She Screwed Up
Anyone reading this probably already knows what this is about. But if you don't: My roommate of nearly a year and a half disappeared for a week after relapsing to her addiction to Crack Cocaine. The future is unclear, but this is how I'm feeling right now.
Stress and fear can be amazing tools in the short term situation, but it the long game they make your stomach twist and your hands shake. Your heart feels funny and you have a hard time concentrating on anything. The uncertainty gets inside your being and makes everything seem fuzzy and unclear. Good friends become pillars of stone to lean on that you fear might turn to dust under your hands. I was betrayed. She betrayed herself as well, but in the end both our worlds were torn to bits by her choice. She screwed up, slipped up, threw everything away.
I liked her the instant I met her. I was new in town and knew no one; there she was smiling and friendly. She was open about her past, about her addiction and at first I was nervous about being around someone who had such a disease, but her smile and openness calmed me. It didn’t take long to become friends. We had adventures and laughed. We had someone to support us in our struggles and goals, to be cheerleaders when we needed some extra pep and to be a shoulder when things got rough. We shared secrets and stories, good, bad, scary, and funny.
We called each other to let the other know that we were going to be late, or staying somewhere else for the night. We left notes to let the other know where we had gone if we didn’t see the other to tell them too their face. So that first night when she didn’t come home, I began to worry. Then the second night came and there was still no word. So I did what most sane people would do, I let worry turn into fear. I contacted people, talked to the police; I did what I could to find her. No one had seen or heard from her; the police said there was nothing to do except wait. And so I waited, and kept trying to find her.
One week, seven days, 168 hours. I worried, I feared the worst, and I stressed and imagined all the horrible things that could have happened. Then I came home and there she was back. Safe. Alive. Broken.
The addiction stepped forward and won. She destroyed everything. Her opportunities, her future, everyone’s trust and faith in her were gone like smoke. The Stress, Fear and Worry didn’t go away; instead Anger joined the mess roiling in my stomach. Why didn’t she call? Any kind of message acknowledging that she was alive would have helped. Instead she left me to fear the worst, to imagine her body broken and bloody on the side of the road, unconscious in a hospital bed all alone, tied up by some horrible person who craved creating pain. It was a time in my life when I cursed the creativity of my mind, for the images of what could be were vivid and very real in my head.
What happens next? She needs help, but she has to seek it herself or it will never hold. She told me that herself. Funny how it is her words and warnings that direct me on how to move forward now, I don’t think she ever meant them for herself slipping up. The disease runs through her family, I think she spoke of her daughter when she shared the words that I take to heart now. I have to make my heart steel to make sure that I keep her on the path she needs to stay on. Of getting help, of moving forward, of trying to get her life back.
Still she betrayed me and I find it hard not to let the anger rule my heart. Part of me wants her out of my life, never to be heard from or seen again. Even if once again she pulls herself up by her bootstraps, gets her-self clean and back into the program. I don’t want to be drawn in again only to be disappointed once more. Still, she was there when I needed her and I will be there for her even as I fear the pain she might lead me too if I let myself continue to let her into my life.
My hands twitch. I have a feeling it may be a while till they stop.