one is the loneliest number.

loss of a loved one.....

a break up with one we love or have loved for a period of time can be an emotional explosion, unleashing a fury of confusion, of a thousand unanswerable questions that need answered not with words but with affection from our significant other, our partner in crime. In the newspaper today, a story equated breaking up with the death of a loved one. Break-ups can emotionally cripple us to the point where we can't make a move without wondering and pondering the would haves, the could haves, and the should haves. Our jobs, our friendships, our outlook on life, even our bathing habits are affected. That person is no longer in our lives, no longer an extension of ourselves, rather a memory that fades into the distance, a wound that shall heal over time. Sometimes the reaction to such an event is acute, dissipating through conversation with friends, tea, and maybe a few "blow-out" weekends. And yet some of us react differently, violently, completely incapable of confronting the earth shattering loss without some form of medication. I chose drugs and booze and I went nowhere, fast. I spent too much, I drank too much, I smoked to much and I didn't give a shit what happened as long as I was able to depart from the here and now.

I witnessed this affliction first hand late Saturday night in the eyes of another, in his actions and his desperation, a man that I've respected for the year that I've known him, a man who controlled his alcoholism and his innermost demons through the help of his former girlfriend.

"She was too controlling," I was told by a fellow co-worker. "She was overbearing." "She didn't give him space to make any moves".

The reasons why she acted in such a manner became evident once I peered into his eyes this morning and saw through the false facade of hapiness. He was smiling and yet it was apparent that it was a lie honed after years and years of working in the very industry that exacerbates an innate affliction towards substance abuse.

I could see me: every instinct, every false desire to mask the pain, every excuse, every denial of my problems, of my hope to mask all fear as best I could. I knew they had broken up, not becasue I was told, but because he craved alcohol and drugs as a wolf craves the fresh blood of a deer during a winter famine. And it hurt. It hurt to know that without her he defaulted to the man he could not overcome, the dark, hurt human being who rebelled against emotional angst by destroying the emotional capacity of his mind through heavy sedation. And no one said anything or acted in his favor.

"Sometimes you just gotta face these things on your own," I was so wisely informed by a fellow employee of whom I otherwise respect. If, in fact, my friend in need were in his late teens or early twenties, enduring growing pains associated with self discovery, I'd file his actions under 'hoping he'll learn the hard way.' But this friend is in his late twenties and it's common knowledge amongst my fellow employees that he is an alcoholic. Not was or foremerly known as, HE IS and will always be no matter if he or anyone else denies it. He needs help. He needs guidance. He needs to know that running and hiding is not the answer and that he is harldy alone in this perpetual fight to overcome addiction as the only escape from a life chock full of hardship.

My God is it difficult to face fear and pain. Drinking is so much easier than standing tall and proud as your emotions rage violently, distorting and clouding all rational thought. Such feelings are not fleeting, they do not disappear by simply wishing upon a star. We are humans and we are flawed. We are a product of our environment, an environment that is not constant from person to person. Some are raised in love and yet cannot feel love, some are raised in confusion and manage to find a road out. Some of us are normal and do not comprehend the maddening feelings that surge through the mind incessantly, forcing one to act out of character and drown themselves in a bottle of whiskey and an eigth of mary-jane. And why do such people medicate in such extreme manners? Simply with the hopes of departing from the here and now, for NOW is what they hate, what they can't evade or escape.

It's difficult to walk a mile in another's shoes. The days are filled with so many distractions, so many people in need and so many mouths to feed that there's little time left to help every person that can't see the light through the fog. Antidepressants are the only reason that I've gained perspective on this concept. All too often ignorant people criticize those who choose medication as a means to an end. They scoff and accuse. They push their agenda on others when they in fact have no idea how bright the light of another's day may be. Antidepressants allowed me the ability to walk ten miles in my own shoes had I been born with a full serving of seratonin and smiles.

I imagine that antidepressants might help my alcoholic friend. I imagine that if he were to submerge himself in recovery he'd see that it wasn't his ex-girlfriend who stopped him from drinking, it was he. It was through her help but via his own control that he avoided the pitfalls of an innate desire to depart from reality through substance abuse. He, you, and I all have the power of active choice, the ability to make decisions which shape our future and define our past. And if we look past the stigma's, the judgements, the traditions and the ignorant opinions, and trust in the power of science and modern medicine and research and experience, we may come to the realization that we aren't right. Some people need a fire under their a$$ to see the light. Antidepressants have stoked the fire that long lay dormant under my a$$. I've chosen my poison and I've lived to tell about it. I hope that my friend can harvest hope from some deep chasm of his soul and realize that the answer lay not in a bottle of booze, an eighth of weed, or any other magic carpet ride, but rather in a calm, enlightened mind.

And I hope that he, as I, can find true, epic love. "Love sets us free," an opinion I hold near and dear as I reach a clearing in the fog. "Love sets us free."

whoisjobe?