Seared into the pages of American Drug Addict is an ugly, in-your-face confessional for our times, from a broken man at the end of his rope. While in jail, Brett Douglas procured some prison paper, picked up a golf pencil, and began to write. With brutal, unflinching candor befitting his circumstance, he lay bare his tattered soul. The same soul he thought he’d sold long ago.
And so begins a 385-page, fearless moral self-inventory, which some may recognize as the fourth of AA’s twelve steps. Well-written, raw and visceral, Douglas’s memoir serves as a gripping reminder of addiction’s insidious allure and how precious—and precarious—is our humanity, warts and all.
As life begins for the author, we feel the love both from and for his grandparents, ‘Meemaw’ and ‘Pawpaw,’ who played leading roles in his childhood. It’s right there, in full view of his family’s dysfunction that defiles the soil where addiction’s dirty seeds take root. Brett’s a nice kid most of the time. A bit rowdy, he’s a part-time punk and occasional a-hole. But the die is not cast. It could go either way.
Weighing his options at the cusp of independence, a teenage Brett sees the world through a lens blurred by innocence and marred during childhood. He’s successful enough to afford drugs and indulge his desires, but too cocksure to indulge his ignorance. Lacking the maturity to perceive the potential he squanders daily, his long, downward spiral begins as youthful adventure. Experimentation gives way to escape, and we see the snare silently sprung long before a naïve Brett is aware of the trap he set for himself. Exhilarated by the rush and the risk, drug use infects his identity:
I love the sneakiness required to pull off an awesome high without my exploits being discovered. I love fooling people, making them believe I’m something I’m not. The more audacious the deception, the more I get a thrill from it. I love the tension which comes from being intoxicated in situations that require sober thoughts and actions. I love toying with the risk of bringing the wrath of my loved ones down on me. I love having something that’s mine, something I don’t have to share, something about myself only I know. Drugs are like an illegal exotic pet. I must nurture it but, at the same time, keep it hidden.
As this passage portends, the memoir’s mid-section reads like ‘A Day in the Life’ of a junkie pretending to live a normal existence—whatever that means, because Brett obviously doesn’t know. Successful to a fault, he makes enough money for his family’s pawn shop that they don’t notice how much he skims to feed the monkey on his back.
Through his distorted lens on life, now fogged by drugs, Brett no longer recognizes right from wrong; only high from sober. In his need-driven cravings, we bear witness to the evil of addiction. It feasts upon the fabric of free will. Resistance is futile. Drugs undermine his relationships by preying on his personality. We’re forced to watch as Brett deftly betrays those who trust him most.
From this corrupted moral core emerges a charismatic villain. Disguised as a dad, a husband, a son, and a grandson, Brett is blind to whom he has become. His occasional glimpses of reality are easily masked with an excuse, a lie, or the next fix.
The last section, complete with crimes and near-death experiences, is also a pilgrimage from perdition. But no Promised Land awaits. As he staggers toward, stumbles upon and trips over discarded wisdom again and again, Brett discovers that along the return path to normality, he must confront the beast. He gets clean and starts to make an honest living.
Alas, when hubris feels like confidence, sobriety feels like self-control. Try as he might, Brett can’t cheat the cheater; can’t play the fool while being one. So, it’s no spoiler to declare this victory a pyrrhic one. The road to abstinence is paved with good intentions.
Lulled into complacency and dabbling in drugs once again, he begins to slide, then freefalls into the darkest depths of his disease. Slamming rock-bottom with full force, he clings to what’s left of his life from a crumbling ledge overhanging the Abyss. He can hold on no longer.
True addiction involves physiological dependence. Your subconscious is recruited to conceal and perpetuate this loss of control. The body compels, your being complies, and denial cloaks the deception. The mind obscures the brain’s obsession through a psychological sleight-of-hand that blinds you to your true motives.
Peer into the heart of this darkness, and what’s revealed is a lie—the same lie that every addict believes: I don’t have a problem. And even if I do, I can handle it. But like a compulsive gambler, the lie can only be perpetuated for so long; and addiction’s time-bomb never stops ticking.
To overcome addiction, it must not be opposed. It must be outgrown. But growing up is something Brett has yet to comprehend. Honesty and humility continue to elude him. Before his ego-crushing odyssey is over, Brett ultimately learns he cannot bootstrap his own salvation. For that, he will require chest compressions.
* * *
“The best thing about life is knowing you put it together.” This is a lyric from the author’s beloved Nine Inch Nails (as is the title of this review). For an addict, the prize is to gain control over yourself, perhaps for the first time. Achieving this requires acknowledging that the demon within is larger than you. But it is not larger than Life, and therein lies hope.
For the addict seeking a way out, this book is a refrain of redemption. For a loved one of a wayward soul, or anyone concerned that their own life has veered off-course, Brett Douglas’s account illuminates the rayless recesses of the addict’s netherworld. For all who dare to read it, his story serves as a cautionary tale that, ‘you’re only human,’ is not just a banal cliché. It’s a warning.
If this memoir has a moral, it is that the only true high in life is derived from the purpose with which we choose to live it, and the love we share along the way. To discover our purpose is to recover the meaning addiction has stolen. It begins ‘one step at a time’ by surrendering to our flawed humanity. With integrity and humility as footlights guiding us toward grace, we can finally embrace the compassion—and the courage—to love ourselves.
________
P.S. I spoke with Brett Douglas in 2020. He lives with his family, remains clean and sober, and is nearing completion of his second book, a novel he plans to publish next year.
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Amazon Customer
Brett Douglas has a way of writing like he is speaking only to you. Amazing writer.
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on July 3, 2018HARRYAVIDA
Compelling and persuasive
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on August 9, 2018
Tiff De Jong
Great book for anyone who knows the struggle
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