We rush and rush, and in the meantime, we don’t even realize consciously how much space there is in our souls. We try to change it, stuff it, cloak it, hide it, and we can honestly believe that there is no problem here, please, it is perfectly normal being seduced by the seventy-eighth pair of shoes as well. If we examine it, with a kind of clear vision, there are the addicts between us, there in our family, in our company of friends, among our acquaintances, not to mention that we ourselves fight many times to avoid addictive and useless ways of soul-raising for a long time.
We can depend on alcohol, drugs, medicines, coffee, cigarettes, gambling, computers, phones, shopping, porn, facebook, cola, and a thousand other things, and the list is incredibly long. And then we didn’t even talk about relationship dependencies. Yet, if we have to imagine, somehow for the first time, the first association will be a man who is destroyed by drugs, an unviable and vegetating human wreck. However, this issue is much more nuanced than this. We see, experience, and can’t really do anything. If something like this appears in the family, everyone suffers from helplessness, experiences anger, maybe even feels responsible. If they look at such a wanderer from the outside, they easily turn their heads and say that he or she is weak, that they should change because they have a choice, and I could list for a long time why they would rather exclude them from their horizons. As if they didn’t even exist. And not only they, the addicts, the lost, but the homeless, the disabled, the behavioral, the poor, and even the fat, the lean, the tall, the low, all visible protrusion from the one cube causes that most people declare them junk. Not all, just a lot of people. We are all human beings, and most have not chosen what they have been given, but must thrive on it, and they are the same, full-fledged people, sometimes they, the stigmatized see things even more clearly , than their healthy, intact, or ‘labeled normal’ counterparts.
Yes, here they are, the drug addicts, the alcoholics we meet most often. In such a short post, it is impossible to explore an entire field of science, I can’t even strive for it, I’m just flashing a tiny article that has given me tasks to do. Through them, I learned how much of a windmill fight to interfere with the road. We can even say that it is impossible. Until they get all the way down and feel the need for change, there’s not much to do. If you refuse, you’re sorry, if you help, the addict will take advantage. One thing is for sure, you shouldn’t look down on them in any way, just like no one else. Judgment is not our business. We are all wrong sometimes, somehow. When a lack of love, especially attention, or lack of self-knowledge and self-acceptance turns up, at first only small cracks appear on the asphalt. Even easy to repair, any stuff pulls it back into the straight line. Then the effect fades pretty slowly, and the patching is not enough anymore. There are potholes. They are big. They also need to be recharged. It is clear that more material is needed for it, but it can still be remedied, it does not require any engineering intervention. And the further the pointless struggle against disintegration continues, over time there will be so many potholes that the road will not be recognizable. And if we don’t see the way anymore, we’re just lost. It was there somewhere, there we went on it, but it was already gone under our feet and we had no idea where we were going and how it could be done back. At this point, without help, no way. However, this is amazingly hard to recognize.
Very early, at the dawn of my adolescence, I began to attract young people on the periphery into my life. My mom always said I couldn’t save everyone and that I wasn’t a shelter. I went to a good school, I had friends who fit me, as they used to expect it, and yet I somehow I got mixed up those companies I could get close to such lost souls. It was my sacred conviction that I could help them, and not because I felt sorry for them, but because they shone before me in their pure beauty, their precious human nature. I could give them that, some kind of unconditional love. Most of them have not yet processed some form of childhood trauma: abuse, neglect, divorce, lack of attention or love. They did not see themselves as valuable, which is why they ran away. As long as I could be there, I know I made a difference because they honestly didn’t believe they could be so important to someone. They cheated me many times, yet I couldn’t get mad at them. One of them was a real tramp, and of course he consumed alcohol and drugs in bold amounts. Meanwhile, I saw in him a genius, a wise and old soul whose words really had to be paid attention to. His teachings often ring in my ears even today. We arranged a meeting; I was waiting for him. He forgot, of course, he totally got high in his garage. I waited for two hours sitting on their stairs, and even though for a few moments I felt it didn’t make any sense in the world, but I still waited. When he arrived, he didn’t want to believe I was there. A mixture of daze and happiness gleamed in his eyes, as if no one had done anything like it for him yet. I wasn’t angry, I didn’t condemn, and maybe, I just hope I could have played a tiny little part in making him a really successful person.
I also understood my parents somewhere because they worried a lot, even though I knew there was nothing they should have feared me about. None of them involved me in their own suffering, they didn’t want me to go down with them. I had a drug-addicted friend who, to the utmost, opposed me ever trying anything. We created a world together and he would never have ruined it by destroying himself in front of my eyes. Sometimes he had to go, yes, because he couldn’t take it anymore. Sometimes he was very ashamed of himself, then he loved me very much. He felt it should be different. Sometimes he hurt me, he refused me, but held my hand so tightly that I couldn’t leave. We talked, laughed and cried together. No one else really understood that. Not so much that sometimes me neither. Later on, several people came and went, it turned out that way, anyway, but there was always another patient, and deep down I longed to be a psychologist and help everyone. But I failed the entrance exam. At first, I was angry, much later I only understood that this was exactly how it had to turn out. I couldn’t have emotionally isolated myself from my patients at that time, this path wasn’t meant for me, that’s not how I can help.
I recently saw a fantastic performance, and it devastated me. A brilliant actor played an addict in The Coward. It touched me very deeply. It penetrated my body, crushed my soul, and I didn’t understand at all what it really wanted to say, I just felt that something was going to come to the surface right now, something was being made, smoke was already coming from the chimney of this volcano. As the drama of this heroin-addicted guy held, recognition began to break free from me, I just hadn’t seen what it was yet. I went on seeing the play once more, for safety’s sake, once I’m upset, let’s get to the end of what it wants to message me. I digested the story for two days. It came out of nowhere, shocked me, destroyed me. I realized that not only I helped these people, but they helped me as well. That they had not necessarily involved me in their lives, but I was looking for them. That the supply and demand sides were in perfect balance. I understood what they gave me. Peace. How does an addict live? Without rules, free from expectations, divinely got fucked in social pressure, compliance, everything. How did I live? In constant anxiety, in the lifeless state of getting anywhere, that’s not enough, I’ll never be enough. I gave them faith, attention, love, they gave me freedom and peace. I’m not saying it’s easy to see that. I judged myself to be good, selfless, believing myself for years to be a faithful servant. But I’m not afraid to admit it.
Because we all learn from each other. Our meetings in life are never accidental, there are always tasks, we solve them, or we are not ready for them yet. We are assigned to each other in this great board game as it should be. And here, too, acceptance is the most important. Let us accept that we are constantly learning and not judge or condemn our masters. Neither age, nor skin color, nor occupation, family or social status, nor physical integrity, mental well-being affect, whether we can give, whether we can accept what we receive. We are all equal, no matter what body we were born into. If we turn to each other with love, we will see more clearly the path ahead.