Tag Archives: solution

You’re sick? Here, Prison Should Help

behind bars

My friend’s little brother is struggling with opiate addiction. Actually, he’s not little anymore; he’s 22 years old and has a good 5” on me.  Regardless, I’ve known him since he’s had chubby cheeks and temper tantrums; therefore I reserve the right to forever see him as a little brother.

The last time I saw “little brother,” was about a month ago; he was strung out and had the glazed over hollowness in his eyes that we all know.  My heart hurt for my friend and her family and for little brother’s future or lack there of.  I think the most frustrating part about being in this program is “getting it,” and seeing someone else missing “it.”

After seeing him that day I went home and expressed my troubled thoughts and feelings of helplessness to someone who was familiar with the situation.

“What happened?”  My confidant asked with concernment, referring to little brother’s reality, “he was such a good kid.”

He was such a good kid.  This notion makes me want to scream and yell and throw big books around, because the professed solicitude is misplaced.  The tragedy is not that he was such a good kid, it’s that he IS such a good kid, but the need for drugs has taken over his want to live.  I feel like when many people witness the disease taking over, they preemptively decide it’s the end.

There seems to be an understanding among those who don’t understand that once a fuck-up, always a fuck up, and you chose to be a fuck up.  You got an addiction, you fucked up.  What these people don’t see is that the “fuck up” is still a good person; the “good kid” is still inside, and what the kid needs is help, not judgment from society with an arms up, “see ya.”

When I voiced my despair over little brother, it didn’t matter to my confidant that he has a kind smile and a genuine laugh with a big heart.  To someone who doesn’t understand, those characteristics are engulfed by shameful addiction that probably could have been controlled if they had tried a little harder.

I read the St. Francis prayer every morning when I get out of bed to counteract whatever selfish thoughts are already brewing. The portion of the prayer that asks  “I may not so much seek to be understood as to understand,” rings relevant in this situation, but despite St. Francis, I’m am still wanting to be understood as a representative of the fucked up population.  What I’ve written here is a result of over-sensitivity, justified anger, and a self-centered demand for the world to rethink their stigma against addicts and alcoholics. All the same, I believe these wishes are warranted.

Of the 2.3 million inmates in the US, more than half have a history of substance abuse and addiction, and a large percentage of those million landed themselves in prison because of desperate busted attempts to feed their habit.  The punishment of people already being punished by a disease is fueled by convictions that drug users and alcohol abusers are good people gone bad; they are undeniably lost causes.

It doesn’t take addiction for a human to lose his or her way; everyone gets lost sometimes.  But those who don’t lose themselves in a bottle or baggie have a better chance of betterment, and why shouldn’t we all?  Help is available but not behind bars. Little brother IS a good kid and not was. Anyone’s genuine smile can be restored, but not if people decide for the sick that it’s already the end.

Day 247

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Leap(s) of Faith

 

leap of faith

Day 224

“The opposite of fear is faith.”  

For me, hearing this for the first time felt like gaining access to a blueprint I had been missing my whole life.  Fear was the source of so much of my pain; fear of failing, fear of feeling feelings, fear of rejection, fear of finding out what I had feared all along, fear of people, fear of situations, fear of lack of connections.  Drinking subdued all those trepidations because the thoughts were drowned by liquor and blocked by the release of inauthentic serotonin.  Shit, whiskey was the most loyal friend I had.

Faith was just a word and a meaningless one at that.  If you had asked me 7 1/2 months ago to provide my version of a definition I probably would have recited parts of the LimpBizkit song.

Today faith is something I truly feel, (hand over heart), it’s how I know I’m on the right path and it’s what fills a room of strangers with hope.

Some days it is harder to find than others, and I know I can’t do it alone.  That’s why my fellows are my lifeline.  A woman spoke a few weeks ago on taking leaps of faith, we took a leap the moment we walked through the doors, because we didn’t know where we would land; we just hoped it would be better than where we had been.  In sharing her experience she said:

“The only thing I could admit was that my life was unmanageable.  The first step I got, the rest was impossible.  But my sponsor said she had faith for me.  She got me through when I didn’t know if I could.”

On days I want to pickup and breakdown, I remember this: that even if I don’t think I can make it, someone else knows I can.

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