Everything

Dear friend, 

       I've just finished a book titled Beautiful Boy by David Sheff, it is a memoir written by the father of an addict, his son. It was published twelve years ago but has recently gained more attention because of a movie adaptation released two years ago, featuring actors Steve Carell and Timothée Chalamet. 

      The novel itself is a wonderful piece of art, the writing is both personal and touching, although I myself have never had a close relationship with an addict, I felt the pain and anxiety that David found himself drowning in during those years of his son's addiction. 

      His son's name is Nicholas, he is thirty six now and nine years sober, he married his friend from the sixth-grade. I don't want to spoil the book but he does make it through, he survives. Everything else in between, the relapses, the fits of anger, the escapades, the penances, the rehabs, the many reasons of why he survived are all in the book. I suggest that you read it for yourself because it really is moving. 

     To provide more background, Nic is a child of divorce, which contributed heavily to his depression, inevitably leading to his addiction. In the sixth grade, he got drunk with one of his friends on a skiing trip. A few years later, he began smoking marijuana. After graduating, he became addicted to crystal meth and it almost killed him, if not for the help of his father and mother, and a rehab sponsor, he would be dead right now. 

     But the novel is a testament to his life, and the lives of everyone who didn't survive, who passed on earlier than they should have. The most important thing that I learned from reading this memoir is that there are people who are fighting battles that I do not know, friends who retreat in different ways. 

     Whether it be drugs, alcohol, reading, painting, writing, drawing, driving, working, talking, sleeping, exercising, studying, watching, or listening, we all have pain-killers. Personally, mine are reading and writing. Some days, I sleep, others, I go out with friends. I've learned that my job is not to judge, but rather to understand. 

      There is beauty in brokenness, in being flawed. There is nothing wrong with stumbling or falling on the path that is our life, it is natural. Yesterday, I laid in bed for a few hours and skipped dinner. I cooked noodles just before midnight. This morning, it took me nearly an hour before I got up, but I did. I'm trying my best to tell myself that is okay to fail. 

      In fact, it is a good thing to fail because then I know that I tried and what else is worth more than trying. Sure, success is nice, but the suffering endured beforehand makes it all the more worthwhile. 

     When David would walk Nic to the airport to fly to his mother in LA, they would embrace and he would whisper something in his son's ear, "Everything." This was to remind Nic that his father loved him more than everything. Through the frequent phone calls, late-night rescue drives, countless hours spent researching the drugs and studying ways on how to help, contacting professors and scientists, admitting Nic into one rehabilitation centre, two, three, four, David loved his son more than everything. 

    From the young age of nine, watching him surf elegantly on tall waves with a beaming smile and a joyous laugh to the age of twenty, finding his son on a San Francisco street, rail-thin with methamphetamine coursing through his entire system. Despite all of this, he never gave up, he stuck to his word and loved his beautiful boy all the same. It was a battle spanning ten years, but it was fought and won. 

      It's easy to come away from this book and vowing never to take drugs, to smoke weed, become an alcoholic, experiment with heroin, LSD, and meth. But I believe that it is more difficult and meaningful to read this book and think, there are people who have problems far worse than I do, and if there is something that I can do to help ease the burden, I should do it. 

      Whether that is calling them and checking up on them every once in awhile, or asking them to catch up at a coffee shop, there will always be pain and that doesn't have to be a bad thing. It can be an opportunity to love someone even more, to wade deeper into the waters that leave us terrified because of the darkness, the uncertainty. The darkness and the uncertainty are inevitable, after all we are human. But our flaws, our mistakes, our addictions, are not the end of us. They are the unfortunate consequences of who we are and what we choose to do.             

       So if you feel that things are getting heavier, do not panic. Message a friend, open a book, go on a run, ride your bike, watch your favourite movie again, start a new television show, cook your favourite meal, drive to the beach, sit on a bench, write your thoughts, take pictures of the sunset, listen to your favourite song, take a nap, drink some water, eat an apple, shut your computer, put down your phone, write a letter, dance in the rain, stand in the sun, take a shower, change your clothes, sing out loud, read to yourself, talk to your siblings, smile at your parents, play with your dog, ride a bus, play your guitar, learn piano, look up, breathe. 

     This is your life, you are alive, and you are loved. If it doesn't feel like you are, you will be soon enough. Take your time, slow down and just be. 

 Everything,

Rave

Beautiful Boy, 2018