Addiction Speaks…Read Carefully

Hello, I am your disease

“I Hate meetings…I Hate higher powers…I Hate anyone who has a program.

To all who come in contact with me, I wish you death and I wish you suffering.

Allow me to introduce myself, I am the disease of addiction.

I Am cunning, baffling, and powerful.

That’s Me.

I have killed millions and I am pleased.

I love to catch you with the element of surprise.

I love pretending I am your friend and lover.

I have given you comfort, haven’t I?

Wasn’t I there when you were lonely?

When you wanted to die, didn’t you call on me? I was there.

I love to make you hurt.

I love to make you cry.

Better yet, I love to make you so numb you can neither hurt nor cry.

When you can’t feel anything at all, this is true gratification.

And all that I ask from you is long-term suffering.

I’ve been there for you, always.

When things were going right in your life, you invited me.

You said you didn’t deserve these good things, and I was the only one who would agree with you.

Together we were able to destroy all the good things in your life.

People don’t take me seriously.

They take strokes seriously, heart attacks, even diabetes, they take seriously.


Without my help these things would not be possible.

I am such a hated disease, and yet I do not come uninvited.

You choose to have me.

So many have chosen me over reality and peace.

More than you hate me, I hate all of you who have a 12 step program.

Your program, your meeting, your higher power, all of these things weaken me, and I can’t function in the manner I am accustomed to.

Now I must lie here quietly.

You don’t see me but I am growing bigger than ever.

When you only exist, I may live.

When you live I may only exist, but I am here.

And until we meet again, if we meet again, I wish you death and suffering.”

~Unknown Author

Rachael 8/10/12


Addiction Kills

Rachael Christine Schlingmann 9/21/88 – 8/10/12

Ten days ago that phone call came.  The one that you receive which delivers information your brain cannot register.  My sister was dead.  She died of a catastrophic heroin overdose which only means she ingested too much heroin for her body to handle at one time.

I haven’t spoken to my friends about it because they were all present for the last traumatic death in my life.  They were all lucky enough to watch, front row, when my mother was killed and I decided then that I would never grieve publicly again.  I don’t want to see the sad faces, I don’t want anyone to cry for me or to pity me, I don’t want my Facebook page to be on fire with condolences.  I sincerely appreciate that people care about my well-being.

I knew my sister was an addict.  It’s impossible to explain the helplessness I felt when I watched the priest close the lid of the casket for the last time.  As we stood graveside and they lowered her casket into the grave I felt such sadness.  It was not supposed to work out this way.  This was not the plan.

It was gray and almost rainy.

Rachael Schlingmann Memorial Fund

I love you sister.


If you can complain, you can vote.


There is nothing I can buy you, no gift that I can give, that will prove to you my love. Watch, listen, hear me, feel me me, and you will know love.      Image

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