As I walk in a room full of peers of my past, it is as if I move through as a ghost through walls. 

They appear not to notice my existence, other than a chill or a cringe up their spine. No smiles given nor received, no pats on the back, no “I hope you’re doing well.” One who was once a part of the heart in a room, now in his own mind is a mere cancer on the face of group image.  From a boy whose head was held high and who shared smiles and laughs with any, to a man all too familiar with the carpet patterns on the floor due to his hanging head.  

But who can blame these peers of my past?  They have no idea how to deal with the situation I put them in.  Quite likely, they do not really understand the disease that reigned over my life. 

Allow me to offer some brief education, a little insight into this world.

100% of people who use drugs are not the same people high as they are sober.  And honestly, more often than not, that chemical (whatever it may be) causes them to behave as a counter opposite. 

It was as if I pushed 100% pure “I don’t give a damn” into my veins three times daily. I woke up every day begging myself not to do it again today.  But I continued to go through those same motions every single day, almost against my own will.  I was dead.  A walking zombie.  Emotion played no factor in my life.  As Nikki Sixx put it in his infamous Heroin Diaries, “the only way to truly feel alive is to confront your mortality.”  In my case, that meant pushing my limits every chance I got.  Numerous overdoses- and in my mind, I came out victorious every time.  I was invincible.  

Nothing could stop me.  Not even love.  Not my child, not my dear mother, not even a crying sister, all of whom were…and are my heart.  In this insanity, I knew who I really was, but it seemed too far to grasp while drowning in dope. The point is that no matter how much good I had done in the past, it didn’t matter.  My newest actions put me in a line up with trash, and a good junkie was what I had become. You never get used to the whiplash of reality, but your neck gets stronger – right? That wasn’t the case for me. 

I could not stand who I had become. 

Instead of rights and wrongs defining a person, society allows the wrongs to define a person while their rights identify who they should have been…no mistakes allowed.  Do it right… or forever dwell in some sort of stigma.  My dad often asks the question, “what if you were judged for the rest of your life for the worst thing you have ever done?” For the addict, it is not a matter of “what if.”  It is our daily reality - judged for the person we are, or were while under the control of a chemical. 

Think about that for a moment.  What is the very worst thing you have ever done?  Realistically, only a handful of folks probably know about whatever that might be.  Maybe the only person who knows about it is you. 

Now imagine that you have to wear a shirt daily that explains in detail whatever it was you did.  Eyes begin to cut at you in the store. Conversations at work with co-workers become less and less.  Family, friends, peers of your past want absolutely nothing to do with you because of your negative act (or acts.)

Welcome to our world, the world of any addict.

Every single day we are shamed by judgmental eyes without a word being uttered.  No matter what kind of life we had led before, we are automatically shamed and classified with society’s scum, simply because of the stigma of addiction.  One of the myths of this disease is that if one just has a strong enough willpower, it can be overcome.  Often the belief is that the addict just doesn’t want to quit.  

I can vouch that there is no truth in that statement. 

We scream in the face of society for help, yet few hands are lent.  Affordable treatment is almost non-existent.  If you do find treatment, the waiting list exceeds the time limits before withdrawals set in. 

When a kid’s grades begin to slip because he is getting high before, during and after school, we ignore it and chalk it up to a “phase.” When we notice a co-worker falling short on his job, often smelling alcohol on their breath or seeing their eyes dazed by a chemical, we ignore it because it’s not our fucking problem.  We don’t want to get involved.  We blatantly ignore cries for help and essentially say “fix it yourself.” Or we turn our back.

Then we want to cry at funerals when the substance wins.  Parents bury their children and live a life of regret because maybe they could have done more.  It’s not fair to blame the parents, because they lived every day in fear and dread of what this disease would do to their child. Addiction completely rewires the brain and the love of parents, family or others has no part in the runaway train.   It takes a community to stop the train.

When someone in the family is an addict, we keep it quiet.  We feel ashamed to be related to that person. 

Then, if an addict does get clean, they are asked to remain anonymous, possibly in several ways, adding a subliminal sense of shame for that new person trying to maintain recovery in a world that offers little support.

Well, let me say this:  I refuse to remain anonymous.

I will scream my name as a recovering addict and promise to any and every person who finds themselves in the darkness of addiction that there very much is a light of hope in this lifetime. 

Don’t search in secret.  Let it be known that you need help and understanding.

My encouragement to those of you who are not caught in the grips of addiction is to reach out to someone, anyone you may believe to be struggling with this ugly disease.  Take time to research and learn how best to help that person. Then help them.  They are trapped in a hell that suffocates the life from their body. Let them know they are not alone.  Practice acceptance in every aspect of your life.  Not everyone is like you or how you think one should be…and that’s ok.  

Allow yourself to go on a permanent vacation from the stigma of the past.  Swim in the seas of compassion.  Walk along the beaches of grace. And do not allow the sands of love dissolve beneath your feet.  Always smile as bright as the sunrise to those stuck in the darkness. 

Continue to let grace set the pace in every aspect of your life.

#letgracesetthepace