A page from my journal.
Sorry to go deep, but I have become increasingly aware of the casualness, and social acceptance of joke telling that reinforces the shaming of addicts and alcoholics.
It may be ignorance, but that doesn’t make it okay.
You think you’re clever. Or perhaps, am I too sensitive.
I generally try to take things in stride. I’m easily amused, and can find humor in most cases. Except. Now that these jokes hit a little too close to home. Now that I’ve seen first hand the devastation that comes along with being addicted to drugs.
The witty remarks about the homeless person, the meth addict, the heroin addict… these jokes have become less amusing and more like offensive.
I know you wouldn’t crack these jokes in front of me if you knew. So, from this day forward, I will bravely defend my daughter’s honor, rather than laughing with you as you compare your shuffling husband to the crack addict.
I’ve been told that I’ve changed. That I’m no longer the same. Not as fun as I used to be. A bleeding heart. To that I say, I guess there’s something about watching your son or daughter circling the drain of addiction that is likely to change you.
Guess what? We’re both still here.
I still love to laugh and enjoy life. I just can’t unsee what I’ve seen.
They say once you can tell your story without breaking down in tears it means you’re getting stronger. I’m happy to know that I’m getting stronger!