shydawg
11-01-2008, 05:16 PM
~~~Not My Story but one shared by a fellow recoverying addict~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
New Orleans memories
Narcotics Anonymous and New Orleans are entwined in my heart. I first learned about NA in New Orleans in 1982. I was taken to a local neighborhood hospital after my third overdose and placed in the psychiatric ward there. (I don't believe the hospital sustained too much damage from the recent hurricanes.) I was then transferred to another hospital for inpatient detox and rehabilitation. (Because that hospital sits on one of the highest points of the city, I don't think it sustained much damage either.)
I attended my first NA meeting at this facility. That meeting changed my life forever. So has Hurricane Katrina which, along with Hurricane Rita, devastated the city in September 2005.
How can I tell you what NA is without telling you about my New Orleans? Memories of growing up in the lower Ninth Ward (one of the hardest-hit areas) are as fresh as the day those memories were made—their images burned onto my retinas like tattoos. I can still smell the thick air, heavy with heat and humidity. I can still feel the banquettes (what locals call sidewalks) roasting the soles of my shoes as I strolled hand-in-hand with my grandma on Canal Street. I would marvel for hours at the swirling eddies as they made metaphors in the muddy Mississippi River. How I loved sitting in a pirogue with my daddy, fishing on Bayou Bienvenue, while we watched the sun languidly kiss the early morning horizon. I can still smell the richness of the roux my grandma made for my favorite dish of crawfish bisque. My mouth is watering right now just at the thought of sopping crisp French bread in that glorious red gravy! The music that pierces your soul, the mosquitoes that pierce your skin, the sweat that drenches even your socks, the food that makes your taste buds radiate, the French Market, Café du Monde, Mardi Gras—oh, so many memories. And the only reason I've been able to hold onto these memories is because of NA.
I used every day for fifteen years. Every day is a reason to celebrate in New Orleans, and I took full advantage of that. But after a year or so of active using, it was no longer a party for me. It became a nightmare, day in and day out. I couldn't wake up. My disease clamped down on my spirit like a pit bull, shredding my sense of self-worth, mangling my will to live. At that first NA meeting, I saw life and tasted hope. I remember feeling such euphoria as the realization hit me that I didn't have to live in despair any longer. I had a choice.
So, what is Narcotics Anonymous? NA is a bunch of addicts in recovery. We go to meetings to share with each other about how we stay clean. We come from every walk of life; you name it, NA has it! Rich, poor, black, white, brown, old, young, gay, straight, male, female, transgender, short, tall, fat, skinny, American, Hispanic, German, Indonesian, South African, Iranian—NA has it all. NA is hope. NA is freedom. NA is love and compassion and truth. NA has given this addict the ability to live a life without the use of drugs. NA has allowed me to rejoin the human race. After twenty-two years in recovery, I not only remember those precious memories from my childhood in New Orleans, but* I now have many new memories to hold near to my heart.
Because of NA, I am capable of sitting with this feeling of utter helplessness as I watch the city of my childhood drown. Because of NA, I can empathize with the anguish of losing one's home. My family lost everything in Hurricane Betsy in 1965. Because of NA, I can be there for my best friend and aunt who still live there and who survived Hurricane Katrina. I can listen to their sobs, and cry with them. Because of NA, I don't* have to run away from these overwhelming emotions, fearing that I'll be consumed.* I am here, because of NA.
Nancy S, Nevada, USA
New Orleans memories
Narcotics Anonymous and New Orleans are entwined in my heart. I first learned about NA in New Orleans in 1982. I was taken to a local neighborhood hospital after my third overdose and placed in the psychiatric ward there. (I don't believe the hospital sustained too much damage from the recent hurricanes.) I was then transferred to another hospital for inpatient detox and rehabilitation. (Because that hospital sits on one of the highest points of the city, I don't think it sustained much damage either.)
I attended my first NA meeting at this facility. That meeting changed my life forever. So has Hurricane Katrina which, along with Hurricane Rita, devastated the city in September 2005.
How can I tell you what NA is without telling you about my New Orleans? Memories of growing up in the lower Ninth Ward (one of the hardest-hit areas) are as fresh as the day those memories were made—their images burned onto my retinas like tattoos. I can still smell the thick air, heavy with heat and humidity. I can still feel the banquettes (what locals call sidewalks) roasting the soles of my shoes as I strolled hand-in-hand with my grandma on Canal Street. I would marvel for hours at the swirling eddies as they made metaphors in the muddy Mississippi River. How I loved sitting in a pirogue with my daddy, fishing on Bayou Bienvenue, while we watched the sun languidly kiss the early morning horizon. I can still smell the richness of the roux my grandma made for my favorite dish of crawfish bisque. My mouth is watering right now just at the thought of sopping crisp French bread in that glorious red gravy! The music that pierces your soul, the mosquitoes that pierce your skin, the sweat that drenches even your socks, the food that makes your taste buds radiate, the French Market, Café du Monde, Mardi Gras—oh, so many memories. And the only reason I've been able to hold onto these memories is because of NA.
I used every day for fifteen years. Every day is a reason to celebrate in New Orleans, and I took full advantage of that. But after a year or so of active using, it was no longer a party for me. It became a nightmare, day in and day out. I couldn't wake up. My disease clamped down on my spirit like a pit bull, shredding my sense of self-worth, mangling my will to live. At that first NA meeting, I saw life and tasted hope. I remember feeling such euphoria as the realization hit me that I didn't have to live in despair any longer. I had a choice.
So, what is Narcotics Anonymous? NA is a bunch of addicts in recovery. We go to meetings to share with each other about how we stay clean. We come from every walk of life; you name it, NA has it! Rich, poor, black, white, brown, old, young, gay, straight, male, female, transgender, short, tall, fat, skinny, American, Hispanic, German, Indonesian, South African, Iranian—NA has it all. NA is hope. NA is freedom. NA is love and compassion and truth. NA has given this addict the ability to live a life without the use of drugs. NA has allowed me to rejoin the human race. After twenty-two years in recovery, I not only remember those precious memories from my childhood in New Orleans, but* I now have many new memories to hold near to my heart.
Because of NA, I am capable of sitting with this feeling of utter helplessness as I watch the city of my childhood drown. Because of NA, I can empathize with the anguish of losing one's home. My family lost everything in Hurricane Betsy in 1965. Because of NA, I can be there for my best friend and aunt who still live there and who survived Hurricane Katrina. I can listen to their sobs, and cry with them. Because of NA, I don't* have to run away from these overwhelming emotions, fearing that I'll be consumed.* I am here, because of NA.
Nancy S, Nevada, USA