Over eleven years ago, my son William went to a New York City hospital and asked to be admitted for inpatient detox. He was using heroin, benzodiazepines, cannabis, and alcohol. Within a few short hours, he was turned away, his insurers' deeming detox “not medically necessary”. Four days later he accidentally overdosed on heroin. Six weeks of hospitalization followed before it became clear William was consigned to a permanent vegetative state. We removed him from life support and made an anatomical donation of his body to Columbia University’s College of Physicians and Surgeons.
My reaction to losing William was to write both about the trauma our family experienced and the failures of our treatment system. It was my way of coping with catastrophe and doing my best to ensure William’s death was not in vain. I was fortunate enough to have two essays published in the New York Times. Writing had its desired effect. I was contacted by several treatment programs in New York and asked if I might contribute some writing toward their work. My wife, Margot, and I were offered the opportunity to testify about the lack of parity for substance use disorder and mental health treatment before several congressional committees. This advocacy was and is exciting and rewarding. The best part, however, is not the exposure to large numbers of people. It is meeting and discovering common cause with committed, exceptional, inspiring, individuals who share the experience of losing a child to addiction. Such a person is my now friend Eve Goldberg.
Close to a decade back, Eve and I were seated next to one another at a formal event as a “You two should meet,” introduction. When we really met, however, was when we agreed to share our experiences at the BigVision office https://www.bigvision.nyc. As I recall, BigVision was in its infancy then, maybe toddlerhood. Eve was its founder and “mother”. The midtown office was on the small side, certainly not large enough for on-site group activities. The size of the office did not prohibit our discussion from being expansive. I told Eve our story. Eve told me about her son, Isaac. We discovered how much these young men had in common. Eve explained Isaac’s frustration and isolation with no safe and engaging activities available to him while trying to stay sober. And yes, I learned about Eve’s dream of where she wanted BigVision to go.
Since that meeting, I’ve played basketball (poorly) and showed off my dance moves (a little less poorly) at BigVision fundraisers. I’ve been ice skating with BigVision participants and even taught a quick study young fellow how to ice skate on a chilly night at Bryant Park. I’ve led some improvisational physical theater workshops. I’ve seen the organization and the space(s) it inhabits grow. More space, more staff, more participants, more activities.
Within the last year or so Eve has brought another vision to fruition. She leads a monthly group meeting for parents who have lost a child to addiction. It is an opportunity for people to share and to listen, whether our grief is longstanding or freshly tormenting. It is a comforting reminder we are not alone and an opportunity to share strategies for coping.
BigVision continues to grow. It has acquired a ground-floor space on midtown Manhattan’s East Side which includes room outdoors. Prior to BigVision’s bold acquisition the space belonged to a psychoanalytic institute and was largely comprised of many small-sized offices for therapists. It was, ironically, dark and closed in; not the sort of place a person might choose to go to brighten up their life. I wouldn’t want to have worked there. BigVision is renovating the space, opening it up, letting in the light both literally and figuratively. There will be room for large group meetings and activities, room for meditation, office space, and a pleasant outdoor garden spot where one can even shoot some hoops (something Isaac in particular would love). In short, a vibrant space to be filled with activity. A midtown clubhouse for young people in recovery. Something unique in New York City and a potential model for other cities and towns.
Before we formally began our most recent Grief Group meeting, I asked Eve how the renovation was proceeding. Construction is on or ahead of schedule. The only issue is figuring out what changes may be desirable to open up the space even more than initially anticipated.
When our group discussion commenced, Eve uncharacteristically began by sharing something about herself. Eve is our leader and usually prompts discussion, taking care to draw out those who are still having the most difficulty grappling with their grief. The meetings are far from, allow me, All About Eve. This time, however, Eve explained how she has recently begun to explore somatic therapy, a body-centric approach that focuses on relieving the stress and tension we store in our bodies after traumatic events. She was particular about where and how she may well have retained pain and stress in her body ever since, or perhaps due to, the loss of Isaac.
Much of our group’s ensuing hour was given over to shared thoughts on the physical experience of grief, the positive benefits of activity in helping to relieve grief, and some recognition of the importance of physicality in addition to more traditional talk therapy. I contributed little, other than the fact that my acting training, while not therapy, may well have been therapeutic in discovering stress and emotional life stored in my body.
As our time concluded, a thought resonated with me. Eve’s initial response to me about progress on the new space was about opening the space even more, letting in more light, to facilitate as many different activities as possible. The space will have changed from a dark and somewhat dismal mind-centric space to a holistic, inviting recovery community.
Not unlike the larger project, Eve is engaging in the prospect of perhaps opening up some more personal space, pulling back some curtains, and letting in some light. Grief can be tricky. It likes to hide and hang out in us, reluctant to move on. Eve is looking for its hiding places.
It does not seem to me to be a coincidence that a renovation and an investigation, both involving Eve, are occurring simultaneously. Each is a manifestation of her imagination, courage, and willingness to bring light to darkness, whether personal or public.
I have no idea where all those psychoanalysts have moved on to. I hope for their sake the lighting is better. Perhaps brighter enough to provide them with some big vision!
No comments:
Post a Comment