What does National Recovery Month in September mean?
To me?
Performative politics.
We all practice it.
I’m serious.
We dedicate only one month out of the year to recovery. And there’s also “sober October.” We don’t see the homeless man in the John Elway jersey every day and help him or help ourselves. I know. I stuck needles in my arm. The person I stuck is dead. Just like everyone else who plays the game of death. It isn’t about saying no. It’s about ingraining that all these powdered drugs you snort and inject and smoke are demons rewiring and hot-wiring your nervous system, psyche, desires and reasons to live. We give hollow drug stories to kids growing up, while we mask our addictions until they bleed to our collective conception of a “hobo” versus “John Elway.” This was never some twisted Jack Kerouac boys’ adventure novel. That’s addiction’s second story and second face. The lie and the mask you believe. Because it looks and walks and talks and smells and is different. We romanticize recovery like we do addiction. It’s the paradigm of choosing to live or choosing to die. Do not trust the people who pity you; I believed them and was brought further into my addiction for a second ride and kept that as my narrative and reason to live. Death. That’s what every drug tour I’ve done has been about. Not choosing life. I’m tired of not choosing life. And we don’t have time for commonplace journalism, performative politics and players who know the answer to all these crises. The answer is time, brothers and sisters. Stop your car and help “John Elway.” You’ve always been the solution to the overdose and homelessness crisis. Happy Recovery Month.
Jordan McClements
Dover
Reader reactions, pro or con, are welcomed at civiltalk@iniusa.org.
