Something sad happened yesterday.
Ever wonder how people get back on their feet after struggling with addiction?
How would you feel if you were estranged from your family, destitute, recovering from years of substance abuse… and none of your friends were ‘clean’?
How would you reintegrate into society, and put your talents and skills to pro-social and productive use (perhaps even for the first time in your life) as a middle-aged person?
How do you go from being outside the “system” to working within it? How do you cope with your new independence and the frustrating monotony of the workday world? How do you learn to feel like a real human being again?
Those are questions which have bothered me since a very pleasant gentleman in his 50’s (we shall call him “Jules”), whom I have seen many times over the past couple of years, and greeted with a smile while serving the day’s meal, approached me to invite me out for coffee. Of course, such contact is strictly against the rules, but he didn’t give up. I could see him summoning up all his courage as he asked again, and then a third time, whipping out a piece of paper and pen from his shirt pocket in anticipation of my phone number. In fact, he was so nervous that he couldn’t look me in the eye by the third request. And when my initial shock and annoyance wore off, for some reason, I felt something breaking… something really sad.
Hey, every week I get marriage proposals… some funny and some creepy. I get “Give me a big smile, honey!”, “Sweetie, can’t you give me some more?”, “Hey wouldn’t I like to wake up to that face” and “My, don’t you look fresh!” I also get “You F***ing Bitch!”, “Why are you looking at me??”, “I f***ing hate women, they should all DIE” and “You f***ing c***!!” There was even one miserable dude who tried to give me his pneumonia.
I try not to take it personally….by the time they’re sober they’ll have forgotten my face anyways. And I pity the guy who wants to stalk me at night, because he’ll get a run for his money all right (and probably two black eyes).
I was sad to think that this offer of contact would result in a security precaution. I was sad to think that from now on, I would feel uncomfortable if I saw Jules at the grocery store, or walking down the street. I was also sad to think that I may have been one of the only smiling faces that Jules saw on a regular basis; one who saw him as a human being and not as just another hopeless case. Because somehow I need to believe (indeed I have to believe) that Jules just wanted a friend to talk to, someone to tell him he’s doing great, someone who believes in him and values his contribution to society—someone from the “other side”. While I personally believe that a woman half his age would not be the most appropriate choice for such support, I can’t help but feel sad.
Sad enough to think about it, and sad enough to write it here.
