The choice is yours...

I met her when I was in the sixth grade. She was a beautiful young lady with many dreams. Even at a young age she could do so many things, arch eyebrows, weave and braid hair, make up faces for special occasions for so many people. She was extremely creative. While we were all out playing baseball and running around through the neighborhood she was making money making people look good. When we grew up and became teenagers, she was still in school progressing well toward her goals. She used to arch my eyebrows and I would let no other person touch them.

After we graduated from high school, I heard that she was using drugs and had been hurt real bad by drug dealers who wanted to teach her and others a lesson. They tied her up to a truck and drug her down several streets. She was skinned pretty bad, and her tongue had tripled in size from the screaming and scraping against the pavement. She was in the intensive care unit for thirty days. She survived. No longer a drug addict she is now a functional alcoholic. This is a person who can hold down a job and works very hard.

Several weeks ago she came by my moms' house. I was so happy to see her. Still a beautiful woman behind the scars on her face. She is still an alcoholic. The thing is we talked in great deal about her drinking. Get this. She was working in a place and saw a book I co-wrote, sat down on her lunch and read it, then sought me out to tell me the impact that it had on her. (A Hole in My Heart)

As we talked she said she drinks because it makes her feel good. It eases her stress and pain. She felt like she was not hurting anyone but her self. She drives but does not drink and drive from what she said. I enjoyed her company so much and hated to see her leave. As she walked to the door she asked, "what time is it?" I responded 3:00. She than pulled out a bottle of Boone's Farm and took a swig. "I almost missed taking my medicine," she said with a big smile.

I sure hated to see her leave. She was not drunk. But I did worry about her having a bottle getting in the car. As she started her car, she reminded me. "I ain't hurting nobody but me. So if I want to drink, let me be happy." I smiled, "you're hurting me and your family because we worry about you."

She smiled, "I work, pay my taxes, and don't drink on the job. After 5:00 and weekends, that's my time. I'm happy and please don't worry about me. What time is it?" She asked again as she backed out of the drive way, "{I got to take my medicine."

I smiled.

I was supposed to write this part two of a blog I did weeks ago. But didn't feel compel to write it until today. I heard on the news that Britney Spears lost visitation rights to see her children. I thought about it. If she is indeed on drugs, drinking heavy, etc., she needs intervention. Is it good to take her children totally away even from having the right to visit them with security? Sure they need to be in a safe place but still should the mother have no contact. Drugs and alcohol addiction is a sickness. It works on your physical self. I could not imagine needing a drink or crack or whatever the choice so bad that I lose my self respect, and my children.

In the last 10 years, I have only had a drink to make a yearly toast to usher the new year in. I don't drink because I have seen too many people my age crippled by it. All of us have choices, I choose not to drink. So if a person decides to drink that's their choice and I will not be judgmental in how I feel about them. Becoming sober is difficult and actually the only persons that I have seen who beat it and remained sober, did it with God.

I hated seeing my childhood friend like that. But I am happy knowing that it is her choice and she is happy with the choice she made.

Where are they now?

This past weekend I saw three former classmates and all I can say is God bless his children. One classmate was absolutely gorgeous. I remember that she was sought after by many of our male classmates. Her skin was a beautiful mocha brown colored and she had these beautiful light brown eyes. Her hair was super thick and flowed to her shoulders. She was pleasant and had such a friendly and pleasing personality. What I saw this past weekend was a shell of a woman. She was still petite but seriously too skinny, with short, broken off hair, bad skin, torn and raggedy clothing and begging for money for drugs. I believe she recognized me though I would not give her any money.

Another classmate was a Christian. She was sanctified and saved. Everybody who knew her was aware of that fact and respected her. She was from a family of siblings who stayed in the church almost daily. They were all immaculately dressed and were friendly and quiet. She was also very beautiful and had this gorgeous smile. She was a very light skin teen when we graduated from high school. Several years later I found out that she managed a chain of restaurants. This past Saturday as I drove to Illinois to visit my mother, my sister said, “there is Gloria.”

“Gloria who?”

“You know the girl you graduated with. I told you she was a crack head. Pull over.”

I pulled the car over and she walks over to my car. “Hey ya’ll. Is that you Niecey?”

“Yeah this me,” my sister responded.

“Please Niecey, please give me some money.”

She was leaning through my back window talking to my sister in the back. I looked back and saw her hand shaking hard. She was feening for drugs badly. I couldn’t stop looking at her. Her perfect teeth were gone, but she still had on braces except they were welded in her gums. Obviously she once had good dental care but now could not get the braces off because she was unemployed and an addict. She was filthy dirty, and rail thin. Her once pretty skin was dusty and dry and she was now four shades darker. I glared at her because I was shocked at her appearance. As I looked at her, she never once looked toward the drivers’ seat. So she didn’t know that it was me or didn’t care.

My sister had given her money on several occasions so she felt that she could get more money from her. As my sister told her that she didn’t have anything to give this day, she pleaded harder. I wanted badly to give her some money but my hand would not move toward my purse. Finally we left her and she headed to other cars flagging them down. We drove in silence for a while too shocked and stunned to say anything. As I drove off I wondered should I have fed her drugs by giving her money. More on the third person later.