Emails to Rahne, Shiro
Feb. 25th, 2008 08:46 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_communicationto: [Sinclair, R]
from: [Stavros, J]
I seriously owe you one there. There's not enough thanks in the world for helping me out this weekend. I owe you dinner or something. Or at the very least some sort of baked goods. And don't say that you were just doing your duty, you are sincerely awesome and you know it.
to: [Yoshida, S]
from: [Stavros, J]
Okay, so, I've been doing a lot of thinking. Especially since my little outburst towards you during comms. I feel like I owe you some sort of explanation.
I don't keep secret the fact that my mother was a drug addict. It was little things at first, the cabinet full of alcohol and the strange men that I sometimes found in the living room. I didn't realize that a mirror and a razor was not part of a normal bathroom until I went to other people's houses. When she met a guy, a good guy, she got better. But she never got entirely better, and she drove him away too. And what I always remember the most about that was the promises to quit or get better or seek treatment. And there would be times when she would make good and she'd be around and sober. But inevitably she'd disappear again for two days, and there would be strange people there when I got home. And eventually I just stopped believing she would get better. It's very hard to trust a drug addict, because while they may want to change and do good, sometimes their sickness is stronger than them.
Anyway, long story short, my mother did eventually sober up. After she threw me out of the house and then I eventually disappeared (when they sent me here, even). We were rebuilding things when she died almost two years ago this March. See, the drugs had done massive damage, and even though she wasn't using anymore you can't unfry an egg. She died of a stroke, and she was only 45.
So you see, this is the baggage that I have when it comes to other drug users, like yourself. So now hopefully you can kinda see where I was coming from. That doesn't mean it was okay for me to yell at you like I did, because seriously, you are not my mother. I just look at you and I worry that I'll have to do it all over again, watch someone slowly commit suicide. I saw you and I just wanted to take you by the shoulders and shake you. But that never works.
Instead. I want to apologize for the yelling, that was not the best way to handle that situation. Maybe instead, I can provide something of a lifeline. Like, I dunno, someone to talk to if you want to about stuff like that. Or even not at all. At the very least, let me assauge my guilt with the caffinated beverage of your choice.
-Jennie
from: [Stavros, J]
I seriously owe you one there. There's not enough thanks in the world for helping me out this weekend. I owe you dinner or something. Or at the very least some sort of baked goods. And don't say that you were just doing your duty, you are sincerely awesome and you know it.
to: [Yoshida, S]
from: [Stavros, J]
Okay, so, I've been doing a lot of thinking. Especially since my little outburst towards you during comms. I feel like I owe you some sort of explanation.
I don't keep secret the fact that my mother was a drug addict. It was little things at first, the cabinet full of alcohol and the strange men that I sometimes found in the living room. I didn't realize that a mirror and a razor was not part of a normal bathroom until I went to other people's houses. When she met a guy, a good guy, she got better. But she never got entirely better, and she drove him away too. And what I always remember the most about that was the promises to quit or get better or seek treatment. And there would be times when she would make good and she'd be around and sober. But inevitably she'd disappear again for two days, and there would be strange people there when I got home. And eventually I just stopped believing she would get better. It's very hard to trust a drug addict, because while they may want to change and do good, sometimes their sickness is stronger than them.
Anyway, long story short, my mother did eventually sober up. After she threw me out of the house and then I eventually disappeared (when they sent me here, even). We were rebuilding things when she died almost two years ago this March. See, the drugs had done massive damage, and even though she wasn't using anymore you can't unfry an egg. She died of a stroke, and she was only 45.
So you see, this is the baggage that I have when it comes to other drug users, like yourself. So now hopefully you can kinda see where I was coming from. That doesn't mean it was okay for me to yell at you like I did, because seriously, you are not my mother. I just look at you and I worry that I'll have to do it all over again, watch someone slowly commit suicide. I saw you and I just wanted to take you by the shoulders and shake you. But that never works.
Instead. I want to apologize for the yelling, that was not the best way to handle that situation. Maybe instead, I can provide something of a lifeline. Like, I dunno, someone to talk to if you want to about stuff like that. Or even not at all. At the very least, let me assauge my guilt with the caffinated beverage of your choice.
-Jennie
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