We're in the 4th page of this thread and I haven't answered my own questions. I tend to treat threads like that sometimes. Like it's my personal therapy session and I don't want to share.
I have hated myself for a long time, because I believe I deserve a less forgiving world. I'm not a happy person, because I don't allow myself to be a person. I am a shadow of a person. I mourn myself the same way that adults mourn the child they once were.
At some point, along the way, I gave up on myself.
This was long after my parents gave up on me... and my brothers... and my friends.
I used to look at broken people from the outside. When I was young. Before I was broken. I looked at these people and thought, fuck me, what is wrong with them.
It's scary to become what you hate. I see myself becoming closer and closer to my father... I don't hate him, but I hate the absence. I hate the neglect. I hate the fact that I needed someone and all I had was a needle.
My daughter will never lose her father over something as superficial as drugs. I don't care if I have to quit my job and become a monk. I don't care if we have to sell our house and move to Nepal. I will do everything I can to save her.
My father gave up on me like someone betting on a racehorse.
When I was young, I lived in Tokyo. Me and my brothers, we didn't speak Japanese. My parents (on the other hand) were overachievers so they learnt the language before we checked our baggage.
My childhood was beautiful until we started taking drugs.
My father went from super dad to villain in the blink of an eye. I remember him smashing bongs against the wall in a rage. I remember him wrestling my older brothers on the ground.
I was the youngest. I didn't understand.
Co-incidentally, my best friend growing up (back in Australia) was the son of a lifelong stoner. One day, a mutual friend named Paddy told me that he was growing weed and I didn't believe him. That was too crazy an idea.
As time went on, I hit drugs hard and my friend (because he observed his divorced father being fucked up all the time) didn't indulge.
After many years of schoolkids exploiting his father's judgement free household, he finally fell into drugs... but never as hard as me.
I was injecting meth in high school and my parents were strictly anti-pot.
I honestly don't know what is the best approach.
Somewhere in the middle, obviously.
Thanks for sharing and having so much courage to be so open and daring in sharing your life experiences.
My adopted family never took drugs. Except for, you know, non-drug-drugs ie drugs the government have a special relationship with others to sell you. My biological family however apparently had quite a serious issue with drugs.
I dont know whether having such a paranoid family who thought all drugs (except the drugs they took) were dangerous and evil and were out to kill you and steal your wallet, actually helped me. It probably made me worse because it forced me to rebel and that meant my behaviours went underground and became more extreme. Fortunately I had a limit and never went beyond coke but my brother danced with crack once or twice, or so he said. I believe him. He was a cooked goose for a long time during his really crazy unstable days. A few shades above me but I saw what it did to him. Now hes essentially fried. He takes anti-psychotics that make him dumb and lifeless. He had several psychotic breakdowns. We found out he is very high on the autism spectrum (aspergers specifically) but my biological father had paranoid schizophrenia and other serious mental health issues.
So yeah, did my parents trying to scare us into staying away from drugs work? No. I know now studying this subject that most people who had this upbringing tended to actually experiment more and potentially more hazardous, they did so behind the backs of their parents. In some ways I think parents with prior experience with drug use/abuse offer more support (despite the stigma) because they have been there, decrypted the bullsh*t about drugs and know the truth. Whether they can articulate that in the right way or not is another matter.
I guess responsibility is key and so is the messaging and relationship you have with your family. I think the more risks you take to expose yourself to the vulnerability of one another, even if this opens up seeing your family members in a different light, you are brought closer to who that family member really is. I think families often dont open up and connect and talk enough about this and so there is always a divide, a no-go zone. Once upon a time in traditional families this was okay but in this society with so many vices? You NEED to have that chat or at least leave the door open.
Its controversial, risky, countercultural etc but there is a real world out there and when you talk about drugs its better to navigate that world with those you love in the most genuine, empathic and beneficial ways possible. That isnt to say throw meth parties for your 16 year old or expose them to drugs in a way where there is no limits, no values, no boundaries, no expectations etc.
I guess also you need to have YOUR sh*t together to package this up in a way that works and of course its easier said than done.
