Answer Addiction

Tag: holidays

  • What Happened When I Spent Christmas Eve in a Basement with a Crazy Cat

    I didn’t exactly catch the holiday spirit, but I took a suggestion that kept me hanging on by my claws through the Next 12 Days of Christmas…

    It was Christmas Eve, 2013, and I was scooping poop from a litter box in my neighbors’ basement. Leticia and Dana had rescued a feral kitten whose new habitat extended from the hot water heater to the washer/dryer. Although it was icy outdoors and toasty within, this foster feline wasn’t buying into her rehabilitation. But I was. I was three months sober.

    Kitty was ambivalent towards humans. She darted about the boiler room, kicking up supermarket circulars that had been neatly layered for her comfort. As I shook Friskies into the bowl, she shouldered up to me, twitching her tail against my forearm, her throat vibrating under a flea collar. As I reached to pet her, she caught my wrist between her paws and bit down hard on the hand that fed her.

    I was tempted to punt the little ingrate into the sewer trap, but instead I dialed a sober friend. Darlyne listened as I droned on about what I was sure would be my worst holiday ever, the bluest Blue Christmas imaginable. After fourteen years of marriage, my husband and I had agreed to call it quits in September. Here we were now in December, Yuletide upon us, and that sparkling snow globe of a mental construct—the family Christmas—was shattering. There would be two trees this year instead of one, two piles of hastily-wrapped presents, and even two plates of sugar cookies, left for two Santas, because our younger son was only six, and very much still a believer.

    I never doubted my decision to divorce, but I had misgivings when it came to the kids. I feared the emotional fall-out from all those times when mom’s temper met dad’s radioactive passive-aggression. I saw an acid cloud of neuroses raining down upon my sons from their parents’ split, a psychic soaker that would take them years of therapy before they’d start to dry out.

    I watched two lines of red dots on my forearms swell and connect where the beast had scratched me. Then I lost it. I broke down bawling on the basement floor. After a while, Darlyne interrupted me. “Viv I get it. I do. it’s a rough time. A really rough time. And it’s good you’re letting it all out. But we’ve been on the phone thirty minutes now and I’m gonna pee my pants.”

    “Ok,” I said as I blew my nose into the deli section.

    “But listen,” Darlyne said before signing off, “I want you to do something.”

    Change or Die

    I had no idea what she was going to say, but I already knew I didn’t want to do it. The default of my defiant alcoholic mind—then and now, drinking or sober— is “NO.” But recovery, I have learned, is about change. And change often means saying “YES” instead of “NO.” It means being willing to take suggestions—often awkward, tedious or unsexy actions that force me to sit with feelings and stretch my tolerance for discomfort.

    “It’s just going to be so weird for the kids to wake up Christmas morning and not see two parents!” I wailed, ignoring my friend’s bladder. I wasn’t done catastrophizing.

    “Just listen,” Darlyne was louder now. “I want you to do something, and I promise it will help.”

    At that moment, I had a choice: take in what my friend was telling me, or tune her out. Sobriety is about making choices, and I’ve made some doozies in my fifty-five years of frolicking between a few zip codes in New York City, with or without a Bacardi and Coke in hand. And the takeaways from all my choices—good and bad—have always been there too. Only now I’m actually able to take these takeaways. Free of mind and mood-altering substances, I’m present for each new experience, and I can see my part in it. Sometimes I repeat the same mistakes, but these successive ones occur less often, and feel less calamitous. It’s getting better. And that feels good.

    But I wasn’t feeling good that morning. I was cold and panicky.

    “What is it?” I choked.

    “Make a list of ten things you’re grateful for,” said Darlyne, “and save it in your phone. Then read it back to yourself, over and over again, for the next two weeks. Got it?”

    “I got it,” I sniffled.

    “You’ll feel better. Trust me.” Then she hung up.

    I was skeptical, and I didn’t feel better yet, but I did it. I squatted on that cellar floor, my tailbone pressed against the cold cement, and I took that sober woman’s suggestion. It was one of the better moves I’ve ever made.

    …

    Ten things I’m grateful for:

    1. My sobriety
    2. My sons
    3. My family (most of the time)
    4. My soon-to-be ex (He’s a good dad after all.)
    5. All my friends (from 4th grade to the present)

    What else?

    1. My first cup of coffee in the morning
    2. A good mattress
    3. Food in my stomach
    4. The sun rising over the rooftops

    I don’t remember the tenth. So I’ll just add something now, something that could have been on that first list.

    1. Pannetone

    Yes, the fluffy bread, loaded with raisins, that you only see in supermarkets at the holidays. To go with number 6. For me, the small things on my list have come to matter too. Even when the big ticket items are absent—like the job with benefits, or the boyfriend—the small, quiet things are always there, if I look for them. Like the neighbor with the beehive in his backyard, who feeds my Poohish habit with a steady supply of golden honey nine months of the year out of twelve.

    There! I read the list in my cupped palm. Then I reread it. Well, I wasn’t jolly yet, but I was functional. Mrs. Santa Clause dried her tears in an ad for holiday ham, then stood up and got on with the business of making magic for her kids that Christmas Eve. And she muttered that merry mantra over and over for the next twelve days and arrived at the new year, clean, sober, and—to her surprise—not absolutely miserable for every second of it.

    Flash forward to 2020, amicably-divorced and effectively co-parenting, I feel far-removed from that bleak midwinter morning spent bawling in a basement with a bipolar cat. I still have days where I forget that I’m wildly blessed, days where I watch my teen on the tennis court and forget the shattered ankle, the surgery, the cast, and the flawless recovery. I still have sour days where I see only another wet towel on the bathroom floor and pistachio shells on the pillow case.

    But on these days, thankfully, I remember what will slap me back into gratitude. I know that if I just jot ten things I’ve got going for me, it’ll make me feel better. I also know that when I neglect to count my blessings, I’m more likely to cry over every glass of spilt milk or busted garbage bag.

    When my twelve-year-old quips: “Quit trying to make your own disgusting chicken fingers and just take me to McDonald’s,” I don’t collapse in tears on the linoleum anymore; instead, I rattle off my list. My sobriety is always on top, and my sons still take the number two spot (except today, the younger slides down to number eight). My good health follows, then my elderly parents and my brother, who mows their lawn and drives them to doctors’ appointments. I acknowledge my good neighbors, my shrink, my deep pre-war apartment bathtub, fat dogs with short legs, and my self-respect.

    Then I turn to Liam and say: “Put on your hoodie, we’re going to McDonald’s.”

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • 5 Ways To Practice Compassion Among Your Family and Friends Through the Holidays

    5 Ways To Practice Compassion Among Your Family and Friends Through the Holidays

    No matter how you give and give back this holiday season and beyond, stay mindful about those in need.

    The holidays are a time when families come together to celebrate the season of gratitude and while the season is often marked by abundance, it can also be a time of great need.

    It can be easy to assume that everyone is doing well during the holidays, but even in seemingly stable families, there exist struggling college students, extended family who may be going to the food bank for the first time, moms who are secretly going through a divorce and wondering how to get by during the coming year, and family members facing a diagnosis that will require hospitalization.

    Why not use this time together to look for and help your friends and family that could use an extra hand this holiday season?

    Here are five ways to weave compassion – for yourself and others – into the coming holidays.

    1. Check In: Don’t Assume It’s All Okay

    Do you have a friend or family member that you think might be going through something? Check in and ask. Offer to take them out to lunch, send them a card or a text. Make a phone call. You don’t have to pry into their life but be there and listen to what they have to say. The holidays can trigger all kinds of feelings and are a good time to touch base, especially amid the flurry of holiday cards and photos.

    2. Listen to Understand

    There’s a difference between “listen to talk” and “listen to understand.” Listening to understand means you’re actively listening to the other person. You’re not in the “problem solving mindset,” you’re in the “exploration” mindset. Your friend may simply need to talk. Or they might need advice or a second opinion. Whatever it is, you won’t know unless you practice listening to understand. Creating space for those story-telling family members is a great place to start – studies show that recounting stories improves self-esteem in seniors.

    3. Care for Yourself

    Maybe you’re the one who is always there for everyone and always showing up when people need it most, and maybe this year, you’re going through struggles of your own. Tell someone you need to talk and make the time to do it, whether it’s a friend, a family member, a therapist, or counselor. Your needs are valid and important and your family and friends will respect that you know how to ask for and get the help you need to live your best life. Make it the gift you give yourself this year.

    4. Find Causes That Speak To You

    Find nonprofits and causes that you can make an ongoing part of your life. Why? Because when a cause speaks to you, you’re more likely to look for creative ways to help it. When you’re actively involved with a cause you believe in, you’re more likely to talk about it with your friends and encourage them to give back in ways that are meaningful in their lives. Giving Tuesday is just one day, but a great day to start.

    5. Get Organized

    When you know someone who is going through a hardship, like a loved one in the hospital, the birth of a new baby, a sick child, or the death of a loved one, organize your friends and family to help them. This can be done with online tools like Give InKind that help you coordinate financial contributions, calendar tasks, chores, and more on a dedicated page that helps the person in need get exactly what they need. Time spent with family is a great time to pull together and make a plan for supporting someone you love.

    No matter how you give and give back this holiday season and beyond, stay mindful about those in need. May we all be lucky enough to not need, but when we do, may we all have the support of our loved ones and community to help us through.

    Laura Malcolm is the CEO and Founder of the social support network, Give InKind.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • 7 Reasons Not to Bring Your 12-Step Program Home for the Holidays

    7 Reasons Not to Bring Your 12-Step Program Home for the Holidays

    Shouldn’t you help your sister address her character defects? Isn’t it time to take your father’s inventory? And wouldn’t it be perfect to make amends to your mom at a family dinner?

    Regardless of whether you are newly sober or have many years of sustainable sobriety under your belt in 12-step programs, what is true for practically everyone else in the world is true for you as well: Your family of origin holds the keys to your most primal emotional and behavioral triggers. Nothing compares to that cutting look from your sister or that sarcastic undertone in your father’s voice. Although they love us– or maybe because they love us–our families can get under our skin and into our bones like no one else.

    Since the prospect of being with family holds that much tension, many people in 12-step programs decide it makes sense to work the steps with their family members over the holidays. After all, only the first step is about drugs and alcohol. The other 11 are about changing behavioral patterns and rehabbing the disease of perception. If we apply them wisely and gently to the members of our family of origin, we think, we will be able to help them. Shouldn’t your sister be shown how character defects are defining her life? Isn’t it time to take your father’s inventory? And, given the importance of the holidays, wouldn’t it be perfect to make amends to your mom at a family gathering?

    Actually, it’s not such a good idea. Forcing stepwork on your family goes against the spiritual nature of the program by crossing boundaries at the wrong time and putting your own wants and needs ahead of everyone else’s. But instead of just looking at the big picture, let’s delve into seven specific reasons why it’s not the best plan to do your stepwork with your family over the holidays.

    1. Your Family Is Not Part of Your Program

    Yes, many people in 12-step programs have family members who are also in 12-step programs, but that’s beside the point. If you want to discuss step work with a family member who’s in the program, then either go to a meeting or do so privately. Your family as a unit is not in a program. More importantly, most family members know very little about 12-step programs. They don’t want to do “work”—emotional or otherwise– during the holidays, they simply want to enjoy the holiday season.

    Ultimately, this is a question of proper boundaries. If you are a newly sober person, maintaining boundaries might not be your strong suit. When I was newly sober, I took everything personally. I didn’t understand the difference between what was about me and what was not about me. In truth, I was inclined to think everything was about me and I had to prove how well I was working the steps to everyone; I often felt entitled and superior. I had to be reminded by my sponsor that working steps should be kept within the context of my 12-step program.

    2. A Program of Attraction and Not Promotion

    In many families over the holiday season, there is that one family member who drinks too much and doesn’t know when to stop. Often, we were that family member until we embraced the path of sobriety. When we return to our families of origin over the holidays, we do not have to point out that Uncle Jack is drinking too much. We don’t need to preach the program to family members because that is not our role.

    Tradition 11 of Alcoholics Anonymous reads: “Our public relations policy is based on attraction rather than promotion; we need always maintain personal anonymity at the level of press, radio, and films.” The principle of attraction rather than promotion can be applied to the individual, as well. It is not my job to promote recovery and tell other people that they need to get sober. Instead, by being of service to my family over the holidays, I can attract others just by being a better person. It’s really not that hard. Take the family dog for a walk, pick up the milk from the corner grocery store, or play with your nieces and nephews so your sister and brother-in-law can have a break. See how they respond, you might be surprised.

    3. You Are Not Your Family’s New Guru

    When a newly-sober person finds a higher power that works for them and embraces a spiritual path, it can be a wonder to behold the light in their eyes. However, like any other powerful experience in this world, finding faith when you’re newly sober can be spiritually intoxicating. When combined with meditation and prayer, it can become a profound experience that you want to share with your family.

    It’s not your role over the holidays to become your family’s new guru and point out their lack of a higher power. When your father gets upset when carving the turkey, try not to tell him to let it go and turn his anger over to a higher power. Sometimes the best way to be spiritual is to be quiet and modest. Be spiritual by doing the dishes and carrying the grocery bags. Such an approach works much better than trying to be the head cheerleader for your totally amazing higher power.

    4. It’s Not Your Job to Take Your Family’s Inventory

    If you have successfully completed Steps 4 and 5 in a 12-step program, then you have first “Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.” Next, you “Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.” Congratulations! It takes courage to work these steps and you’re making good progress. However, completing these steps does not mean that you now must help your family by taking their inventories. It’s not kind and loving to point out others’ resentments or “issues.”

    Even if your family member is in the program, you are not their sponsor. And even if you were their sponsor, you wouldn’t be pointing out their resentments, they would be doing the inventory work themselves. Family gatherings over the holidays should be about fun and relaxation. Don’t spoil the vacation by pointing out lingering resentments.

    5. Holidays Are Not About Highlighting Character Defects

    If you have completed Step 6 and 7 in a 12-step program, then first you “Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.” Next, you “Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.” Again, just because you faced this difficult process yourself does not mean you have the right to point out character defects in other people. This kind of criticism of family members, even under the guise of help, is a recipe for disaster. It’s not your job to shine a light on negative traits. Your family members may be far from grateful.

    6. Amends Are Not About What You Want

    The holidays are not all about you, and family gatherings during this season are not the right time for you to make dramatic amends to family members. First, the process of making amends should not be selfish; while you will get relief from making them and may be eager to finish this step, the actual amends are not about you, they’re about the other person. Often, by trying to make amends for past wrongs during the holiday season, you are doing more harm than good. Reminders of your previous misdeeds may be the last thing your family wants to hear from you at this time.

    Amends should be private and on the other person’s timeline. You can bring up the idea of making amends to family members, but let them know that you want to do it at a time that makes sense for them. Amends are not about what you want, but rather about learning how to clean up your side of the street.

    7. How About Having a Little Fun?

    On page 132 of the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, Bill Wilson made it crystal clear when he wrote, “But we aren’t a glum lot.” The holidays are about having a little fun and enjoying yourself while being with loved ones. If you try to work your 12-step program with your family, you will not be adding to the good cheer.

    Why not be of service to the holiday season by adding smiles, laughter, and gratitude to your family gatherings? Doesn’t such a positive approach ultimately make a lot more sense? Make it your goal to enjoy this holiday season, and you will feel rejuvenated and ready to continue on your positive path of sobriety in the new year. Your family and your recovery will thank you.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • The Empty Chair Campaign Highlights Loss and Sorrow Caused by the Drug War

    The Empty Chair Campaign Highlights Loss and Sorrow Caused by the Drug War

    The families of people incarcerated, distanced, or deceased because of the drug war live year-round with the unique suffering of loving someone whose pain you do not have the power to heal. During the holidays, that loss rises to the surface.

    Whether you’re celebrating Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, New Year’s Day, or something else this winter, the one element that probably shapes your holiday celebrations most is family. For most of us, that’s joyous, stressful, lovely, and anxiety-inducing all rolled into one. For those of us whose extended family will be present, we might even dread the holidays a little bit, fearing the awkward antics of Uncle Joey or the grotesque way our cousin brags about her perfect life. But for families affected by the war on drugs, winter holiday festivities don’t get to be about celebrating your family or nitpicking your sister’s new boyfriend. Instead, they are shaped by grief and loss.

    If you read the news at all, or even just scroll Twitter every once in a while, you probably know that drug overdose deaths have skyrocketed. Approximately 175 people die by drug overdose every day. That’s 72,000 each year, and the majority of those deaths — almost 50,000 — involve some type of opioid. Alcohol deaths, which are counted separately, account for approximately 88,000 deaths each year, according to the Centers for Disease Control. So the impact of death due to substance use is huge, all on its own. But losing a loved one to a drug-related death is not the only way families are affected by drug use and the stigma that surrounds it.

    The Impact of the War on Drugs at the Holidays

    There are currently 200,000 people locked up in state prisons for drug crimes, and 82,000 convicted of drug crimes in federal detention facilities. These people are fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters, uncles, cousins, sons, daughters, and friends. Their loss is felt year-round by those who love them, but families affected by the drug war have an especially difficult time during the holidays. The pain of the season is why, each year since 2012, Moms United to End the War on Drugs runs their Empty Chair Campaign. It starts around Thanksgiving and extends through the December holidays. While families gather to celebrate love, unity, and forgiveness, the empty chair symbolizes those who cannot be present — either through death, incarceration, or the stigma that latches onto people who use drugs or struggle with addiction.

    “Part of the goal of the Empty Chair Campaign is to also destigmatize the loss of a loved one through overdose,” says Diane Goldstein, a retired police officer who now chairs the Law Enforcement Action Partnership, a group of criminal justice officials working toward system reform. Goldstein says she was inspired to work on criminal justice reform after watching her own brother struggle with substance use and mental health issues. Eventually, he died of a poly-substance overdose.

    “My mother was horribly embarrassed by my brother’s death and couldn’t talk about it,” Goldstein recalls. “I think you see a lot of families who that occurs with, so we are inclusive, not just of the victims of the drug war — which isn’t really a war on drugs, it’s a war on people — but to family members as well. It’s intended to reduce the stigma of the criminalization of drug use, support drug users, and help change the criminal justice system from criminalization to a public health approach.”

    The Empty Chair Honors an Absent Loved One

    The Empty Chair Campaign uses the symbol of the empty chair at the family table to stand in for the missing family member and highlight their absence. To participate, you can change your Facebook avatar to the empty chair logo, or you can post a photo of an empty chair at your table with a photo of your loved one and a label explaining why they’re missing: incarceration, accidental overdose, stigma, drug war violence.

    Gretchen Bergman, the executive director of Moms United to End the War on Drugs as well as its parent organization A New PATH, spent decades living with the overwhelming fear and anxiety unique to parents of children with drug addictions. That anxiety grew as she watched two sons sink into the world of destructive shame, stigma, and involvement with the criminal justice system which is now inextricably linked with addiction, thanks to the drug war.

    “My sons both tended to be leaders,” Bergman recalls, “My younger son was always a risk taker. He was the guy who jumped off the roof and dove into the swimming pool…My older son was very thoughtful, more cerebral.”

    Perhaps it was that cerebral nature which helped Bergman’s elder son, Elon, survive the prison system as he cycled through during his active addiction. He spent a combined eight years in prison, and three years on parole — and it all began when he was just 20, with a marijuana charge. Elon first acquired a taste for IV heroin behind bars, says Bergman, an addiction which would rule his 20s.

    “Today, because of our change of laws, he wouldn’t even be arrested at all,” Bergman notes of her son’s initial marijuana arrest — touching on a bitter truth that the lack of drug law uniformity has created across the United States. Whether or not a person becomes caught in the destructive and self-perpetuating criminal justice system depends largely on when and where they were arrested. Marijuana arrests are also disproportionately weighted against people of color, with the American Civil Liberties Union reporting that black people have historically been 3.73 times more likely to be arrested for marijuana than their white counterparts despite equal rates of use.

    Family Celebrations Marred by Grief

    For the Bergman family, the war on drugs became a constant, uninvited guest at their holiday celebrations. Year after year, Gretchen Bergman found herself faced with the decision: should she spend the holidays with her son in prison or with the rest of her family? Even when she decided to attend the big family dinner — knowing she’d spend the night nursing her broken heart as she thought of her son cold and alone in his prison cell — she didn’t always have her youngest son Aaron with her, either. Though Aaron never got caught up in the cycle of release and re-incarceration that seems to follow people with felony convictions, he used IV drugs for decades. The shame that often accompanies this type of drug use, which is so heavily stigmatized that even other drug users feel superior to people who use needles, led Aaron to stay on the streets and miss family functions.

    “We really thought we were going to lose him because his health was compromised, and he seemed so lost, and he became a multi-drug user,” Bergman recalls. “But I always believed he was still there.”

    Today, both of Bergman’s sons are in recovery. Aaron, the younger son, managers a sober living home owned by his older brother Elon.

    Julia Negron, who runs the Suncoast Harm Reduction Project in Florida, grew up around drugs. She ended up in the foster care because of her mother’s drug use, and eventually battled her own heroin addiction. She has never known a life not touched by drug and alcohol misuse. And, not surprisingly, she has lost a number of friends and family members to drug-related complications, including overdose. But the experience that haunts her most was the total helplessness she felt as the mother of a drug-addicted child being forced through the criminal justice system instead of guided toward drug treatment that could have truly helped him.

    “It’s just terrible,” she says about the holiday celebrations when her son was absent. “It’s not just that they’re not there, you feel they’re unjustly being held somewhere. You feel like it’s a hostage situation.” She recalls packing her family, including young grandchildren, into the car one Thanksgiving and driving them four hours across the California desert to get to the facility where her son was being held. “By the time we went through security and they had to strip search him and do all their stuff on that end,” she says, “they managed to use the entire time allotted to visiting…We never did see him.”

    Parents and families of people incarcerated, distanced, or deceased because of the drug war live year-round with the unique suffering of loving someone whose pain you do not have the power to heal. During the holidays, that loss rises to the surface, almost as tangible as the missing person. The Empty Chair Campaign does not seek to cure this sorrow, which won’t abate until the drug war is finally given the ceasefire we all need. Instead, it hopes to bring it to the surface, in order to raise awareness and honor those very real people who deserve their seat at the family table.

    “What kind of kills you is you know the person inside, you know who he is,” says Bergman, describing the experience of having a child who is incarcerated for having a substance use disorder. “Right at the time he needs treatment and healing, which would have involved introspection, he’s behind bars, where in order to survive you have to harden your heart. You watch him disappear into that shell that he needed to in order to survive in that cold, concrete, violent atmosphere. It’s terrible to watch.”

    Have you lost someone due to the drug war? Let us know in the comments.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • A Christmas Gift from the Dopeman

    A Christmas Gift from the Dopeman

    You know what sucks about being an addict? A ten mile walk in the freezing cold to get pills on Christmas morning because you have no other options.

    You know what sucks about telling your family you’re an addict right before the holidays? Everything.

    I come from a very large Puerto Rican family. So usually for the holidays, we pick a house and see how many people we can cram into it while we stuff our faces with some of the best cuisine known to man. There’s music of course, and lots of love and laughter.

    A few weeks before our annual Christmas party, I told my family I had been using drugs for a few years. My mom’s house was the lucky one picked to host the festivities that year and I was going to do my best to be a good little junkie and try not to ruin it like I had just ruined the last 10 years of my godforsaken life.

    In the days leading up to the party, I had successfully weaned off the crack and was only shooting up opioids. I didn’t want to be too fucked up once family started to arrive.

    You know what doesn’t suck about Christmas parties? All the purses, wallets, and car keys all over the house. I had only confessed to my mom and my brother about my substance abuse and I don’t think my mom had told anyone. I hadn’t yet graduated to fucking over every family member so the forecast to get over on a few aunts and cousins was looking really bright.

    But I had to be on my best behavior, so I put that thought out of my mind. Just for tonight, I will not steal from my family. I shot up the rest of my pills earlier that day and decided I would just drink all the holiday beverages my family would take part in. I can do that, right? A little controlled drinking? Sure I can.

    Keeping Up Appearances

    You know what’s worse than drinking with family members who know you’re a junkie? Not being able to drink the way you want to, like a drunk. It’s a special kind of hell. Even before they knew, get-togethers and dinners sucked. They could all have a sip here and there, maybe get a little buzzed. But me, I just want to finish everyone’s glasses. Can’t they see the alcohol stuck on that ice cube?

    Amateurs.

    I just want to feel good. I want to feel normal. Everyone is smiling and having a good time. I’m over here nursing this Bud Light about to freak the hell out. It’s amazing the torture we put ourselves through while trying to keep up with appearances. I’m talking way before we hit the fuck-it button and stop giving a damn about what they think. I was still trying to save face but oh god, the pain. The withdrawals from the opioids are sneaking up and my thought is: if I’m not going to get right the way I want, I can at least get shit-faced off of this free liquor being sipped on by my family.

    Fuck. There are too many people here and my brother is watching every move I make. I know he’s concerned. I can see my mom texting my brother to check up on me and it’s pissing me off. I go out front to have a smoke and bring two beers with me. I can kill these quickly and ditch the bottles before anyone comes to join me. That way they don’t ask me if I’ve had too many.

    This party sucks. I want to get high.

    I text the closest dealer to me, a guy who lives about four miles away. I ask him if he’s got any pills on him. It’s about 9:30 p.m. when I get a text back. He tells me he’s good and that this pill is on the house because it’s Christmas Eve. 

    How nice, my dealer is giving me a free pill for Christmas. What a guy! The only problem is, he’s not delivering. It’s Christmas Eve and he’s spending it with his family. What a devoted baby daddy.

    Now I gotta figure out a way to get to him. My car was repossessed when I was in jail back in November and I’m sure as hell not asking a family member to go on a drug run with me.

    It’s 9:45 and 50 degrees out, that’s not too bad. What a beautiful night to take a stroll. I mean, the temperature is dropping quickly but fuck it, let’s just walk out of this party with everybody you know and go for a quick little four-mile stroll. Who’s gonna notice?

    Scoring Dope on Christmas Eve

    I grab my hoodie and hit the block.

    I scroll to a playlist filled with the most gangster, hood, female-degrading, drug-referencing music I can find. It’s funny how music can move an individual. It’s interesting to track the music we listen to when we get sober and how it changes when we morally begin to transform. Music is powerful. I’m a firm believer of the saying “garbage in, garbage out” and sometimes when someone shares their music with me in recovery, it reminds me of using or brings me to a mindset of just wanting to do hoodrat shit. It’s not healthy.

    And what the fuck is up with everyone in early sobriety listening to Kevin Gates and these other mumble rappers?! But I digress.

    I find the playlist I want to walk to and get to steppin’. I make it about two miles down the road before I start trying to flag down cars. The clock is ticking and I’m afraid my dealer is going to be asleep by the time I get there.

    Have you ever tried to wake up a drug dealer in the middle of the night to score? It’s not a pleasant experience.

    It’s getting really cold out. I should’ve worn pants. Dumbass.

    Hey! I see a car slowing down. A half hour of waving my thumb out is finally paying off. I’m going to get a ride to my dealer’s house!

    As the car gets closer, I realize it’s my brother. Fuck. He pulls up next to me and very wearily and with a tone of disappointment asks: “What are you doing, man?” I tell him I needed some fresh air and I was just going for a quick stroll. I know he doesn’t buy my response but he tells me to get in. We drive back home.

    Damn. Two more miles, that was it. Just two more miles and I would’ve had my drugs.

    I am pissed.

    We get back to the house and the party has died down. Most of the family has left, the food has been put away, and the music has been turned down. I call my dealer to see if he’s still up. He tells me he’s about to go to bed but that he’ll leave the pill underneath the only green coffee cup in his cupboard. He tells me to call his baby momma when I get there and she’ll let me in. I tell him that I’ll probably be on foot so it’ll be an hour or two. It’s not a problem.

    Okay, so all I have to do is wait for my brother to leave, which shouldn’t be long. My mom is already in the shower, that means she’ll be in bed in fifteen minutes. Alright, I got this.

    Tomorrow we have to be up early to drive to my aunt’s house for breakfast and exchanging gifts with the rest of the family. It’s tradition. No worries. As long as I have my dope, I’m good.

    A half hour goes by and it’s time to hit the block again. My mom is sleeping and my brother is gone.

    I’m walking again and it’s cold. My dumbass didn’t think to throw pants on because I was too concerned about leaving as soon as I could.

    The whole time I’m walking to his house, I’m thinking about how utterly powerless I am. It’s Christmas fucking Eve and I’m walking a total of now six miles to acquire one fucking Dilaudid. One. I am a hopeless piece of shit that cannot go a few hours without a fix.

    It’s two in the morning when I get to his house and she’s not answering. I call her ten more times, still no answer. I start to blow his phone up, nothing.

    I’ll be damned. I am not leaving this house until I get my drugs. It’s Christmas, damn it.

    I start knocking on the front door which is a big no-no with this guy but I really need this pill. No answer. I walk to the end of his driveway and light a cigarette. I’ll smoke the whole thing, and try calling again. If no one picks up, I’ll try knocking one more time and if that doesn’t work, I’ll just call my mom and make up some sob story for her to come pick me up. No big deal, right?

    I take two long drags from the cigarette, throw it out, turn around, and begin banging on the door.

    A Gun to the Head

    His half-asleep girlfriend opens the door and points a gun to my head. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

    Without flinching I tell her my name, tell her about the arrangement with her man and walk right past her and the pistol and straight into the kitchen. I open up the cupboard and look for the green coffee cup. Found it! I lift it up and can’t believe my eyes.

    Either my dealer is super generous or he royally fucked up. There’s a bag with nine pills in it. I grab the bag and walk out the door. I turn around and tell his girlfriend that I’ll be by in the morning with the money.

    I’m sure he’s gonna freak the hell out when she wakes him up and tells him I was in his house at two in the morning and took the whole bag. He knows where I live and he has a bad temper. I used to ride around with him to help “collect” his debts and needless to say, you don’t want to be in debt to this guy.

    I begin to run as fast as I can. If I can at least get off his street, I know I’m good. It’s too late for him to do anything this early in the morning.

    Six miles, 40 degree weather, two in the morning on Christmas Day, and now I have to walk four more miles to get back to the house and get right.

    You know what sucks about being an addict? A ten mile walk in the freezing cold to get pills on Christmas morning because you have no other options.

    When I finally got home, I couldn’t feel my face and my legs literally felt like Jello. My mom was awake and freaking out because she didn’t know where I was. I told her I was just walking around the neighborhood smoking and that it wasn’t a big deal.

    I couldn’t even enjoy shooting up the pill because my body was so sore. I just fell asleep.

    But at least I had more dope when I woke up to take part in all the Christmas festivities the next day. I felt like such a loser being with my family that Christmas. I spent the whole day in and out of the bathroom, getting right every 45 minutes.

    A New Tradition

    I love being able to look back on that Christmas and know that I don’t have to live like that anymore. The best gift I can give my family today is to show up this year to their party completely present and sober. It’s what I did last year, it’s what I plan on doing this year. No one is hiding their purse or wondering where I am going when I step out to smoke. I’m just a son and a brother enjoying his family. I look forward to Christmas parties now. Dread and anxiety has turned into excitement and joy and gratitude.

    If nobody told you today that they love you, fuck it, there’s always tomorrow.

    View the original article at thefix.com