Pubdate: Tue, 13 Jan 2015
Source: Washington Post (DC)
Copyright: 2015 The Washington Post Company
Contact: http://mapinc.org/url/mUgeOPdZ
Website: http://www.washingtonpost.com/
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/491
Author: Petula Dvorak

A SIDE EFFECT OF ADULT DRUG USE IS LONELY KIDS

Inside the camp activity room there were cheerful posters on the 
wall, long windows that opened to sweeping, wintry views of the 
Chesapeake Bay and a couple dozen boisterous tweens.

There were pictures of childhood icons: Bugs Bunny, Popeye, Cookie 
Monster, Oscar the Grouch, Scooby-Doo. On day two of their weekend 
adventure at Camp Mariposa, the kids had composed a camp song and 
were eager to get to the next activity: the indoor climbing wall.

But first, a discussion group. "How many people think that it's your 
fault that your parent uses drugs?" asked Roberta Rinker, one of the 
counselors.

At least five hands shot up into the air.

"How many of you don't think it's your fault when your parents use 
drugs?" Rinker asked. Maybe 10 hands went up. The rest of the kids 
looked at the long stretches of snow outside or fiddled with their 
jacket zippers, and a couple of them curled up into little balls 
under their chairs.

Camp Mariposa is about a lot more than making lanyards. Those 
characters they were identifying? "What do they all have in common?" 
the counselors asked. "Addiction!" the kids screamed. Only, carrots, 
spinach, cookies, garbage and Scooby Snacks were a lot more fun to 
talk about than what their parents are addicted to: booze, marijuana, 
heroin, cocaine, meth.

In this space, which looks like it's out of a Pottery Barn catalogue 
and feels like a vacation, a 9-year-old talked about the time the 
police came, a 10-year-old described the bottles all over the house 
and a 13-year-old talked about doing hard drugs with his parents.

It's an extraordinary experiment that started last weekend, when a 
small group of kids from around the Washington area who are directly 
affected by the addictions of the adults around them gathered to see 
that they are not alone.

Because that's how it feels. Too often, kids can't imagine that other 
kids go through this, or that other parents use drugs or that they 
aren't total freaks for not having a perfect family. And none of them 
could imagine that they are among 8.3 million American children who 
live with a parent who needs treatment for a drug or alcohol 
addiction, according to the U.S. Substance Abuse and Mental Health 
Services Administration.

There is Al-Anon for adults. And Alateen for teenagers whose lives 
are affected by someone else's addiction. But what does a 10-year-old have?

These kids were picked by social workers, counselors and therapists. 
The program is being funded by the Moyer Foundation, which was 
founded by major league pitcher Jamie Moyer and his wife, Karen, 
whose sister struggled with addiction. The foundation runs a Camp 
Mariposa in six other states, mostly in cities Moyer played for or lived in.

When the foundation expanded to the Washington area, it put the call 
out to the National Center for Children and Families for a couple 
dozen kids who could do well at the free camp. They will return to 
the camp for six weekends spaced throughout the year.

These are kids who live every day with the demons that haunt adults. 
Some are already in foster care, or D.C.'s shelter for homeless 
families or bouncing between Auntie's and Grandma's houses. A few 
also are dealing with drug use that has bled from the adults in the 
family to their older siblings. And they are watching addiction bear 
down on them, with no place to go, no way to understand that what's 
going on in their family isn't normal, isn't okay.

It was a little heartbreaking to hear the kids explain the way they 
understand the addictions destroying their parents.

"I think it's our fault they do drugs because we don't pay 
attention," one bouncy 9-year-old explained.

"We stress them out, so they need them to calm down," another child said.

"They do drugs because we stress them out, and they don't want to 
yell at us," another offered.

Excuses, excuses. And these kids have been hearing them for years.

Rinker, a social worker from Silver Spring, Md., asked the kids who 
disagreed to stand up.

"Let's have a debate, y'all," she said. "I want to hear from the other side."

"It's not my fault because they were on it before I was born," said a 
9-year-old, twirling her pink and green scarf around her hand.

"I know it's not my fault because they choose to do it," said the 
12-year-old who'd already taken on a role of den mother, holding 
hands with some of the stressed-out younger girls.

Then a commanding little 11 year-old, a boy who shook everyone's hand 
around the circle as they were getting their seats, stepped in.

"I'm the best son I could be. If they want to go and smoke and do 
stupid stuff, it's not my fault," he said, and a round of applause 
fluttered across the room.

"When you live in a family with addiction," Rinker said, kids 
"sometimes try to be the perfect child."

Or you might be the family clown, to take the attention off the 
addicted, dysfunctional parent, she said. Or you might be the 
scapegoat, the kid always getting in trouble to take the focus off 
the addicted parent. "Or you might be the Enabler. You might say, 
'Oh, she wasn't drunk. She wasn't high,' " Rinker said. The room grew 
a little quieter and there were nods all around.

These are the kids who suffer when we talk about cutting programs and 
slashing funding and holding adults accountable for all their bad 
choices. Sure. Hold them accountable. But as a nation, we can't 
afford to forget about the kids, who asked for none of it and are 
trying to survive.

The camp song? It starts out like this: "I didn't CAUSE it, I can't 
CONTROL it, I can't CURE it."
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MAP posted-by: Jay Bergstrom