THE BUTCHER'S BLOCK - TO THOSE THAT DON'T UNDERSTAND (A message on addiction)

To Those That Don’t Understand.

“Get over that shit”

“How can you let a drug ruin your life”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Just kick it”

I hear people say these sorts of things all the time about other people suffering from the DISEASE known as addiction. I can’t help but wonder what in the living fuck is wrong with the people asking and or saying these sorts of things. I get it, some people don’t know what addiction entails. Some people aren’t aware that it IS a DISEASE, So you know what you do when you don’t know about something? You turn to the same fucking thing you use when you have a question about literally ANYTHING ELSE! Google that shit! It’s not hard, I promise you that it is not.. Go ahead, i’ll wait…

So I gave you some time to leave the blog and do some research and now you’re back here. What did you find? Oh, you did all of that reading and you still are not convinced that there’s something wrong mentally with addicts? You think it’s a cry for attention, or they are simply weak of mind, meager of will, low on the ability to fight through it… So let me ask you this then….

Could you go without the coffee you drink HABITUALLY?

Could you quit drinking?

Could you one day walk away from the computer you use to get off on that weird Japanese porn? You know the ones.. And you do it every day at the same time or you get an itch you can’t quite scratch right?

Could you quit shoving your face full of food? No? Why is that? It’s because the food makes you feel good about yourself when no one else can do it for you right? It’s because there’s a sense of stability, a sense of comfort in it right?

Look at what you’re doing from the perspective of an outsider, like you’re doing to the person who’s addicted to pills, to heroin, to crack… You think that what you’re doing is normal compared to them?

We are all ADDICTED to something. We all have this need, this craving. It’s like the infection they all have on the Walking Dead.. It’s inside of us all. The only thing is, some people haven’t had the wires in their brains fucked with.

That’s what it’s like.. It’s like someone went inside your head, inside of your psyche and fucked with the wiring. You’re now in need of whatever it is you’re fixed on and you don’t know why exactly but you know you need it..

So this is for those of you who don’t understand addiction. This is for those of you who judge and make comments before knowing that you yourself, are addicted to something. Stop judging, stop hating those who are struggling with it far worse than the rest of us and if you can’t somehow find it in you to show love and compassion then just leave them the fuck alone.. It’s much simpler than sitting on your phone scouring for the perfect meme about the drug addict next door to you.

Watch the one scene in The Crow where Eric Draven squeezes the morphine from Sarah’s mothers arm.. Tell me you don’t feel something there…

Be a human being and not a monster..

I am The Butcher, and this is my first subject on the Butcher’s Block..

HEROIN (An Open Letter to Those That Need to Wake Up)

My brother. You probably didn't know him, but I did.  He was just like most of us, at least at some point in our lives- he looked down on junkies, drunks, and the like. Up until the day he died he worked a good full time job, paid his bills, and fooled us all.

In his 20s he beat alcohol addiction. He wrecked his prized chevy SS pick-up. Black & chrome, badass truck. Hitting the bottom, he schooled up and became a mechanic.

In his 30s he secretly struggled with old injuries from the accident...persevering through the pain and becoming an accomplished Chrysler ASE Master technician. Year after year he gathered accolades, until an ill-fated relationship introduced him to the world of prescription pills.

In his mid 30s he rose above that; he freed himself from that orange-bottled master, and the blonde demon who facilitated his re-addiction.

As he approached 40; his old aches, pains, prescriptions, and ghosts reunited with him..  Somewhere in the mix, the desperation... The demons...they had their way with him and he went up against all that he despised.

One month and 9 days after his 40th birthday, he came home on a Saturday morning from a short time at work. He either snorted or rubbed into his gums some heroin, only thing I know for sure is that he wasn't using for that long and it wasn't intravenously. He laid in his bed, passed out, and died from an adverse reaction to drugs/prescriptions.

He left without saying goodbye; and it wasn't time to go. He had more shit planned. He literally worked up till the end.  I know this because I am his brother.  I was there.  I was always around, but I didn't see it, and I couldn't stop it.

WAKE THE FUCK UP PEOPLE...  Someone you know is probably in the same situation. Just because they're not under a fucking overpass with a needle in their arm, doesn't mean that they're not in line for that shitty fucked up ride.

Chris Dunbar