Light in the darkness

Addiction is like darkness. All one can ever do for an addict is offer light. Most don't--can't-- live in the light. And I don't blame anyone for that, because living in the light is fucking scary. You see things for what they really are. People see you for who you really are. You are vulnerable. Addicts have layered themselves with thick skin to keep the pain away. And shedding that skin has got to be terrifying.

This weekend a couple of deaths related to my job hit close to home. Not close enough to wound me, but close enough for me to feel the sting. I've come to realize that the longer I am involved in the recovery community, the closer I become to people who are terminally ill. And the day that I will know someone and care for someone who will die inches closer. I know that it sounds really pessimistic, but it's reality. The darkness is real, and it swallows people whole.

But I love my job. Because once in a rare while, I get to see someone who gets it and runs like hell towards the light. And this heaviness in my heart that I feel is lifted for a while.

God shows me through this job how much he loves drug addicts. He shows me how much he loves me. He shows me that no one is ever too far from his love. And that there is hope... for me, for anyone. And that I am where I need to be, and that it is all worth it.