Would I be viewed as a hypocrite, wanting so badly to stop this opiate epidemic that’s is killing us off, taking nearly an entire generation to their graves, yet I still use meth? Does that make me a hypocrite? I know I am allowed to feel however I feel and have the freedom to express it. But would my opinion be not only listened to, but really heard? Or will my voice echo through an empty auditorium with one guy who coughs at the awkward pauses and shifts uncomfortably in his seat?
Is it wrong for me as an addict in active addictionto hate one drug more than the next?
Meth and heroin leave mass destruction as they rip through lives like a hurricane colliding with a tornado. Meth also takes kids from parents and parents from kids… What we don’t often lose is our lives, at least in the physical sense.
We are emotionally void and mentally checked out, and when we are still there physically, we aren’t even really that. We become “a voice behind the door” be it out bedroom door or the bathroom door, our lives are spent in isolation. We have conversations with a closed door between us and the ones who really love us, depend on us, and need us, get left standing there desperately, wishing and begging for us to be in the same room with them, look them in the eyes, and hug them, just to love them.
The ones that stand there left a alone in the hallway are who we need and love and depend on the most, as well. Yet they are the ones our shame drives us away from.
When we have allowed ourselves to soak and marinate in this guilt we feel from doing things that do not align with our true self and true paths, that guilt stains your soul and becomes a jacket of shame we wear over our shoulders and that shame drives us farther into this lonely, sad, grey room and that becomes our existence, hiding our shame behind a closed door.
This in itself is kind of like death, only we hang around like this heavy ghost that is very real. Family jump every time the phone rings and their heart hits the bottom of their stomachs, which dissolves to relief when it’s not that phone call no one ever wants to get.
For most heroin addicts this is a phone call almost every parent or child will have to answer eventually. Meth kills us too, it’s just a much slower death, I suppose.
So knowing all of this, why can I be so passionate about stopping the deaths of thousands of our children that are 100% preventable, yet I am still killing myself slowly.. using a substance that makes me live the life of a dead person, just a ghost of who I am when living in alignment with my true self. Wandering dark, empty hallways at night and a closed door between myself and all that matters to me in the daylight.
Be that door literal one or a figurative one, it’s there and it looks over my shoulder, tall and impenetrable. 
There are days when I feel like these streets are all I deserve. That my choices have left me here, walking the streets, hood over my face so I can’t see who and a knife in my hand, prepared to use it but praying I won’t have to.
So am I hypocrite? I would say no, I’m a junkie that probably still has a candlelight flickering hope inside the spirit I once thought was completely broken.. it’s there somewhere.
And right now heroin is what makes me angry and sad inside, and soon enough I know that anger will spill over to hating meth and becoming a passion to stop that from infecting our future generations and keeping others from walking in these streets hiding in the shadows. Where you merely survive and never get to live.
I will work through my traumas and I will heal and that’s when this bandaid I use will become unnecessary for my survival and I can start to live.
Drunken Tornado 