The Philip Lynott Therapy and Drugs Counselling Centre, Dublin

I am watching Cathleen and Sarah playing outside. I can hear their shrill childlike voices echoing round the garden. The sunlight catches their golden hair and it seems to make the day brighter.

I turn back to my line of coke and using one of my children’s drinking straws which I have shortened for the purpose I follow my line to the end.

After I raise my head from my pursuit I can still hear their little voices outside followed by Caroline’s mothering cadences.
My head is spinning and the coke puts everything into sharp focus. I go down stairs to join my family.

I am greeted with squeals of delight from my daughters and I find that I cannot move as my legs are embraced by their small forms. I notice their toys scattered upon the lawn and a checked picnic blanket has been spread out for a place to sit.

I am hugged and chivvied into my children’s world by their laughter and smiles. I see the small plastic watering can that Sarah has been using to give the plants a drink and one of Cathleen’s tiny shoes is lying on the blanket along with a colouring book and scattered crayons.

A large part of me is frozen for I am responsible for these little lives. I am responsible for their safety and to maintain their innocent curiosity displayed within this moment and beyond.

Their bedroom is filled with dollies, picture books soft toys and fairy tale stories. Mine on the other hand has a drawer full of coke and smack in foil wrap. I have syringes hidden in the bathroom cabinet out of reach of prying fingers and so many pills I’ve forgotten what I’m taking them all for.

Cathleen’s squeals bring me back to the ‘happy family’ scene as Sarah hands me a daisy chain.