Drugs

Dear Elli,

Last night, I found out that yet another kid I went to high school with is dead.  At 31.  Maybe 32.  

Remember a few letters back when I told you I was going to skip the "drugs" talk and save it for another day?  Well this is the day.  Because another one of my old friends is dead.  And while I really have no idea what happened to him, I'm making the unfair assumption that it may have had something to do with drugs.  And even if it didn't, I thought of it, and that's a good enough reason to write this letter.

I'm not going to lecture you.  Because that won't work.  I know that because when I look into your eyes I see myself.  And lectures don't work for me either. So I will have a discussion with you instead.  And while I am currently planning your fourth birthday party and I just tucked you into bed last night with my most heartfelt rendition of "Hush Little Baby", I think the time is right.  Because today, I have true perspective.  And ten years from now, when drugs are very near and real for you, I might not have the same true perspective on the topic at hand.  And that will be the day I give you this letter.

So drugs are bad.  Period.  And only terrible people have any association with them.  That's what I'm supposed to say, right?

Wrong.  Sorry.  It's not that easy.  Things are very rarely that easy.  So let's start again.

Drugs are dangerous.  That's true.  Drugs are powerful.  That's true, too.  Sometimes more powerful than people.  And that's why they are dangerous.

I've seen it all on this front, Baby Girl.  Nothing surprises me and nothing shocks me.  I've seen all sides of the equation.  And from what I can tell, most stories don't have a happy ending.  Honestly, they really suck. 

Here's how it goes:  Drug dealers go to jail.  The lucky ones.  The unlucky ones die.  Drug addicts go to jail.  The lucky ones.  And, you guessed it, the unlucky ones die.  And when the lucky ones get out of jail?  They have a rap sheet and maybe a nasty habit to fight for the rest of their lives.  Feeling lucky?  Well then, let's continue our little party. 

I'm not stupid.  Or naive.  I know there will come a time when somebody breaks out the weed at a party in high school.  And I'm not stupid enough to think you'll be the buzzkill that freaks out and calls the police.  You won't be.  And I wasn't either. 

But a little weed smoking amongst teenagers is not really what scares me.  It's what sometimes comes next.  And for some, more comes next.  And that's where I expect you to draw a very big line.  Because the real danger begins on the other side of that line. 

And I know you.  Already.  You're only 3 as of today.  But I know you well.  You like trouble.  Not big trouble.  But just enough to keep life interesting.  I'm sorry.  It's hereditary.  And I didn't start it.  I just passed it along.  It's best if you admit to that part of yourself right now and save yourself the trouble.  I'm not mad.  I'm actually kind of proud. 

But in addition to your love of trouble, you are also a bit of a control freak.  I think that's hereditary as well.  And I'm kind of glad I passed that one along.  At least in this situation.  Because drugs don't usually mix well with control freaks.  They make you relinquish control.  And that is totally uncool with you.  And I know this because I know you.

So you have an interesting situation ahead of you.  Will you choose trouble or control?  Or will you try to walk the gray area in between? You have important choices to make.  And some of those choices will affect you forever.  Choose wisely. 

And always remember that in life, there is right, wrong, and worth it.  Some trouble is worth it.  And some isn't.  My Dad taught me that.  And he's pretty smart.  Because he knows that for people wired like us, right and wrong is far too simple sometimes.  But if we decide to flip the world the bird, it really needs to be worth the trouble.  Ask yourself this question frequently, listen to the answer in your heart, and you will be just fine. 

Good luck.  I've been there.  And growing up is hard work.  But I'm right here beside you.  And I trust in your ability to make choices.  Because I trust that I have provided you the tools.  And that's really all you need.

I love you. 

Mom