Daddy, Why Were You A Drug Addict?
Art by Lexie
Clean. When I quit drugs almost 34 years ago to this day, April 4th, the deal only occurred as a result of four friends stepping up to save me when I was entirely incapable of doing so myself, because I tried. I tried to kick the drug needle, I really tried, but on my own I only failed. Quite literally, those four friends…Nicole Weinreich, Mike Welsh, Mark Weinreich, alongside my best friend little sister Beth saved my then-pathetic loser lowlife. Since, six additional friends arrived to save me because for whatever the myriad of reason, such option sat beyond my reach. In this way and others, my friends are my family and occupy a very deep and special place in my world, not just coming and going in and out of my life surface-level.
Question. It is a hard question, it is a scary question…it is a question I might not rather participate in at all, if I fantasized having such choice, you know, the chance of selection, the opportunity to opt out. But no, I hold no higher faculty of exertion over other’s thoughts words or actions…I have no other route available to me but to face the words directly, and respond. I was asked this question today and factually, it’s a question that is downright fucking disturbing, by my measure. Maybe it’s a question you’ve heard, recently, or heard more than ever, recently. Maybe it’s even a question you’ve asked yourself, recently.
Question-Question. Two years earlier I was pitched a similar inquisition, thus-then being my first time ever facing such direct viscous brain-numbing riddle. Although the earlier thought twister was more immediate, more bloody, and terminal, still, no matter how the words are scrabbled, the outcome is still mostly the same…just…fucking…brutal.
Zoom Out. Not long after publishing volume one of my memoir in November 2022, I was eating tacos in Madison Wisconsin with my dear gal pal Colleen. Colleen is a certifiable smarty pants…a college professor, world-travelled, and down to earth. After watching me sacrifice multiple channels of self during the three fulltime years writing my book, Colleen seemed to have little to no interest attempting to read any of my typed and copied 852 pages, but I am dirty-assuming. I know it’s stupid long, I pre-admitted then simply stated…I know hardly anyone will ever read the darn book, but oh well. Skipping over any direct response to my down commentary, Colleen suggested I not only pull the book apart and split it into topics more digestible by human eyes, but to also choose subjects others could maybe benefit from. Although such valiant endeavor not part of my starting-out repertoire when I began writing, I whole heartedly agreed with Colleen and mapped out some possibilities in my head.
Substances. Thinking I might initiate a targeted narrative on the spark of one magical word, or the challenge of poor mental health, or growing up underwing of a single parent, or dropping out of school, or maybe hum…maybe I start with addiction, I checked in with my pal Josh. Josh and I previously worked together and I love the dude. Josh is also much the same as my pal Damon who designed the cover of my memoir, both of them excessively praise me, so I believed Josh would gleefully join my narrow-focused writing effort. Sure, such fanning of emotional flames is flattering, but I don’t feel I deserve even a small percentage of the word decoration that Damon and Josh shower me with. Moreover while the while, Josh recently struggled with his substance abuse, but I heard him to be clean at the then-present. Although sure I have lots to say, I also value greatly the inclusion of current relevancy to my works in general, inclusion relevancy just like Josh. Although not far removed from any of the true addiction issues past or present, and although every single day I risk relapsing, I knew for pure fact 100 Josh would add great value to the book.
The Ask. Going round with Josh somewhat through Instagram messaging, I asked if he could help me proofread the pull-apart addiction recount as I write it, and could he possibly craft me an introduction couple of paragraphs? And also, I later included five additional members of my friend family to assist with the book. Josh stayed silent for over a week…it seemed he was dealing with something rather unpleasant in his world at the time. I then received this typed message from Josh.
I’m struggling…lost with no purpose, adding nothing of sustenance to this life…isolated. I don’t know what to do anymore. I have never felt so ready to check out…I feel the ease of it becoming overwhelming right now.
I’m suffering at a rate that I can’t control. Life is supposed to get easier with time. Slap me around. Call me a coward. I’m starting a kick again. I hate it. Sobriety is somber, the dope kills the pain…but I hate the dope. I can‘t win for losing.
Roger let’s do something, something worth meaning…something that gives, helps, and sustains. Something talking about the pain, the stories riddled in heartache, bleeding despair, and angst…identifying why self-medication was the only way.
Dang…Josh’s message hurt, awhile helped me. Hurt because Josh got out of jail recently, earned his driver’s license back after earlier losing it, and Josh had been proudly clean recently. Starting a kick, in case you don’t know, meant he was back on the drugs, and dope is sidename for heroin. Helped because not only did I understand Josh’s note to mean he would support the addiction book effort, but I presumed his involvement will help Josh too, not just assist me or possibly aid anyone else who is in the throes of their substance abuse when the book comes out. So there it was, and here it is, the addiction book would come first, because of Josh.
Today. Josh has been quiet and although exchanging a brief message here and there over the last few months, we have bypassed any substantial speak, until today. I left Josh a voice text last week, and today he responded with a voice text of his own. Josh is a big beautiful man. Josh is also no emotional lightweight, aka his heart bleeds intentional speak profusely. His slanged twang seems to have a Mexican slant, making him even more interesting, thought-provoking, and powerful. I relate Josh’s verbal cadence and varied tone of enthusiasm to that of a spoken word poet…his words pronounced with clarity, emphasis, and a spark of disturbance that makes the hairs on my arms frazzle towards the stratosphere, aka he’s a gentle giant but his diction at times scares the fuck out of me. Here is the transcription of Josh’s audio text from today containing his frightening question, no edits.
I always try to tell myself just be more like Roger, be more like Roger…how hard could it be?
It’s hard.
I’m sorry for my delays. I was almost afraid to even listen to your message you know?
Like am I just having this huge pity party? Like I don’t want outside help because I don’t want to burden people with MY shit?
So I don’t know what to do Roger.
Up-down, up-down…fight this bullshit, fight this addiction. I go full unsupervised in June as long as my nose is clean- on probation, but I can’t even fucking look past the moment…I see no future Roger, none. You know people say oh you got so much to live for, yeah why don’t you tell me what I have to live for? Because I sure the fuck don’t know, I don’t see it…because I don’t think you know me well enough to say that about me.
But I don’t know man.
I wish I were there to do something for you. My greatest successes in life always come doing things for other people, never for myself. There’s no foundation of self-love.
I don’t know.
I think you’re always there for a lot of people, but I always say who’s there for you, who’s there for Roger?
I don’t know.
Be more like Roger I tell myself every day, but it’s hard.
Benefit. Addressing the verifiable question of what is there to live for, such response no trivial walk about, by my measure. Two years earlier my pal Zak pitched me the same-only-worse curveball over the phone at 2AM and thank the heavens goodness, Zak is still here with us. Zak wrote his intro piece for the addiction book already, and it’s fricking breathtaking. Additional friend family members are currently working on their intro pieces too: the middle-way mindful TJ Schmidt, the masterful Mister Dennis Dodson, and the icon John Stamstad. The sixth and final friend family member already submitted her stunning few paragraphs, between her relocation of residences across the country by the way, The Ferocious Lucy Fucking Brown. And yes, perhaps a slight echo but I do not call them Forewords, no, hyper-appropriately I name them Friendwords.
Today-Today. Although I myself was out of town travelling, speedily I replied to Josh. Here is the transcription back to Josh, no edits, awhile duh, no-bird-brainer…hence I proclaim Colleen was spot-on correct, I believe the on-deck pulled apart addiction book share will be beneficial, astronomically beneficial.
It IS hard, it’s harder than hard. It’s harder than anything we can pretend to comprehend, or experience, or identify. It’s harder than, life itself...it’s harder than, creation…it’s harder than, the sun…it’s harder than the moon it’s harder than the stars, and anybody who claims it’s not, they don’t fucking know what they’re talking about.
Please don’t ever apologize to me for anything, you don’t have anything to apologize for. You’re one of the people who helps push me, and guide me, and lift me when I’m not so sure I can do it on my own. Whatever delays, or inefficiencies, or shortcomings you think you might have, I don’t fucking see them, not at all.
What do you have to live for? I don’t know…I don’t know…but maybe as you say, your greatest accomplishments is when you’re able to influence others. I think it’s hard to understand the meaning of rising every day and pushing through the heartache and the pain and the fear and the resentment that we have for the world, and for ourselves…but somehow, most of us we just fool ourselves that we’re on some sort of path. And so what is there to live for? Maybe you find something, maybe you find someone to try to influence however possible. Maybe you take the opportunity that’s in front of you and try to help someone who’s in a similar better or worse place than you, because they’re not going to listen to many others. They’re not going to listen to those who financially could help them, or resource-wise that can help them, because that’s not the help they need, it’s not what they need at all, they need a point of reference from truth, and I think that’s what YOU can provide to the world.
Self-love? Fuck that, 34 years later I still don’t give a shit about myself. All I do is try to help others, who try to help me, like YOU…you’re one of the most genuine people in my life and you help push me. I wrote 47 hours last week on the addiction book, and it’s all because of you, you started it all. I have six foreword pieces from addicts…you’re the first, you kick it off. You introduce the whole thing, and you asked me to try to help you do something great, so that’s what I’m working on. It was only 47 hours last week, I had a lot of other shit to do, I had to rebuild a broken shower that took me 50 hours and it’s still not done. Maybe there’s nothing you can envision that’s worth it, but I think you’ve already done it, and I hope that one of these days we talk and meet up, maybe it’s during the book tour of Daddy, Why Were You A Drug Addict, which is the name of the book right now.
You’re there for me, you push me, you guide me, you lift me, you motivate me, you encourage me, you live real, not many people do…so, I try to be more like Josh.
