07 June 2010

Against the Wall

My friend is addicted to methamphetamine. He says he is not addicted. He says there's a malevolent group of men and women who read his thoughts and eavesdrop on all his conversations. They follow him wherever he goes and they are out to kill him. Those of us who love him believe this is a delusion. He disagrees.

I've had alcoholic friends and friends who overeat and friends who could not make it through a day without coffee or shopping or several hours before a computer. I smoke cigarettes every day of my life. But in each of these cases, the "user" was/is aware that the habit/addiction diminishes the quality of their life.

My friend does not believe he's addicted. Periodically, he sees that meth use diminishes the quality of his life but he loses sight of this. He changes his mind.

I am heartbroken. And frustrated by feelings of powerlessness. The experience feels like a painful but necessary lesson in humility. I'm not nearly as smart or capable or powerful as I sometimes believe. There are limits to my imagination and my sphere of influence.

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