Electric Moments

Have you ever been shocked? Literally, I mean. You've dragged your feet across the carpet and when you touch the person next to you, you both feel a pop of electric current. Or you think that your 110-volt converter actually works in the 220-volt socket, but it doesn't - then you touch the appliance you've plugged in and begin to understand what a "charged moment" really is. 

I wonder sometimes if I have had those types of physically jarring instances in order to be able to identify and feebly try to explain overwhelming emotional events.

Life is just full of shocking moments...moments so full of intense emotion that I can recall them with clarity and a jolt of electricity if I see something that reminds me of them. And the reminders could be anything. 

It could be seeing a new cupcake store that reminds me of my mother who used to bake cupcakes to celebrate my puppies' birthdays. And then all of the sudden I feel my body swaying and I hear that same buzzing in my ears that I heard as I was told that my mother was not going to live but for a few more days. 

It could be seeing a beautiful piece of Native American art that reminds me of my friend's amazingly talented husband who used to make wooden flutes. And then I feel my body somehow sinking through the floor like it did when I was told he was dead after a very brief, unexpected illness.

It could be seeing a group of young men playing basketball down the street that reminds me of the children in my life. And then I feel the rigidity that gripped my body as I read the email telling me that my friend's sixteen-year-old son had died after his battle with cancer. 

It could be seeing a cute photograph of children that reminds me of how I was as a youngster. And then I see a photograph of me actually standing in the very room where I was molested all those many years ago and I feel...I feel...well, there is really no appropriate description or adjective for that complex feeling.

With all of these reminders, I feel. There really is no "deflector shield" that will protect me from these unexpected moments. My body is snapping and popping with current from just typing that list. It is as if there is a complete circuit of electricity running between me and my computer.

I found an old piece of my writing yesterday that reminded me that I have never had...what is it? the talent? skill? education? I'm not sure, but I have never had some mystical quality that would allow me to convey to you the depth, breadth, or exact nature of these shocking feelings. I just know that there is electricity involved.

Hoping that your electric moments are less intense.

Preparing For Death?

The dogs decided in the middle of the night that going outside was a necessity. That woke me up to the point that I could not go straight back to sleep. So I have been sitting here at the computer, trying to clean up some email and beat that little alien at Stellar Sweeper, all while listening to an overweight (but totally cute) Chihuahua snore.

Although I did not plan to start this early, I wanted to write something today, just for the sake of writing. I have been banging on keys since I was a tiny tot messing around with my father's manual typewriter; yet, just moving my fingers around and watching words appear in front of me is still fascinating. (I just don't go through reams of typing paper anymore.) I was tossing around thoughts in my head of writing something lighthearted about our Christmas decorations, but in my email was a more serious idea that grabbed hold of me and would not let go.

An Acknowledgement

It is the middle of the night. I've been trying for hours to think of something profound or maybe lyrical to say about what is on my mind. How arrogant of me - that I'm worried about making sure you read this and say, "what an excellent piece of writing". How arrogant that I am thinking in any way of myself right this minute. The situation itself is profound. It does not need my words to sanction that. 

I did not give much of myself to either one of the people who are on my mind at this moment. Now I will at least give them the dignity of acknowledgement. 

Terri is gone. I always thought I would see her again. That will never happen now. Her addiction won the battle. She will be buried today, I think.

I don't know what the official cause of death will be on the certificate. Accidental overdose? Suicide? It does not really matter. The addiction overpowered her and now she is gone.

Freddy is in prison. His addiction took him away from his wife. I am not by any means saying that Terri's addiction would not have taken her if Freddy had been with her. I think things would have turned out much the same. Being locked up might be the only reason that Freddy has not died from this affliction.

I was not very close to either Terri or Freddy. By the time I came along, they had pretty much worn out their welcome in our mutual group of friends. I think they knew that I was not willing to participate in the madness that comes with addiction - lying to your friends, lying to yourself, chasing your tail in ever-smaller circles trying to keep that "high". But we had moments. Moments where we prayed together, laughed together, cried together, helped one another. I think both Terri and Freddy would be amazing people to be around if it weren't for the addiction.

Addiction is ugly. It does ugly things to beautiful people. The thing is - addiction wears a mask. It is a smooth operator that can reel in the best of people and then they are hooked. Living inside a body that has become so dependent on drugs that it does not know how to function without them is a prison in itself. The cravings that taunt you when you can't get a "fix" are physically painful. What happens to the mind during this process is just complete insanity. Things that you would not do otherwise begin to make perfect sense. Hurting yourself or others suddenly becomes completely justifiable because you NEED that drug and you will do whatever it takes to get it. Whatever it takes. 

To overcome addiction, you have to do whatever it takes. This side of heaven I will never understand why some people are able to grasp that and others are not. I know God could have delivered Terri if she had held onto Him. Whenever I think of her from now on, there will be that question of "why?" connected to her. She knew who He was. Why did she not throw herself at His feet and hang on for dear life? That is always the question. Why do some addicts learn to hang on and others don't? I have absolutely no answer.

What I know right this minute is that a child of God - a wife, mother, daughter, sister, and friend - has lost this battle. I know that another child of God - a husband, father, son, and friend - is grieving and closed off from his loved ones.  This is my acknowledgement that their lives, addiction and all, matter.