I was never afraid of dying.
It’s hard to explain that to people. Because normal people are. They might say they aren’t, but trust me, they are.
And some folks might interpret that statement as arrogance or bravado. But it’s not. It’s nothing more than the ignorance of youth at play in the saga of a life once lost.
And don’t get me wrong, today I’m afraid to die, or well, afraid is probably not the right word. Maybe aware is a better statement. I’m cognizant of my mortality and the effect it might have on my loved ones, so I plan for it. Yet, at the same time, death has a way of never being a far cry from the forefront of my mind – you could even say it tickles my thoughts now and then with the fingertips of a perverse morbidity that only humor hanging from the gallows can achieve.
But back then I wasn’t afraid of the dark rider. I liked the feel of the frayed rope of the noose in my hands and the wind of reckless abandon blowing in my hair.
All I wanted to do back then… was live fast and die young.
And I never knew why I was this way. I always understood that death was a realistic consequence of my imprudent actions. But it never scared me. I was in my teens and all I could think about was myself. I wanted to test every boundary possible, and if my card was called, then so be it.
Life was about living… exploring… and pushing everything to the edge. When you don’t have enough years under your belt to gain perspective, it’s easy to get lost in the stars while your feet are still strapped to the ground.
“But I was at peace with it.”
Looking back, it’s kind of weird thing to say, but that was the truth.
I knew exactly what I was doing and what the risks were. However, what I didn’t know, and couldn’t comprehend yet, was the damage I was doing to my family and everyone around me. I couldn’t imagine the gaping hole that my death would leave forever in all those who loved me if I did succumb to the great beyond.
Selfishness, avarice and vanity scaled the three-headed dragon that lived in my heart.
Because it takes a toll living with the reaper on your shoulder, not mentally, physically that is – all the damage you do to your body – but eventually you get used to it. And when you see someone who has become immune to caring like yourself… well, let’s just say that you know them when you see them.
Since I was in my first rehab in my teens, I occasionally get people that ask me if I’ll talk to their struggling child. And these are desperate parents who care. I know they care because they are asking.
It takes a lot of courage just to get to the point of asking.
Trust me, I know. They aren’t the type who send their child away to whatever is the popular clinic – posh Malibu Estates or the latest fad on some TV advertisement – because they believe that addiction is their child’s problem, not a family problem. Throw more money at it and hope that it goes away.
No, these are the parents that are living that nightmare fueled anguish as if they were in their child’s shoes themselves. And I’m one of their last stops on this highway to hell – that unlikely Hail Mary pass that just might turn into a touchdown. Because if they could have found a softer, easier way that works, they would have done so by now.
It’s also difficult to put into words the family members perspective, how hard it is watching someone fighting a war against themselves, and losing, crumbling before your very eyes, literally killing themselves one drink… hit… shot… bump… at a time. Language doesn’t give the tormented struggle justice.
So, I always say, “yes.” But I never tell them the truth.
What I’m going to talk about is not what they want me to talk about.
You see, when you’re a “real addict,” and what I mean by that is not someone who is using drugs to be cool or seeking attention. But when that chemical becomes your answer, then the talking is already done.
This is what normies don’t understand. You need to throw logic out the window, because logic no longer applies. Any sane choice is being clouded by a dependency that knows no boundaries. And if the road continues to unwind in this way, there are only three answers: jails, institutions or death. You hear me harp on that a lot in these posts, because it’s mantra, and unfortunately, it’s just how the cards of addiction play out every time.
Because the addict now has only two choices: get clean or keep using. And still using is always the preferable and easier choice. Because no one gets clean because they want to. They get clean because they have to. If it was as easy as just wanting to do something, then we would just do it and addiction would cease to exist. But unfortunately, the world isn’t all rainbows and unicorns. We have to hit bottom first, in order to gain a moment of clarity that will spark the courage to start the long and winding road to recovery.
Because it’s a steep fucking mountain that just might kill you on the climb.
So, when I talk to young addicts, I already know my words aren’t going to mean shit, because they haven’t hit bottom yet. Kids will do what they want. They won’t change, and I remember how I was at that age. It didn’t matter what anyone said to me, I was going to do drugs and take my risks like spinning the barrel in a game of Russian Roulette. I didn’t care about other people. There is a selfish element to it because you haven’t lived long enough. They say in rehab it usually takes around the age 22-25 before mortality kicks in. Anything younger and they’re running wild.
I agree with that, because it’s exactly how I was. It’s especially hard to get through to teenagers, and sometimes you can’t. But of course, you’re not going to tell the parents that. Hope is what you’re selling.
And sure, by the time I finally talk to these young users, they’re starting to experience some real consequences, but they’re still having fun. The pain doesn’t outweigh the pleasure yet. But parents only see their child, they can’t fathom the demons lurking beneath the skin.
So, what do I say?
It’s simple, I talk to them as a peer. I don’t talk to them as a person in recovery, I talk to them as a fellow user.
Now the conversation is on their terms and I ask questions to establish my credibility, that I qualify, and we are equals. What are you using? What do you like about it? How’s the potency? What’s the cost nowadays? What’s the word on the street?
Because that’s what they care about. They want to know if you really understand. It’s important to them that you have been there and done that. Were you as bad as them? How many times have you OD’ed? How old were you in your first rehab? Have you walked the same path in their shoes?
So, we shoot the shit for a while and then I try to open small doorways that a little light might creak through. Have you had any consequences? You know your parents love you? You have places to go and people to talk to if you ever want to. Never believe that you don’t have options.
“Because you do. Until that last bridge is burnt, you never have to be alone.”
Then occasionally I’ll be able to connect. I’ll strike a chord and the same question will always come around like the inevitability of dusk chasing dawn.
They’ll ask me in that curious but detached way they have, like an uncertain puppy feeling out a new experience:
“What were you like when you were my age? What did you want?”
I don’t lie to them. I don’t hesitate. I don’t fuck around and try to win their trust. I tell them the truth.
“When I was your age, there was only one thing on my mind… I wanted to live fast and die young. But that was then, and this is now. And for every one of me, there’s nine others that didn’t make it.”
Then slowly and carefully, like meticulously placing game pieces on a chessboard, I give them my names. I recite my list of the fallen.
I bring out my dead.
Check.
Your move kid…
It’s up to them to do with it what they will.
-Q-FI
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Ever peddle hope when you knew the odds weren’t in someone’s favor? Of course you did or you wouldn’t be reading this. You’re human. Tell me how it went…
I’ll also further add a disclaimer, that this is only my personal experience with addiction and should not be viewed as any model for treatment. Some people in recovery would probably disagree with what I’m saying, and I have no problem with that. We’ve all witnessed different methods/treatments/techniques working for different people. But this is what I’ve found to be the best shot at getting through to a young user. You come down to their level, you meet them on their own terms, and then you can try to plant the seeds that there might be a better way to live life. At least this is how I wish someone would have approached me when I was in my teens.
I enjoy reading these articles. I really admire and respect the approach here. I can only imagine what it’d be like to give advice or direction to my younger self. Difficult at best because, like all young people, I had it all figured out. Particularly when I knew deep down I really didn’t.
In reflecting on those who were effective in providing constructive feedback, coaching, direction and plain old help, they all used a similar approach. I hope it works on those you speak with as well.
Very powerful. I hope I never have to have this conversation with one of my kids… but I also know it can happen to anyone. I respect and appreciate the work folks like you do to help those in similar situations.
I agree FTF, I also hope I’ll never have to have this conversation with one of my own kids. That’s actually one of my biggest fears if at some point my wife and I are able to conceive in addition to fostering – passing on the addiction gene through genetics (it’s irrational though, no point in worrying about something you can’t control). You’ve probably been forced to learn more about it through fostering yourself, lot’s of addiction in lifestyles of abuse and neglect.
But we all have different life experience, and pitch in where we can with what we know.
Thanks for the comment bud!
Thanks as always for chiming in Mr. Fate!
I think it all comes down to connection. If at some point you connect… there might be a chance to build a bridge at some point in the future. But regardless of what you do, it’s out of your hands. I’ve become a lot better over the years of not taking anything personal. You do what you can when an opportunity arises and keep it to that. Always be of service. But you can’t help someone if they don’t want it. And most teens don’t want it. As you mention, I sure didn’t want it when I was young and also thought I had all the answers.
Youth is a tricky thing. The only answer is really to let it play out. But as a parent, that’s the last thing you want to hear. You want a solution. Unfortunately, at least as of today, one doesn’t exist.
Great post Q-FI. I’m already talking to my 7 year old about what drugs and alcohol can do. She’s usually the one who initiates it when we pass homeless users on the street. I tell her how they likely got there. It’s a powerful example that I hope shocks her. Addiction runs in my family and I’ve had friends and uncles/aunts both pass away from overdose or ended up in prison serving major time because things spinning out of control.
It’s very frustrating and difficult for me to try to talk to family and friends about drug/drinking AB use. I haven’t had any luck. I always get shut down and then opt to mind my business afterwards. In a way I think I’m trying to be a good example right now for certain people I know by being completely sober for the last 16 months. It’s nice to see you talking to those who need to hear the truth. I don’t think I would have the patience for it.
With addiction already in your family, that’s great you talk to your girl and are honest. That’s really all you can do, educate her and lead by example. Every person will make their own decisions throughout their life.
I think you’re doing the right thing by trying to talk to your family and friends as well. You made the effort. They shut you down, cool, no prob. You did your part in trying. If they ever do need to talk or want to take you up on it at a later date, they know where to go.
Proud of you bud. It’s hard to watch the damage as a bystander, but you’ve already done what is within your power to do.
Powerful stuff Q-FI.
That “bring out your dead” comment resonates. I remember a bad batch going through my high school, thinning the herd, taking out posers and hangers-on rather than the dedicated addicts. The ripple effect on the families was brutal to observe over subsequent years. Guilt. Alcoholism. Depression. Divorces. Suicides. Some wounds never heal.
But for others it was the wake up call they needed. One of the biggest fiends, who was forever baiting the reaper, is now a substance abuse counsellor specialising in teenage addiction. Using their hard won experiences to try and help others, much like yourself here.
I’m glad you managed to turn things around, it can’t have been easy. Credit where credit is due.
If you can make it to the other side, usually good things can happen – as you mention with the addict turned counsellor. But the wake from the other losses, more often than not, leads to those unfortunate wounds that never heal.
I think the biggest misconception is that it is a disease of the individual. Which it’s not, it’s a family disease. And how it affects everyone, is the hardest part to process, forgive and move on from.
Thanks for the kind words, support and comment.
another fine piece you’ve written here. plus the title forced me to look up a song i heard a couple of years ago by luke spurr allen from new orleans. it’s called “too late to die young” and i think i might buy the album for mrs. smidlap.
i feel lucky not to have gone down the narcotics rabbit hole and only to be a boozebag. i fear i would have enjoyed the other too much in my youth. i smell what you’re cooking when you talk about being relatable and having credibility with a younger person. i really do think they can tell if you haven’t walked down that road they’re on presently. “have you suffered any consequences?” that’s a great question.
Thanks Freddy. I’m going to check out that song, I hadn’t heard of it before.
Yeah, kids know when you’re selling fluff and have an alternative agenda. It’s all about the connection and how you relate. Plus, every kid is different. Similar backgrounds usually goes the farthest.
I’m glad you mostly avoided the hard shit – not an easy thing to do.
Wow. This post is incredible. I love your brutal honesty because it helps me understand the addiction in my own life. I can hear every word you’re saying coming out of his mouth, though he’s never uttered them to me. It just makes sense.
Offering hope is the kindest thing you can do. Those desperate parents need to know they’re exhausting every last option. Even if you think you’re not doing anything, you don’t know that. You could get through. Keep it up! The former addict in my life remembers conversations he had with numerous people trying to help him over the years, but one really stands out – and that was 20 years ago or more now. You could be that one voice for someone else. I love that you try to help others. And I’m glad you discovered life beyond that selfishness. We definitely need your voice!
Word Katie! Glad it resonated with you. We all pitch in and help out where we can. Trust me, I’m no Mother Teresa… hahahaha. But you try to be of service with the experience you have.
Thanks for pumping up my motivation and it makes me smile if I helped you better understand the addict in your own life.
I always appreciate the support from you.
Thanks. A little older (53 yo this summer) and just found your blog. Been sober awhile and found FI a bit late, but it’s been a really good go to with sobriety and all. I was on a retreat once and they mentioned the stages of alcoholism/addiction: 1) I’m having fun 2) I’m having fun, there’s problems 3) I’m not having fun, there’s problems 4) jails, institutions and death
I work in healthcare and it’s nothing about “care.” A real shit show…
Congrats on your sobriety Glincoln and thanks or chiming in!
In my opinion there’s not such thing as finding FI a bit late. We all figure it out when the timing is right for our each individual situation. You’re age is probably the more normal range once you subtract out the the young retirees that get all the media attention.
Yeah, I’ve heard a lot of different stages of addiction over the years – that’s a good one.
Health care is pretty much throwing you to the wolves. We’re all on our own basically. Hopefully, with such an advanced nation we figure it out some day. But you are correct, today it remains a terrible “real shit show.” I’ve always believed once medicine becomes about profit, it is no longer care and insurance dictates treatment rather than doctors. I’ve had my own numerous frustrating battles over the years.