When I tell people (mostly non-counselors) I work at a men’s residential drug treatment facility, I invariably get two responses.

First, there is the sideways mouth slide. You know what I’m talking about. The person drops the bottom half of their mouth and makes this sound like, “Ehhhhhh…” while lifting their eyebrows as if to say, “I wouldn’t want to do that myself, but if you want to do it with your life, go ahead!”

It’s a nice way of restraining judgment, while still actually judging.

The second response is similar to what people do when they witness a fender bender. They purse their lips as if they are going to whistle and furrow their brow. Sometimes the word “Oooooh…” escapes their lips. It’s a look of pity.

It’s strange to me though. I love where I work. Sure, every guy there has had a problem with alcohol or drugs that has caused him to do things he’s not proud of. They have lied, cheated, and stolen from strangers and the people they love. You know what though? They are still human beings and we are all vulnerable to getting a little too addicted to the varieties this life has to offer.

Case in point: I gave up coffee for Lent. I gave it up because I was drinking it every day. I love the smell, the taste, and the ritual of drinking coffee. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I like coffee because I’m a writer and I feel like writers are supposed to like coffee. Coffee has become a part of my culture. All my friends drink it and we like to buy it for each other. It’s pretty much one of my favorite things. I’d probably wear coffee perfume if I could get away with it.

This past week I was walking by a Starbucks, smelling the delicious aroma and wrestling with my Lenten decision. I didn’t have to be bound by this little decision. No one would know if I had drunk coffee. I had gotten less sleep than I had wanted the night before. I did like the way coffee makes me feel…

Oh my goodness. I am an addict.

I should just let everyone “Ehhhh,” and, “Oooooh,” at me right now. I fulfill almost every requirement of the DSM-IV-TR diagnosis for substance dependency.

As counselors, I think we’re all aware there’s a stigma around mental health. Saying, “I’m anxious,” and “I have anxiety,” are two completely different things that get two different responses. I’ll give you a hint though. One of them will likely get an, “Oooooh,” response.

There’s an even greater stigma around substance abuse. After the “Ehhhhs,” and the “Oooohhhs,” I usually get a question about what my clients are like. Are they scary? Do I feel frightened sometimes? Is it exhausting work? How do I feel knowing all the things these people have done?

I feel like these people are human beings. They have all struggled. They are all working to be better and to fight their addiction. I have to give them that credit. Giving up caffeine is hard. I think about how bad I want a coffee most of my day. I can’t imagine what giving up heroin must be like.

These people are also funny, they are honest, they are kind, they are mean, they are interesting, they are challenging, they are rewarding, and they are fun to work with. Sure, I have some hard days. Then I have some great days. It’s a job.

My point is that I think even as counselors, we sometimes talk about substance dependence as a taboo issue. We say things like, “Oh, working with drug users is difficult!” which I feel is sometimes the counselor equivalent to an “Ehhhh…” and I wish we would all do that a little less often. Addicts are human beings who deserve our help if they are willing to receive it.

Jennifer Bingaman is a counselor-in-training and freelance writer. She blogs about her experiences as a client and a counselor with a few life musings thrown into the mix at The Pursuit of Sassiness