Those who know me well know that I’m not a very religious being. I am, however, spiritual. I believe in a higher power and call it what you may, I frequently refer to it as The Universe. I believe it synonymous with the happiness and the “God” inside of us all. With that being said, “God, grant me the patience…”
Have you ever tried speaking to an addict? How’d that work out for ya? Seriously?
The night I came home to discover that my mother had been successfully hiding the fact that my father was addicted to prescription medication was a doozy! And I dumb it down only for the purpose of fast forwarding to me naively asking my dad, “But why? Why do you take drugs, dad?”
My fifteen-year-old ears were not ready for his response, “ ‘Cause I hate my life…”
What? My mouth unattractively gaped open in horror, I thought, how could my dad hate his life? At the age of fifteen, daddy’s wanna-be little girl took full responsibility for this pitiful reply.
Tonight, I engaged another addict. Why? I don’t fucking know. No, I do know. I was being passively laughed at for no particular reason. I know, dumb. The result was that of an angry Lindsay that wanted to react violently using no other weapon but her bare hands. God granted her patience. And then she became motivated. Thank You, God. Amen.