Content Warning: This episode discusses addiction, family crisis, substance use, and challenging family dynamics. If you feel triggered or need support, please reach out to your support network or contact your local crisis resources.
A Personal Note from Dallas
When I fell into the chemsex world, my family had no fucking idea what they were dealing with. They didn't understand crystal meth, they didn't understand the gay community's unique relationship with substances, and they certainly didn't know how to help me. My mom's reaction when she found out I'd been arrested? "You're using marijuana?" When I said crystal meth, she was speechless.
This is why I started the Aftermeth Podcast—for my mom, for my loved ones, and for every person who gets a desperate DM from a mother, sister, brother, friend, or partner saying, "He's on meth, but I don't know what to do."
I recently attended Brad Lamm's invitational intervention training in Provincetown, and I have to tell you—I didn't scroll on my phone once. I was hanging on every word. Brad has managed over 1,300 interventions, and what he's developed is radically different from what most people picture when they hear the word "intervention." This isn't about surprise ambushes or ultimatums. This is about love, invitation, and creating space for someone to choose their own healing.
If you're someone in recovery, this episode will help you understand what your loved ones might be going through and how to communicate with them more effectively. If you're a family member watching someone you love disappear into addiction, this is your lifeline. Brad's approach offers a third way between abandonment and enabling—and it might just change everything.
Understanding the Crisis: Why Traditional Approaches Often Fail
Brad Lamm's work challenges everything most people think they know about intervention. The traditional model—gathering family members in secret, surprising the addicted person, delivering prepared speeches, and demanding they go to treatment immediately—often backfires. It can feel like an ambush, triggering shame and defensiveness rather than openness to change.
The fundamental problem with surprise interventions is that they're built on a power dynamic that strips agency from the very person who needs to reclaim it. When someone struggling with addiction walks into a room full of people with prepared statements, the message they receive isn't "we love you"—it's "we're ganging up on you." The person feels cornered, judged, and powerless, which are the exact emotional states that often drove them to substances in the first place.
Brad's invitational intervention model operates from a completely different philosophy. Instead of surprise, there's transparency. Instead of demands, there's invitation. Instead of taking away choice, the process honors the person's autonomy while making it abundantly clear that the family will no longer participate in the chaos of active addiction. This approach recognizes a crucial truth: sustainable recovery requires the person to be an active participant in their own healing from the very first conversation.
Reflective Question: For people in recovery—Think back to moments when people confronted you about your use. What approach made you feel defensive, and what approach (if any) made you feel seen and cared for? For loved ones—When you've tried to address your loved one's addiction, how did they respond? What patterns do you notice?
The Dos and Don'ts: What Loved Ones Need to Know
Brad distills decades of experience into practical guidance for families navigating the impossibly difficult terrain of loving someone with addiction. His dos and don'ts aren't about judgment—they're about effectiveness and protecting everyone's wellbeing, including the person using.
The Don'ts—What Actually Hurts:
Don't enable by removing natural consequences. When a family member pays the legal fees, calls in sick to their loved one's employer, or provides housing with no expectations, they're inadvertently making it easier for the addiction to continue. Brad emphasizes that this doesn't mean being cruel—it means allowing reality to do its work. The person needs to feel the full weight of their choices because those consequences often become the catalyst for change.
Don't prioritize the addicted person over other family members. Brad observed a pattern in his interventions: parents often see their addicted child more frequently than their non-addicted children. Why? Because the addicted child has higher needs and is constantly in crisis. This creates a devastating dynamic where the entire family system revolves around one person's chaos, while other relationships atrophy. Siblings grow resentful. Partnerships strain under the weight. Parents exhaust themselves managing crisis after crisis.
Don't lie or pretend everything is fine. Many families develop an unspoken agreement to avoid discussing the obvious. They tiptoe around the addiction, making small talk while someone they love is actively destroying their life. This conspiracy of silence doesn't protect anyone—it just delays the inevitable reckoning and communicates that the truth is too dangerous to speak.
The Dos—What Actually Helps:
Do maintain your own life and boundaries. Brad's guidance is clear: you can love someone deeply and still refuse to let their chaos dictate your existence. This means keeping your job, maintaining your friendships, pursuing your interests, and protecting your peace. It means saying "I love you, and I won't give you money for drugs" or "I love you, and you can't live here while actively using." These aren't contradictions—they're the only sustainable path forward.
Do engage with reality and speak truth. When you see concerning behavior, name it directly. "I've noticed you've been disappearing into the basement for hours." "Your texts aren't making sense." "I'm scared for you." This doesn't mean being cruel or judgmental—it means refusing to participate in the fiction that everything is fine. Reality is actually your ally here; the addiction thrives in secrecy and denial.
Do take care of yourself and seek support. Brad emphasizes that family members need their own recovery resources. Al-Anon, therapy, support groups—these aren't optional luxuries. They're essential tools for learning how to love someone without losing yourself in the process. You can't help if you're drowning.
Journal Prompt: For loved ones—Write about a specific time you enabled your loved one's addiction, even though your intention was to help. What were you trying to accomplish? What actually happened? What would you do differently now? For people in recovery—Write about how your addiction impacted your family. What did they do that helped? What did they do that actually made things worse?
CRAFT: The Science Behind Compassionate Intervention
Brad's approach is grounded in Community Reinforcement and Family Training (CRAFT), an evidence-based model that emerged from research at the University of Pennsylvania in the early 1990s. Unlike traditional intervention methods that focus primarily on getting someone into treatment, CRAFT recognizes that families are powerful agents of change when equipped with the right tools and approach.
The CRAFT model operates on several key principles that align beautifully with Brad's invitational intervention philosophy. First, it acknowledges that families are suffering too and deserve support regardless of whether their loved one enters treatment. Second, it teaches family members how to shift their behavior in ways that naturally reduce substance use and increase motivation for change. Third, it replaces confrontation and ultimatums with positive communication and strategic reinforcement of healthy behaviors.
What makes CRAFT particularly powerful is its focus on what families can control—their own actions, boundaries, and responses—rather than trying to control the person with addiction. Family members learn to identify moments when their loved one is less likely to be under the influence and use those windows for meaningful conversation. They learn to reinforce any movement toward health, no matter how small. They learn that their own wellbeing isn't selfish—it's actually essential to creating the conditions for their loved one's recovery.
The evidence supporting CRAFT is compelling. Studies show significantly higher engagement rates compared to traditional interventions, with many people entering treatment within weeks or months of their families implementing CRAFT principles. But perhaps more importantly, family members report decreased depression, anxiety, and anger, plus improved relationships even when their loved one hasn't yet entered treatment. The approach reduces suffering across the entire family system.
Action Exercise: For loved ones—Research CRAFT principles more deeply and identify one specific behavior you can change this week that aligns with the model (such as reinforcing a positive moment or establishing a clear boundary). For people in recovery—Think about your family's past attempts to address your use. Can you identify moments when they unknowingly reinforced your addiction versus when they created space for change?
The Heart of Invitation: "What I've Seen, My Hopes, My Fears"
Brad offers a beautifully simple framework for the actual conversation with someone struggling with addiction. Rather than prepared speeches read from letters, he advocates for authentic, heart-to-heart communication organized around three questions: What have I seen? What are my fears? What are my hopes?
This framework is powerful because it keeps the conversation grounded in observable reality while making space for genuine emotion. "What I've seen" isn't about diagnosis or judgment—it's about specific behaviors. "I've seen you sleeping all day." "I've seen you lose three jobs in six months." "I've seen you stop caring about things that used to matter to you." These observations are harder to deny or argue with because they're simply facts.
"What are my fears?" creates space for vulnerability. "I'm scared you're going to die." "I'm scared you'll end up homeless." "I'm scared our relationship will be destroyed beyond repair." This isn't manipulation—it's truth. Addiction is terrifying for everyone involved, and naming that fear out loud often cuts through the defenses in ways that anger or criticism never can.
"What are my hopes?" shifts the conversation toward possibility without demanding specific outcomes. "I hope you'll agree to talk with someone about treatment options." "I hope we can rebuild our relationship." "I hope you'll come to this meeting we've scheduled." Hope is an invitation, not an ultimatum. It acknowledges that the person still has agency and that the family still sees their inherent worth beyond the addiction.
Brad emphasizes that this conversation should be impromptu and from the heart, not read from a script. If you're reading prepared statements, you're outside your comfort zone, and that discomfort will create distance rather than connection. The goal is genuine human contact—two people who care about each other having an honest conversation about something that matters.
Reflective Question: For loved ones—If you had to identify three specific behaviors you've observed (not judgments, but actual things you've seen), what would they be? What are you most afraid of? What do you genuinely hope for? For people in recovery—What would you have wanted to hear from your loved ones when you were using? What tone or approach might have gotten through to you?
Making It Easy to Say Yes: The Practical Mechanics
One of Brad's most counterintuitive insights is that inviting someone to their own intervention usually results in them showing up. This baffles people at first—why would someone in active addiction willingly walk into a conversation about their substance use? But Brad's success rate speaks for itself, and the psychology behind it makes sense.
When you invite someone rather than ambush them, you're treating them like a full human being capable of making choices. That respect often evokes reciprocal respect. You're also removing the element of surprise that triggers flight-or-fight responses. The person can mentally prepare, which reduces immediate defensiveness. Most importantly, you're demonstrating that you see them as more than just their addiction—you see them as someone worth including in conversations about their own life.
The invitation itself is straightforward: "We're having a meeting on Tuesday at 2 PM to talk about how we can support you and our concerns about what's been happening. We really want you there, and we're having it either way." Notice what this does—it makes clear the meeting is happening regardless, removing any power struggle about whether the conversation will occur. It also frames the meeting as being about support, not punishment.
If the person says they'll come but doesn't show up, the family doesn't panic or give up. They simply text: "Where are you? What time will you be here?" If the person says they're not coming, the response is: "Okay, we're having the meeting. We'll call you in a bit." Then you invite them to breakfast or make it as easy as possible for them to join. Often, Brad notes, the person is just downstairs or in the next room—not unreachable, just scared.
The meeting itself maintains this invitation framework. Each person shares what they've seen, their fears, and their hopes. The tone is matter-of-fact and loving, not dramatic or emotional manipulation. Brad specifically warns against using loved ones or pets as collateral ("You'll never see your dog again if you don't go to treatment"). Instead, the conversation acknowledges what's good: "Your dog is going to be so happy when you get home and you're doing better. You'll be able to walk her again, feed her regularly, give her the life you want to give her."
Journal Prompt: For loved ones—Imagine writing the invitation to your loved one to attend their own intervention. What exact words would you use? What tone would you strike? How would you balance honesty with compassion? For people in recovery—If your family had invited you to a conversation about their concerns when you were using, what would have needed to be true for you to actually show up?
Beyond Intervention: The Ongoing Practice of Supportive Love
Brad's wisdom extends beyond the mechanics of intervention into the ongoing challenge of loving someone through their recovery journey. He reminds families that intervention isn't a one-time event—it's the beginning of a different way of relating that must be sustained over time.
One crucial insight is about the things people care about. Brad notes that for many queer people he's worked with, dogs are often profoundly important. He doesn't say this has to be about children and family in the traditional sense—recovery motivation comes from whatever genuinely matters to the individual. This recognition is particularly important for those of us in the LGBTQ+ community who may have complicated relationships with biological family or whose chosen family looks different from heteronormative expectations.
Brad also addresses the practical reality of relapse and ongoing struggle. The meeting happens "with or without them" isn't just about the initial intervention—it's about establishing a pattern where the family continues to live their lives and maintain their boundaries regardless of what choices the addicted person makes. This isn't abandonment; it's the only sustainable approach. You can invite someone to get help, support their recovery efforts, and celebrate their progress while also refusing to organize your entire existence around their chaos.
The gentle dentist story Brad shares is particularly touching. His fear of dental care—a common trauma for people in recovery who've damaged their teeth and gums through substance use—was met with someone who took the time to advertise themselves as "gentle." His friend Anton researched options and made a recommendation. These small acts of care and support matter enormously. Recovery isn't just about stopping substances; it's about rebuilding a life, and that often requires help with seemingly mundane tasks that feel overwhelming in early sobriety.
Brad's fundamental belief shines through everything he teaches: "I find people want to do the right thing and people want to do better. And if we can help them with knowledge of how to do that, that's pretty cool." This isn't naive optimism—it's earned wisdom from someone who's witnessed over 1,300 people and families navigate this impossible territory. People struggling with addiction aren't fundamentally broken or morally deficient. They're suffering, and they're often desperate for a way out. Our job is to make that way out as clear and accessible as possible.
Action Exercise: For loved ones—Identify three concrete ways you can support your loved one's wellbeing (if they choose recovery) without enabling active addiction. What specific help could you offer that honors their autonomy? For people in recovery—Make a list of the small, practical supports you needed in early recovery. Who helped you with these things? How can you build or strengthen your support network now?
Special Considerations for the Chemsex Community
While Brad's approach applies broadly, those of us working specifically with gay men and chemsex addiction need to consider some unique dynamics. The shame many queer people carry about their sexuality can become interwoven with shame about substance use, creating particularly painful layers of stigma. Family members may be grappling not just with addiction but also with their own homophobia or lack of understanding about queer culture and community.
When heterosexual family members try to help a gay son or brother struggling with chemsex, they often lack context for understanding why crystal meth became so embedded in gay male sexual culture. They don't understand the historical trauma, the ongoing discrimination, the apps and party scene, or how substances can become intertwined with the only spaces where someone felt they could be fully themselves. This lack of context can lead to unhelpful interventions that miss the mark entirely.
For people in recovery from chemsex specifically, Brad's framework needs cultural translation. "What I've seen" might include: disappearing for days at a time, engaging in increasingly risky sexual behavior, losing connection with sober friends, spending excessive time on hookup apps, or lying about whereabouts. "Fears" might include: contracting HIV or other STIs, being sexually assaulted while high, being unable to experience intimacy without substances, or dying alone from an overdose. "Hopes" might include: rebuilding authentic connection, discovering that sex and intimacy are possible sober, finding community that doesn't revolve around substances, or simply staying alive.
Family members of people struggling with chemsex may need additional education before they can be truly helpful. Brad's training provides this, but resources like the Aftermath Podcast, books on chemsex, and consultation with clinicians who specialize in this area can fill crucial knowledge gaps. The more family members understand the specific challenges and culture, the more effective their support becomes.
Reflective Question: For people in recovery from chemsex—How did your sexual orientation and the gay community context influence your addiction? What would you want your family to understand about this connection? For loved ones—What do you need to learn about gay culture, chemsex, and LGBTQ-specific challenges to better support your loved one? Where might you find this education?
Practical Wisdom: Taking Care of Yourself
Brad's advice about brushing teeth twice a day and using a water pick might seem trivial in a conversation about life-or-death addiction, but it's actually profound. He's acknowledging the practical, physical consequences of substance use and the small, daily actions that constitute recovery and self-care.
"Meth mouth" is real, but Brad clarifies an important detail: it's actually the gums that fail first, not the teeth themselves. The gums become unhealthy and can no longer support the teeth. This becomes a useful metaphor—if you don't take care of the foundation (whether that's your physical health, your emotional wellbeing, or your support system), everything built on top of it will eventually collapse.
His story about finding a "gentle dentist" through his friend Anton illustrates another recovery truth: shame about the consequences of our use can prevent us from seeking help we desperately need. Someone in recovery might avoid medical care, dental work, or professional help because they're terrified of judgment. Having people in your life who recognize these fears and help you navigate them—researching providers, offering to accompany you to appointments, normalizing the need for help—can make the difference between seeking care and suffering in isolation.
This applies equally to family members. Just as people in recovery need to address the practical consequences of their substance use, family members need to address their own exhaustion, health neglect, and accumulated trauma from living with addiction. Going to therapy isn't optional. Taking time for yourself isn't selfish. Getting enough sleep, eating properly, and maintaining your own friendships aren't luxuries—they're essential maintenance of the foundation that allows you to show up as your best self.
Journal Prompt: For people in recovery—What practical aspects of self-care did you neglect during active addiction? What small daily practices help you maintain your recovery now? What barriers prevent you from taking care of yourself? For loved ones—In what specific ways has your loved one's addiction caused you to neglect your own health and wellbeing? What's one concrete step you could take this week to address your own needs?
A Final Word from Dallas
Y'all, here's what I want you to take away from this conversation with Brad: There's a third way between enabling someone you love and abandoning them entirely. That third way is invitational intervention—treating someone with dignity while refusing to participate in the chaos of their addiction.
If you're in recovery, I hope this helped you understand what your loved ones might be going through and how to communicate with them more effectively. Your family's "don'ts"—the ways they may have enabled you or crossed their own boundaries—came from love, even if the impact was harmful. And their "dos"—the boundaries they're learning to set—also come from love. Both can be true simultaneously.
If you're a family member, please hear this: You are not required to sacrifice your entire life on the altar of someone else's addiction, even if that person is your child, your partner, or your sibling. Maintaining your own wellbeing isn't selfish—it's essential. And inviting someone to get help, rather than forcing or manipulating them, actually increases the likelihood they'll engage in recovery.
Brad's work reminds me that people want to do better. They want to heal. They want to repair relationships and rebuild lives. Sometimes they just need someone to show them the path and make it as easy as possible to take that first step.
Don't forget there are resources available. Check out Brad's websites in the show notes. Join the conversation on YouTube or send me a DM. And keep an eye out for my new group coaching opportunity for those who need affordable support options.
Recovery isn't built in a day, but every conversation, every boundary, every invitation is a brick in that foundation.
I believe in you. I believe in your loved ones. I believe in the power of compassionate intervention to change lives.
Love you all, Dallas đź’š
Responses