We can't see the other's side

The tragic death of Heath Ledger this week led to speculation and rumors about the cause of his death; the timing of the rumors and the rampant Internet speculation left little time to process the news of what had occurred. Fact and fiction blurred as fast as keyboards could be goaded into producing the words. Many words have already been written about how much of a tragedy this is in and of itself.
But the event also prompted a discussion between a friend and I over the impact the abuse of drugs (and other substances) have on friends and families. We came down on differing sides this time, and I realize it is impossible to "see" another person's point of view, no matter how much you may want to.
We started the discussion off with my commenting that Mr. Ledger's death and the rumored drug involvement had prompted me to think of a mutual friend of ours. While she wasn't totally aware of the second friend's penchant for getting loaded, it became apparent of the contempt she holds for those who (ab)use drugs.
"They can't handle reality, so they escape into numbness. I can't stand that. Why should I feel sympathy for the weak when I watch innocents struggle against illnesses they didn't deserve or cause?"
Understand that this person has been touched directly by addiction. Its cost has included close friends and relatives deaths. It is impacting her life everyday, places minor children at risk, robs them of innocence earlier than we adults would prefer and exposes them to behavior that most of us could go our whole lives and thankfully never see. So I can totally understand the anger involved in the statement about weakness.
But I also can relate to the choice facing the user. I told her that getting high is SO easy, so luxuriant and so much of a departure from pain that it is not difficult to understand one making that choice.
For you see, without my friends and family, without the presence of God in my life and without my desire for those things more than my desire to be high, I would be high today. Right now. And tomorrow. And the day after. And everyday, for as long as I could.
So, I can't agree with the assessment of weakness being the culprit. Or even whether the one that chooses to get high is "weaker" than someone that doesn't have to face the choice like that.
"But I've been high. So what?" she said. "Life is so much better sober, I could never be like that."
Maybe for you, my friend, maybe for you. For some of us, there is unbelievable bliss available in the highness, of a sort that nothing in the sober world can match. A narcissism so pure, so intense and so private that it caresses our innermost being and blankets us against the cold world. It is the bath of serum that oozes throughout our being and persuades us that all is right and perfect, if only temporarily.
So, why is it weakness to opt for that instead of having to deal with the hurt, discomfort and stress that is "real" life?
I don't condemn you for not getting it. You aren't weak because your mind doesn't reveal this "other" reality to you. No, I am glad for you. I rejoice that you don't run the risk of opting out and leaving this world too soon. I pray not for sympathy for those who use from you. I pray for understanding. But not too hard do I pray for that.
Because in order to understand, you would have to know. And knowing comes from being there, from experiencing. Experiencing puts you in grave, unimaginable danger.
I pray that today I will still want to make the choice to be sober.
But it's a choice that I make daily, not from some place of strength on my own, but rather through God's grace toward me that allows me to interact with others in a way being high robs me of.
I can't explain what I know very well. And I know it very well, but not as well as others. I hope my daughters never know it like this.