The Hero, the Scapegoat and the Addict

Refections from The Mind of a Mystic

I am the allotted scapegoat within my family system. My purpose is to carry the burden of guilt and shame.

A rather strange dynamic that I only discovered by writing my life story is the interconnection between two diametrically opposed roles; the hero and the scapegoat. Until recently, I was blind to it even though it has played out over and over in my adult sober life; in jobs, recovery communities, and relationships.

Growing up, there was an abnormally high expectation to make my family look good through creativity and performance. I was different, thought outside of the box, was artistic, a communicator and a natural born entertainer. With all eyes focused on me, it was clear, my talents belonged to the family.

After all, “Where would you be without us?”

Because the expectations were unattainable under the best of circumstances, no matter how hard I tried, my attempts to deliver inevitably led to failure.

In retrospect, the high standards carried within them an expectation of failure; that was the true endgame. As sick as it sounds, the greater the fall, the better. To appease my family system, the hero had to fail and become the scapegoat, deplorable in everyone’s sight. I became a garbage can for everyone else’s inability to succeed, a receptacle for blame.

“If it weren’t for you…”

I would rise, rise, rise—falter—the house of cards tumbling; me falling from grace, ending in humiliation, sometimes public humiliation. Abandoned and reviled once again.

Sometimes, during the rise, I would feel comfortable enough in my position to challenge the system. A heartfelt cry. Oh, how I longed to express authenticity. — Always a no, no, punishable by excommunication from community, loss of job, the silent treatment a.k.a. “ghosting” or a demand for a public apology of wrongdoing; a scenario akin to being burned at the stake.

Having completed my novel/memoir, I am astounded by just how many times I have taken part in this pattern. I will not call myself a victim. This is so much larger than my single life. It has been snowballing up through the generations for centuries.

My challenge is to take my newfound awareness and not fall into the lure of the rise. Being “the golden child” within a corporate structure, “the wise one” in a recovery group. “the hope” of the family or, in a relationship, the one “worthy” of love-bombing.

“What a tangled mess we weave.”

So, where does the addict fit into all this? Well, I can only speak for myself but, perhaps my experience will resonate with my fellow addicts.

At age twelve, I indulged in a stiff cocktail and a cigarette. And guess what happened? You got it! I stopped caring, refused to perform and all the expectations died, as did my role as a hero. Life was much easier in the constant role of scapegoat, as something to be reviled. Plus, I was so fucking high all the time!

At death’s door and out of necessity (We’re talking way, way back in the late 1980s), I became clean and sober for an entire decade. What do you suppose followed? Yep, the hero role resurfaced with a vengeance. With sobriety, all my talents came flooding back and the dreaded rise began. After ten years of the same old bullshit (I am talking about next level expectations within religious organizations and educational systems), there was only one way out.

Relapse.

Six years of addiction killed the hero, but this time around, brought no relief to the scapegoat. Again, I got sober. The pattern resurfaced. For fifteen years, I repeated the expected hero to scapegoat role, to my detriment. Three years ago, during the pandemic, everything changed. I woke from the unconscious dream and the chains of bondage shattered. How did that happen?

I’ve laid out the process in my novel. The complete story. I invite you to read it.

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My fictionalized memoir, “CAUGHT UP Truth and Metaphor | An Imaginary Tale” is available for FREE right here on Substack. To read: Follow the link below.

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