Drug Abuse/Addiction

This seems to be a hot topic lately by people who do not understand what they are talking about so I decided to share a little insight or my opinion on Addiction/Drug Abuse.

 

Addiction comes in all shapes and sizes, believe it or not, many people are addicted to things. Whether it be drugs, a type of food, or what we like to call “habits” as well. Some people can’t “live without” chocolate, or some people can’t live with out drinking a certain type of soda. Addiction is all around us, however we chose to dismiss and throw out drug-addiction because it is unhealthy (well newsflash, soda is unhealthy too). In this particular blog post I’m going to closely discuss drug-addiction and the affects it has on other people and the effects it has on yourself.

Many people think drug-addiction is just a weakness and that people who have chosen to do drugs are weak, degenerate, bigots, however that is not always the case. From my personal experience (speaking as someone who has never done any sorts of drugs aside from prescription[and not in an addictive way]) two people very close to me (as well as many people in my life) have been addicted to drugs, heavily. The two people close to me, who I will call Nancy and Bob in order keep their true identities a secret in case any one from my family or my friends decide to read this, have since quit but I would like to use them as an example.

Bob and Nancy both have done drugs for many years, ranging from Marijuana (practically harmless) to cocaine or heroin. Bob and Nancy have been clean for years.

Bob has no health risks to him from drug abuse. He has explained to me that he was very sanitary with his usage, not sharing needles or straws with other people. Etc. etc.

Nancy, has developed Hepatitis C. Which can be assumed it was from sharing drugs and needles (or sex, but regardless Nancy hung out with a lot of people that did drugs and had several partners)

Bob had had a rough past, and so has Nancy. Their friends did drugs and obviously, peer pressure has had a play in this; which in school; everyone teaches you about peer pressure but they never teach you about drug abuse, just to say no to drugs. But not all the time, “No” can be the case.

Sometimes you want to experiment, everybody wants to adventure out. Telling someone to not do something usually wants to make them do it more. Instead of pushing people with an addiction problem away, and being rude and nasty;  I believe if there were more programs to educate young adults and/or adults in general about the use of drugs and what it can do to you or a loved one would help little the risks of drug-abuse. There are very little classes that honestly  tell us what drugs can do to the body, and the risks people take when they inject anything in to their body. Many of us are ignorant  to something that surrounds us and develop our own thoughts and opinions of “drugs are bad so you’re bad” But not all addicts are bad.

Addicts are often ridiculed, belittled, demeaned, basically the definition of poorly-treated because of their actions. Actions do have consequences, but they are not subhuman because they had given in to peer pressure or have given in to temptation. I am not religious, but for those readers who are Christian, didn’t Adam give in to temptation? Weren’t there times you have given in to temptation? it may not be to something as life-threatening as drug abuse, but at least once in your life you give in to something tempting.

I also believe that there should be more educational classes of some kind of safe drug abuse to reduce the risks of overdoses. Bob was smart about his drug use, he took the proper precautions in order to not develop any sort of disease of any kind. Bob is clean, and so is his bill of health. Maybe instead of pushing people who abuse drugs away, we try to find a way to meet in the middle. To be safe about it.

I saw a video earlier of someone yelling at someone about doing drugs and basically demeaning them and telling them their problems are not valid, that their addiction is not valid. That they chose to be addicted. Nobody chooses to be addicted, you do however choose to do the drug. If you get addicted or not to it, is not in your jurisdiction but how your brain or body reacts to said substance. Your body or mind will develop a craving to it, and of course you’ll need to get your fix.
Everybody seems to expect people to quit substance abuse cold turkey, but  nobody takes into consideration that detoxing can make you sick, detoxing can kill you and you’re going to do whatever it is you can to make yourself not feel like you’re dying. Rehabilitation does not work for everyone because the proper actions are not being taken in centers.

Education and Knowledge is power.

We aren’t going to eradicate drug use in the world, its given, but we can at least be educated and at least educate other people about what drugs can do to you and your loved ones as well as providing information on how to safely use if people are going to.

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My Memorial Day.

TW for death mention, depression, vivid descriptions of the deceased. 

 

 

I believe I blogged about it before, my grandmother not being in good health. I have been gone off the internet (at least on my computer) for almost a week now, but to people who care enough to read my posts; She had passed away the 29th of this month.

 

I was getting ready for work, then I got a phone call… and usually my volume is never turned on; but today for some reason it was. I darted to my phone and I answered it (it was my father) I know sometimes my phone doesn’t really work like its supposed to, but I knew he was hesitating behind the other line and I could feel my heart sink and at the same time it felt like I was going to puke up my entire insides. Through sobbing, he told me “She passed away” and I felt my eyes tear up, but I didn’t cry; at least I didn’t let him hear me.
My husband was in the shower, and could hear bits and piece of my conversation as I was trying to keep myself calm and keep my dad calm while also feeling guilty because I wasn’t crying…I kept telling my dad “It’ll be okay, I’m going to come get you.” and things along the lines of that. I remember saying “I’m really sad, and I want to cry, but me crying and being a mess isn’t going to solve or help anything” and then I told him again, I’m on my way to get him and we both exchanged I love you’s and hung up.
Swallowing all of my feelings, my husband had finally got out of the shower and I  just started at him and told him the news of what my father had told me. He looked at me; scared, and sad, he didn’t know my grandmother that well or had a connection with her really at all but he knew how much she meant to me and how much I was hurting on the inside.  He got dressed and kept giving me this look as I started to get ready to go pick up my father.

I wasn’t smiling, I wasn’t crying, I didn’t look like anything. My chest hurt so much, my throat felt like a potato was in it, but I had to be strong for my dad.

I’m a strong believer in paganism, so I think I was projecting my sadness on to my husband in a way (I told him that when he said he felt sad) and then he would make small jokes going “stop doing your witch magic on me” and things along the lines of that.

We got to my dads house and he was in the middle of making phone calls, and I offered to help. He didn’t really cry or anything; he said he was fine for the time being, and that was really it for that much of it.

Then we drove to Gilchrist, the hospice place she was in in Towson. My heart sank when I seen the building, just like it did any other time because all I could picture was my grandmother in this place (not like it wasn’t a beautiful or nice place; it was honestly the best place for her considering the circumstances of her “stay”). I walked inside and we went down the elevator, you could see her room from the elevator. I approached the shut door with a sign flipped around that used to say “no smoking, oxygen in use” and I just felt my chest ache. I knew what it meant, I knew what I was going to walk in to.

My dad had said before he didn’t want to walk in there, he didn’t want to see her lifeless. So I offered to go in myself, for him. I went in first, and there she was…   I had barely walked in the door; it was terrifying. How the rooms are set up, or at least hers, you opened the door and the bathroom was there so you couldn’t see the full body/face yet until you walked passed the bathroom. The second I saw her I stopped dead in my tracks, about 5 feet away, and turned around and walked back out and told my dad he didn’t want to go in.
Of course, he asks “why?” and I tell him because she has absolutely no colour, so he goes in anyway and just starts bawling.

I got closer, and she just looked so… pale, lifeless, her mouth was wide open as if she was sleeping (she snored, and slept with her mouth open) and it just… she looked at peace. Her skin didn’t have wrinkles, but she had no colour. The cherry angiomas on her forehead were purple/dark instead of red. Her tongue was blue… she looked like a wax figure that had yet to have the finishing touches to it.

I just could tear up, I couldn’t cry. I didn’t cry.

We didn’t stay in the room that long, and my dad went back upstairs after he calmed down and we waited for the social worker so we could tell them the decision we made; since we had (literally, $0 actually) no money to afford a ceremony, we donated her body to science and to possibly help someone else out in need because we know thats what she would have wanted, and we  will receive the ashes in the mail.

My dad said he didn’t want to go back in the room before we left, but I wanted to and I did. I couldn’t help it, even if she was lifeless, I still wanted to see her again and it just felt unreal. Everything felt unreal. It still, feels unreal.

We got home, after we ate and hung out with each other, and I played the game with my husband to try to get my mind off of things while my dad listened to music. He started to play Delilah by Tom Jones while sitting next to me and singing (mumbling, because hes shy about singing) and I had told him if he felt like crying, this game can wait and he can cry on my shoulder and I’ll be there for him; and thats exactly what happened.

Eventually (at around like 2am) I went to bed, as well as my husband…. only to be woken up in an hour to be told my Uncle(her brother) had passed…. which was less than 15 hours apart from my Grandmother.

I was in shock, I didn’t know how to feel (I still didn’t cry), we were all in shock, my dad didn’t even cry until we got to the viewing. Not to mention…. my great Aunt, had yet to call us back so we could tell her that my Grandmother died. We eventually went back to sleep and woke up late in the afternoon and talked about what we were going to do, with telling my Aunt (we got the confirmation to let people know he had passed) My dad didn’t want to do it, so we gave someone else in the family her number to talk to her; but who does she call? Us.

My dad thought about ignoring the call, letting someone else handle it. But, this may have been our only opportunity…. I told him to put her on speaker so I could talk to her too. As soon as he said “mom” she started crying, then when he said there’s more, he told her that her brother had also passed and she screamed, it was the most heartbreaking thing I ever had to hear…..

I still didn’t cry.

A few days later, about 4 or 5, we had taken my dad home. I looked at the household that I, we, grew up in and it hit me. I didn’t want to go inside, I couldn’t…. but unfortunately I had to get something so I went in and I just felt so empty inside. I stared at the chair she used to sit in and the bed she used to lay in, and I just felt like a part of me was missing. He gave me her bible (she was Methodist) and her I.D to take with me and to hold on to then I got in the car, we said our I love you’s and goodbyes and we went on our way.

I finally cried.

I cried so hard, there is still an internal battle with me wanting to call her or go visit her. Part of my mind is telling me to call to check up on her, while the other part of me is fighting with the other part of my mind telling it “Hey, she’s gone…. you can’t do those things anymore”

The last thing she had ever said to me was “I love you” and its really shitty, because I told her “You’re going to be okay” and she nodded yes; I know she knew I was lying (she even told me right before she told me her last “I Love You” was “I’m Dying”) but I didn’t let her see me cry, and I kept saying I love you over and over again (and so did she)
With the last bit of energy she had, she just kept telling me she loved me.

I know its my own selfish reasoning, why I want her back. Why I want her back on this earth, why I want her to hold me and tell me she loves me again and again. I want to be able to pick up the phone and ask how her day was, even though I knew how it was going. I want to hear my dad complain about how she was getting on his nerves but he loved her so much. But I know she isn’t suffering anymore, and this is what she wanted. To be at peace, to not be in pain anymore. But I just cant help to be selfish.

Sad post.

I just needed somewhere to pour my thoughts and feelings because currently my husband is at work and I’m just sitting here in silence.

 

 

To inform complete strangers that enjoy reading my posts for whatever reason,
If you don’t want to read my life story you can skip to the point/next bold faced text. Though you wont understand to the full extent.
I was raised by my Grandmother, Uncle, and Father. I lived with them up until I was just barely 17 (I’ll save that story for another time.) and when my uncle passed away, my Grandmother’s health began declining; since a mother should NEVER know how it feels like to lose any of her children, especially her first born.

She had a 2 strokes about 8 years ago and never actually fully recovered; however her spirits and happiness and determination never left her and she wanted to come home and get better, though she never regained full movement in her right leg and needed assistance with moving/walking which is why my father takes care of her.

My grandmother isn’t a tiny woman, and my father has leg problems so he can’t pick her up and he relies on just helping her walk from her bed to various other places in this one room because my grandmother is a hard headed woman and can’t walk up and down steps, and, unfortunately, my father’s house requires steps into the kitchen, and steps to go outside/out the front door so she was limited to only one small room and she didn’t want to do really any physical therapy because she was always tired.

A little less than a month ago I got a text saying my grandmother couldn’t walk again and that if my father couldn’t get her to move out of her chair by the morning he was going to call the ambulance and take her to the hospital; which of course that happened and she had another stroke. So here we are, back at step one; but we aren’t allowed to pass go.

Her will to live just plummeted. In the hospital she said she was going to get better, that she wanted to get better but this time was different than the last time, this time it seemed like she gave up. She wouldn’t smile, she wouldn’t laugh. She just kept saying how she wants to go home.

Its so hard seeing someone who had so much motivation, so much determination, just stop. Its so hard and emotionally straining because its like watching someone who is as close to you as a mother just give up on life, but claiming that they don’t. It hurts so bad and I don’t know what to do. She says everyone hates her(when they don’t), and just keeps telling us how she wants to go home and I keep telling her shes not going to if she keeps refusing to eat or if she isn’t trying to get better and she just replies “I am going to go home”
I just want to cry for hours because I feel so helpless. I know its going to happen, and I just got off the phone with my father who I’ve only seen cry maybe 3 or 4 times? once when my Uncle died, once when my grandmother had the first stroke,  and maybe two more times since she had this stroke and he just knows her time is coming soon and death is something we don’t really talk about and our family just bottles up emotions and I don’t think I’m prepared to have this talk with him that he wants to have….