On the street I see…
Sunken faces in oversized hoodies hiding in the shadows of dumpsters.
A teenage girl on the nod from a shot of fentanyl sways upright like a tree in the wind.
Next to her, a figure is slumped on the ground - their body folded over as though they died while in a yoga pose.
Many of the people I see today have puffy hands - swollen like glove shaped red balloons that are about to burst - poor circulation from heavy drug use.
I stop and speak to a man with a bashed face, wounded from a large rock that was used by a street dealer collecting on an unpaid drug debt.
A woman asks me for a multi-vitamin packet. Her rolled up sleeves reveal the marks of “self harm,” which remind me of zebra stripes painted with a razor blade.
Further down, I stop to speak with another woman oozing pus from an injection related abscess.
Most everyone here is without teeth from malnutrition, neglect, methamphetamine and fentanyl use.
This is why I don’t distribute sugary “treats.”
A stray cat makes its way through a mine field of used syringes. Extending its paw, it bats at the discarded foam wrap of a meth pipe like it’s playing with a toy mouse.
Fruit flies buzz around a cluster of people smoking dope.
One of the men in the group holds his hands out to me. They are coated in dried blood and street grime.
He’s asking for a hug.
Sometimes I catch myself, realizing that my chest is tight from holding my breath as I walk the gauntlet of despair.
When I become aware of it, I check in with the sensation - paying close attention to the feeling of tension and the sparks of anxiety that I can feel rising up.
Not attaching to it.
Just noticing it.
No analysis or judgment.
And then exhale … release …
Bringing my attention back to the breath. More conscious now. In and out.
Returning to a place of spaciousness and neutrality … being in service without becoming tense or anxious … detaching while simultaneously making myself available to help without losing my footing … present and aware with a calm and steady demeanour …
This way is much better for myself and the people I serve.
Feeling the words in my heart, walking along the hurt, witnessing the self destruction and pathways of escape, thanks for sharing your journey through the mess