Good evening everyone!!
I know I’ve been MIA on here for a while, I’ve just been doing a lot of reflecting and thinking! My book is scheduled to drop this upcoming January but I’m nowhere close to being done!! I have 3 out of 11+ chapters reviewed, I have 43k out of 50k words done, I need to properly format it, have it edited and I need to put it in a proper template. I’m so excited with the results of the last three chapters I had reviewed because I was told where to improve, what the readers found irrelevant to the given topic of the book, I was shown grammatical errors etc. I’m grateful to every writer and reader whose given me the confidence to post my chapters but unfortunately this will be the last one I post publicly! Of course I want to promote my book but the purpose of my social media pages is to spread awareness for addiction!
Absolutely, my story shows my own experience with addiction but I feel that if people are Interested then they could read my book. Not everyone is here to support my goal for my book, does that make sense? Anyways, this is one of the chapters I really did NOT like how it came out so PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE provide honest feedback. Does it flow? Is it interesting? Does it make you want to continue reading? What is your overall thoughts on this chapter. Thank you, I hope you enjoy!!!!
Acceptance. Comes easy to some, and doesn’t to most. I fall into the “most” category. I had this idea that once I accept that I had a problem, finding a solution would become easier. False. It would never be as easy as I made it out to be. If I knew what I was in for I’d have just gone to rehab instead of suffering and spreading pain the next few years.
That’s the thing about life, yeah I made it past all of my struggles and if I was able to somehow see into the future and see what I know now I wouldn’t even be writing this book. I’d still probably be a stuck up know it all. Shit, I don’t even want to imagine the life I’d have. But then again, I strongly believe that everything happens for a reason. I was meant to spread pain and I was meant to destroy my life. Maybe I was meant to write this book to prevent someone else from experiencing the hell of addiction. Or maybe I had such a shitty life as karma from hurting so many people. The main person being the mother of my children, Lily.
Okay, so I had accepted that I was an addict but because I was still in love with that faceless beauty that gifted me with a euphoric feeling, I didn’t really want to get clean. From others who claim that they had experienced opiate addiction and withdrawals claimed that they wouldn’t last long. Just so we’re on the same page guys, addiction won’t be done in “three days.” I’ve done a lot of research before trying to quit and as many websites and professionals claimed, I came to learn that it’s not true. 72-96 hours they say. Wrong. At one point I strongly believed that myth which kept me from finally accepting I had a problem.
> If my withdrawals go away after three days then how is that even considered an addiction? I’ll start on Friday and I’ll be clean and ready to work by Monday.
A common mentality I’d have throughout my addiction. That mentality is what made it so difficult for my girlfriend to keep up and stay supportive. I didn’t want to get clean. I didn’t fully grasp that understanding that I had finally experienced the devastating force behind withdrawals and it was not as easy as “staying clean for three days.” Maybe I just didn’t have the will power at the time? Maybe I really am a mentally and physically weak junkie? Either way, my mind was beyond clouded and aside from not having the drive to reflect on my lifestyle and practice acceptance, my support system began to lose patience.
At what point does one give up on that addict that they’re trying so hard to help and support? It’s expected for you to be there for your significant other when they’re suffering from this “disease.” But let’s be real, those who are burdened with having an addict boyfriend or girlfriend will never truly understand what it’s like to be in an addict. No one ever does unless they experience it themselves, so that lack of experience makes their patience for addict loved ones very scarce.
I admitted to Lily that I was addicted to percs way before I even thought about cocaine, heroin, fentanyl, Xanax, kpins, etc. Even before our struggles truly began. My daily habit also began to affect my performance at work so I thought that quitting pills cold turkey would be easy. I didn’t see it as an addiction, I saw my dependence as a strong preference. Plus I strongly believed that I was unbelievably mentally tough so the mental aspect of addiction would be easy for me to overcome. I wasn’t aware of the hell behind physical withdrawals at all. No matter though.
I loved Percocets, oxy, hydro, etc. If it ended with “condone”, my love for it was undeniable. I wasn’t addicted, I just loved the type of drug I had gotten into. From that one pill and that amazing feeling that came right after, chasing that demon was all I wanted to do. I never fully experienced withdrawals so this whole idea of “being addicted” and being controlled by drugs was laughable to me.
As much as I didn’t want to notice, I finally had to. Why am I getting mad so easily? Why is it that my body shakes really bad, I start to sweat profusely and I can’t stay still for the life of me until I pop a few pills? Is the love of my life really that upset that I haven’t given her much attention today? No, she’s not like that. She loves making me feel happy, she’d never make me feel mad or sick… well I hope not. Those “rumors” of addiction I refused to believe began making more and more sense until I finally needed someone to talk to. I can’t keep this to myself anymore, but who can I trust? I have my part-time friend Billy but can he keep his mouth shut and actually be a friend? Maybe but I’m not taking risks. Huh, I DO have a girlfriend… But I don’t want her to be mad or judge me then leave me. No, she’s not like that… I have to tell her. I need to come clean.
To be completely honest, I remember that specific night like it was yesterday. I felt so guilty for lying to my girlfriend about my minor addiction that I finally came clean to her. No matter how much I denied the idea that I was addicted at first it was time I faced the truth. My one true love who I chased none stop, was only going to hurt me in the end. But Lily, with her promises to stand my side, accepted my fate the way I should have;
> I’m so proud of you for coming clean. I know it’s not easy but I’ll be here for you until you get clean.
That meant the world to me but little did I know that I was years away from actually getting clean. In fact, I didn’t know that I would lose everything from chasing my demon and I would never have guessed that I’d be the reason for so many failings for myself, and my girl and me as a couple. I promised that I’d never steal and I’d never sniff anything, I promised that I’d stay away from the hard drugs. I even talked down on the kind of addict Id eventually became. No, it’s not funny but I find it ironic that I basically foreshadowed my life for the next 5-6 years and I didn’t just ruin my life, I ruined my girl’s life in the process. For that I will never forgive myself, and for that I will always consider myself the word I hate the most. A “junkie”.
As addicts we forget about the importance of acceptance. Realistically speaking the decision we made to poison our bodies with the drug we love the most is what put us in this shitty predicament. If I knew that I’d be an addict for the rest of my life then I’d have slapped that pill out of Babe’s hand, fuck that, I’d have slapped that blunt out of Devon’s hand all those years ago and stuck to the straight edge life I always preached about.
Unfortunately, that never happened so now I have to grow and learn from this experience. More importantly, I have to keep my chin up. I’m still likely to relapse and only God knows the hundreds of times I have already because, in all honesty, it’s too much for me to count.
> “3 days… just give me three days, that’s all I need to kick my habit.”
Was it true? Probably, just not for me. I kept that ridiculous idea in mind until I finally decided that it was time to stop doing drugs for a while. Forever? Absolutely not. I had finally found the love of my life and I am never letting go. We just need a short break.
At one point I really did quit opiates. Not my drug habit but I was clean from pills and dope. I traded out one addiction for a minor habit. I began sniffing coke and for a whole 3 months I had not even thought about percs because of that one traumatizing experience. My love, my passion, Percocet’s, why would she do that to me? After only 24 hours of me trying to break up with her, she punished me with so much pain. I was completely oblivious to the pain she’d put me through and it broke my heart knowing she’d do this to me. Not only mental but physical as well. After using suboxines to successfully trade opiates for cocaine, things began looking up for me. I did it, I kicked my addiction! All I needed was to actually experience the full wrath of opiate withdrawals, which scared me straight. For a bit at least. Those first few days of excruciating body and stomach pain, explosive diarrhea, throwing up, crazy shaking leg syndrome. I was sweating through my clothes and blankets but I was so cold. I could barely walk, I couldn’t stop crying and I felt like I was trapped inside my own body. The fact that I had just lost my job was the only reason why I even made that decision to quit.
Like I said even with that being my first time to go through withdrawals, I was only told of what I would go through. Of course major details were left out but I thought it to be a walk in the park. I bought Xanax to keep me asleep for most of the experience and I bought weed to reduce the pain and help me focus on something else. I told my girl of my decision and she was fully supportive. Little did she know, she would see the absolute worst of me. You see, she had never seen me weak nor throwing up nor seen me cry from the pain I experienced. To her I was perfect and as much as I thought it, she also thought that I was unbelievably tough. That nothing could tear me down. That image we both had of myself was destroyed in one night. Imagine trying to fall asleep at 11 and by 12 you begin to suffer from the worst flu like symptoms known to man. That night she tried so hard to console me;
> Babe what can I do to help you? Should I hold you? Do you want me to make you soup?
Her innocent attempts to hopefully make me feel better meant the world to me but I had to be realistic. I had to save her from the hell of tending to me so I’d tell her;
> “babe I did this to myself, you have work really early you need sleep.”
I convinced her to go back to bed but my ridiculously loud hollers and cries of pain kept her up whether I wanted her by my side or not. Even when I switched rooms, we both were up.
The next day came and I was left alone. I had heard of the methadone clinic before and decided I needed to pay a visit so the seemingly impossible task began. I tried with all my might to get dressed because getting in a shower was not even an option for me. As I begin to walk down the stairs my legs give out and I fall all the way to the bottom step. If I was feeling myself I would’ve laughed it off but because pain is multiplied by 100 when you’re going through withdrawals, I cried again and laid there like an animal who was just ran over by a truck. After giving myself the “getup bitch” speech I go on to get in my car and attempt to drive myself to the clinic.
I go on to hit two cars on the way there. Fortunately I wasn’t chased and the damage was minimal so my car was drivable. Of course, I wish I pulled over and apologized but The physical state I was in would’ve left the victims with the same conclusion. They were hit by a sick junkie.
After finally signing myself up and taking a drug test I am required to make a payment because I didn’t have health insurance due to my recent unemployment. On top of that they wouldn’t even be able to treat me until the following Tuesday because doctors only show up twice a week. It was a Friday and the thought of dealing with that pain for 4 days was very unnerving for me. On top of that, they wanted me to stay clean until that given day which something I was not willing to do. At that point I leave and I call my dealer and decide to get some pills to hold me over until I decide what I can do. On the way to my dealer I get into another accident in which I wasn’t able to drive away and had to suffer through another hour of excruciating pain because I actually had to exchange information with this victim. Finally the time comes, I swallow my pills and wait for them to take effect. The “love” of my life convinced me to come running back to her like a little puppy, and she welcomed be back with open arms.
> “Why don’t you try sniffing dope? It’s a lot cheaper and gets you way higher that 6 perc 30s ever will.”
My dealer who had recently transitioned from sniffing pills to sniffing dope advised me as he prepared himself a line of fentanyl.
Just a friendly reminder to all, although I had just lost my job and had wasted most of my savings on percs, I still stood tall on my pedestal.
> “It’s just percs, who doesn’t do percs? But heroin? I’d quit percs before I resort to dope”
I thought to myself. Although deep down a curiosity to see if that’s true began to develop.
> “I’m good.”
He later suggests suboxones. Suboxone’s are a synthetic opiate which is used during the recovery process. But like every other drug it can be abused and used to sell which is it’s opposite purposed. Knowing that I’d decide that it would be good to have just in case I ever get put in that predicament. He sells me a few and explains how to use them. A month after that horrendous experience, and even more money wasted on pills, I try to quit pills again. With the help of those suboxones of course.
> “I can never let my baby see me that weak again, what kind of a man am I.”
Again, that first time quitting only lasted 3 month and in those three months I developed a temporary taste for cocaine. I quickly learned that quitting on my own was impossible without a little help. Cocaine wasn’t the help I needed and I knew that but didn’t want to admit it.
Even after my first experience with withdrawals, I would make every possible excuse as to why I couldn’t go to rehab for so long. During the time period that I was popping pills, there was the epidemic where people would replace Percocet with fentanyl and I would unknowingly take those pills which would push me towards withdrawals a lot quicker.
For the first half of my addiction to pills before I had experienced that initial hell, I was completely unaware that I was even going through withdrawals. I just assumed that I was having a bad night when Id have shaken leg syndrome or when I couldn’t sleep. Then eventually I would only take perks in the mornings because if I took them at night then I wouldn’t sleep all night which I thought was just a minor side effect of doing the pills but little did I know I was finally addicted. I was sweating at work, Id have horrible allergies all day and have bad diarrhea and crazy cravings for pills until I bought my next few pills to hold me throughout the next day. When experiencing these withdrawals, I would turn so pale and sweaty that whenever my mother or my manager would see me, I’d tell them it’s probably the flu. Again fast forward back to my dealer telling me that I’m most likely addicted and going through withdrawals, I had become aware of my problem being more than just a ”habit.” I needed to finally accept that I was an addict.
> “I’ll just buy some suboxones and stay clean for three days, that should kick my habit”
I would constantly tell myself this to avoid taking the necessary steps to get clean. I’d use that line and convince my beautiful extraordinary girlfriend Lily to give me money to buy a suboxone or two in the hopes that I actually follow my plan.
I’d convince certain dealers and friends to go out of their way to find me and buy me suboxones with the same empty promise I told my girl,
> “I’ll pay you back, you know I’m good for it.”
In reality, the only thing I was good for at that point was buying and sniffing drugs anywhere I could. I can’t even count the times I’ve told my girl,
> “Baby I’m gonna try quitting this week so please understand if I’m sick or in a bad mood.”
That empty promise to stay clean gave her so much false hope that I needed to keep that lie going so that she would be as close to happy as she could possibly be while being in a growing abusive and toxic relationship with someone who did not want to change.
When you’re an addict, you’re most painful yet effective weapon is false promises. False promises goes hand in hand with lying because it’s essentially the same thing. Lying is something you do regularly to avoid getting in trouble or to fulfill whatever hidden agenda you have. False promises though. These are used to break the spirit of those you hold closely. Whenever I’d make a false promise, I usually had every intention of fulfilling it but deep down I knew my addict tendencies always get in the way.
I can’t remember how many times I tried to quit opiates without getting real help from professionals. As you know my addiction began with an unhealthy lustful desire for pills. I’d take percs at home, at school (when I attended college), at work (when I worked at the bank), even at home in front of my son, in the bathroom in between domino games with my love Lily and our friends, even right next to my girl as she slept soundly. My decisions to “quit” always started with me telling myself “okay this is my last batch so I gotta enjoy it.” From trying to quit pain pills to cocaine and eventually harder opiates, that phrase quickly became my most told lie aside from “no I didn’t take your money babe, I promise.”
As unintentional as my lie was, that’s the only way to define something that you know isn’t true. I had every intention of getting clean but something that required me to not be sick from opiate withdrawals always came up.
My parents want me over for dinner, I have to use.
Damn I have an interview, I’ll use one more time.
My friends want to play dominos with my girl and I. Okay give me one second I’ll be back. I need my dose of opiates.
I just didn’t want anyone seeing me go through the excruciating pain caused by withdrawals that I would manage to avoid. I’d even stay in bed for days at a time, no eating, drinking, showers, nothing. If I had to work, same thing, I wouldn’t eat and I wouldn’t shower.
I needed to accept that I can’t face this alone.
I needed to accept that I wouldn’t make it alone.