Through the Stillness

When I was around nine years old, I stayed a few weeks one summer at her house.  We began sewing clothes for a little stuffed rabbit. I admired her wit and her creativity. She enjoyed writing at one time…just like me. My grandma and mom always referred to her as being so very intelligent and a few times they said I reminded them of her when she was younger. I remember feeling proud of being like her. Well,  that was before drugs took her life.

One thing people don’t realize is that drugs take a person’s life long before they take their last breath. It is like a slow decay. Years later you don’t even recognize the person they once were. All you see are the lies, the anger, and the stress it has caused those you love.

It is crazy to see how drugs seeped into my life although I have never done drugs. Drugs seep into so many innocent lives. I’ve seen the trickle down effect it has on a family and it infuriates me. More, it saddens me.

Maybe to some it seemed inevitable because people with mental illness seem to have a higher incidence of drug use, but I was a kid. All I saw was the destruction and all I did was wonder what happened to my smart and funny aunt.

I rememeber the phone call. My cousin found her dead. My cousin who has had so many bad things happen to because of her. He was devastated. It was so unfair. 

I cannot help but wonder where accountability falls into play. Then, that seems insensitive because mental illness is not a made up illness. Maybe the insensitivity behind mental illness is partly to blame. Which means I am partly to blame–most of us are partly to blame.

We don’t hesitate to feel for and want to help with those who have physical ailments. You have someone who is diagnosed with bipolar and it is different. We get mad at them when they once again have made a bad choice. It is hard not to be upset when someone else’s bad choices hurt those around them. I get it. Oh do I get it because I watchd it over and over again.

Up until this very moment I never realized how much drugs changed my life. 

Somewhere in time, I almost forgot I had an aunt. I would see her on Christmas and a few other times throughout the year. I guess there were a few times I actually saw the real her. The time I remember the most was at my baby shower. I was surprised she came and even more surprised she brought a present. As I began opening it, I saw a glimpse of familiar color. I soon realized it was my baby blanket. She knew my mom would lose it (which is so true)…so she saved it all those years for me for my baby shower.

I cannot help but think of the countless times she moved. Every time she carried along with her my baby blanket and I had no idea. I wonder if my blanket brought her any comfort. Was it some reminder of who she once was?

Mental illness and drugs are indeed a horrible combination. The insensitivity and ignorance toward them are as well though. I know it is hard to think of the person they once were. It is hard to think somewhere under all the gunk the person still remains. Maybe we are playing God when we feel the person is beyond hope; when we forget the person is still in there struggling beyond what we can ever imagine.

Oh, how Satan want us to forget that person…

And I did. I forgot she still existed. I forgot how even the glimpse of her who still remained deserved grace, forgiveness, and love. Just like we all deserve those things. I pray the last moments of her life she called out to God. Oh I pray…