It’s a funny thing about eyes. They tell a truthful story. They betray so much of the person behind those eyes. I can still see my Dad’s eyes, the ones that knew the truth about himself. That he could never win the battle, the one in which he was addicted too. Sad, knowing eyes. I’m sorry eyes. I’m ashamed eyes. I have to go eyes.
I saw them in my own husband’s eyes, when he was struggling with his addiction also. The very same eyes, just in a different body. They looked down, ashamed, knowing they were doing wrong, with every mite of their mortality, hurting their families, their loved ones, much more than they were hurting themselves. For they could feel not much, because they were on the substance that kept the physical pain away.
The pain of living. The life which was a hugely difficult task for the strongest of beings. How could they, so weak, live at all, without any sort of help, to get them through the huge difficulty of socialising among so called normal people. Whom were good at living the life and playing the sports and doing ok in school. It’s not as easy as it seems.
I saw the same eyes this evening, so sad, so wise, so un-knowing, of the addiction that he has come about. The strength of it. The destruction of it. And yet he is still a child full of hopes and dreams, that maybe he will wake up tomorrow all sensible and grown up and his addiction will have gone away and in its wake, an enthusiastic young man ready to make his parents proud, will be in his place.
But when that doesn’t happen, he beats himself up inside and eases his pain with dulling it out with a substance. Who can judge him. The mind is it’s own crucifer. It’s amazing how it will make one feel the worst one can feel. It’s more severe than physical pain. And what is the crime? Killing one’s mind. Killing one’s feelings and emotions.
How do you help a young lad from this? If you could turn back the clock and keep this lad safe from the outside world for as long as possible, that may have given him more security. How could you have known? How do you prepare yourself and your loved ones for the pain that is imminent? How much longer am I going to have the privilege of seeing those eyes alive? The little cherub who I had the chance of loving. From pulling him out of a wrangle of woofies when he wanted their food and he was upset when he lost. Who watched over my own child when they were playing as toddlers, who took turns in the cot for naps and shared juice bottles and cookies and a double buggy for walks that somehow fit him and his sister and his cousin. He always shared.