The term "consumer-provider," by the way, is just a fancy way of saying, "been there, done that, got the T-shirt," but those who work with peeps like us don't really know what to call us. They've tried many names over the years, from client to patient to member to survivor to participant. Someone ultimately decided on the term "consumer" for the time being, so for now we're all considered consumers, unless we also now work in the field, in which case we're now called consumer-providers.
A lot of us don't really like this new term, even though it's supposed to be the least stigmatizing. Unfortunately, whenever you put a label of any sort upon any individual, you single them out and separate them from the "all." The less human sounding the name, the more likely - at least in my mind - it will be to stigmatize. One has to think only about the term "illegal alien" to understand what I'm getting at here. But in a practical sense, there has to be some way we can talk about those of us who've overcome the challenges and difficulties, whether self-induced or via terribly bad luck, of the streets. I can't blame folks for trying to figure out the least offensive term for people like me, and since I don't have a better suggestion, I don't have a lot of room to criticize. But as usual, I digress.
In addition to these two groups, I'm also in the process now of assisting a community in Anchorage, Alaska create a local consumer advisory board. I think many would be surprised to learn just how serious the problem of homelessness is in Anchorage, with the aboriginal population of Alaska suffering from homelessness more so than for any other population in the region.
Surprise surprise, eh? Sigh.
Forgive my brief tangent here, but back in the 90s, when I spent some time as a guest of the state of California for cultivating the evil weed (I wasn't smoking cannabis at that point in my life but instead was actually growing it for medicinal purposes for a couple of family members. This is not to say I didn't use cannabis, I was a heavy pot smoker almost my entire life but at this particular period in my history, marijuana was not a substance I indulged in, for a number of reasons"), I spent the majority of my downtime hanging out "in the car" with the "skins." That's joint-speak for: "I spent most of my free time with the Native Americans housed in the unit." None of this is derogatory or meant as such, although I can see my politically correct friends and colleagues wincing. Rather, it is how we all self-identified in the pen. Nuff said.
My time and experience with my skin-brothers was incredibly important in my spiritual growth and self-respect development. Frankly, it brought me back to my spiritual center and helped me overcome my tremendous anger at my perception that a God of some sort had long ago abandoned me.
I'm forever indebted to my aboriginal brothers and The Ancients for the joy, peace and hope they restored to my heart. If I can assist my Native brothers and/or sisters in any way, nothing is going to stop me from doing so.
Suffice it to say, Cook Inlet's site visit is an important trip for me because the Native American population is so disproportionally impacted - as usual - by homelessness and substance use, both of which, as far as I'm concerned, are primary symptoms of living one's life in abject poverty.
Another project that also gets top priority from me, and one I've been working on for the past several months as well, is getting a voice to the big person's table to share the difficulties one faces when seeking help for a substance use addiction.
Last summer I participated in a panel effort for the National Institute on Drug Abuse (NIDA) that helped disaster responders better address the needs of methadone maintenance clients who are displaced as a result of a natural or man-made disaster. This was a great opportunity to both help clients who are really working the program correctly, and to help staff and volunteers identify those scandalous individuals who may be trying to obtain methadone for nefarious purposes.
I guess you can liken it to the way of a proficient burglar gone good and then teaching people how to safeguard their homes from theft and police what to look for when they are investigating a burglary. In any event, I believe my input was well received and beneficial to attendees present at the training.
Problems problems
We've been working on scheduling a site visit to the Anchorage agency for some time now. Site visits are often carefully structured by those who're receiving the visit from the Grantor or Technical Assistance Center (TAC), since many folks view it like as an audit, even though it's not officially considered one. Still, you can imagine how much anxiety you might feel if you put yourself in their shoes for a moment and thought about what it would be like to have folks you don't really know and who are essentially tasked with ensuring the money they're giving you is being spent efficiently and effectively.
So while this scheduling effort was occurring, the date to participate on the panel for NIDA's substance use policy review came in, and I of course locked the date and had our logistics folks begin making my travel arrangements.
A couple of days later while reviewing an email discussing the site visit to Cook Inlet, I was surprised to discover that the dates for that event were now firmed up and unfortunately, I'd need to be in Anchorage the day I was also to sit on the NIDA panel in Washington, DC.
This of course was a real bummer, since as a matter of priorities I really had my heart set on the Alaska visit and frankly had more time invested in the effort than I did in the NIDA panel.
So I moped around for a few minutes, until I thought a bit about the choices I was being forced to make. Just a decade ago, the kinds of things I was deciding between was whether to try and use my last few dollars to buy some food or put towards a motel room. To buy a coat, or eat for a couple of days. To buy tires for my beat up, broke down old Ford, or put gas in the tank and risk a blowout. To pay the electric bill and go without propane for heat, or to sit in the dark while warm. To find some more dope or buy my kids a Christmas gift (an I wish I could say I did the right thing, but the truth be known, I bought the dope instead to avoid having to suffer from dope sickness on Christmas).
But it didn't take me long to lose my funk over the scheduling conflict when I put a little historical perspective on things.
Bottom line here, I've got a lot of nerve lamenting the fact that I would have to give up one marvelous opportunity to pursue another fabulous opportunity, both of which would help others who need it the most, and often receive it the least. Sometimes, a little contrast is definitely good for the soul, ya know?
Merry Christmas, everyone. We're all lucky to be here today.




