Shadow Y Luz

Some Therapists get called saints.

Some Therapist get called life savers.

Me? I got called the Fentanyl fairy.

Not because I’m happily sprinkling pharmaceutical fairy dust on my clients– but because somewhere in the rumor mill, someone decided I must be tampering with drug screens. Yes, you heard that right: apparently my blindness now comes with the magical ability to swap urine cups without anybody noticing. If I were that coordinated, I would be in Cirque du Soleil, not Social work.

But accusations are a comical thing in the helping field. They stick like unwanted gum does on your shoe. Treatment isn’t all about healing, it can often be all about appearances. Clean drug screens? Check! Progress notes full of sunshine and unicorns farting rainbows? Check! Is the client still drowning on the inside? Who cares?! The notes say we are winning.

That’s how the real fentanyl fairies are born- not in a dark alley with baggies, but in an office with a clipboard.

We don’t hand out drugs– we hand out permission slips for continued numbness.

We keep the system looking neat and tidy so it can keep on running.

The tragedy? If you actually try and do your job- like, actually care and try to address the real pain under the addiction– then you’re told you’re “doing too much” or “not staying in your lane.” That’s right,actually giving a f*** is inconvenient.

If you question the way the machine runs, then suddenly you are “not a team player.”

And if you are me- blind, passionate and outspoken, congratulations! You are now a mythical narcotic-smuggling creature.

So no, I am not the fentanyl fairy.

But I am a thorn in the side of the system full of posers who would rather fabricate healing than face its own issues.

Because in a world so addicted to its own lies, the real drug, is telling the truth, even if they don’t want to hear it.

Shoutout to all my peeps in recovery, exploring recovery or simply just living another day. Much love.