Intervention

I am not one to watch endless amounts of brain draining garbage on the tele, and certainly not reality television but a funny thing happened in what is now a few years in the running. First, I have never sniffed American Idol and the endless run of idiotic contrived mish-mosh of Fail-list actors and actresses, it was just not for me. Not to say that these programs are of no entertainment value, wait,er, I take that back, only fucking baboons watch these types of programs.

It was a few years back, I believe it was the first season ‘Intervention’ aired on A&E, and for the first time, I was hooked on watching so called real people confess their transgressions to a camera. Up until that point, these ‘confessionals’ were restricted to only hot chicks and gay dudes on The Real World, and to me that shit was fake. For some reason the show had me at hello, not sure if it was the graphic documentation of their abuse or just the ‘realness’ of it all. Their strife was what got me, not necessarily the addicts themselves but their situation when observed from a more holistic perspective.

My name is Randy, R-A-N-D-Y, and I’m addicted to Intervention.

At the heart of my fascination with this type of reality programming, it is the situations in which the main characters seem to perpetuate themselves in. I mean, it is one thing to have a problem and cameras following you, and again this is not new, HBO has been running documentaries of this nature for years, but it is another when cameras are also filming the other side of the equation. The under belly of substance abusers are the people who care for them, the ones who whole heatedly love them. This is the closest thing I have seen documenting the pain of unconditional love, and the great theater it provides.

The addicts in the show are portrayed as the facade of dark family ties, and to get to the root of the darkness, we get a window into the lives of the family members who struggle with finding their loved ones. No matter what the situation they get themselves into, the family members come desperately fighting to get back their sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, friends, girlfriends, boyfriends, mothers and fathers back.

My heart strings are mercifully tugged at when I see a grown ass man, deduced to tears and screeching yelps, desperately seeking for their sons and daughters back, only to be rejected and ridiculed for their plight. This is what brings me back for seconds, thirds and fourths. Deep down, I always wondered what it would be like to regain my family’s love and trust through redemption because my current situation is in dire need of drama, and for me, this is why I am so attached to the show, I get a glimpse into a life entrenched in dire situations.

I sympathize with the family, but a better part of me understands the addicts motivations. Not too long ago, I was suffering, suffering from something I call self-loathing. Senior year of college was a time of strife for myself, I was struggling to pass my courses, study for final exams, go on job interviews to job start my career and all the while trying to kick my addictions. Through it all, I longed to have someone to identify with these intense feelings of fear, loathing, self-worth, a buddy whom I could relay my concerns, and all I got was another joint or worse.  At the time I could not accurately articulate the pain that was wretched between my mind and body, no matter what friends would do or say, I couldn’t reach out and tell them that I fucking hated where I was. A so called friend, rather than provide support, offered cutting remarks and threats of abandonment and the bastardization of me.

I mean, it wasn’t like i was prostituting myself for the next fix, but still, my plight was genuine and nobody could even get close, even I wouldn’t allow for people to get close to me. My only source of light, was my academic performance and a job that I thoroughly enjoyed in which also brought in a significant income for a college student which also served as a means to perpetuate this transient lifestyle in order to make myself feel good. The friends I surrounded myself with were neither there for me or were totally oblivious to the fact that I was stuck in a mental rut. In someway I welcomed their narcissism, for this was validating my internal perspective on my peers and contributed to my ‘Fuck the world’ mentality. The hate I felt for the world at large spawned the current person I am today. The realization that nobody really cares lead myself to take life by the ear and create opportunities for me, once this was actualized, I have not looked back and subsequently I am in a better place without the persons I came to know as friends.

The thing that brings me back to this time in my life is the ‘intervention’ itself, I always wonder, just one slip up and I could have been one of these fellows, just one concerned friend could have also altered my path. To me, the friends and family of the show are the real characters, as for the addicts, well, I was one of them, the only difference, they had people who fought to get them back.

And as the addicts continue down their dark paths and their families desperately trying to stop them from themselves, I take solace in the fact that I got through it all on my own, without the knowledge of my family nor the acknowledgment from my so called friends. Because to me, coming out on top with little more than self-honesty and guile is a testament to my human spirit.

**cue up happy jingle**