D.A.R.E…To Keep A Kid Off Drugs

D.A.R.E=Drug Abuse Resistance Education. Participated and graduated from the program in the 5th grade, and by 6th grade…I was skipping school, smoking weed and drinking with a group of High Schoolers; one of whom is currently in prison for murdering someone while high on cocaine. More about that another time, but the moral to this story is, I don’t think the program worked.

I skipped the gym this morning, but will pay for it in the coming weeks. I filled the time by viewing the first couple episodes of Kevin Hart’s new series. Part 2 of the series is what made me think about D.A.R.E and is mainly why I’m writing this. Kevin discussed his relationship with his drug addicted father and how things shifted once his father became sober. This aligned with a conversation I had with a resident’s family member last night about how I struggle a little thinking about what my father will do in the event he requires assistance with his health.

My father is still addicted to narcotics which causes him to be manipulative, so I don’t trust him. He became a diabetic later in life and now has joint issues after years of being a referee. My dad can be funny. Most of the time he is funny without even trying. Last week he called and said he had been in the hospital and, “They gave me all them strong drugs. I don’t like all that s**t! I know I should be used to ’em but they just be prescribing all that heavy s**t.” I had just left the gym and spit out all my water because I was thinking, “Since when do YOU not like strong drugs?” 🤔

I was raised to be compassionate and to implement the “Honor thy mother and father…”commandment, but I had to draw the line between honor and not continuously being disrespected. Since I am his only child, the jury is still out on what will happen should he require my assistance, so we’ll discuss it further should the need arise. I will say, although for different reasons, we agree on the subject of how care is being provided very differently for meth addicts (mainly white) than it was for the crack/cocaine addicts (mainly black) in the 80s/90s

I saw an older couple I know at the store and the husband asked about my mother. I explained she had her knee replaced and he said, “Like I used to tell your grandmother, she got rid of those million dollar legs.” Me while looking at his wife: 😐 He then verifies that my uncle is back stateside and says, “Somebody asked me about that and I told them…I don’t want to be quiet, but I will.” Me thinking: Who is the somebody sir? WHO?!?

I just yelled for a visitor to cover her mouth after she was adamant about watering a poinsettia in the livingroom, but hawks a heavy cough my direction. She wants to save the flower but kill me!

In 2020…Let’s read who sends texts to make sure we’re not included on a group message. Maintenance man didn’t read that I was included on the message as he was talking about me. I tell ya…those Aggies sure are messy!!!

I’m getting ready to watch another one of Kevin Hart’s episodes since it’s quiet at work (and before your snitching fingers get warmed up, just know I’m at my part-time job 🙄).