The day started as any other day, raining. As I stepped outside, I closed my eyes and tilted my head to the sky, letting the raindrops touch my skin. Each touch felt like tiny hugs, revitalising, soothing away my worries of the day. The smell, harmony, and symphony of the raindrops falling all around evoked a few good memories of my childhood, playing happily outside in a puddle.
As I walked, immersed in my thoughts, a weird sensation interrupted my peaceful pace. I felt someone slowly walking behind me, and when I turned around, my eyes met a man in his 60s. His pants seemed to bear the marks of countless adventures, or perhaps not, with each stain marking a testament to an untold story. His tiny and frail form was barely visible, his pants were unzipped, and his dignity was on display for the world to see.
With my heart still pounding against my chest, I quickly turned around again to take a harder look at his face. He looked familiar, I thought. I had seen him before outside the shopping center, sitting on the cold pavement, beside him lay a worn hat in which people could put the coin (a silent plea for help in a place where many also struggle). As I met his gaze, the strong smell of alcohol and his visibly drunken state betrayed the way he was walking. I saw the pain and line of hardship embedded in his skin. But I also saw a flicker of resilience that refused to be extinguished.
Yesterday, I had the privilege of looking after someone whose story echoed a man who walked behind me. When I arrived, I was introduced to him. He was lying in his bed. The stiffness in his movement, marks on his skin, and trembling hands were not just signs of age. They were stories of pain that endured. The weight of his past and the gip of alcohol addiction!
I asked him one question. He spoke for one hour. He told me his stories, dreams, and a bit of hope that he still had. The room's warmth, evolving by calm music softly playing in the background, and his forceful speech commanded my full presence. At that moment, there was no past or future!
As he shared his stories, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of my own sorrow, the wound sustained within my own family struggling with addiction. Yet, amidst the ache of my own past, I found myself grateful for the opportunity to bear the witness to the resilience that brought us together in that moment.
Today, as I reflect on it, I'm reminded of the unpredictable nature of our daily life and the people we meet. Realising that “we all have a chapter in our life that we don’t read out loud”. We might seem different, but our stories are often interconnected. And sometimes, these stories unfold in unexpected and unpredictable ways. These two people I met served me as reminders that, sometimes, we have no control of our fate. Many things happened to them, over which they had no control.
Addiction, often seen as a disease, is also a symptom of a deeper malaise, as Gabor Maté suggests. It is the absence of everything (love, connection, relationship, belonging, trust, etc.), and an attempt to solve a problem often stemming from trauma. I really hope these two men find their way out of addiction, reconnecting with themselves and healing within
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