Posted in Blog, Nonfiction, Short Stories

Being honest

It finally clicked. She was finally able to understand her life, and what had led her down the path that she was on right now.

 

She had. She had done it all by herself, made all the decisions and called all the shots. She had been angry at other people, pointing to their mistreatment as the source of all of her woes. She would say to herself, “They just don’t understand. They don’t care about me or what I’m going through. They only care about themselves.” That was probably the biggest irony of it all. She was the one who only cared about herself, and completely disregarded the feelings of those around her.

 

Her problem wasn’t that she abused drugs. It was that she abused those who loved her. She chose the chemicals over the people that did everything in their power to help her. And it wasn’t a one time thing. It was a recurring decision that she had made. Time and time again it would come down to a simple choice between her loved ones or the drugs. And time and time again she had devasted her loved ones by choosing the drugs.

 

It’s like a spouse that continually cheats on their partner, but blames their cheating on the spouse. They wouldn’t have to cheat if they were listened too, if their problems were taken into consideration once in a while. How many times would someone allow their partner to cheat on them before finally calling it quits. Before giving up on them once and for all, because they made their priorities extremely clear.

 

It was a lot for her to take in all at once. She had thought these same things before, but when she finally began to comprehend how much damage she had done, before now she had just stopped admitting her faults and reverted back to blaming others.

 

In all actually, the actions of others may have played a part, they may have played a very big part. And eventually those actions may have to be addressed. But she was the one that was preventing that from happening. How could she expect everyone else to look at themselves and change their behavior if she wasn’t willing to do the same for them. And her behavior so outweighed theirs that it was almost comical that she had pointed it out in the first place.

 

She began to rethink some of the issues that she had brought up about them in the past. At this point she started to realize that she had been lying to herself just as much as she had been lying to everyone else. She had to keep telling herself that everybody else was doing things wrong in order to live with her own decisions day to day.

 

When a person realizes that they can no longer trust their own judgement, it shatters any sense of self that they had. She was a broken person. She did not feel whole anymore. But she knew the truth now, and that comforted her. She felt relief that she never had to hide any of this again. Like when a best friend confides in you that they have done something to betray your trust. Anger is the initial response, but as that fades away relief becomes the primary feeling because now you know that they care enough about you that they had to come clean.

 

She knew that she had a lot of making up to do. She wasn’t even sure if all the making up would be possible. Would it be feasible for her to mend all of the fences and repair all of the bridges that she had destroyed in her crusade for intoxication? Nobody could possibly know the answer to that question.

 

She knew that if somebody had treated her the way that she had treated so many of her close friends and family that she would have been long gone by now. That made her feel exponentially more guilt, but also intense love and a desire to return that devotion that they had so selflessly shown her.

 

She knew what needed to be done. She had to stay truthful.

 

She had to be honest.

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