It started out with one or two pain pills here and there.
Her husband was dying from cancer. It was his prescription. With the pills, she could have a few hours of peace. A few hours where life didn’t feel so bitter.
In five years time she had escalated to heroin. Her husband was dead. She was alone.
Buddhists like to teach about living in the present moment. Well, that’s where she was.
With a needle in your arm, there is no past or future. Only the now.
But something changed in her. Something broke through. And now she’s talking to me. Telling me her story. Asking for help.
She’s no longer just in the moment. She’s thinking about what’s next. And how to make this moment have meaning in a life full of destruction.
We make a plan and I say a prayer to Saint Jude (the patron saint of lost causes).
Recovery is a path.
A path that is cleared.
With time, action, persistence.
A few sharp axes…
And God’s good grace.
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