Loud Mouth Brown Girl

Lots of people like to say this. It means “No matter what happens, you keep going.” Here’s the thing, though, sometimes we hit a wall. Sometimes that wall is abuse, trauma, drugs, sex, gambling, kids, jobs, or experiences that stop us from doing the things that we used to be able to do with ease.

In the 1990’s PTSD was something only soldiers could get. No one else in the world was regularly diagnosed with PTSD because it was something that was “Only found in extreme cases of trauma.” Today, every fucking one of us lives with PTSD.

All of us have trauma from something or someone in our past, who has changed the way that we view the world. For the good, bad or ugly, we are changed after we’ve been traumatized, and sometimes that change is so drastic that the idea of “keep going” is literally impossible.

And yes, there are organizations designed to help “The most marginalized among us,” but in the Western world it’s absolutely true that more money is spent on staffing than on facilitating programs. I know this because I earned $350 every two weeks, probably less than that if I am being 100% honest, on top of the money I get from being on Disability.

When I “worked” at the church, I did toilets, I cooked, I served meals, and I helped folks get or find recovery options when they were ready to come in off the streets.

Now let’s talk about what “Recovery” in Surrey, British Columbia, meant ten years ago:

It meant picking up the phone and dialling a random number, praying there was room.

It meant sending a person who has deep trust issues off with a total stranger and no after-care support to make sure they were okay, because we didn’t have the resources to check in on people after sending them to recovery.

It often meant watching them come back to the shelter only hours later because, for whatever reason, the house they were sent to wasn’t a good option.

Oftentimes, it meant sending people to places that would force them to sign over their cheque for the month, and then kick those same people right back out on the street

In “recovery” programs across British Columbia, there is a “You use once you’re out on your ass” rule, which means that if you fuck up one time, you’re thrown back into the streets, where inevitably you will end up using again, probably for the last time.

This is deeply unfair, and that being said, the reason that it happens is because the people running the house want to protect the other people living there. Fair, I understand that part.

What I don’t understand is why we aren’t licensing and checking in on these recovery houses so that they have more options and more support when folks do slip up and use.

When I was a kid I was warned in Calgary about how marijuana use would lead to the use of harder drugs, and throughout the years I absolutely was invited to do harder drugs, I found that easier to say no to than men.

I’ve never tried cocaine, I’ve never tried H, Meth or anything else, and I think that was a great choice for me to have made, because all I’ve ever seen those drugs do is cause harm.

I chose weed specifically because I knew the history of the plant, and I knew it to be one that was used as a healing plant for many centuries. Everything that was inside of me, all the pain, the sorrow, the toxicity, anger, resentment, fear, dissolution of contentment, all of it came swimming out.

My mom thought I’d lost my mind, my abusers did everything they could to get me to shut my mouth, and my friends all but fell away. Uninterested in being uncomfortable with me, I was left alone with a pile of literal shit to deal with, and no one to help me.

You all know how that ended up, and yes, I came very, very, very close to trying crack just to make the pain stop, so I do remember.

There are choices that we all make. I no longer believe that addiction is just something that happens, it’s a series of choices that happen over time that lead into addiction. No one grows up thinking “Gee wiliker pop, I think I want to be addicted to opioids when I grow up,” but it does happen. What you do about it is in your power.

Coming back from addiction is one of the hardest things most folks will ever do in their entire lives, but it’s absolutely worth it. I’ve seen people go on to have families, build legacies, and help hundreds of others get free from addiction.

But in order for that to happen, in order for people to REALLY come back, they need folks willing to both be there to support them, and to fuck the fuck off, when it’s needed.

Sometimes we need you to hold our heads and make sure we don’t shatter, and other times we need you to leave us be the fuck alone. We don’t always know what we need, and so sometimes we need you to let us be free to take the time to decide.

Healing from trauma, and therefore addiction is not pretty. Sometimes you’re throwing up all over the place, other time you have the shits so bad you think your asshole is literally trying to crawl its way out of your body.

Sometimes it’s screaming at the top of your lungs because the memories are so vivid it feels like you’re still there, and other times it’s silence for days, weeks, months at a time.

Healing is different for every single one of us, and yeah often it’s fucking ugly, but we don’t talk about that because we’re too busy being comfortable, talking about it might “Rock the boat.”

Lots of men – in particular – refuse to believe that talk therapy will help, but the thing is holding it in doesn’t help either does it? Holding in what you’re going through is like well its’ like holding onto a fart hoping no one will notice when it escapes anyways.

It always escapes, trapped bullshit, trapped lies, anxiety, depression, misery, all of it, is better off released, how you release it, what you do with your pain is entirely up to you, but if you’re going to take anymore unsolicited advice today, I highly recommend that you find something beautiful to do with the ugly, so you can change the way you perceive what you’re going through.

Guys in recovery recently started knitting, and even though they got made fun of for doing it, they found that it really helped to calm their mind and sooth some of their demons. Now they knit all kinds of things for the shelters in the area. Some of the biggest, baddest, most dangerous men in Surrey, spend their time knitting for fun and relaxation.

Just something to think about,

Sending all my love,

Devon J Hall, The Original Loud Mouth Brown Girl