The Many Faces of Vulnerability

Vulnerability is a word we use in so many different contexts. We can be physically, emotionally, socially, economically or environmentally vulnerable. We are constantly hearing this overused term in relation to negative aspects of our existence. We are exposed to germs, toxins, threats, abuse, hurtful words or actions, and we are vulnerable to all of their effects. But what if we could see it from a different perspective? What if we considered this perceived weakness as a strength?

My epiphany came recently when I received news from a good friend and already once bereaved Mom whose other son is currently in the throes of active addiction and unable to remain in detox for more than a couple days without running for the door AMA. Her story of too much lived experience and desperation, like so many others, rings in my head and heart like a gong and keeps me awake at night. Addiction is a family disease. It dawned on me that as she pleaded for her son’s life in the emergency room of a CT hospital, she exposed her vulnerability in a way that was profound.

After being brought there by her and admitted for medical conditions (failing kidneys and severe dehydration), her son was hooked up to an IV. After spending 17 hours reporting to numerous physicians and emergency room staff people that her son was depressed and addicted to Fentanyl and, in the previous few days, had expressed three times that he wanted to end his life, he was callously released to the streets instead of being mandated to treatment. She spoke on his behalf, all the while, exposing her deepest fears and risking the judgment of those who are supposed to be in a position to help find solutions for individuals who are not capable of making sound decisions for themselves.

Once her son made his way on foot back to the streets of Hartford, she melted down on the front lawn of the hospital. When security arrived to handle the situation, they listened to my sobbing, hysterical friend with empathy, even sharing disturbing stories from their own family’s experience. The people who gathered from the streets during the commotion also shared their stories. The hospital’s Crisis Team was summoned and basically told her their hands were tied and that no law exists that would have forced her son to stay. She feared she had seen him for the last time. Yet, somehow her “weakness” and her years of lived experience as the Mom of two sons affected by substance use disorders and the disease of addiction gave her the courage and willingness to expose her vulnerability.

The act attracted empathy, sharing, and support from the most unlikely of onlookers and hospital employees. She called me in that moment of deep despair, and I dropped what I was doing. I joined her on the front lawn of this well renowned hospital in Hartford with picket signs that read, “Stop the Revolving Door”, “Not One More” and “America Runs on Relapse and Recidivism.” Her fear, helplessness, rage and vulnerability turned immediately to activism. Passersby slowed their cars to read our signs and beeped their horns in agreement. Others stopped to talk with us, so we shared our pain and dismay at the total lack of legislation that would mandate lifesaving actions for loved ones who are hell bent on self-harm, unable to advocate for themselves and incapable of making sound decisions regarding their safety and wellbeing. Then, in the lobby of the same hospital, my friend got on the phone with Keith McGilvery of Fox61 News who listened intently and compassionately for over an hour. He’s covered the challenges tied to drug use and overdoses for years and assured us he would continue to do so.

We left that evening, feeling a little bit better and more convinced that our mission is vital and needs to continue unceasingly until we see TriCircle reach full implementation.

(Originally published in the August 2023 TriCircle Newsletter)