“The most screaming silence of all, of course, was his failure to specifically mention his children or wife — who, if they are like most every other family to have walked this path, will have suffered most from his addiction.”

It's hard to imagine there's a recovering alcoholic or drug addict anywhere who envies the course Toronto Mayor Rob Ford has chosen for himself in essentially trying to get clean and sober in public during the stress of an election campaign.

And it's hard to imagine there's an addiction counsellor to be found who was untroubled by that choice and by what the mayor said — and didn't say — upon his return this week.

Experienced hands in recovery listen carefully for hints that newbies are harbouring old, self-destructive attitudes or aren't committed to new ways of living. There were lots of alarms in what Ford had to say before his team abruptly scrapped a planned series of one-on-ones with media outlets.

Plainly, his advisers recognized how disastrously the two early interviews he did do — with CBC and CP24 — had gone.

In demeanour, the mayor seemed grim, miserable, faintly stupefied. There was nothing of the vitality and enthusiasm that most rehab grads have on release, the gratitude for a new lease on life, the eagerness to get on with showcasing the new and improved us. He seemed like someone who had just lost his best friend. (Most of us feel that way.) But he seemed still to be grieving.

It was likely less the case that the Ford camp felt the mayor was failing, in the interviews, to persuade any opponents of his commitment; it was that Ford Nation must have been horrified at what it saw, wondering who the heck this sad-sack was.

To what we might call “recovery ears,” the interviews Ford did and his homecoming speech suggested he has a lot of getting honest with himself yet to do. In his comments, there was continued rationalizing, self-pity, grandiosity — common traits of the addict and attitudes that sabotage recovery.

When Ford said he “never, ever” intended to do the abusive and appalling things he did, he was rationalizing, minimizing his culpability — seeking to be judged on his good intentions rather than his hateful actions.

When he said he wouldn't wish his suffering on his worst enemy, he was wallowing in self-pity, casting himself as the chief victim in the affair. Self-pity is a fast lane to relapse in addicts.

When he said he has a “phenomenal” record as mayor, that he's “the best mayor” Toronto has had and will “never, ever” change, he showed both grandiosity and close-mindedness. These are also attitudes unlovely among the unafflicted but lethal to addicts.

For all his sonorous bromides about his “disease” and what it means, Ford displayed a dubious grasp on some recovery fundamentals. He will find minimal support for the proposition that addiction explains away his racist, misogynistic and homophobic comments.

Getting better is acknowledging the person we were and the things we did. It involves owning and being willing to face the consequences for everything we ever did or said. It is committing ourselves to doing whatever it takes never to be that person again.

That's painful. But it's precisely that pain and brutal honesty that motivates and fuels change.

Ford will also find that few in recovery support his notion that a blanket apology — without naming, say, Police Chief Bill Blair, mayoral challenger Sarah Thomson, the myriad media personnel he has disparaged — is anywhere near sufficient by way of making amends.

Everyone he has wronged — everyone — needs to be approached directly, told that, yes, he did them harm, that they didn't deserve it, that he regrets the pain he caused, that he is doing everything possible to ensure it does not happen again.

Ford also seemed, when pressed by CBC's Dwight Drummond on whether he would resign if he relapses, to have a shaky understanding of what the notion of taking recovery one day at a time means.

It does not mean he can't plan a Christmas vacation or sign a lease. It does not mean he couldn't answer that question and say: “Yes, any use of alcohol or drugs by me would constitute a major health crisis and, as there is no way an active addict can properly lead this city, I would resign.”

Taking things a day at a time merely means living his life in day-sized chunks — both in relation to abstinence and in keeping his emotions focused on the day, rather than festering on long-ago slights or dreading an uncertain future.

For all that, what was most worrying to “recovery ears” was what the mayor didn't say. In fact, his silence on crucial points of recovery was the silent scream of his public remarks.

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When dealing with chronic liars — as addicts usually are, and the mayor has plainly been — it's important to listen for details and specifics.

About his experience in rehab, the mayor recited only bromides and generics. This was unusual. Virtually all rehab grads have moments of clarity, small epiphanies, those times when they get it. These are usually heart-scalding. And hardly a rehab grad speech is made without a man or woman telling of an instance deeply meaningful to them.

Ford has had nothing of the kind to say. Likewise, he had almost nothing specific to say about the behavioural changes that will be necessary to live sober — the mundane nuts and bolts in which rehabs specialize.

Ford could have told interviewers he will put some structure and discipline in his life with more routine work hours, will head home most evenings at a reasonable time to be with his family or do the things he needs to do to get well, that he has an exercise regime, a diet plan, new meditation or relaxation techniques.

It should have been a slam-dunk. But he said nothing.

The most screaming silence of all, of course, was his failure to specifically mention his children or wife — who, if they are like most every other family to have walked this path, will have suffered most from his addiction.

Most every parent who goes into rehab has a searing moment when they realize just how much pain they've caused love ones. It causes our greatest grief. It inspires our greatest determination to get well and get it right. Most every parent coming out of rehab dedicates themselves, above all, to being better fathers or mothers.

But Ford had zero to say about this. It would have done him nothing but good to say, “I haven't been the father I wanted to be. I'm totally committed now to being the father my children deserve.”

Instead, the most chilling moment of the abbreviated Ford Talks came when he was asked by CP24's Stephanie Smyth how his family was doing.

“Just fine,” he snapped.

It's almost certain that no recovering addict would believe that to be true. And saying so says much about the mayor's enduring capacity for deceit, of himself or otherwise.

Still, Rob Ford is only two months from his last bender. Almost every new graduate from rehab has a lot more to learn about what addiction means and what recovery demands. Besides, there are many paths to wellness.

It's just that the odds of achieving long-term sobriety are long under even the best of circumstances. By his own decisions, Rob Ford has denied himself the best of circumstances.