I saw who you were before you even looked my way. I saw your eyes, so familiar to me, broken ad hollow. Your pain I could feel before I even approached you. You came into my office because your husband had died and I knew why, before I even looked at the reason why. Your hands were scabbed and bruised. I know, I felt that way too. You probably punched that wall in a fit of rage, but more than likely that rage came from pain rather than anger. You probably feel responsible for your husband’s death, you both knew it may end this way, but you continued despite the internal red flags. But you had too, I know.
You stood there scratching your arms wanting desperately to leave so you could quiet the noise in your mind. You were crawling out of your skin and I could tell you were anxious. The reality of his death was coming on stronger as you began to become aware of your surroundings and why you were there. You were uncomfortable with any form of communication for fear of judgment because you could no longer hide who you have become. But by the grace of God you got me, someone just like you. But you probably already knew that because you seemed calm with me.
Your husband, your partner in crime and maybe the only person you had left in your life is now a piece of paper. His name, his date of birth and now his date of death all on one single piece of paper. His entrance and his exit on this earth now more apparent than ever. Just below his addiction is revealed in black and white as it ruled his cause of death as a heroin overdose. His addiction exposing him, revealing to the entire world to see that it had succeeded in its ultimate victory: death.
You were probably a teacher or a nurse and maybe even have a college degree. At one point you may have also had a decent job. As a little girl you probably dreamed of having a beautiful home, a loving husband, children and financial independence. I am sure you had visions and aspirations of who you wanted to be, but in the midst of finding them, something else found you first. Something greater and stronger than ever your deepest desires for wealth and prosperity. Something that took away all of your anxieties, your insecurities and your worry. Something that fed you lies, broken promises and gave you a false sense of relief. Something that stripped you of all human emotions, ambitions and ultimately took possession of your soul.
That something was heroin, I know because it took me too.
I wish I asked your name. I wish I knew who you were or where you live. I wish I could find you and help you but instead I will pray for you. I will pray that your husband’s death was not in vain, that it shook you to your core and brought you to your knees. I hope someone like me finds you and sees in you what I have seen, a little girl broken, a woman lost, but more importantly someone who can overcome the darkness that took control of your being.
The only thing hopeless in this illness is death and you, my mysterious friend, are still alive. No matter how far down you have gone, you can still turn around.
I know this too, because I, myself, have turned around.