If you need or want to know the backstory, it is in this thread, but basically, my roommate has gone from a functioning alcoholic to a non-functioning alcoholic. He skipped a a job interview because he either wanted to go drink instead, or because he was hung-over from the night before.
Some of us are thinking we need to do something, before he ruins his life. The thought of a full intervention seems over-the-top, but numerous informal conversations have done little to change his behavior in the long run.
Have you ever participated in an intervention? If so, how did it go? Was the person angry? Remorseful?
I know that this is very much a situation where YMMV, but we’re running out of ideas, and I was wondering if the whole “intervention” concept is more of a tv / movie thing than something that happens in real life.
As a matter of fact, yes, in the '70s. Our group of friends was large and almost like an ameba, changing to more, less, all the time. If somebody wanted to see a movie and their usual friend who did that with them didn’t want to, they’d just ask somebody else. We had get-togethers all the time, usually including food. Nobody went hungry and anybody who had extra whatever shared it in some way. One of our friends, a close one to me (we’re in touch everyday now on FB, around 45 years later) became hooked on qualudes. Bad. She didn’t act like herself, lost interest in everything, would show up so spaced out somebody would have to lead her to a chair. Finally the “core” of us, the dozen or so who were always together, got together and decided we had to do something. We couldn’t just watch her spiral down. So we had a get-together as usual, but just us, not the friends (who were good ones but not…as “tight”?) so she wouldn’t be embarrassed, and after she’d been there a while we just started talking about how much we cared about her, how we missed her involvement, her wit, being able to depend on her, missing how she used to be and that the way she was now was worrying us and probably killing her. She was calm (she was already “down”; it would have taken a hand grenade to get her to react, much less over react), but she listened. We ate, listened to music, and continued to talk. Not enough to ride her ass, but enough to let her know we meant it.
For a few weeks she wasn’t around as much, but when she was with us she was less often drugged out, more often contributing, and then finally she just didn’t drop 'ludes anymore, even though some of us occasionally did—I guess they were kind of social users? like social drinkers? She didn’t turn to something else to abuse and was just “her” again. Spent many years working with animals in a vet’s office. She still goes to protests and we’re all like We still have to fight for the rights we thought we’d already won? A lot of us are still close friends and I think talking to her kindly but directly might have saved her life, or kept it from being really bad.
So I think it’s worth a try. But don’t be stick-up-your-ass about it. You are concerned so let that show. I think even if there’s a scene, later he might come around and thank you. It’s worth a try.
When I was in high school, a friend of a friend and her boyfriend were both in night school: in theory taking several years to repeat 8th grade until whenever they finally passed it and could apply for jobs, in reality living off their parents and navel-gazing.
They got pregnant, got married, had a kid, continuing living each with their parents. Had a second kid. We started telling them this wasn’t right. “Oh, but we’re setting up the house” “What, Buckingham Palace? You should be setting up for jobs and taking care of your kids! They’re not your mothers’ kids!” When they got pregnant for the third time, still setting up the house, about every person their age in the neighboring area stopped talking to them except for necessary business. The age range started widening as other people (for example coworkers of those of us who worked in bars) caught wind of it.
They finally moved together before that third kid was born and got jobs. The grandmothers were still spending a lot of time taking care of the children, but now it was for socially-acceptable reasons.
One of my HS friends had a drinking problem. Some days, she could guzzle the bar and not show it, but on certain days it was look at a bottle, get drunk (monthly cycles). We figured out which ways were which and, well, the methods didn’t need to get as radical as in the previous example but it was a matter of “no, today you’re not getting a martini, today you’re on cocacola” “but why?” “because we are not willing to carry you home, that’s why.” Looking at her twin sister (who didn’t share the problem because she didn’t like anything with more alcohol than beer) wouldn’t help, sister would cross her arms, shrug and say “what, you think I want to drag you into bed? I sure don’t!” The first two times the cycle rolled by, she fought back; the third time she started to protest… looked at everybody including the smirking barman… and said “:rolleyes: ok, ok, cocacola!”
Intervention attempts with my aunt when she drank like a sailor didn’t work; eventually she dropped booze on her own and now swears she’s always been a teetotaler.
The wife of a former boss. The deal was the intervention was happening at her home. I was involved in that if she wanted to call me for encouragement I should be supportive. Manipulative monster that she is, she turned this into calling me so I could reassure her that I would look after her kids. :dubious:
Twin one year olds and a three year old. I’d never looked after them and never wanted to. There were plenty of her friends volunteering to help care for the kids, so she picked on me because she knew I’d say no and she could then say she wasn’t getting any support. The intervention person had told me to support and encourage her going into rehab, it was hard to do this and at the same time tell her there’s no way I was going to look after her kids, but I did. She did end up going to the rehab … for about three days.
She promptly went to the kids daycare and told them on no account was I ever to be allowed to pick up the kids. The head teacher had no idea who I was since I had never done so. A few weeks later she decided tra la la, she’s ready for the rehab but they wouldn’t take her saying her cocaine and alcohol problems were secondary to her mental illness - somewhere between bi-polar and hyper something or the other.