I didn’t care whether Karen Read was convicted or not. Unusual for me since I love a legal drama. I got hooked at eleven when my mother spent days glued to the William Kennedy Smith rape trial in 1991. But despite the media frenzy over the past two years, I intentionally ignored much of coverage. The cast of Irish-American surnames, the bars, the after party in a blizzard, the attempts to piece together timelines and evidence from drunk witnesses was just too depressingly familiar to be titillating. Other women got hooked by the possibility of a conspiracy and sympathized with the possibility that they could be Read, caught in a conspiracy of corruption and collusion, but I know it could be me for other reasons.

I’ve lost friends and relatives in sad and preventable circumstances. I can imagine an accident after a house party during a blizzard. I’ve been part of enough of these drunken nights to know it could have been be me driving or killed or a bystander friends or family. The drinking that winter night ultimately was the only definite cause of John O’Keefe’s death that night and this cost his niece and nephew their caregiver. The coverage has been interminable. The city, and online world, is split in two camps and yet no one is talking about how this all could have been prevented - or the behavior that kills a lot more people than homicide or manslaughter - alcohol use.

We’re not talking about the only proven villain - alcohol - because of the code of silence that still exists around harm caused by heavy drinking and the behavior it causes in relationships and families, especially to children, because of the stigma around the label “alcoholic.” Like most, I didn’t have the knowledge or support to have these hard conversations when the blanket of silence, shame, and stigma made denial in my own life and family seem to dangerous and impermeable to crack.

I’m not addicted to alcohol and I have no idea whether any of those involved in the death were either, but it’s wasn’t addiction, it was “normal” drinking that night that not only ended in tragedy, but also creates the conditions in millions of families that fuel addiction and other mental health issues, according to experts and researchers, like the Partnership to End Addiction, “The risks associated with substance use begin long before an individual smokes the first cigarette, has a first drink of alcohol, or tries an illicit substance.” I perpetuated this cycle in my own life, the fear and anxiety around drinking because I had no support and knew no one would believe me without evidence. Unfortunately the evidence is often a tragedy. But even with O’Keefe’s death and a police investigation the evidence didn’t prove anything or help O’Keefe’s loved ones in the end.

Canton, MA, where John O’Keefe spent his last night is the home of the Irish Cultural Center and Gaelic Athletics Association. I can’t ignore the Irish-American associations in this tragic story. My Irish-American family are police officers, fire fighters, and drinkers too. Despite deaths, arrests, divorce, and the unseen damage, we still don’t talk about drinking until it’s too late. Heavy, excessive, or problem drinking looks different for everyone, but whatever it’s called, most of it looks “normal” like in the John O’Keefe tragedy.

A night out with 2-3 pints of a local IPA with 6.5% ABV is not considered heavy or binge drinking in my circles, even though the CDC defines it as binge drinking and this kind of accepted drinking creates the conditions for the drinker and their loved ones that fuel addiction and tragedy. John O’Keefe, Karen Read and the others drinking that night were educated, responsible, smart, respectable, employed - good people - drinking “responsibly” like the alcohol industry wants and yet his death wasn’t a fluke tragedy. It is exactly because we recognize them as “normal” that their story should be used to break the silence.

O’Keefe’s death and the fall-out was unique in that it ended in a murder trial, not because it ended in death. 3,050 people die from excessive drinking in Massachusetts each year. That doesn’t include the thousands impacted by someone else’s drinking. The Center for Disease Control estimates the annual cost of excessive drinking due to lost productivity, criminal justice, and health care costs in Massachusetts alone at $5.6 billion or $1.93 per drink sold. Clearly, we have a big problem and our current silence is helping no one but the alcohol industry. Big Alcohol spends billions to make it seem like drinking regularly with family and friends is safe and fun. They also spend millions to influence politicians and policy makers. Imagine if the warning labels said, “Alcohol causes physical dependency” or “Regular alcohol causes anxiety,” or “There is no safe level of alcohol for your brain” rather than the misleading “Please drink responsibly.”

According to Peter Doyle, family addiction coach, “addiction is a compulsive use of substances despite negative consequences.” While CDC definitions of excessive, problem, or binge drinking focus on quantities, Doyle’s definition leaves less room for confusion. Labels are unhelpful and make people doubt their own instinct when alcohol is hurting them and their family. The gap between what we say is dangerous and what we do is wide. In my world, and the world just on trial, drinking a couple of pints of local IPA (which at 6.5% or higher ABV each pint is over two drinks each and so a “binge”) is accepted and encouraged. It’s certainly not perceived as dangerous or a reason to seek help or have a hard conversation.

While Irish-American families and culture can’t win an advertising war, we can change ourselves with the stories and voices who can tackle our trifectas: silence, shame, and stigma around substance use, mental health, and trauma made famous by writers like Michael Patrick McDonagh, Frank McCourt, Dr. Garrett O’Connor, and yet I know from my own heartbreaking experience, that speaking in families and cultures steeped in denial and secrets is not without risk of retaliation. Indeed, it can be an act of war. High-profile stories like the Karen Read trial, which aren’t about addiction and alcoholism in the stereotypical sense, are important opportunities for these hard conversations that can prevent more tragedy.

Trying to have these hard conversations with loved ones about drinking and the impact on you, or other family, especially children, is terrifying and lonely, but it also can be influential with the right techniques. This is why Doyle, and other practitioners use the evidence-backed treatment Invitation to Change to let loved ones know that hope and strength comes from knowledge about addiction, communication and conflict skills, as well as healthy boundaries and their power in motivating change - very different to waiting until “rock bottom” which leaves people hidden in shame and silence. This expert support could have helped me avoid mistakes and have hard conversations that were less adversarial and more productive for me and loved ones long ago.

Not everyone in our culture is quiet though. Bill Reilly, founded Sober St. Patrick’s Day in 2012, to tackle the popular topic of drinking culture, families and Irish identity after seeing some research about the holiday being the fourth most popular day to binge drink in the year, particularly for young people. He organizes an annual celebration in New York City that caters for families who want to celebrate Irish culture without drunkenness and feel comfortable bringing their children to the party. O’Reilly himself is sober, but because of problem drinking in his family, and he doesn’t focus the organization or event on recovery, but rather the wider harms caused by accepting drunkenness as a celebration of Irishness.

“If you’re borderline, you are,” he said with humor when we talked about his plans to expand the narrative shift beyond the holiday and the stigma around the identity of “alcoholic.” Talking to Reilly and the new Executive Director, Christine Harrington, gave me hope that if families finally have permission to talk about drinking, without feeling like they’re betraying their loved ones or subscribing to labels that don’t feel helpful or hopeful, a wider shift will happen.

This is why Doyle, and other practitioners use the evidence-backed treatment Invitation to Change to let loved ones know that hope and strength comes from knowledge about addiction, communication and conflict skills, as well as healthy boundaries and their power in motivating change. Doyle believes the lack of knowledge around options like CRAFT (Community Reinforcement and Family Training) a clinically studied treatment program for loved ones and those with problem drinking developed by Dr. Robert J. Meyers and Dr. Jane Ellen Smith or the science in Beyond Addiction: How Science and Kindness Help People Change in the addiction field, not to mention the medical field and society contributes to stigma and prevents change. There’s still “a lot of stigma and shame in Irish-Americans - just for a person to make a call asking for some sort of help is incredibly difficult and challenging still,” he said.

Like most, I didn’t have the knowledge or support to trust myself or seek help, despite being steeped in a drinking culture. I failed to see the truth and have the hard conversations when change was too scary to contemplate because I didn’t have hope. As awful as it is, the Karen Read trial and massive public interest gives us a chance to talk in a new way about drinking, increase knowledge of evidence-based supports to reduce harm, and break the code of silence in Irish-American families and communities that can prevent future trauma. People, families and culture can change if the silence is broken.

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