Watching a snowflake melt

By “Hanna”

TW: Mention of self-harm

I curl up and I’m scared to pray some days because I don’t think I deserve it. But after I died again five days ago, I realized I deserve to live, smile. Try talking without your tongue. It was bitten in half during a seizure (ouch, I’m hungry, LOL). 

My boyfriend didn’t deserve to walk in from getting my mickey to see me like this. He came in to see me blue and foaming at the mouth. I had slept for four and a half days. Again, I didn’t know who I was or who he was. That day my brain was turned off (PS: don’t cut yourself off cold turkey, LOL).

My cutting stage

As I’m awake, I see the slices on me. That’s why I did it: I wanted to stay me. I don’t do it anymore, but it’s always there. Now I see my kids (street kids). They come to me always. I need to see what they see in me. They come in all shapes and sizes, and I’m scared I’ll let them down. And sometimes I don’t give a fuck. 

Looking back at my life

Well, I’ll start at 13. “Whiskey if you’re a woman” was my favourite song. “Highway 101.” I lived by it. I look back to the song and it gives me goosebumps. I thought whiskey was “my husband.” At 13, the only thing I processed was at the tip of my nose.

Then I turned 16, got pregnant not even knowing what sex was. How cool was I? Substance use (alcohol) and addiction just doesn’t “happen.” You’re put on this road from the beginning because of life circumstances and trauma. Seeing it as a moral failing doesn’t help. It makes you feel stigma and shame, which makes it harder to change.

I ended up in jail for six months. I had my son in home custody. The family was really nice—a judge and housewife. I really looked up to them. When my son was three months old, I hitchhiked out of Fort Smith, Northwest Territories. Someone I knew asked me to come to Calgary. I was 17, made it to Edmonton. My uncle found me and drove me back to Fort Smith. 

“Seeing it as a moral failing doesn’t help. It makes you feel stigma and shame, which makes it harder to change.”

I’m tired and scared—scared to drink and scared not to drink, scared to sleep and it sucks. I’m scared that my family and dogs will need me and I won’t be there. 

Do you know I might not have enough words but…today I’m here. Even though my tongue hurts, it’s a reminder that I can’t possibly do this by myself. And I’m grateful. I have my angels harassing me. LOL.

God bless. 

About Canadian Drug Policy Coalition

Advocating for public health- and human rights-based drug policies grounded in evidence, social justice, and compassion. www.drugpolicy.ca