Substance abuse, addictions, and the Hells of our own making

A popular interpretation of the Abrahamic understanding of Hell is that it, much like Heaven, is an eternal destination. A miserable existence that you're trapped in with no way out. This is not an interpretation of the afterlife I happen to share (my personal views align far more closely with the scenarios laid forth by Aidan Luke Stoddart in his amazing work, Imagine A Redeemed Judas ) though I understand why such a permanent and binary interpretation of the afterlife resonates with many. To play Devil's Advocate to my own beliefs, those who are believed to suffer in the infernal and eternal realm of Hell are there due to their actions in mortal life. There actions and behaviors, not the whims of the Gods, ultimately are what condemn them - and I think about that a great deal, more and more. We all have free will, and part of that free will involves choices that damn us, or others. 

Perhaps it's time I pull the curtain back and make the subtext into text - I come from a family of addicts. My mother - bless her heart - was addicted to a benzodiazepine, more specifically Xanax. It's the not so distant descendent of valium - otherwise known as Mother's Little Helper -- with both ancestor and progenitor functionally serving the same role - the removal of the anxiety that comes from misery, frustrating situations, and circumstances of a nightmarish nature. Though at its core - these drugs represent an escape, a temporary way to deafen oneself to the screams of your inner conscience, of your instinct that knows that something is wrong, that something is in need of change. 

She was enabled and encouraged into this lifestyle by other members of our family - and any attempt at reason - of explaining the mental and emotional decline that comes from prolonged and regular consumption of that gunk was met with hostility, ghosting, and retaliation by her. The biggest mistake you can ever make with an addict is assuming they can be appealed to with good faith, well reasoned arguments. Outside of a few unicorns, most cannot and will not give up their fix. 

"The devil doesn't come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns. He comes as everything you've ever wished for" 

- Tucker Max, Assholes Finish First

She wasn't some deviation. She herself was a survivor of an abusive alcoholic father --- her brother was and remains a hedonistic drug addict who poisons his mind and body with the worst foods you could imagine, and my father has spent the overwhelming majority of the past 30 years poisoning his mind and body with alcohol. Other members of my family have likewise taken inspiration from both my mother and my father. 

I'm no better, in my own way - to cope with my own personal circumstance I turned to soda, and comforting eating for years. I wanted to feel good, and soda was a sloppy and momentary fix to far more nuanced and multilayered problems, and I am only now picking up the pieces and trying to be better. But my sins are my own, and only through accepting them can I hope to atone and walk a better path. 

The ability and desire to deafen yourself to your own true nature through escapism, hedonism, and pervasive amounts of drugs is so noxiously present in my family (and indeed, with many people) that it's normalized - celebrated, even. The desire to feel happy and good --- without actually putting in the work to attain those things (with good diet and exercise) -- is understandable, though I can never condone it. And I'll never understand why somebody would willingly lobotomize themselves in such a fashion. 

Life is preciously short, and many of us might experience some mental decline should we survive into our twilight years - why accelerate the likelihood of it by poisoning your mind and body with such pollutants? 

In my mom's case --- long term and short term memory loss, violent mood swings, and manipulative behavior to name but a few were directly caused by her consumption of drugs - and in time that illness claimed her, and led her down a dark path. Her executive functioning, tactics, ability to strategize and basic reasoning and communication ability saw a sharp decline - and over a few years the brilliant and capable woman who she had been was gone. The disease heralded on by her choices had claimed her mind years before the cancer claimed her body. In November of 2024, she became symptomatic of what would eventually be diagnosed as pancreatic cancer months later, and the symptoms were very apparent. Rather than going to the doctors or taking any attempt at diagnosis or treatment - she avoided the issue for two and a half months, preferring to get high off of her menagerie of mind altering pills, with Xanax being centerpiece. I don't know if getting diagnosed earlier would have meaningfully changed anything - in truth at best it might have bought her a few more weeks, perhaps a few more months. Though by prioritizing drug induced bliss over taking corrective action, she sealed her fate. 

People go to drugs for many reasons. Out of bliss or peer pressure for example --- though I think for many, it's because they're so deathly afraid of their own darkness and own miserable circumstances that blinding themselves to that truth is mistakenly seen as a preferable alternative. And once and addict starts --- it's a dark road that too few try to walk away from, and fewer still find the way home. 

Confronting one's own darkness or sins, or the misery that's intrinsic oneself and/or one's circumstance is hard. Self awareness and being honest with yourself, and others, about your flaws or circumstance is painful - but it is only through confronting that pain that we can heal from it, grow, and adapt. As miserable as anxiety might be to many - it's not something to be avoided, but embraced as the first step to becoming better people. And unfortunately - drug abuse is a bottleneck in that process, often but not always preceding the "self awareness/self acceptance" stage, which prevents any growth or healing that might otherwise occur.

Addicts live in a hell of their own making - and it's sad. But if nothing else, I hope their fates can act as cautionary tales of what roads not to walk. 

Our lives are precious, in both mind and body - and it's far too short. Don't waste your life numbing yourself to parts of it, for pain, sorrow, and anxiety are oftentimes precursors to healing and growth.