When I got locked up I was pretty pissed off about it....Ive learned that I needed my underlying issues addressed. And that that wasn't just some catch phrase for medical to say. I take medication for my issues...I go to a Therapist once a week (specializing in addiction)...When I get cravings I'm loud about it. Meaning I tell people even though I don't want to, so I cant disappear and use. I would highly suggest getting them setup with some sort of mental health treatment to treat the underlying issues that cause them to want to use.
I will live and die by underlying issues have to be addressed and we're not getting high just because we like to be high-even though that's what a lot of family members believe. Mine had to be addressed by force. And today-I can't tell you how grateful I am that they were.
When I got locked up for stealing, I was pretty much at my wits end. They gave me pepto and tylenol (even though they knew I had late stage hep c) which does nothing for withdrawals. It made me have that holy moment (not religious, spiritual) where I got down on my knees in my cell and said "what the fuck do you want from me!" I grew up in poverty, and my father and stepmother were abusive. I had used that coupled with my mental health diagnosis' to use indiscriminately and keep hoping that the next shot would kill me. I kept pushing the envelope, but when I called that out and was ready to truly listen a thought popped into my head "What the fuck makes me so special that I get to numb myself, make my problems everyone else's that loves me, and keep ending up in the ER because I kept hoping the next one kills me? So many people had it worse than me and somehow I found a way to not just fuck up my life, but fuck up all my friends, spread a very devastating disease, and disregard others feelings to the point that I stole from them." The problem I realized was "I didn't care. I didn't care about others, I didn't care about myself...hell I didn't care if I lived or died." Those feelings came from within. It wasn't any person around me pushing me to do better in my life. It wasn't the fact that I have a son that I love more than anything. It was plain and simple the fact that I had lost my ability, no, my desire to care. Stargazer is right. People don't end up finding that piece of their life that makes them complete in opiates because they are just doing fabulous. They also don't continue to use despite so many negative consequences because things are absolutely perfect and they are well adjusted. They use because they are broken. Something within them needs to be addressed that they may be hiding from everyone that cares about them, because they are either ashamed, or they know that those people that care will stop them from using.
Toothpaste dog also makes a very important point. Being in active addiction is a form of stagnation. Find out what each brother really wants out of life. Once you start using in an abusive manner you pretty much stop growing emotionally, and this is very important in understanding your goals, and understanding why you exist...your raison d'être if you will. Also, for the addict, most people around them know just how bad it is, but they always think they are still fooling everyone. "coming out" as an addict to your family and letting them know just how desperate they are is an extremely hard, emotional task for any addict. I started shooting morphine when I was fifteen years old because it helped me hide from my feelings. No one knew for a very long time. I had brief bouts of sobriety here and there...one being the nine months my ex was pregnant, and the subsequent year that I had my son...but after all the bad stuff went down in that relationship I went right back to using, even harder and with even stronger a death wish. My brother whom I lived with tried everything to help me. Finally he called my dad. One day I was shooting up in a shooting gallery and I get a phone call from my dad. He never calls me, he had written me off a while ago. He said something along the lines of "Are you okay? I've been hearing some bad things going on in your life. Your brother told me everything." I immediately started crying and I said "Yeah dad, I'm fucked up, strung out and wired up." He said "Do you need help?" (my dad had been a practicing IV coke addict for most of me growing up) I could barely muster the words "Yeah dad...I can't stop and I think I am dying." He started crying too and said "I will do anything to help you that you need." That ended the conversation. A week later he was driving me to rehab...me fucked up out of my gourd on 300+mg of morphine...him asking me directions....We hugged before I walked into detox and he said something I had never heard from him before. "You are making the right choice.
I am proud of you.
Be supportive! Just know that if they fail, be there as a soft place to land, but let them know the only real failure is to stop trying. It took me four years or more of wanting/trying to stop to find out what works for me. Something that is a little sad to think of is that you need to be prepared mentally and emotionally if they fail...sometimes failure in heroin addiction means death.
Good luck. I am always here to talk if you need it.
Amazing thread.