By Katrina Fuller

kfuller@post-journal.com

In the past few weeks, a friend of mine passed away due to an overdose. Heroin took another life that I happened to be somewhat entertwined in. So many of our people are dying because of this horrible addiction, and I’m at a loss once again as to what to say or do.

My friend was young, vibrant and had a sense of humor like you could not imagine. He was a kind and helpful soul. Now he is gone, and the rest of us are left here to wonder why.

Why did this devil of a substance claim his life? Why did this addiction creep in and steal yet another light from our lives?

It was an addiction to a substance, just like so many of us have in one form or another. This time, it just happened to claim his life.

It’s very easy for someone to say that those who are addicted to drugs should “just quit” or “shouldn’t have started in the first place.” It’s very easy to come out and say those things when it’s not you that’s addicted.

I know, because I was addicted to cigarettes for 11 years. Granted, it’s not an illegal drug, but it’s an addiction nonetheless. I can’t tell you the amount of times I heard someone say, “You should just quit,” or “You’re too smart to smoke,” or “I can’t believe you do that.”

I hate to break it to you folks, but saying those kinds of things isn’t helpful. Dropping a weight on a drowing person isn’t going to save their life. It’s only going to drag them deeper.

People will say, “Oh, well, if they did drugs, they knew it was bad for them.”

You know, that’s probably true. The addict probably knows every time they popped a pill or shot up that it was going to kill them some day. Just how when I lit up a cigarette, I knew it was slowly filling my body with toxins. That I was risking getting cancer or COPD with every puff.

But it’s funny, when your brain is rewired by addiction, it doesn’t really care about what the long term impact is of the substance it craves. It’s not driven by a healthy place in your mind anymore. Instead, the addiction is running the show.

I smoked for 11 years. I didn’t quit when people told me that I should “be ashamed of myself,” or that it was killing me. I quit when I realized I needed to quit.

I quit when I turned it over to God because I needed help.

That doesn’t mean I don’t struggle. That doesn’t mean when the going gets tough that I don’t want a cigarette. I just have to remind myself that God is bigger than my addiction, and also that my addiction is constantly trying to kill me.

It doesn’t care if I die – it just wants the nicotine.

Just like a heroin addict – their addiction doesn’t care if they die, if they hurt other people or whatever else happens – it wants its fix.

My friends, this is not a simple thing. This is a serious, mammoth-sized problem that is choking-off the hope in our community. We cannot sweep it under the rug. We cannot pretend it doesn’t exist.

Most importantly, we cannot shame those who are addicted into the shadows – instead, can we not invite those who are addicted into the light?

Is that not what we are here for?

I don’t know why addiction does what it does. I know that whatever substance or feeling you get addicted to makes changes to your brain. I know that quitting cigarettes was one of the hardest things I ever did and I’m still terrified that some day, I’ll pick one up again. Then again, a part of my brain is not terrified, and that is even scarier still. A part of my brain is desiring that I pick up “just one” cigarette someday.

Why is it a taboo for me to say that? Why is it kept under wraps that sometimes people need help and aren’t winning their battle?

Why can’t an addict say they are scared and are in over their head?

I wonder what kind of outcomes we could have if instead of inviting shame and hurt, we invited our broken brethren into the light and said, “Yeah, me too.”

Dear friends, I want you to know that no one in this world is perfect. Everyone has issues, seen and unseen. Maybe I’m not putting a needle in my arm, but I know what it means to have a hard time going a day without my addiction. I know what it means to hurt because of it. I know what it means to feel powerless.

You are not alone. You are not a freak. You are not unworthy of care and affection.

The Jesus that died for my sins died for yours, too. He’s got the power, mercy and grace to take care of your affliction, to wipe away your tears and to help you get through this.

It will not be easy – but anything worth the fight never is.

You can be free. Trust me, I know.

“So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.”

≤ John 8:36