Sometimes an acquaintance I call “Pain” comes knocking and The Serenity Prayer is all I’ve got to answer it with. Pain can visit for a moment or it can stay for years. This is one of those times. There is a person I love very much who’s chosen a life of drugs. If you’re fortunate enough to not know anyone who’s destroyed their life in this way, then this blog may not speak to you.
If you do know the living hell for the friends and family of a person who has chosen this path, then please bare with me while I do an open share.
I do not know what to do with this pain today. It’s nearly unmanageable. It seems like an oxymoron to say I’m feeling completely numb, but that’s how it is.
I’m not sure why I’m writing. Maybe because Pain is silently screaming out of my pores, making my eyes leak tears, it’s so hard to breathe and my heart feels twice as heavy as it physically is.
I can not choose another person’s actions. I can offer love, drive them to meetings and church; believe them over and over when they tell me they’re sober. Never mind that the words sound like the practiced speech of a parrot; their hollow face and stranger’s eyes tell me I don’t have a clue that I no longer know this person.
I naively thought in the past that because I had issues with eating and excess weight, I could somehow understand their plight. No, I do not. Food never cost me my family, multiple jobs, a place to live, trips to jail and the ER. Food didn’t turn me into a liar. Well, maybe I shouldn’t be so quick on that one. The last words weren’t a judgement on someone. They’re a: “I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU DO WHAT YOU DO.”
This person is in intensive care as I write this. The memories of the person I used to hang out with and swore I loved unconditionally collide with the zombie who’s taken over my loved one.
I don’t know what to do. I reach for my serenity coin and repeat:
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.