I don’t know how many times I’ve heard someone in the recovery community say, “Well he/she just hasn’t hit rock bottom yet”. I’ve always thought to myself. What does “rock bottom” look like anyway? Is it prison time? Is it homelessness? Is it losing your family? Is it getting caught? Do you have to be dirty, nasty, and smelly to hit rock bottom? Is there a place called rock bottom that people are actually hitting? What is rock bottom and what does one need to look like to hit it?
Well let me tell you, after working with hundreds of addicts the past few years I can confidently say… I have no idea.
I really don’t. I have no clue. I have found no way to identify if someone has hit rock bottom, no glaring marker or checklist that can precisely qualify a person.
What I have found is this: rock bottom is different for everyone. And if that is the case, then why are we trying to guess when a person has or hasn’t hit it?
For the most part, I looked relatively normally at my rock bottom. I had a good job, I made great money, I went to church, I had a pretty girlfriend, I lived in a decent house, and I drove a nice car. Those are relatively material signs, but if you didn’t know me you would have no clue I was full-fledged, 50-pill-a-day drug addict. I was a fairly high-functioning addict who, from the world’s point of view was nowhere near rock bottom.
And so is Jim Irsay.
From the outside, no one would think the multimillionaire, sole owner of the Indianapolis Colts was about to hit his rock bottom. But the signs are certainly pointing that way now.
On Monday, Irsay was arrested and now faces four preliminary felony charges for driving under the influence and possession of a controlled substance.
His rock bottom looks clear now. He’s hit it, right? Now we can all step in and demand that he goes to rehab. But what if that joy ride Sunday night ended in his death, or worse yet, yours?
Is that rock bottom?
Rock bottom is different for everyone and yes, an addict must have a certain amount of willingness or desire to truly seek change. But that doesn’t mean we just idly sit by and watch as someone destroys their life. We can take action. We can intervene.
We can force a rock bottom.
I think we can learn a lesson from Irsay’s story. An addict’s rock bottom is about as camouflaged as a Duck Dynasty cast member on Saturday morning during duck season. They are impossible to find and none look the same. So instead of using that as some type of crutch or justification to accept unacceptable behavior, we should use it as a catalyst to intervene early and often.
That’s the lesson we can learn in Irsay’s story. If you look back on the history of this man, then you’ll see several signs that point towards that elusive “rock bottom” puzzle we are all trying to figure out.
In the nineties, Jim Irsay underwent multiple operations and procedures, which were of course followed by large prescriptions of pain medication. By 2002, Irsay had checked himself into rehab and claimed that he had “successfully dealt with my dependence and chronic pain issues.” Whatever that means.
Clearly his “success” didn’t last long. For years now, reports have come from inside Colts camp that Irsay was struggling with drugs. Did anyone intervene? Maybe. If they didn’t, they should have.
For months Irsay continue to lose weight, dropping from 235 to a frail 165. Did someone say anything? Stand up to him? Love him enough to give him an ultimatum?
I don’t know, but obviously the abuse continued.
Irsay’s wife of 33 years, Meg, filed for divorce in November. Is that the final piece of the rock-bottom puzzle people where waiting on?
Who knows. What I do know is that it all came to a head Sunday night when he got behind the wheel loaded.
But those close to me? They knew. They saw my life deteriorating, my relationship with my kids falling apart. My appearance waning, my lack of honesty, my well-hidden desperation.
My family chose to claim my rock bottom. They forced it on me, not allowing for anything else to happen. They didn’t wait for me to hit some undefined “rock bottom”; they pointed to where I was and said, “This is it. This is your rock bottom. We’re here to help.”
Thank God they did.
If you telling yourself you should wait to intervene until someone hits rock bottom, I urge you to stop. You are the one who gets to define your rock bottom. Why not here? Why not now?
There’s nowhere to go but up.
