A Memoir Fuels the Conversation

“Wherever people are in the black hole of addiction-whether it is at the edge of a loved one's battle with drugs, in a horrifying fight of one's own, or standing amid the devastation caused by death, even suicide-I want them to know that addicts are not monsters. I want them to know that healing and beauty can come from the most destructive forces our world has ever faced. I want them to know that hope still exists.”

-From Broken, by William Cope Moyers

“There has been an outpouring of requests for help since the book came out,” Moyers says during an October telephone interview with Addiction Professional from an airport terminal, just days after his book's late September release. “The good news is that people are talking. The bad news is they're still not knowing where to turn.”

Moyers, arguably the most prominent national voice for changing public policy about addiction over the past decade, certainly had reason for concern about how people would react to the intensely personal Broken. He says that to this day, someone in a public forum will inevitably rise and argue that he is violating Alcoholics Anonymous's tradition of anonymity (“I can't explain it anymore,” Moyers says with a hint of fatigue during the interview).

Also, even though Moyers and collaborator Katherine Ketcham began working on the book in 2004, long before any sign of a national stir over the maligned James Frey memoir A Million Little Pieces, the relative proximity of the books' releases could be expected to invite comparisons. For his part, Moyers says he has not read Frey's book and certainly has no reason to consider his a counterpoint to that work, which caused controversy for both its embellishment of life events and its casual dismissal of the 12-Step path to recovery.

“The only thing I can say about my book is that it's true,” Moyers says. “The events of my life validate the story…. The way I look at it is that Frey's story is Frey's and Moyers' is Moyers'.”

In some ways, the vice-president for external affairs at the Hazelden Foundation now sees the timing of his book's release as something close to perfect. Amid the recent public struggles of prominent individuals such as actor Mel Gibson and former U.S. Rep. Mark Foley, a moment of truth for the cause of advocacy may be at hand, Moyers believes.

“Everyone feels a palpable sense that this is an important moment,” he says. “We have a chance as a profession to capitalize on the dialogue.”

An open book

“When my doctor told me I had cancer, he didn't raise his eyebrows or wag his finger at me. I felt no shame or humiliation. When I told my family and friends that I had cancer, no one ever suggested that I gave myself the illness or that it was in any way my fault…. It was a completely different story with my addiction. From the beginning, we all thought the disease was partly if not wholly my fault…. When I checked into St. Vincent's, I didn't use my last name but instead identified myself only as William Cope. I don't know exactly who made that decision, but we were all complicit in it.”

Moyers admits it was difficult to write parts of his book, which chronicles college-age drinking and an arrest for breaking into a fish market; a downward spiral into crack cocaine addiction (“cocaine owned me, body and soul,” he writes); the bitter dissolution of a first marriage; the pain of relapse; and treatment stays at St. Vincent's Hospital, Hazelden, and the Ridgeview Institute.

“Not every dark moment of my story is in this book,” he says. “Some things should be left to family members and my own memory. It was hard to invite the reader into my life and my living room.”

Some of the book's most insightful passages come from letters exchanged over the years between Moyers and his famous father, Bill Moyers (they almost could serve as material for a course in family dynamics), as well as from journals he has kept since his stays in treatment. “I have to credit the love of my father and my love of journalism for giving me the clarity to save those letters,” he says.

Besides the question about anonymity, he says he is most often asked by those who attend his appearances about what a parent should tell children about his/her addiction, and about the role his spirituality played in his recovery. On the latter point, Moyers does not engage in polished, political-sounding talk.

He doesn't claim that the spiritual aspect of his recovery necessarily applies to everyone else. “It worked for me,” he says. “If kissing tree frogs would have helped me in recovery, I would have done that.” He adds, “I still struggle with spirituality. We all probe our beliefs.”

Moyers says the institutions and people that were instrumental in his recovery have been extremely supportive of the book's messages and the exposure its release shines on them. A recent alumni event he attended at Ridgeview took on an evangelical tone for recovery, he says.

He also stresses that he wants readers to understand the important role counselors played for him, in imparting lessons for healthy living. Their messages, that he not feel sorry for himself and that he get out of the way and let recovery happen, resonate to this day, he says.

Far to go

“Like this memoir, my public advocacy is a window into my self. And so it's my own life that has benefited from the work I do today. Helping people helps me. When I hear their stories I'm reminded of mine. In their brokenness I see the depths of my own despair so many years ago. Then I realize the distances I've traveled and how far there is still to go.”

If Moyers were asked to assess the advocacy efforts of himself and others who speak out about the need for comprehensive, equitable treatment coverage and services, he probably wouldn't be accused of grade inflation. While he believes the public has gained a keener sense of the importance of treatment, he also rattles off several backward steps for the cause: little movement on insurance parity legislation; a lack of political champions at the national level; the tragic death of one of those champions, Sen. Paul Wellstone.

Moyers says that with the notable exception of a rise in recovery advocacy activity through the organization Faces and Voices of Recovery, of which he is a board member, he still sees the addiction field as stuck in the reality of the famous comment uttered years ago by former National Institute on Drug Abuse (NIDA) Director Alan I. Leshner, PhD. Addiction remains a field whose members are prone to circling the wagons and firing inward.

“I think this field is as dysfunctional as it was 10 years ago,” he says ruefully.

But in the field's own brokenness there remain signs of hope to which Moyers inevitably turns back. Policy action in the states and local communities can help overcome inaction in Washing-ton. Treatment lengths of stay may continue to be pressured downward, but the promise of new medications to combat cravings and relapse could serve as an important offset to that trend.

Mostly, Moyers wants to help build on the momentum that the talk around a book can generate, at a time of enormous importance for the cause.

“I'm not surprised about the energy this has created,” he says of Broken. “I want counselors to talk about it. This book can be a catalyst for dialogue.”