A daughter’s addiction: ‘It’s a tornado that comes into the home’

Parents tell of ‘tornado’ effect of daughter’s addiction and their steps to get help

Guided by keyworkers, parents Mary and Peter gradually unpacked what they now recognise as enabling behaviour. Photograph: Dara Mac Dónaill
Guided by keyworkers, parents Mary and Peter gradually unpacked what they now recognise as enabling behaviour. Photograph: Dara Mac Dónaill

When Mary* and her husband, Peter*, first noticed that their teenage daughter Saoirse* was drinking alcohol and using cannabis, they never imagined the “pain and anguish” it would cause over the next 13 years.

Sitting in the office of addiction family support service, the Whitechurch Addiction Support Programme (WASP), based in the South Dublin suburb of Rathfarnham, Mary and Peter share their journey. Their story is documented alongside 30 others in a new book, Love is not Enough: Families’ Journeys through Addiction, published by WASP last week.

What the couple realised later was a coping mechanism for Saoirse to deal with bullying she faced in school spiralled quickly into cross-addiction and acted as “a gateway drug”.

Soon she moved from cannabis and started taking other illegal substances, even at home, becoming unrecognisable to her parents and younger brother. Gambling, alcoholism and substance abuse all became interconnected issues.

“I would describe it as a tornado that comes into the home and literally sends the three of us not in addiction in opposite directions,” Mary says.

“We have all the same pain and anguish and we don’t understand what’s happening. We’re all trying to fix things and each of us thinks we know better and actually none of us knows anything at all.”

Before Saoirse’s addiction became apparent, Peter recalls the confusion and helplessness he felt watching her behaviour change drastically before his eyes.

“The daughter you love is suddenly acting in very strange ways and not getting up. They can be sullen or they can be explosive. You don’t know what it is and you don’t know how to deal with it,” he says.

“Even when it becomes apparent that the problem is bigger than you initially thought, you may not know how entrenched it is.”

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Each member of the family dealt with these changes, and the chaos addiction brought to them, differently.

“I might be cajoling one day or angry the next,” Peter says, saying that his son – who was 14 when Saoirse first began to show signs of addiction – was “very badly affected”.

“He was trying to be perfect because he realised the stress we were all under ...[he] was witnessing some awful behaviour that we weren’t aware of.”

Saoirse, who is now 30, is homeless. Her father describes the painful circumstances leading to this decision, one he says no parent should have to face.

“Our daughter came out of treatment and wasn’t able to hold down the recovery. We had to say, ‘You can’t take drink or drugs in this house, and if you do, you will have to leave’. And that’s a very difficult thing to do,” Peter says.

“Our daughter left our house and handed back the key without any confrontation ... if you fast forward onwards two years, she has had to live in hostels and fend for herself.”

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Mary first approached WASP five years ago, prompted by a traumatic event involving her daughter’s addiction.

“What I witnessed was so traumatic and so shocking, like something you’d see on TV. And it was my child that I was watching and I was just in total disbelief,” she says.

“I reached out to a friend and told her the story. Together we phoned a helpline and it mentioned WASP.”

She started attending one of the women’s support groups in Rathfarnham, and some time later Peter joined a newly formed men’s group. It was here they started to learn how to cope with Saoirse’s addiction and initiate their own recoveries.

Guided by WASP keyworkers, including chief executive and founding member Cathy Murray, who joins us in the office, Mary and Peter gradually unpacked what they now recognise and accept as enabling behaviour.

“I went off and rescued her. I possibly gave her money when I shouldn’t have,” Mary says.

“And what happened then is I wouldn’t tell Peter that this was going on because I’m trying to protect her and you don’t want another row. You think you’re doing the right thing. What we learn here is some of the good intentions actually lead to enabling.”

This put an “enormous strain” on their own relationship, and Peter believes seeking support when they did saved their marriage.

WASP founder Cathy Murray: 'I was seeing a lot of empty cans of alcohol, syringes on the streets. That was in the 1990s.' Photograph: Dara Mac Dónaill
WASP founder Cathy Murray: 'I was seeing a lot of empty cans of alcohol, syringes on the streets. That was in the 1990s.' Photograph: Dara Mac Dónaill

WASP began as a drug-prevention project in 1996 when Murray’s own concern as a mother led her to start giving talks in schools.

“I was seeing a lot of empty cans of alcohol, syringes on the streets. That was in the 1990s when it was very prevalent. I just thought I want my kids to have a life and I want them to be safe,” Murray says.

By 2008, the initiative had grown from strength to strength, and at this stage it took on the format that exists today, pivoting towards family support.

In sharing their story, Mary and Peter hope to spotlight the work WASP does to support families in a similar position and to break down the stigma still associated with addiction.

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“In our case, it was the first time we’d came across it. We’re from a relatively affluent area,” Peter says.

“People might say we’re posh,” Mary says. “That’s a really important issue, because people think addiction will just hit underprivileged areas but that’s not the case.

“It doesn’t show any boundaries. It doesn’t matter how much money you have.”

In the early search for solutions, Peter recalls how some of this prejudicial thinking almost resulted in his dismissal from support services.

“I went into town seeking support. I was in my work clothes, like a fish out of water on Abbey Street. I went into a drug support place for families and they blanked me.”

It took some convincing, but eventually “they dropped their guard and helped”, he said.

For Mary, experiencing the effect of addiction first-hand has changed her perception of homelessness.

“If I ever saw somebody on the street in a sleeping bag, which unfortunately we see a lot, I would have always personally said to myself, ‘Oh my God, that’s just so sad. Because somebody must have a family member, like how can somebody have nobody to help them?’

“But as they say, come walk in my shoes. Nobody ever wants to ask somebody they love to leave. Until the unwelcome visitor of addiction comes to your home, you don’t know.”

Mary says the service offers “an open space where everybody is in the same position, where there’s no judgment”.

Peter says: “When Mary and I could get on the same page, we were able to make better choices for ourselves and that pushed the responsibility back on to our daughter and put her in a position where she had to learn from her own mistakes.”

Recent weeks have offered a glimmer of hope, as their daughter has reached out to WASP herself for support.

*Names have been changed for anonymity