In my world, addicts hang together. You can see us huddled on street corners, in alleys, abandoned houses, under bridges and in meeting rooms. We adapt so easily as we go down hill, eventually feeling that the dumpster we're squatting behind isn't so bad with its' new paint job and all, but most of us find it so much more painful to adapt on the climb back up. Everyone else is ahead of us and they still have those lines in the sand of things they would never do and our sand has no lines drawn anywhere anymore. I remember so clearly when I first got clean and said out loud "what, there was a Gulf War?" Addicts don't have time for current events. I learned very quickly not to say anything out loud that could possibly bring on ridicule. People around me liked to point out "you were too fucked up to notice anything." When people would say this to me while I was going to two and three meetings a day and praying my ass off, I wondered if they thought maybe I wasn't hurting enough, that if they pointed out enough times how much I had fucked up, it would somehow be a better lesson for me. It was like I had been in a coma for so long that everyone who had been waiting to talk to me had nothing left to say but angry words. They never knew how good that felt to be able to put down my self beating stick for awhile, rest my arm and let them do the clubbing.