Today’s
weather finally matched my mood: foul.
Gray sky, wind, a chill in the air, a departure from the beautiful
months we have been enjoying at the expense of drought. Indeed, this fine autumn has buoyed me to the
extent that it could, and today I let myself sink into the reality of living in
a family and a world besieged by addiction.
I know I am not alone in weathering this madness. Somewhere on the order of 10-15% of Americans
are addicted to drugs or alcohols, and that means that many families are
dealing with the same tragedy of withered lives.
I
have been trying hard to hold it together, dutiful with my classes, attentive
to my meditation cushion, singing with others, realigning with yoga, writing my
interviews, walking with friends. I am
also trying to plan for my future, attempting to carve something out of almost
nothing in a force of will and a conviction that complete absorption will keep
me afloat. But I rage at our society and
those closest to me who chose to ignore the danger of drugs, devouring
themselves and others in the process.
Near
the end of his life, my late husband said that it was very difficult to fight
like hell to stay alive, yet at the same time prepare himself death. I feel that I am doing that now, too:
struggling to help, yet preparing for loss.
It is indeed a terrible thing to witness and to endure.
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