A Room Full of People.

I've been watching Intervention for a couple of years now.

I've seen meth addicts run butt naked down the street, alcoholics sneak away from work to refuel at the liquor store, fathers passed out on the couch after a three-day coke binge while their babies play nearby. Even one girl who couldn't stop huffing Duster long enough to eat a meal with her mother.

I've seen it all - well most of it. All from the confines of my living room.

It's devastating. Sometimes funny, but largely devastating.

Families are literally destroyed by drugs everyday. People die. They go to jail. They sit in a room full of sisters and best friends and mothers and fathers that love them, and they laugh in their face. "I'm not going."

Usually, they do. Usually, they at least try. A lot of the times, they relapse and fail. They go back to drugs or alcohol, and they fail. But, you know, at least they try. And if they tried once, they'll probably try again.

But what about all those other people? The ones not in front of the camera. And the ones that just say no? What about the anorexic that cannot and will not admit she has a problem? What about the heroin addict that looks millions of people on the other end of the camera right in the eyes and says, "I'd rather be dead." What about them? What about their room full of people? What do they do?

I've lost people - some living and some dead - to drugs. Some who won't even admit they have a problem. Some who don't even know that I've given up on them.

It's devastating. Heartbreaking. Something I will never, ever get over.

There's a part of me that's still mad at Brooke for getting behind the wheel. A part of me that still can't forgive Zack for not asking for help. And there's a part of me that cannot and will not ever forgive ... him. Or her. I can't say it, but I know I mean it.

I will never forgive them, but I would sit in their room full of people any day of the week. And I will still love them like crazy even though they'll do the same things over again. That's the painful thing about the drugs, and the unforgettable thing about family.

Everyone does stupid shit at one point or another. It's whether you grow from it that counts. Whether you have that day where you wake up and say, "Enough." That's what really matters. That and how much love you give your room full of people back.