Truth

My Dad tried teaching me years ago about the importance of truth, but I failed to see it. It’s not a big surprise because I wasn’t ever looking for it. If I had been, I would have realized, the simple truth in many situations is all I needed to right a thing.

My Grandmother is one of my ultimate heroes. I think back now over the many lies I told her throughout my addiction to opiates. It’s hard to accept it, but if I’d just been honest, I would have saved her a lot of pain. She always knew something wasn’t right when I would go to her for money, but I continued to lie.

What if I’d just come out and said “I’m hooked on drugs, and I needed to have it to keep from being sick”? It would have been the truth, and I could have proven it quickly if I’d hung around for about 6 hours. Still I lied; I lied to everyone about everything when I needed a fix. I left a path of destruction inside my loved ones, and it was one of the worst of all things I did while using drugs.

I wholeheartedly believe my Grandma would have still given me money, but she would have known exactly what it was for. Instead she had to wonder, and eventually come to realize I had lied. That must have been very hard for her. Not only did she know I had lied, but she had to wonder why I would cheat her. I know for a fact, she beat herself up over and over about it.

This is one of the big reasons I think it’s ridiculous to say  we should go around apologizing to those we have lied to and hurt. They have heard our words and frankly, they are sick of them. My grandma is sick of them. All she wants now is to see results. Results of not using will be the only thing that will make her a believer anyway. So far, I know she’s happy with what she sees.

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