A close friend of mine in the program relapsed on my DOC. Not just a slight relapse, but a full, f-ing hospitalized/say-goodbye-to-your-friend overdose. Thankfully it didn't end in death, but what a way to cycle through an enormous range of emotions in 24 hours -- disbelief, shock, terror, grief, fear, fear, fear, worry, hope, relief, confusion, anger. Now I understand why the left behinds of addiction and suicide ask, "How could you do this to us? Wasn't my devotion enough? Why? Why? Why?" Here's the answer: "Because I'm an addict." Addicts don't take drugs, drink or O.D. to hurt others or spite the people in their life; they do it because it's their job when the Beast is running the show.
I feel a bit like a patsy. I'm angry that somebody who was advising me on my program was using while I was struggling with life. It hurts to be lied to. A part of me wanted the tables to be turned, for me to be in a bed pumped full of fentanyl and propofol and let somebody else do the worrying. Now I know what it feels like to be on both ends of the disease. Either way, it really sucks. Damn.
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so sorry. this type of shit is always a shock to the system. but don't lose your faith or trust in others. just remember that person is sick. love and tolerance is our code. ugh. hate that.
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