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Interview with a meth addict. Looking for good and finding it.

Those Junkies! Crackheads! Methheads! Losers! Addicts!

Waste of space. Waste of life. Human trash.

If you’ve never wanted to feel like anything but yourself, you are blessed.

If you’ve never felt the pain and grip of addiction, you are blessed.

We seem to sweep under the rug of convenience the ‘prescription pill addicts’ – the ‘dirty martini addicts’, the ‘work out addicts’. The ‘I partied with a little coke” confessors.  As long as there is someone doing something worse than us, we’re ‘ok’.  Even the news is geared to shock and awe us into ‘phew, my life is not THAT bad’.

It’s funny – but there’s even a stigma within the addiction community – there’s those who snort, those who smoke and those who shoot up. Much like doing a crime and doing the time in prison, if you’ve sinned you’ve sinned right? Nope. They have their no-no’s. If your conviction involves harming a woman or child – watch out. No matter if you murdered someones son. We judge, judge, judge.

When it does come to addiction, did you ever stop to wonder who ‘Those People’ were before they turned to drugs the first time? Afterall, ‘they’ are daughters, sons, sisters, brothers, moms, dads. Who are ‘Them”?

They were once clean and innocent, had hopes and dreams. Healthy and excited about life.

What happened?

What takes a person from sobriety to addiction?

I shall break the 4th wall here and tell you that I could answer if you ever asked – there is more to the name of my blog than meets the eye and I have hundreds of stories I could tell.

I have to tell you that this is the hardest piece I’ve ever written – being an ‘interviewer’ and while caring very deeply for her subject.

But today I am telling you someone elses story.

We were chatting on the phone the other night and he asked “Did I ever read you what I wrote in my journal?”

No. No he hadn’t. (largely due to the fact that he only recently found his journals once again) So he proceeded to share. And once he did – I insisted on an interview, (after already inviting him to share his story on my blog.)

Open your heart and mind and join me as I introduce you to one of my friends, in the most candid interview I’ve ever been privileged to share.

Behind the scenes info:

I had to stop several times due to the authenticity (that you know I love) being too overwhelming for me.

I always want to wrap the ones I love in cotton wool and put them in a matchbox for safekeeping. I don’t ever want those I love to hurt.

You wonder why I consider the parents when I speak of my neighbors? Because I look at everyone with Clockwork Orange eyes – large and engaged and unable to look away. And with a past of understanding. That’s why.

I give to you my friend Jim. He gives himself to you too – and if you want to reach out – contact me and I will put you in touch with him.


A journey back. ))))))))))) please join me while we travel with James Beck former upstanding father, citizen, brother, son, friend turned wrong by the need for speed. 100% methane nitro supercharged 50,000 Watts of power pushing overload! This is the fucker that I will beat. I’m looking you right in the eye this time and I will put you down like I have before without blinking an eye! This time I’m going to make Mr. meth hurt. Kick that cocksucker in the mouth then make him eat the curb for dessert. He will feel my potential grow till no light will shine on that worthless good for nothing user of life and love. Like Pac-Man eating dots he sucks the life and hopes, dreams into the abyss. Battle is on. I will also turn this whole experience into a positive. Hey friends, brothers, sisters, mother, you!, I’m putting “God first” ,working hard on making amends on the things I have executed out with the help of Mr. meth, Lucifer, and of course the big S man, Satan! God has my heart now. Satan will no longer feel my mind, heart, soul with his evil. Giving it to Him. I love you Lord and pray for your help. Use me please Please!


Me: Tell me about the first time you wanted to feel ‘different’ – get out of your reality.

Jim: I think that goes back to as far as I can remember. I am the youngest of six kids 10 years behind my closest brother. Early in my life I had a sister who OD’d when she was 18 years old and I was 5 1/2.

My family really didn’t know how to handle it. She didn’t die but she lost her mind and became schizophrenic.

(Editors note: Not sure if ‘became’ schizophrenic is accurate – I do believe you’re born with the genetic disposition – and a certain age brings it out (see rapture) – but from a young family members memories – this must have happened in tandem)

From those early days on I felt different and uncomfortable. I suffered a lot of mental physical and sexual abuse from her. I never felt normal and I always felt like I was different from others. I had a few close friends and that was it. My outlet for all that was sports. Then in my early teens I discovered something that could really change my reality. Drugs and alcohol

Me: What came first? Drugs or alcohol?

Jim: Drinking came first. Like I said I was with a group of tight friends – five of us. They’d all smoke pot and drink and I resisted for a while.

Then I took my first drink. It was out of a bottle of Smirnov vodka, 1 gallon size. It was before a Friday night football game and I remember it well. Within a week or two of that first drink I was drinking alcoholically . My drink of choice was Schlitz malt liquor bull out of a beer bong with a quarter pint of Southern comfort. This went on for almost a year. My friends smoking pot and doing other drugs and just drinking for myself. The fear of being like my sister kept me from doing the drugs


Me: That first drink – how did it make you feel?

Jim: It was euphoric and I loved it. I remember going to the football game and sitting in the stands with the crowd of kids that I have set with many times and felt totally alone and uncomfortable. That night was different. I talked to a few girls and was very much more social. I found the answer

Me: Did you tell anyone what your sister was doing to you? How long did that carry on?

Jim: No I never told anybody.

She abused one of my friends with me a couple of times. He’s the only one whoever knew until I worked The steps outlined in the book Alcoholics Anonymous. She abused me physically until the age of 13. The mental abuse was horrific. I can remember her coming to my junior high school in a bikini and walking through the girls PE class asking “Do you any of you know Jimmy Beck”

One of the worst days of my life. The sexual abuse ended when I was eight years old and I could run away and kind of knew what she was doing. Before that I was naïve and vulnerable. The last day of the physical abuse took place in my kitchen. I was 13 years old and was getting ready to play baseball game with my spike cleats on. She came at me like she had done many times before but this time I fought back and fought back hard. I remember sinking my metal cleats into her flesh. That was a great day for me.

Not such a good day for her.

Me: Oh Beck … You found the strength to do that, why did you not tell anyone?

Jim: Probably because of the reason why many victims of sexual abuse do it. Embarrassment and fear.

Me: Very true. Ok. So you found alcohol and were wary of drugs – what was your first drug and how did you feel crossing that line you’d mentally drawn?

Jim: The first drug I did was marijuana. It was outside my school with my good friend Rick and two girls. I hadn’t planned on doing it but I kind of liked the one girl who was doing it so I did it. Peer pressure driven by lust I guess. LOL. I remember after doing it I went into ceramics class. I felt like my head was the size of a basketball and couldn’t stop laughing. I loved it. I smoked pot every day after that for the next 30 years. I loved it


Me: You know when people say ‘Pot is a gateway drug’ and other people laugh at that? I’ve always believed that’s true. Not because you want to shove a needle in your arm after you smoke pot, but because you’ve gone from being a non-drug user to a drug user. It’s easier to take it to the next level. Do you agree or disagree?

Jim: I sort of agree. I think alcohol is the gateway drug honestly. At least two harder drugs for me. The one thing being involved with marijuana does do, it puts you in places where other drugs are being used and distributed. If you stay in the barbershop long enough you’re going to get a freaking haircut you know

Me: I tend to think that when you’re not thinking straight, and your inhibitions are down, you’re more willing to do something stupid. But yeah – I know. So, Jim went from pot to ….?

Jim: I think the next drug I did was cocaine probably when I was 15. Again I loved it! From the age of 15 to 19 I used cocaine probably on a weekly basis. Not during the week very often. At that same time I started using LSD mushrooms speed and anything else I could get my hands on. I’m a garbage can

Me: Were you still at home at 19? There’s a Hawaii story somewhere here. From 15 to 19, who was putting a roof over your head?

Jim: I lived with my dad until I graduated high school when I was 17. Then I moved to Phoenix Arizona and went to diesel mechanic school. Lots of pot smoking and partying in there. I did graduate with almost straight A’s. When I move back to California I am immediately got a job doing my profession and live with my mother at that time. Free rent meant more money for cocaine on the weekends you know. It was all about The party. At that time I acquired a fake ID when I was 19. Then the club scene started happening


And yes there is a Hawaii story. Actually a couple. My junior and senior years I went to Hawaii for the summer. I was 16 and 17 years old. Took a lot of cocaine and a backpack with my one buddy. We spent most of the time up in the cow fields collecting mushrooms and tripping. I don’t know how my parents let me do that at such a young age. Absolute insanity for sure. I’m lucky to be alive. One night I ate probably three or 4 ounces of fresh mushrooms which took away my vision. I remember praying to God please help me Lord I will never do this again if you give me out of this. The next day I did it again. One of many pleas to my God in times of desperation that I took my word back on

beck mushroom

Me: We’re skipping something I think people ought to know – and I know you have a loving relationship with her now – but at home, during your most difficult times, your mom wasn’t exactly (or literally) there for you

Jim: Do you want me to elaborate on that?

Me: Yeah, we’re on record

Jim: My parents were real good people. My father was a fireman who worked two days on two days off. He was as good of a dad you could find. He coached me and baseball and was a father figure to many of my friends. My mother was a schoolteacher at the local elementary school. She spent 80% of the nights out gambling and staying away from the house. I think the situation with my sister was too much for her as well as being addicted to gambling. I remember many times pleading with her ‘please don’t leave me alone’ with Loretta my sister. Only to have her say I’ll be back shortly and never coming home. It was kind of a split life.

When dad was home everything was great. When dad was at work my life was hell. A living horrible hell.

When my mom divorced my dad when I was 13 they took me into a room and said that I would be living with my mother. I refused and didn’t speak to her for a year and a half. After that and throughout my life I used my mother for a place to live and for a source of money. That was all.

As I was saying I acquired a fake ID at the age of 19. I would work throughout the week earning a good income and spend it all at the bars. Red onion, Bobby Mcgees, black Angus, the hop, following the dollar drinks circuit. At this time I also was introduced to meth. This was my favorite drug I ever tried. I could work on it without the mental craziness that cocaine gave me. Everything was better with meth.

When I was 21 I had an opportunity to try out for a local college and get a football scholarship. I had been out of high school for three years and have been working as a diesel mechanic for those three years.
I tried out and got a partial scholarship my first year so I enrolled and started my college education. This is the first time in my life I had been exposed to any type of real God. The University I went to was a Christian University and part of the criteria was taking Bible classes and attending chapel. I really started to feel a closeness to a God.

In my second year of college I was on the central coast of California visiting my brother Bill with a couple of friends. We had went out the night before to a nightclub and I remember being greatly hung over.

My brother’s phone rang and it was my mom. I got on the phone and she informed me that my brother Bobby had committed suicide.

It’s still hard to talk about. He was a beautiful man and a good friend as well as a good brother. A person who when he walked in the room it just got better. He was high on cocaine and alcohol and jumped off a three-story building. I turned my back on God that day.

This event set me into a tailspin. I spent the next two years of college smoking meth and drinking to excess.

I still played football and actually did quite well at that. My senior year I was an All-American. I can remember showing up the morning of the games after being up all night drinking and using meth . Talk about feeling weird, show up to a Christian breakfast with 45 teammates that are completely sober when you’ve been up drinking and using all night. What an awful feeling that was.

Me: Why did you turn to drugs after it played a part in your brother’s death?

Jim: That’s what addicts do. I had no other coping mechanism.

I didn’t want to feel. Seeing my father bury his son is something that I will never ever ever forget. No father should ever have to bury his son and addiction makes this occur far too often.
I’m so grateful he didn’t have to bury me also

Me: Someone special came along not long after that …

Jim: yes that next summer at a local carnival in my hometown of Hacienda Heights I reconnected with a girl from high school. She was the “hottest” girl in my school. Way out of my league in high school but I had matured and gain some confidence in that area. We hit it off immediately and were inseparable.

Me: Inseparable – and what happened next? (I know WHO happened next )

Jim: After dating for a couple of years I ended up buying a house.
We moved in together and a couple of years later she had an idea she was pregnant. She went to the doctor and came back with the wonderful news she was pregnant .

Later that night my brother called me and told me my dad died.

Again I turn my back on God. Such a bittersweet day that was.

Anyways D and I had used together for the previous four years. Mostly on weekends. We loved each other very much and with the coming of my son Taylor she wanted us to quit drugs all together.

Me: Wow. Poetic irony. A death and a life. So – you were still using and D decided baby was coming and time to change … did you quit?



Jim: I promised her I would. I did quit using with her. Instead I just used by myself.
The relationship began to splinter and after a few more years she gave me an ultimatum. I chose drugs.

She met another man very quickly and move to Ohio.

I maintained custody of my son in California, (because you can’t move a child out of state unless you prove the other parent ‘unfit’, I was unfit, but functional).

This was such a horrible time in my life. I was using every day commuting to work, getting my son into daycare everyday and trying to take care of him.

I was falling way short. I remember one time getting in a high-speed chase with the police with my son asleep on the seat next to me. I ended up pulling into a driveway and the police drove by.

I made the decision that day that my son would be moving to Ohio with his mom.

Me: Do you think looking back. that you CHOSE to use? Or was the addiction too strong?

Jim: I have the mentality of this is who I am. I can quit at any time but I choose to use. I have a job, I have a house, I have two cars, I pay all my bills, and that’s what matters.

Me: I’ve seen videos of you and your wife and your son – you seemed so normal, so happy, but were using – fast forward. How long did you use meth?

Jim: I used meth from the age of 19 to the age of 31 when I move to Ohio to raise my son. The only reason I didn’t keep using meth is because I couldn’t find it. But I had no problem finding cocaine there which I have used on a regular basis.
But it wouldn’t be the last time that meth ruled my life. I’ll touch on that in a minute

At this point in time in my life I had given up on any type of life. I just wanted to be a dad and help raise my son. I partied like a rock star when I wasn’t with my son and then on the weekends when I did have him I wouldn’t drink or use any type of cocaine or that type of drug. I did smoke pot when he was in my custody though

Me: I know how much you love your son – I want to touch on the juxtaposition between loving people and the grip that addiction has on a person – you were trying moderation – how did that work out for you?

(I have to stop here – I was multi-tasking between translating to the blog and the interview – and while posting his photos – I was crying my eyes out. I called him. “This is hard” I said. “I see this kid – and he’s holding a beer – and I know what he’s been through – and I know how it ends, but I love this person and it’s so HARD!” “I’m in the middle of a sentence” he says. LOL! Let’s carry on.)

Jim: My moderation button is broke. I’ve never had two beers, I’ve never smoked a hit of weed, I’ve never just done a couple lines. Once I activate there is no stopping me until my run is over. I fell way short and those years of being a really good dad.. I spent most of my money on drinking and cocaine. I ran up bar tabs and had to pay them on payday in order to keep drinking for the next week. I remember borrowing money from my son on Sundays and paying him double the next week so that I could drink on Sunday night. I guess I did teach him about interest.

I lost so many really good jobs in my lifetime. My capability of making money was very high but I could never get the good job because I could never drug test.

This was the darkest time in my life in Ohio. I really didn’t fit in there. I didn’t like a lot of the people. I had an opportunity to work in California when I was 43 years old. I packed up a few bags in my car and told my son I would be back in a month. I never went back to my place and didn’t see my son for four years. I came to California picked up the meth pipe and couldn’t put it down.

In those four years I never paid rent. Are used up all my friendships sleeping on couches and getting by however I could. I used to live and lived to use.

Me: I know that ‘enough is enough’ is not enough. You have to want it. What was you’re “I’m done”? Tell me about that journal …

Jim: The journal I wrote in a $1 million house in Simi Valley that I had been squatting in for almost a year. Squatting is living in the residence and not paying rent. I had met a woman who was growing marijuana out of the house and I was doing work for her. She got arrested and I moved into the house and rented out five bedrooms to local college students. I sold meth out of the master bedroom. Overlooking the whole valley, I was King of the Hill. After being in the house for eight or nine months without paying mortgage, the bank finally was closing on the house. I had been living with a girl there named M and she had tried to get sober a few times. I took her to rehab once, but she got out and used immediately.

Me: Then what?
Jim: I remember knowing that I was being kicked out of this house and had nowhere to go. No friends, no money, no self-respect, no hope.

On January 3, 2008 I dropped M off and she went into rehab again. The bank came and took the house and I was homeless in the San Fernando Valley where I hit my worst bottom. I was shoplifting, slinging dope and doing any kind of hustle to live. I was living in various abandoned garages and flop houses.

Me: Were you thinking of your son? Of your family? Were you a ‘Loser’ at this point?

Jim: Finally one night one of the man who I was living with, an ex marine 6’2, 290 pounds thought I had screwed his girlfriend and kick me out onto the street. That night I spent the night in a car I broken into. The next morning I called my best friend who had called me “you’re a loser” a year before and told me not to call him until I was done. That day I made the choice. I was fucking done. I didn’t know how I was going to do it. But I was going to fucking do it!!!!!

Me: What did ‘DONE’ mean to you at that moment? And when did you write that journal entry?


Jim: I had written in the journal five months before when M was first trying to get sober. She had left me for the fourth or fifth or sixth time because I ran out of dope.
(M has almost 6 years clean and sober as of publication)

She would leave to her ex dealer boyfriend and steal money and dope from him and bring it back for us.
I wanted to change at the time I wrote the journal but I needed a little lower bottom my guess. The day when I called my friend it was March 12 of 2009

My friend picked me up that morning on the streets. He drove me to the town in Arizona where my mother lived. I crawled into bed for two weeks and didn’t move. I had been on a 4 1/2 year meth run.

I went to the local mental health facility in my moms town. I entered an outpatient program and begin to attend narcotics anonymous and Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. After a month in the outpatient program I qualified to go to a 30 day rehab in Prescott Arizona. Hillside recovery center.
In my time there, there was over 30 addicts and alcoholics. I was only one of the few who took it seriously. Within a couple months of being out everyone had relapsed except for me.

Me: I know the outcome to this story – Beck – what were some of the goals you wrote in one of the journal entries?

Jim: As I wrote in the journal I just wanted to quit hurting the people who loved me.
I wanted to be there for my son.
I wanted to have peace in my life.
I didn’t want to lie anymore.
I didn’t want to steal anymore.
I knew I could get a job, a good job if I could just stay clean and sober.
I wanted to be helpful to others and use my experience to help others.
I was a perfect fit for Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous.
Deep down inside me was a person who just wanted to be good.

I had nothing when I hit my bottom. I had the clothes on my back and my dog Roscoe. That’s it.

At around 90 days sober I chose to move back to California.
With God in my recovery I have lost fear and began to believe in myself.
I came to Thousand Oaks California and got a sponsor an Alcoholics Anonymous. I worked the 12 steps and dealt with so many things that had ruled my life.

I dealt with the issues I had with my mother and sister. I finally grieved the death of my father and my brother. I finally had peace and serenity in my life.

Me: What do you have now?

Jim: My life is so much different now. The mother who I had such resentment for , I am her caretaker. The sister who abused me, I’ve forgiven and she acknowledged what she had done to me.
Huge step in my life.

I now have a great relationship with my son and I’m able to help him through college and take him on vacations. I’ve been able to make amends to him as well as the rest of my family. I have my friends back in my life now. I have a great job making more money than I ever have in my life.

Me: It was just very recently that you visited the graves of your loved ones – sober.

Jim: Yes recently my best friend’s mother passed away and I was able to suit up and show up for the funeral.

Be there for him.

She was put to rest in the same cemetery as my brother and dad.

I was able to visit their graves for the first time clean and sober. For that I’m grateful. Such an emotional moment for me.

My life these days is pretty simple. I am grateful to go to work. I spend each day in recovery and try to help others to walk the road I walk. We don’t shoot our wounded in recovery, we pick them up we dust them off and we love them.

Me: For those that are struggling – those who are hurting – those who are running away and maybe not ready to stop running – or, maybe just speak to Jim at 8 – what do you have to say?

Jim: Never lose hope. Find a God of your own understanding. Try to help others. In helping others we are less interested in ourselves which is a good thing.

It’s not what somebody can do for me these days, it’s what I can do for somebody else.


(Note: If you or someone you care about is suffering from addiction – seek help. It doesn’t have to be a 12 step program. Any program that focuses on recovery and therapy will be of help! The person you love, if willing, will explore their own path … ‘God’ in the blog owner’s interpretation is a power greater than self. Do not let religion or lack thereof, stop you from believing there is a solution to your problem. Science is a higher power, Faith is a higher power – Nature is a higher power, a group with like minded goals is a higher power. If you need help, get it! You can Contact Me and I can put you in touch with Jim if you like.)

The House Next Door


It was windy today.

I leave the front door ajar for Butters so that she can exit and enter when she needs to.  It opened and closed with each gust  and outdoor furniture slapped and thudded against the porch.

Butters is not brave, but what she lacks in courage she makes up for with volume.  Startled barks peppered the morning and when startled turned to alarmed, I would go to the door and check that it was in fact just the wind.

I don’t always assume she’s barking at nothing – and try not to get frustrated at the nine out of ten times that she is.

After all, she’s guarding her territory.  And, in turn, us.

No one needs to know she’s all bark and no bite.  It’s comforting that she is on duty, albeit, over zealously most of the time.

One such zealous bark had me looking out the front door and that’s when I noticed the man in the road.

He sat past the nearest cross street – his legs out in front of him, in the dirt.

I wasn’t sure what to make of this at first glance.  A jogger resting?  No.

He looked like he was injured – perhaps wincing.  His hand on one leg, his head moving back and forth.

Then I noticed a pattern to his movements and the repetitive motions made it clear he was having some sort of a seizure.

I called out to Nic – to come with me to see what was the matter. Then decided the man needed help quickly – threw my flip-flops on and headed out the door.


I went through my gate, shut it and started toward the man.

As I passed by my neighbor’s house, I noticed that two men were outside working on their cars.

How are they not seeing this?

I continued past them and called out “Are you okay?”

As I got closer – a voice from behind me “Be careful.”

I turned to see one of the men looking toward me.

“He needs help …”  I kept moving forward.

“That’s his brother.”  The speaker thumbed in the direction of the other man.

Why are they not helping him??

I came closer to the man in the road.  Noticed the spittle and drool on his chin, his denim shorts caked in dust, a sheen of sweat on his contorted face.

“Are you alright?”

I saw his eyes – wild and unfocused.

“He’s got mental issues.”  A different voice.

“Well, he seems to be having medical ones right now – is he having a seizure?  What can I do??”

The first speaker suggested ice water, and both men now had phones in their hands.

I assumed one of the men was my neighbor, but didn’t know which.  I really only hear him, when he’s yelling at the children.

I don’t see much of the people living next to me.

(See HERE then HERE)

Regardless of who was who, it appeared they were calling for help, so I turned to head back to my house for ice water.


I found a cup I didn’t mind not getting back, filled Nic in on what was happening and headed back out the door.

I saw now that the man was no longer in the road and felt a little better.

Until I reached my neighbor’s house and saw what must have been the brother (my neighbor – the puzzle pieces were fitting now) yelling at him.

The man who was no longer in the road, still looked awful.  Shaky on his feet and eyes still wild.

I didn’t understand why this was a good time to yell at him.

I held out the water and it was taken.  I can’t recall who reached for it, but it ended up in the right hands.

“He needs help, not reprimanding!”

“He has mental problems.”

Again with this!

“Regardless of any mental problems, he clearly needs help!”

“Go back inside your house lady.”

It wasn’t said with any room for debate.  My racing heart and hot body suddenly felt chilled.  I had been dismissed and I was not to continue questioning or inserting my opinion.

Having had a past with these particular neighbors, and knowing what they’re capable of, I once more headed back to my house.

As I walked away, the man who was in the road said to me “I’m sorry … I’m sorry.”

The walk back was uncomfortable, surreal and daunting.

I felt like a child who had awoken to fighting in the house – seen someone they cared for being hurt, only to be commanded back to bed by the aggressor.





Some time later, Butters started barking again.  This time at my back door.

I peered out to see only a hand and the cup I had taken over earlier.

I told Nic to hold Butters and slipped outside.

It was the woman who lives in the house.

The one who yells at her children almost every night:


The lullaby of dysfunction.

The one who told her children that daddy was trying to kill mommy – and then brought them back in the house.

The one who said she was leaving when she could, and never did.

As time has passed, I notice that she is an instigator in the chaos.

I am not saying she’s ‘asking’ for any of it – I just notice (from my couch, yes, she’s that loud) that she does the majority of the screaming and yelling.

So she’s standing on my back porch with the cup and for some insane reason, explains to me what had happened.

The man in the road had been staying with them for four months while he sobered up.

She explained with feigned ignorance of the topic “He does those rocks, you know, the ones you crush and smoke?”

Just say CRACK woman!  I see your teeth, I know you know what it is!

He relapsed apparently and what I thought was a seizure was – but of a drug induced kind.

“We were trying to get him sober.”

“You know you can’t get someone sober?  He’s going to have to want that for himself.”

I suggested a local mental health location in our town as a possible resource for her.

The whole time I stood there – holding my cup that now had crack saliva on it – and hating her.  Hating her for having that man in an already horrible environment around her children.

“You should be careful – having him around your children.”

Oh God.  I said that out loud.

She nodded at me – much like she did when I offered my home as refuge in the past.  But I knew she wasn’t really listening to me.

I said I hoped things would be okay – and I meant it.  She went down the steps and disappeared.


I tell you this knowing my house is made of glass.  I share my anger because I can, I have already been in their shoes.

My past is not perfect.

The difference is, I made a choice to change.

Even after I learned that the man in the road was there due to drugs, I hoped he would find help.

Even after I hear the woman screaming at her children, I tell myself “She’s lashing out at them because she is unhappy and feels powerless.”

Even when I hear her partner being violent in the house, I think “What horror must he have come from to end up so angry?”


Nic and I had to leave the house to visit my parents shortly after the woman left.

I was uncomfortable leaving as there were repercussions the last time I spoke to her.

I decided they wouldn’t try anything in daylight and Butters could be trusted to deter anyone from entering the yard. 


(I’ll admit, I fear for her too though.  Who knows what they are capable of.)

In the car, we spoke of what happened.

“People like that should be wiped off the planet.”

“Nic, people can change … there’s a reason for their behavior.  They were once children perhaps in that same environment.  Besides, I’ve done drugs. I drank. And I changed.  I chose good. “

I love that he knows this.  I love that we can talk about anything.  No skeletons in our closets.

“But you always had that in you.”

“Are you saying you think they’re inherently bad?  Do you believe there are some people just born evil?”


I hope not.

But I just don’t know.

My favorite quote by W.H. Auden comes to mind once again:

“Evil is unspectacular and always human, and shares our bed and eats at our own table.”