gushy grey

Hi- my name is Brandy and I’m an addict. Addiction hit me at 17 when I had an 81/2 lb ovarian tumor removed- morphine button with like a two minute timer.  And I wore that bad boy out. My mom has always sworn that’s when she saw it start to happen- but as silly as this sounds I was like 27 years old struggling with meth addiction- literally being held in a trailer in Sunset Beach, Mo. The tweaked out bikers I decided to go on a mini vacay with decided I was a snitch and as the trailer filled with vapor from the dope they were cooking and the craziness built- I tried to become invisible.2 1/2 mos is a long time to be invisible though. Anyway-  this is when it occurred to me that it might be the drugs. Not when I hopped on the back of Spiders stolen Harley, riding dirty on a three hour trip. Duh!! One of them eventually got scared his buddy might actually snap and kill me so he gave me my car keys,my drivers License and 20 bucks for gas to get back to KC. Both my shoulders were dislocated,  my eyes were both black and I had Cigarette burns up and down my legs. I drove from Sunset Beach to 40hwy and Lee’s Summit Road in Independence and called my friend Tracey.  She was there instantly. She gathered me up and we made what would be our  first trip of many to try to save me. 7 (30) day treatment facilities over the years- all over Mo. The dropoff/ intake, there for every minute of any visiting hours, and finally pickup. And she never made me feel less than. Btw- she was also a member of IPD for 30 years as this played out. My mom found out where Tracey had taken me (cause Tracey snitched me out but what can you expect from the police- 🤣🤣🤣🤣) and began calling every two minutes ……but I refused to speak to her. When I finally agreed to let her visit- my Republican, Catholic to the core of her high school prom Queen, cheerleader heart mother comes walking through the doors with the biggest longhaired, bushy faced,  biker. I mean leather chaps, wearing his cut, and his dew rag holding the Oakleys in place. He was a clean addict and my mom sought him out because she thought he would speak my language when she could not. It was such an act of love. That was the beginning of my first experience with recovery and rebuild.  That has slowly evolved to surrender and acceptance- because my struggle is real  but my heart is pure. And I’m trying to be kinder to me these days. Intention outweighs action every time. In life I have so often been disappointed by people because of my own expectations. It was very black and white- addicts bad, normies good. So if a person who had never used made a mistake my judgment was harsh. But if an addict did- well that’s just how we do. Gave myself quite a pass with that logic, eh? But here’s the gushy gray of it all- I know a young man who has 29 felonies, did 8 flat before 30.  He is one of the best human beings I’ve ever known and there’s no reason for him to be. He got dealt a shit hand, yet he is the definition of what a good man should be. He did what he did to earn that record because that’s how he was taught to survive -but he found a different way cause he sought it out. That’s integrity. On the opposite side I know a man who on paper looks pretty amazing. Steady job, good father, family man. Pays his bills on time. But I have witnessed him destroy a human being and never look back. I heard him look his family up and down and say -“look I’m leaving cause I’m not gonna be miserable.”  Apparently he was not self aware enough to realize that those words also meant he was willing to sacrifice people he made a promise to. His misery for their happiness. There are unspoken comittments made by accepting certain gifts of the heart and by allowing another to do the things that come at the cost of a broken heart. He is also one of the best men I’ve ever known however.  And he did the best he could. There is no us and them. Really good people do really bad shit and really messed up people find their way out. Everyone plays the hero and the villain too. Judgement is for assholes. Anger is useless and forgiveness is power. I am always highly self conscious when I write about my shit. But there are people reading this that will maybe feel not so alone tonight - my tribe of misfits. My friend was my friend, that’s all she ever was. Her only goal to heal my hurt. But by placing her on the “other side” I questioned her motives- like how could she really love me -wtf is really going on? I made my mom my enemy for so many years because she didn’t save me- well theres a big hairy biker dude somewhere that will tell you that’s bullshit. Did she become callous and say increasingly hurtful things that made it so convenient to blame her?Well hell,  I guess so because my crazy mode is fucking ridiculous. The two gentlemen- self explanatory. Lessons learned and pain lessened guys- and I’m grateful to them both. I am not ashamed of who I am, just some of the things I’ve done and the pain I caused. I’m Brandy and I’m an addict.