22, October 2012
THE SON:
One of the things that is so scary about being addicted to a drug like heroin is the extraordinary lengths that addicts go to to get money for drugs. It’s literally insane, and fucking heartbreaking on so many levels. From my personal experience, and I’m not saying this isn’t bad, I have only stolen from my parents, a huge sum of money, mainly by taking credit cards and finding pin numbers in filofaxes. The insanity of it all is that I knew that I would be caught sometime or later due to bank statements arriving in the post but I even managed to work out the dates that each statement for each different card would arrive and I memorised what the envelopes looked like. Couple this with my incredible ability to lie and also my father’s denial that I would ever be using hard drugs again, I got away with it all for quite a while.
However, at least two of my female friends who were also junkies turned to “the oldest profession in the world” to get money for smack. It’s safe to say that their integrity was demolished after gossip circulated around and now it’s one of those things where the first thing people think about them is “Oh she’s that bird who sucked a Yardie’s cock for a £10 rock.” And it’s really sad because they’re sound girls for the most part. At the time, I would say “What the hell are you doing?! I’ll BUY you a rock if you really want but don’t start letting big gangsta dealers destroy you round the back of Tescos just for a measly tenners worth.” At least try and get an 8th! (just joking).
But looking back I have to put myself in their position. If most of my dealers had been female would I have offered myself in return for drugs?? I may well have done knowing the feeling of not having any money and starting to cluck. I guess the main point I’m trying to make is that an addict lives in the present, constantly, and never thinks or worries about the future or the consequences of his or her actions no matter how atrocious or degrading the act is. We’re not shameless or guilt-free but we have a unique ability to completely block out all emotion that a normal person would feel doing anything like that. It’s horrible, to be honest. I’m just thankful that I have incredibly forgiving and caring parents because I can think of other people’s parents who would have called the police on their son for jacking a twenty pound note from them.
THE MOM:
Having just read that post, I need to comment.
Alex says he has forgiving and caring parents, which he indeed does, but it has to be understood that we are forgiving the heroin addict, because the heroin addict knoweth not what he does (actually, he does, he just doesn’t care) and we are forgiving our son, because we know instinctively that he wants to be a good son, but we are not forgiving the deed, we can’t escape the deed, whether it’s the lying or the stealing or the consequences thereof, it will always be with us, looming large or small, whether this story has a good or a bad ending, until we die or lose our minds one way or another. It’s just a fact.
Secondly, Alex from Day One, has worried about his female addict friends (well, acquaintances, I don’t think you can be a real friend and a heroin addict at the same time, there’s no room in the brain for others). I’d hear him on the phone, a complete mess himself but trying to talk someone into going to rehab, calming, trying to cheer, being a shoulder, a mate. It has been these brief glimpses of a sensitive human being that has put us in the position we find ourselves in today, one of attacking the problem head-on rather than sweeping it and him under the carpet. I am spurred on as well by something his now ex-girlfriend said three years ago when I’d asked what in God’s name she saw in my son.
“He’s just the nicest, kindest, most thoughtful, caring and funniest guy I’ve ever met!” she said, without hesitation, and I thought “Wow. Really? Huh.” because I’d just found out he’d covertly switched my bank card with his and drawn out £300.
Which was the first, last and only time he’s targeted my cards, I hasten to add, because from then on I kept my handbag in sight at all times, even on some occasions taking it into the loo with me feeling like some dotty old dear and in fact vaguely like my ancient mother in America who’d started sleeping with her savings bonds for no discernible reason, as they had been quite happy in her safety deposit box at the bank.
DK, being a more trusting soul, and a less discreet one in the Pin Number Department, has been, I am sorry to say, singlehandedly responsible for the latest bout of credit card abuse, a fact that has weighed heavily upon him and something he has beaten himself up over, again and again, which is why I have had to throw myself into Comforting & Reassuring Wife mode at the same time as jumping net-less into Overseeing Son’s Heroin Detox, which is maybe why I lost eight pounds last month. So you may want to try it.
The other good news, because we have to always look for those silver linings, don’t we, be they solid or plate, is that by rinsing his dad’s Virgin American Express Visa Card, Alex racked up a slew of air miles and we now have enough for two round trip Premium Economy flights to New York, should any of us be struck with the pressing need to nip across the pond to see a 97- year-old snoring next to $80,000 worth of savings bonds (and maybe steal them when she turns over).
Many important insights here. Especially “an addict lives in the present, constantly, and never thinks or worries about the future or the consequences of his or her actions”