The devil made us do it

But compassion might redeem us all.

Drugs are evil. Society seems to think so. I mean, look at what they do to people's lives. Even addicts, who experience their ravages firsthand, see them that way.

Is it any surprise then, that people who do drugs are often seen as 'evil-doers'? It's ingrained so in society, it’s in our very language.

But what if drugs aren't so bad? Or so good. Or anything. What if they’re just the shitty medication we’re stuck with?

Because it turns out some of us can’t afford health care or trauma therapy or even a yoga class.

The pharmacy may be closed. But the streetside harmacy is always open. Then comes the chorus from Narcotics Anonymous meetings across the land: Drugs ruined my life!

But was it really the dope?

I'm pretty sure, for reasons I don’t quite understand, I was determined to annihilate my life anyway. Drugs just happened to be the only tools I had. Besides, a street drug-assisted suicide in slow motion sounded painless enough. People use all kinds of different tools to numb their downward spiral I’ve even heard of people who buy-shit-they-don’t-need themselves to death.

So I'm thinking that for me, recovery is about more than just holding off on taking dubious medications. It's self discovery. Why did I feel the need for a tear-down in the first place? It's also about learning how to build a new one that's so full of purpose and meaning that it makes medication unnecessary. I'm on a torch-bearing mission to brighten the corners of my very foundation.

When I look at recovery that way, I don't measure progress by counting 'clean' days, but rather the fullness of days. By how well I get along with people. How music sounds. How good it feels to read books again. How otherworldly my mom's garden looks at night. And how, all of a sudden, the drugs don’t work because I don’t need them.

So if I should have a weak moment and reach for my old medication, I won't despair and think, 'Back to the drawing board.' I'm not building a house of cards.

Instead, I hope I'll ask myself what happened. And see it for what it is: a clear indication that I'm not there yet. Sure, I'll be disappointed. Then I'll get back to work on the foundation – and ultimately, the cathedral that is me.

My recovery can only fail if I quit that job.

And maybe if we stop looking at drugs as evil — and those who do them as evil-doers — we might, instead, see addicts as humans in crisis. We can’t give them the treatment they need because, let’s face it, we live in a burnt out capitalist husk of a society with deranged priorities.

But compassion is a hell of a drug. We can all afford it. Even for ourselves.