Day: 1146

Many people see addicts as frightening, or at the very least, intimidating. I get it. Before alcoholism sucker-punched my life, so did I.

Many moons ago, before the alcohol became bad, and when I was living near London, I regularly delivered stationary to a tourist information centre. It was next-door to a recovery centre. As is always the way, outside was always a raggedy group of recovering addicts, smoking cigarettes with shaky fingers. I had to park my van and walk past them, quickly wheeling my trolley full of stuff. I’d hear them, smell them, see them – fear them. They were never impolite or intimidating, simply jittery, frustrated, and anxious. Just a bunch of anxious people standing around and getting their last smoke in before a group or appointment.

But they were addicts!

The hollowed-out cheeks of heroin addicts terrified me. Were they heroin addicts? How the hell did I even know? I was clueless. Others were red-faced and bloated. Probably alcoholics. Again, I was naive and judgemental. But what if the heroin people mugged me for their fix money? What if they injected me with dirty needles just for kicks? Because that’s what heroin addicts do all day, right? What if the alcoholics got together in an alcohol-fuelled rage and beat me to a pulp? Just for the hell of it! Because that’s what, blah, blah, blah . . .

Ah, stigma. I knew you so well!

There was more chance of a vagina growing on my elbow than any of this ridiculous internal fear-mongering coming true. But I didn’t know. I was too busy being paralysed by fear, hyped-up on media, gossip and rumour.

I was simply walking past a group of fellow humans who had dealt with their past problems the wrong way. They were trying to put things right for themselves.

Most addicts are passive, shy, and private due to huge amounts of shame and guilt. Many are terrified. Aside from the rare few who feed the stigma machine, addicts wouldn’t say boo to a goose.

*          *          *

Skip a few years. I went from addict-phobic, to standing outside a recovery centre, anxiously smoking roll-ups with my fellow addicts, in-between groups, and appointments. We would, amongst other things, talk about how harsh it is to be stigmatised by judgey-normals.

But I can absolutely understand why people fear addicts.

During addiction we can appear like the animated dead, unreadable expressions on our faces as we stumble and mumble. We’re anxious, depressed, frustrated, and poisoned. We have been known to vomit and urinate in public (wherever we lay our hats, and all that). Sometimes we sleep in the wrong places (sometimes at the request of the police). We can smell odd, often eye-wateringly so. But we are mostly people who got life wrong for a while – and became stuck.

But what you’re actually seeing is total, raw vulnerability.

We often get preyed upon, blamed, shamed and taken advantage of. Why? Because it’s easy. We are rarely aware when fingers are pointed. Also (mid-drink or drug) we don’t care. Apart from flooding of our blood with various poisons, we rarely care about much. You tell us black is white and you’d maybe get a thumbs up and a nonchalant smile. We mostly just want people to leave us alone.

On two occasions, I really did take people at their word. I paid for it dearly, for years afterwards. Here they are:

1: I received a standard letter from the bank asking me to come in for a review of my account. Nothing bad or even anything to worry about. Just a chat. I went. I think I did! I must have done. Because when I woke up the next day, I had printed documentation in black and white with my signature confirming it. I didn’t remember a thing. But I’ll guarantee you this – I will have staggered into that bank, slurring my words and stinking to high-heaven of booze. I would have been unshaven, scruffy, and wearing the same clothes I’d been in for days. It wouldn’t have been a pretty sight, or smell. So why did I wake up the next day with a crumpled contract for a £4000 loan and a credit card? I only went in for an account review, right?

2: One morning I woke up hungover after a blackout. Next to me was a brand-new mobile phone and a wine or blood-stained contract. It tied me in for £70 per month for two years. All neatly signed by me! This was from the friendly local Vodafone shop. Done and dusted!

To this day, I remember nothing of both occasions. But I definitely remember the years of struggling to pay everything off.

So who’s fault was it?

Mine, obviously. I got slaughtered on wine or whatever, and staggered into two corporate, money-hoovers when I really should have stayed home in bed. Simple. Got me bang to rights, guvnor! Stick the cuffs on.

But I have questions! Not many, but a few.

You’re a phone sales human, or a bank human. You see, hear, and smell an obviously intoxicated person stumbling in through your doors. Obviously, you gently persuade them to go home and come back another day, right? You’re not going to get any sense out of them. Or you go to your manager and ask for advice? He/she would advise the above, obviously?

Obviously not!

You go for the money-shot. Straight into the pockets of the vulnerable and pull out as much cash as possible. Drain that bank account and milk it for what it’s worth! For years! Because you’ve got them where you need them – vulnerable! You may as well kick a homeless person in the face and steal their change whilst you’re at it. Pull a feeding baby from its mothers breast as well. Why not eh? It’s all the same thing. Taking advantage of, and taking the money from, the most susceptible people who walk through the door. Making the figures look good. Having your tongue firmly wedged up your greedy boss’s ass.

I’ve heard so many similar stories like mine from friends and ex-clients. Mine isn’t a one-off story. I’m not the only addict who’s been taken advantage of like this. Unfortunately, I won’t be the last.

But I’ll tell you what! What goes around, comes around! Many of us recover. We begin to shine and we never forget being screwed-over. We make our own money and pay our dues and debts. You’ll never take advantage of us again. When the going gets tough, the tough get creative. We write letters, books, essays, memoirs, emails, messages, posts, and blogs – sometimes about money-stealing, life-wrecking, cowardly excuses for humans.

If you are one of these modern-day robbers, I do forgive you. But I hope after reading this you’ll never screw-over another addict’s life like that again. Be fair. Be nice. Be a decent human being. Just be kind to your fellow humans. Life is too short. Simple.

Have a lovely day, stay amazing and be safe xx