationship. Sure he turned away the rich man. OK, he told the woman at the well to “go and sin no more.” But I doubt that Jesus ever withheld love or relationship.
I decided to try unconditional positive regard before I knew there was a name for it. All it took was to see my sons as the precious souls they are—not as addicts trying to ruin my life and theirs. I got rid of the snark, the eye rolls, that tiny sneer in the corner of my mouth. I looked through the problems to see the Lord in them.
All three of my sons now trust me and know I support any positive movement. I still have boundaries—I won’t stand for physical violence or destruction of property. But I don’t dangle the boundaries over their heads. I’ve learned to say, “Sounds like you’re having a rough time,” instead of “Or else.”
One son is now in recovery. Our home is more a place of peace than before. I do what I can to empower the other two to seek out changes in their lives. In my case, just love seems to be a better solution than tough love.
Still, this journey is really hard. I mean, really hard. There are days when I want to give up or get even. But love prevents me from ripping away what dignity my sons may have left. Addicts are people loved by God (and me). No matter what, Hunter Biden as well as my sons (and yours) deserve unconditional positive regard.
Perhaps no comments yet because your readership is collectively gobsmacked by your piece on our precious children with addictions. I’ve come back to it 3 times already and recognize the utter depth and breadth of the difficult topic, the challenge, the lived experience. Whether we readers see the Lord in others or not, the very least (and often best) we can do is to do unto others as we’d have done unto ourselves. For me, that is the gold standard and to my eye you persevered in finding that angle of repose for your family life. Hard work, that.
Excellent piece, xo LNBB
I love this piece, Linda. LOVE IT. My kids are not addicts, but they are transgender, which the churches we grew up in would also say is one of those tough love situations. "Just kick them out and turn your back on them until they realize the error of their ways. It might seem harsh, but you have to know you stand on the word of God above all else.' Sorry. No. That's not how this works. That's not how any of this works. That's not how Jesus did it. Not at all. I don't want to be tough as shoe leather.