Why me? It’s a question many people with a substance use disorder ask. It’s a question I’ve asked too. My name is Debra (Deb) Hemphill, and I am a person in long-term recovery from substance use disorder.
My life’s journey has taken twists and turns, many of them shaped by this disorder. One of those turns was finishing college later in life. It took a while, but I graduated Magna Cum Laude from National University with a major in Strategic Communication and a minor in Social Change, and I was a member of the inaugural cohort of the university’s Honors Fellow for Social Change program.
Through that program, I studied the social construction of stigma for people with substance use and mental health disorders. Researchers and clinicians have long debated whether substance use disorder is a moral failing or a medical condition. I suggest we explore and see that how stigma affects people seeking help and the unspoken and spoken barrier that it remains for people seeking help.
Stigma and the idea of “deviance” are socially constructed, and much of today’s stigma traces back to early-1900s laws that created a narrative of moral failure around substance use. That stigma lives on in the language we use. Biased words describing substance use and mental health conditions are a barrier to help-seeking and to healing. People who need help often don’t reach out because of shame and embarrassment.
Farah S Williams, my daughter
April 3, 1976-February 4, 2014
My perspective is personal. Stigma has affected me, my family, and my daughter, Farah, who died by suicide. I am a loss survivor, and Farah’s death moved me to help make the topic of stigma a wider discussion. I want to honor her, and others, by working to reduce stigma and to promote language that elevates people and leads to healing.
Today I bring that commitment to both my professional and personal life. I am a Senior Manager at the Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation, where I work with treatment providers, correctional systems, and community partners on evidence-based programming and the funding that sustains it. I also am a Peer Recovery Support Specialist in training.
I witness stigma every day. I hope my perspective, shaped by both my work and my lived experience, helps others recognize how much our words matter.
When I’m not working, you’ll often find me on the golf course. I like to call golf my walking meditation.