I just want to start out this morning by letting you all know that in the mornings I want to drop kick my buildings elevator. I get in, alone, and intend for the door to be shut before the next person walking in can get to the elevator as to avoid that awkward morning conversation where you have to act like you care the lady from the 3 rd floor is ready for Friday. We’re all ready for Friday, she’s not special. Well if I get stuck in the elevator to the right you have to hit your floor button TWICE to make the doors shut. That is the most annoying thing EVER. I’m sitting there like banging the button in with my thumb trying not to look like a sociopath and the elevator is taking its sweet sweet time shutting the door to keep the crazies out. As soon as the door shuts I want to kick it, over and over again. I want to scream at it for frustrating me before 8am and I want it to break. I hate the elevator.
Now, on to today’s topic. I know a majority of you know what I’m talking about when I say Saturday. If you don’t, just take a gander at my facebook on that day. You will learn 3 things, 1.) I took maternity pictures that day 2.) Amy Winehouse died and 3.) One of my friends is a giant Cunt….woah woah wait! Why is that on my wall?! Oh there is a good reason and for the record it’s not because said friend is actually a cunt, because she’s not. If you check out my status that I swear to you simply states “… apparently Amy Winehouse died. Huh” you may note the 89 comments that are on it. What you won’t see are the 3 phone calls and numerous text messages I got whilst taking pictures asking me whether or not I had seen my Facebook page lately. It was that bad. Now maybe these 89 comments were simple discussion on the “tragedy” or humorous comments about her hair…but they weren’t. They were pure insanity. Now you may think me getting mad and an elevator is crazy but this makes me look like the poster girl for mental stability. A woman we will refer to as Ralph* for the sake of privacy and possibly my safety went completely bat shit crazy on my friends. The comments start out with a she shouldn’t have said no no no to rehab comment which for the record I thought was hilarious and the comment following it was simply a female friend stating she hadn’t heard so it must not have been a big deal. I promise you, the girl who typed that totally had to have regretted it 10 minutes later. Now, there was absolutely nothing wrong with her statement, it was simple thoughtful and nowhere near offensive in any way to any sane person. Notice I say sane… well then out of nowhere she gets attacked by whom we can only assume is the craziest bitch in the world, Ralph*. We can all assume from the comments that Ralph* and Amy Winehouse are sisters because Ralph* is obviously devastated about her good friends passing and informs everyone how misunderstood Amy is and how she hopes they die and people disrespect them. Between the misspellings and crazy rants we learn that Ralph* is unstable, illiterate and possibly on some form of drugs. Luckily my wonderful friends all jump on the wagon, defending each other and reassuring Ralph* she is effing insane. Seriously if you didn’t read it I suggest it if you want to kill time, it is ridiculous. At some point she tells my Grandmother something way derogatory…my GRANDMA. She’s way off. If you get to the bottom of the comments you learn from me (after I finally was able to sit down and read it all) that she is in fact a drunk and blah blah blah so I just confirm what everyone else is thinking that the Bitch has problems. Lots and lots of problems. Well all that said I thought today was a good day to talk to you all about my cold, heartless views on drug abuse since I was late to the party Saturday, YAY!
Before I start I want you all to know something, this may be harsh and it may even offend you but I do not intend for it to and I swear I have a heart, it just is a bit wary of some subjects. If you know me you know that I have a pretty tough case of anxiety. Medical anxiety to be specific. I over read and over educate myself on different conditions and medications. This totally makes me handy when you need advice and aren’t near a computer but sometimes it’s really really hard for me to cope with. The most extreme medicine I take is Tylenol and every single time I take it I HAVE to read the dosing instructions even though I know without a doubt its 2 pills for anyone 12 and older. When I get a prescription for me or anyone else in my family, I check every pill to make sure it matches the description and then I even google it to make sure it’s accurate. There are worse disorders to have. I didn’t just develop this out of nowhere; I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. If I had a nickel for every time I worried my Mom would take medicine and not wake up the next morning I would have had enough money to pay for her funeral. Prescription pain pill addiction is so common it’s not even really worth a head turn anymore, you hear of someone dealing with it and it’s just like hearing someone has a toothache. It happens. It hits home to me. It’s not as glamorous as hardcore drug abuse and can go on for years and be hidden much easier. I see it constantly with people I’m close with. They think they’re hiding it or justify it by the fact that they have a prescription (which is not so hard to obtain from a script Dr.) and they seriously think they’re not doing anything wrong. They’re just making the pain go away. I can remember pleading with my Mom to switch to more natural pain regiments, acupuncture, anything. I even offered to pay for it. This was the week before I was in a hospital counseling room being asked what funeral home I wanted to use..like I brought pamphlets or something. My heart ached, I was the one who was planning a funeral and trying to support my Dad who was a complete wreck and worrying about my brother 200 miles away. I felt bad for my Mom, it wasn’t her time. I blindly assumed it was heart problems or some ailment that she was so often stricken with.
It was a fatal drug interaction. I remember the lady on the phone telling me pill names and I remember the anger I felt growing inside me as I asked her to spell each medication. There were 3. At that moment any sympathy I had for my Mom was gone. Any remorse I felt about having to cremate her even though she was very clear about not wanting to be cremated was completely out the window. If I could have driven to San Antonio and gotten her urn from my brother I would have buried it (which she also was clearly against). I was pissed. Suddenly the only person I felt bad for was my Brother and then myself. Every day we do things and every day those things will have consequences. If I speed because I’m running late and get a ticket, that is my fault. It’s not the cop’s fault I was running late, better luck next time. Sure I’m pissed but that’s life, we reap what we sew. My Mother knew she had a problem. Anyone who has to make calls to go pick up pills because they’re having withdraws has a problem. If you are not strong enough to be a normal human then shame on you. Shame on you for being so weak willed and causing pain to those who love you. Shame on you for knowing better but refusing to change. Shame on you for putting other people in such a painful situation. I understand that “addiction” is a disease, which by the way I think is total bullshit but I do understand where they are coming from scientifically. I honestly think that if someone cared enough they wouldn’t have put themselves in that situation. Millions of people everyday function normally in actual pain without dousing themselves in pills. It’s a crutch and I see it as a weakness, if you can’t cope with reality and continue on your path of self destruction I have no sympathy for you when you don’t wake up. I have sympathy for the people you hurt in the process. If you smoke for 30 years KNOWING you shouldn’t and you get diagnosed with lung cancer why should I feel sorry for you? You knew this could happen…it’s like driving drunk. When you know the person who is affected personally of course it hurts to see anybody go through pain but do I feel sorry for you? No. Yet again, I feel sorry for those whom your bad choices are now hurting. You know who I do feel bad for? People with things they didn’t ask for and can’t control, people who genuinely need the support. My heart breaks to see a sick child or a woman with breast cancer. I refuse to waste my time feeling bad for people with self inflicted ailments. And you can’t exactly say that I don’t understand, remember I did lose the closest person to me and I do miss her more than anything in the world and I spend nights crying wishing I could hear her voice but I know and understand this was her fault and hers Solely . Sure I’m pissed at my Dad for being there and the whole situation but that’s a whole other topic all together.
So, for those like insane Ralph* who obviously can relate to Ms. Winehouse, I don’t feel bad for you or for her. You get what you ask for whether or not you want it or not. If you are out for sympathy and attention, I suppose your funeral is a wonderful place for people to gather too bad you’ll be too dead to appreciate it.
If you know someone struggling with addiction then talk to them, let them know they can get help but don’t beat yourself up if they don’t heed your advice. You can talk till you’re blue in the face (I’ve been there) and if they don’t want help then they aren’t going to get it. That hurts like hell, to watch someone you love destroy themselves but you can’t win them all and that should be a wakeup call to you on why that’s the wrong path to travel down, even if your friends are doing it. If you’re an addict..which I’m doubting if you’re reading this but hey, I don’t know your life. A message from me: grow a pair. You weak, lost person. Take a stand and demand to have your life back and if you don’t then don’t expect any sympathy from me, I am a firm believer in natural selection and if you feel like you need to live in an alternate drug induced reality then hell sounds about like the right place for that.
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