Tell Me I’m Not A Fool

I have a banger in my house. And I didn’t even know what that meant until tonight, when I welcomed her into my home with open arms. Tell me that I’m not a fool.

Christie is my niece. She is twenty-eight, and has two precious children. She is a beautiful woman with dark brown hair and big brown eyes. She has an identical twin, and I had a hard time telling she and her sister apart when they were little girls. She is intelligent. And creative. A little bit shy. And one of the hardest workers that I know. I love her dearly.

But Christie is an addict. And by that I don’t mean a recovering addict. She confessed that she has been actively using as recently as last night. And then again this morning. And the demon that is chasing her is one of the most addictive drugs there is. Methamphetamine. It has been tormenting her off and on for a long time now. She was snorting it when she first started, but then moved on to smoking it and, finally, started shooting it. Banging it. Tell me that I’m not a fool.

Christie has lost custody of her children. She has tried to kill herself. More than once. She has been in rehab and then continued to use. She has avoided family for the last few years, and has lived in conditions lately that most of us cannot even imagine. She knows that she is at the end of her rope. She is in agony. She is scared. She is literally crying for help.

It’s not that Christie could die if she doesn’t stop using. At this point, I would say that there is no doubt. Christie will die if she doesn’t beat this demon. She is coming up for her last breath of air and is trying to grab ahold of anything to keep her from going down the last time. The final time. And she has grabbed me. And I won’t let go.

No one has died. And I’m determined to keep it that way. Please tell me that I’m not a fool. And pray for us. We need a miracle.