The Label of a Junkie (Is Fucked)

Once an addict…always an addict? What does that even mean? Does that mean we can’t come back from our dark days? In the eyes of the law and the eyes of our healthcare providers, no – they have no mercy or forgiveness. We are turned into a number, a code, to be filed away with the other “lost causes” to be judged and denied instead of helped and encouraged. Well, this is fucked I do believe. Sometimes it seems the only hope I have to escape this label is to have a new identity, ditch everyone I know and ever have known, and move to another country. Not feasible options.

I got pulled over a few months ago in Clayton County, Ga. In the car were my fiance (now husband), myself, and our daughter who was four years old at the time. I suppose the healed and faded scars from a long-dealt with methamphetamine addiction was the prompt for the fuckery that we endured here. Granted my old Crown Vic (which I LOVED) and blue artsy hair (which I also LOVED) were the basis for their suspicions, perhaps the part of town we were heading for as well, (Riverdale, where my in-laws live). Well, to condense this, we were pulled out of the car, the car was turned upside down while we were sitting on the curb, we were patted down and questioned. Yes, our daughter was patted down as well. They told us what they had assumed is that Anthony was my dealer and we were going to score. The tattoo of his name on my back, or of our daughters name on his arm was not enough for them, nor was the picture of us together on my dash. They found a Tylenol in my cup holder with an antibiotic that I had failed to take at some point in time – took it back to their car, looked it up, and i swear it was a look of disappointment and aggravation after all of their efforts when we were doing nothing wrong. They instructed me to put Kyla back in the car seat, (turns out i found out when we got home they failed to buckle back into place), and told us to have a nice day.

This is one of the many incidences of things that I guess I should have known were going to happen. I guess I also should have known about being denied treatment from doctors, therapists, and employment. Apparently when you seek help and go to rehab, it leaves a bigger stain on your records than being arrested, which is FUCKED. I went for years with no consequence transporting drugs, doing drugs, getting jobs, losing jobs, going to doctors, etc, etc, and now that I am a contributing member of society, it is like the train has run out of tracks. Making it ever so much harder to continue. One might say this IS my consequence, the suffering I incur still, years after my habits have long been dealt with. And they might even be right. But I think it is all truly fucked.

Ill tell you this about the current state of affairs around where I live, it is a whole lot easier to be a criminal and a user than it is to do what you are supposed to do. The honest working individual is stomped at every turn, and struggle is synonymous with honesty.  In order to succeed it seems like you have to lie, steal, cheat, and deceive others, which are all things I try not to do anymore. I must say though, the pride and personal satisfaction I get out of the life I live now is unparalleled my any high I have ever had, and I would rather have this any day.

“Keep doing right and it will catch on”, someone told me once. I suppose I have just reached a difficult spot in life where I am having a hard time answering the questions and going through the motions. Some of this being prompted by my wedding in July…seeing some old friends who are more fucked than I ever realized. One of those people being my own brother. Life-long alcoholic and addict of everything, jealous, hateful, just over all not nice person who being negative energy around with him like a cloud of perfume. More on that in another post perhaps.

So, friends, and readers, what are your struggles in your recovery? Any words of advice for dealing with the judgement and negativity of others in this lifelong process? What the hell do I say to people when they say, “where did you get all those SCARS OMG?” besides, “not that its any of your fuckin’ business, but meth. Thank you.”? enlighten me, friends.

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