When it's gone

I have a habit of getting really great ideas for musings about 30 minutes before I am going to be asleep. This used to be fueled by mainly alcohol and a little bit of sleep deprivation, and before 5 years ago it was fueled by whatever substance I had been able to get my nose into that day. I was mildly amused to find out that my wandering thoughts were a bigger part of me than the substances were, and if I were to look back at my childhood, I would have easily seen that I've been thinking about something or talking about something ever since I realized I had that ability. Stories, plans, hopes..... Mostly stories, I guess. Never anything that could be put into a book, but I have always had a bit of an imagination, even if there was no way to pull it together into a cohesive time line..... I don't have that ability. My brain has always been a bit scrambled, and anyone who has spent any time around me could tell you, if they've talked with me for 10 minutes, 9 and a half of those minutes were me talking about about 72 different random things to get to the point of what I had for dinner last night.

So in keeping with tradition, I say all of that to say this: I wrote a very long post early this morning with the intention to finish it up after a nap and reflection, only to find that it had been deleted somehow between 2am and 12pm. And there was some pretty good stuff in there, but I CAN'T write about something if I'm not FEELING it, so I can't just try to do it over. So now we get to see where my random mind takes this.

I think the main thing I didn't touch on is WHY I feel like I need to write something. I feel like maybe people think I'm obsessing over things, but this is the way I have found that I best process things.

I found out on Friday, October 12th, that a friend of mine had overdosed and passed away.
How can I describe him...... Gorgeous. That's honestly the first thing I noticed about him when I first met him. He was younger than me, I wasn't at all interested in him, but he was just a great looking guy. Long shaggy blond hair, blue eyes, an ever present smile, he just seemed to glow. He was the "cool kid" that didn't know how cool he was, he was the kid who was friends with everyone, he was just fun. Goofy, didn't take himself too seriously, and once he was your friend, you became an instant family member.

I was in a long term relationship with a person who was not right for me, and I was the only one who didn't seem to realize how bad the relationship really was. I remember talking to my friend about things going on in my relationship, I can't remember exactly what was going on, but I do remember him telling me I needed to get out, that I deserved better, and I could tell it wasn't empty words. And he continually checked on me, asked what he could do to help, and just.... He cared, genuinely cared about my well being.

We all smoked pot, it's just what we did. I smoked the cheap stuff, he smoked the stuff that has fancy names, a blue or purple hue, and glitters in the sunlight..... He was at a different level with that than I was.

All the while, I had recently started my 'secret' addiction. I was a functioning opiate addict for several years, I held a long term job, I don't think that most people were aware that I was using as much as I was, I didn't flaunt it, I was very closeted in my addiction. I had no idea if my friend was using while we were hanging out, I know he was partying on the weekends but he was a 20 year old kid, it's what we do at that age, right? I think it must have been amping up at that point, but I was too concerned about me and what I wanted to be worried about anything or anyone else.... Addiction is selfish, in a word.

I knew I hadn't heard from him in a few months, I had quit my job and moved to a different city and was actively trying to get clean, so I wasn't keeping up with anyone, including him. I would never lie and say we were super close, or best friends, or anything like that. We were work friends, and we kept in touch from time to time, but not anything more than that.

And then I saw a post on Facebook, I think his mom had written it, that he was in rehab in California, that he didn't have the ability to contact people, and she just wanted to let the world know where he was.

And then it was a roller coaster.... He'd be in rehab, then do really well, then he'd miss his family and come home, and he'd be okay for a few days or weeks, and then he'd be using again. I told him to get out of the area, that I knew he wanted to be close to his family, but that he couldn't be that close to his addiction without it taking control.

I don't know how many times I apologized for overstepping a boundary. I didn't know what he was going through. I didn't know how loud his demons were. I tried to let him know that I was there if he needed to talk, but I realized pretty quickly that it wasn't safe for my sobriety to do anything more, I could see myself going to try to help him and then ending up relapsing, and that's not a chance I could take...

So I stood back and prayed that the train wouldn't wreck. And it didn't, for a long time. And it all started getting better. And then I made my post about my 5 years clean, and when I saw his name under the "liked by" button, I thought okay, he is going to be okay, he knows lots of people who have similar stories, he's got to be on the other side of this, he's got to be getting better. Good. And then less than 2 days later he was gone.

Gone. That beautiful, sweet, funny, loving, caring, goofy, friendly kid, he is not here anymore.

Infuriated. I don't remember the last time I was this mad. I don't know why that was the first emotion that hit, but it was, and it's lingering. He could have been SO MUCH, he had fought SO HARD, he was just a GOOD person..... But when you are an addict, when you are using, those things don't matter. What matters is that next hit, that next rush, that high that you are chasing, that you WILL be chasing the rest of your life.

People who don't know him will hear that he overdosed and all they can see is the addict. Just another life lost to the opiate epidemic taking over our nation. Just another sad story.

But I think about his mom, a lot. Both of his parents did, as far as I know, all the right things. Rehab. Tough love. No enabling. Boundaries. And it wasn't enough this time. And the consequence is something I can't think about without bursting into tears.

I think about the future he had, with a good paying job, the world at his feet, and yes, the daily struggle he would have to stay clean. But I think he could have done it.

He didn't. He lost the battle, whether he wanted to or not.... Someone asked me if I thought it was suicide. I wasn't there. But I can say this:
Every time I put the needle in my arm, I knew I might not come out alive. Every time, that was in the back of my mind. But I wanted, needed the high, so I didn't care about the consequences, because I was going to be high, and that's what mattered.

And then it's left to those who remain. What do I do, what is the next step? And what came into my mind IMMEDIATELY after I found out that he had passed? I should use. I don't want to feel this right now. I want to disappear into the fog.

Five years after getting clean, a year and 4 months after getting sober, and it sends me right back to that place.

If you don't know anything about sobriety, I challenge you to accept this as truth: This. Is. A. Fight. This is something that can't just be glazed over. This is something that affects every aspect of an addict's life, for the rest of their lives. This isn't something I get to forget about. This is something that takes vigilance, brutal honesty, accountability, humility, self reflection, and so much more that I can't even think of right now. This is really hard. And when we lose a buddy, it feels like we've somehow lost part of that sobriety, and we didn't even have any control over it.

I'm going to write more later but right now I'm going to take a break.

Love.