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Friendly Neighborhood Potheads

Slate is running a wonderful article (Comfort Food) with the tagline: No one brings dinner when your daughter is an addict. The author, Larry M. Lake, describes the outpouring of community support when his wife had cancer, so much so that they didn't have to cook dinner for months. He contrasts this with his daughter's stint in rehab, wherein the few people who'd reach out with words of comfort did so in hushed tones.

This article was shared on facebook by two friends doing PhD's in neuropsych because it's a great read on the taboos surrounding mental health and addiction. I'm sharing it 'cause I've been on the receiving end of *hugs* and support and all the rest for family dramas that are, I guess, publicly acceptable?

When my friendly neighborhood pothead had a non-fatal OD (party drug cocktail), I was sworn to almost total secrecy 'cause of the risk making it public could have done to fnp's reputation. I told a handful of people in real life and went off to seek emergency counseling-and made a giant livejournal post so that I could get ALL THE HUGS.*


But, thinking about it now, I wish that I didn't have to be so secretive about it. I want to openly vent about frustrations with fnp's drug use without someone thinking that fnp is fifty levels of horrible and giving me a dirty look - fnp happens to be an awesome human being. I guess I'm thinking about this 'cause despite quitting everything but pot, fnp continues to run into drug use related scrapes and it's the usual mix of frustrating and terrifying and many of the taboos that keep me from talking about it publicly are also the source of many of fnp's scrapes. :/

*Yes, I made it a bit ALL ABOUT ME 'cause I was a teenager and I probably still kinda 'em cause *meh* ;)

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