Where should I start? This post may be seen as a huge contradiction and I can already imagine the shit people will want to say once reading this title. So why don’t you just go ahead and say it??
“Why are you idolizing drug addiction?”
“How could addiction be beneficial to anyone?”
“What type of message do you plan on sending with this type of content?”
Okay, I get it. Those who have never experienced addiction wouldn’t understand the point I want to make. I’m not saying that addiction itself is something to be proud of, but it’s nothing to be ashamed of neither. See, we all hit rock bottom at some point, some more frequently than others, and some stay at the bottom for longer than most. Again, there is NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT. Well, as long as you learn from your mistakes and work towards a solution, that is.
Addiction is the equivalent to hitting rock bottom. Whether it be health-wise or financially, addiction affects everyone in different manners. Look at Eminem for example. He’s a legend who was a heroin addict throughout the beginning of his musical career and he PROSPERED. Some even say that his music was better when he was a junkie. He’s a rare case, of course, not many people end up being successful while being an addict unless they were born in money or have already set up multiple sources of income before succumbing to their demons.
Me? I’m not one of them. The second I lost control, I lost it all. But losing it all to addiction could possibly be the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I previously explained that before I let drugs take over my life, I was one of you ignorant fucks who would look down on addicts. I’d be disgusted by ”junkies” and would have never imagined that I was looking at and making fun of myself.
So back to my topic.
How to make the best of your addiction!
In my opinion, life’s best teacher is experience. When becoming an addict, you do shit that you most likely would never do when you’re sober. Whether it be stealing from your significant other, or robbing stores and your job, you become a villain. At least that’s what happened to me. I would constantly ”borrow” my girlfriends money all the time ( NEVER FROM THESE OTHER victimizing fucks who accuse me everytime they make their own idiotic errors but feel the need to blame the junkie of the house). Okay yeah yeah, junkies don’t have morals, they hurt whoever they want blah blah blah. We all know how you “normies” feel towards us addicts. Anyways, I WASNT THAT KIND of addict. Well I WAS, but like I said I only targetted my girl. She was my one victim, aside from my jobs in retail. The reason why I stayed away from ”friends” and anyone who I knew is because I was a dangerous man when I was under the influence. I say that as humbly as possible. I take people’s bullshit now but back then, if anyone accused me of doing shit I didn’t do the way I get bullshit NOW, trust and believe I’d be burying their body in my back yard. I didn’t want people to look at me like they’re better than me. At the end of the day, my acquaintances had nothing to offer and were already leaching off of me and my woman as is. Nothing has changed in that aspect but still. No matter how much I changed in a negative manner, I always hated being judged by people who might as well be ”junkies” themselves, because they had nothing going for them just like the person they hate the most. Me. Sorry, I always get off track. My point is, once you’re an addict, hurting others becomes a norm and the glances of hatred and disappointment become embedded in our brains. For me, Lily’s tears were my weakness and it killed me that I was the reason she was so sad. Experiencing failure and pain can be traumatizing and can be heart changing enough. So use that pain and that trauma to your advantage. We all need a reason to change, and change IS POSSIBLE. With that being said, having your experiences help develop your character once you realize your mistakes. To me, the meaning of life is to experience.
2. Reflect on yourself
Cliche? Perhaps. But it’s important to get to know yourself. Why did you resort to drugs? Why did you pawn your TV? Why did you leave your kid alone while you went to get your next fix? What goals do you even have anymore? Truthfully answering the questions that you don’t want to answer is how I got to know myself. I realized that I became a piece of shit. From domestic violence to child neglect, I was blind to who I really was. Of course, over time I realized my many many MANY mistakes but that took so many sleepless nights of self-harm, suicide attempts and mental torture for me to finally see. The one thing I learned from my first ex, Curly, is how to reflect and realize my full potential. At the time, it was a miracle if I didn’t ”borrow” $50 from MY GIRLFRIEND, and that took an immense amount of will power and doses of honesty. I cried so much after I opened my eyes and I realized that suicide and drug use wasn’t my calling. I’m destined for more and so are you. Reading other people’s experience with addiction motivated me to face the facts, grow some balls, and finally look at myself in the mirror. After years of avoiding myself, I needed to see who I became. Finally seeing yourself for who you are takes a huge amount of courage but trust and believe, coming into terms with who you are and who you want to be will almost always cause a change of heart. Of course, this is a broad topic but let’s keep it as simple as I did. Be honest and answer the questions you’re too scared to answer. The truth hurts but overcoming addiction isn’t easy. Shit, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And I used to wrestle in high school and college. Only the superior select few will understand THAT pain. Once you master the art of reflecting, it’ll help you get to know yourself and will be an essential skill throughout your life, even after overcoming addiction.
Personally, addiction helped me develop a sixth sense per se. This may not be as enlightening as you hoped for but it’s still an important aspect developed from hitting rock bottom. I’m sure many can agree that once you’ve endured the worst, you develop something that ”normal” people will never truly grasp. The ”sixth sense” and ”understanding” I’m talking about differs from the usual definition that people are used to. I’m a strong believer in understanding can only come from experience. Both go hand in hand and that’s a fact. Like I’ve said many times throughout my book, those who know what it’s like to be an addict are the only ones who will ever truly understand the suffering. You may be an advocate or some sort of health professional that deals with addicts on a daily basis but you’ll never truly understand what it’s like to throw up and have explosive diarrhea from withdrawals. You’ll never know the horrendous flu-like symptoms that last weeks. And you sure as hell will never understand the fear from putting ourselves and our lives at risk just to get our next fix. I can’t tell you my every experience as an addict but let’s just say I’ve stared death and years in prison, in the face on multiple occasions. Once you truly develop the ability to understand your fellow addict or trauma survivor or whatever the fuck, only then will you truly be able to understand other people’s predicaments. Personally, I learned to appreciate my sobriety and now use my understanding to hopefully be a pillar of support for those experiencing the hell that once consumed my life.
So with all that being said, maybe many of you may still disagree with me but I see my past as a blessing. I may have lost it all once but because of my strive and prosperity from using these lessons, I can make sure to never lose myself nor my life ever again. Hopefully, those in need already practice self discovery and reflection, but I think being optimistic about your addiction can have a positive effect on some. It’s not all bad, guys. Well, yeah addiction itself is fucking hell but things get better, and all I know is that I never want to experience this hell again!
A new day, a new year and a new decade. I can’t help but recollect all the times I’ve built myself up and tore myself down.
My whole life I’ve been so set on being successful and being the one person who people could see as an inspiration. Almost halfway through the last decade, I became an addict. The 2010s were by far the worst decade of my 25 years of life. Yes, I created a family of my own. Yes, I bought my family a house.
Aside from those accomplishments, I showed myself how painful life can be. I saw the misery I caused and I saw the abuse I didn’t know I was capable of. From mistakes I made with Lily, to horrible decisions I made which only led to my own emotional misery; these last few years had become Hell for me. 2020, I will never make the same mistakes and will only worry, HELP and be there for my kids and my Lily, if she decides to stay by myside. If not, I will still be respectful but just like everyone else who has taken advantage of me, my house and the fortune I once had, I will be THROUGH.
December 31, 2019.
I asked my beautiful Lily if we could spend this last year together to end the decade on a good note. Any woman would approve of her man’s request to spend the coming of the new year together. Her response ”I’ll let you know” which eventually resulted in her going to another party .
Upon her response and my solitude I began hearing my demon whisper at me. Telling me to feed our mutual craving. I can’t. I won’t. My goals revolve around my sobriety.
January 17, 2020
Upon a little more than half a month of false accusations, subliminal comments and messages, and constant neglect (by Lily and those who I STUPIDLY assumed had my back) I managed to work passed that initial depression and powerful craving after some self-realization I had. I made it an obligation to leave my house every day after certain events that were out of my control and knowledge. I need to better myself and accept that no matter what, I will be an addict for the rest of my life. With that being said, I will always be at fault for shit I never even did. I understand completely though.
People are so used to seeing the worst in addicts, whether they are in recovery or not, because of how society depicts us but also because of our own actions. Again I understand 100% as a victim from former acquaintances but as an ”offender” it just sucks being the black sheep. The scapegoat to every incident. This post is more for people who can understand from experience but also for those who could never because of their sobriety and own egotism.
Another topic I would like to speak upon is the effects that addiction has on the brain so that HOPEFULLY people can have a clear and educated point of view on what the cause and effects are of our change in personality. Even those who are at risk. It’s important to understand the affects addiction has on your body when contemplating on trying out your first drug. Even when studying the effects of how your loved one got addicted in the first place.
From experience, those who are addicted and even those who have witnessed some form of addiction are aware that many of the effects are physical withdrawal. One thing that many don’t put into consideration are how narcotics affect the brain of those under the influence. Addiction is mostly mental, so with that being said it’s crucial for those suffering. This is a huge factor and plays an even bigger role as to why addicts resort to their habits.
When a drug gets introduced into the user’s body, it causes a chemical reaction in the brain. The chemicals in the drug causes the user to lose control of their tendencies and stimuli. With that being said, addicts resort to looting or other irrational methods to procure the drug of preference because of the reaction it has on the brain. Because the drug causes euphoria, the brain begins to crave that feeling of pleasure. The brain is where all feelings originate from so when the craving isn’t satisfied it punishes the body with withdrawal symptoms.
These symptoms include:
3. Chills/sweats (where you feel cold but your body is hot and sweats profusely)
4. Shaking leg syndrome / arm and body twitching at an uncontrollable rate
5. Opioids can also cause severe issues with your health such as strokes, heart problems, kidney failure, etc.
8. Opioid cravings
9. Lack of motivation and unbelievably tired (mental)
Of course there is so much more such as runny nose, stomach aches, constant yawning, watery eyes, etc. But aside from these, that list is what I believe causes addicts to ”go crazy” and rely on their destructive behaviors.
Although it may be different depending on the severity of the addiction itself and the willpower of the individual. I, personally, suffered from everything on this list. From staying awake for 5 days and 5 nights at a time, to painful cases of shaking leg and uncontrollable body twitching. The experience was hell. I am not kidding when I say I would rather be dead. Maybe that’s another factor as to why I acted upon my suicidal and self-harm instincts.
One thing to keep in mind is that there is a timeline regarding withdrawal symptoms but I will speak upon my own experience. Remember, withdrawals are different for everyone. I recently spoke with someone who ONLY suffers from being tired and lack of motivation. I wish it was that simple for me but that aspect usually started within 6 hours of my last dose. After 12 hours I’d begin sweating, have runny nose, chills, pretty much any minor side effects. Anything that was mentally scarring occurred after 24-weeks later. The longest I was without any type of help or relapse was 5 days so believe me when I say, that experience left me traumatized.
My hygiene went to shit, I didn’t eat all those days, I couldn’t sleep and would cry every second because of the pain. I resorted to doing absolutely anything to avoid feeling it even if it meant losing my progress and relapsing.
So with this very basic summary of what hell addicts go through, we can understand why some do what they do and why it’s frustrating to be constantly get accused or doubted or even spoken down upon. Addiction changed my mentality. I never want to experience that again. I lost the love of my life, I lost friends, I lost my parents and I almost lost the love of my kids. For people to ignorantly believe that I would be willing to throw my progress away is a spit in the face. But I can’t be mad at anyone who has no idea what the feeling is like. Just imagine having the worst version of the flu that you’ve never actually experienced. Now imagine having that all-day everyday while having EVERY OTHER SYMPTOM LISTED. Me.
That’s THE HELL I personally went through and would rather die than experiencing again.
I take my mission and sobriety seriously. I speak about this issue in-depth in my book for those who are interested in reading it!! I’m currently waiting on my beta readers and am still looking for a couple more! Then I will finalize my editing and publish it! Early February is my goal!!!
As I lean out my window smoking one of my last few cigarettes, I can’t help but think about the few years I spent living with Lily. Most of which was hell for her, and I thought that I was seeing things clearly so I blamed myself for our pain. Is it all my fault though? I had full control of my actions when I was under the influence, just like I have full control now that I’m above it. But everything happens for a reason. Just like she was unhappy, I am too.
I thought that whenever I’d stop using drugs, I’d start feeling myself again. I thought that my suicidal tendencies and thoughts would go away. For a few weeks, they did. I’m quickly reaching the date that I will finally publish this book, where I promised that I’d stop spreading pain, but I can’t help but think, ”what if my existence is what causes pain?”
I’ve been sober and Lily still finds a way to point out my flaws and claim I’m hurting her. She’s claiming that ”I’ll never change” and that she can’t be happy by my side anymore.
I’m also quickly reaching the date where I have to finally leave my house. The house that I had initially bought so that my family could grow up happy but quickly turned into a refuge for people that had/have no respect for me, nor my family. These people being Lily’s family. I thought that sobriety would make this moment so much easier to handle and I could find a way to power through my intense emotions.
I know see that I might be wrong on both counts. How can I stop spreading pain when every time Lily looks at me she can’t help but express her hatred?
How could I deal with all of these changes when in reality, with or without my demon by my side, I still want to lay down, close my eyes, and never wake up?
I’ve kept my distance from my past. I’ve kept my distance from those who would guide me through that dangerous life I once lived. Guns, drugs, crimes and regret. Yet I still have my connections. Why did I stay in touch knowing I’d never resort to the lifestyle that once corrupted me?
It’s January 6, 2019. A day after my original publish date, an acquaintance from my past sent me information on a beautiful firearm. 6 bullets, looked like a two-shot Dillinger. My first thought? I need it. My second thought? I need it for myself.
The love of my life hates me and reminds me every chance she gets, and my worst fears are finally coming true meaning my time in this house is coming to an end. I don’t know what else to think. I don’t know what else to do. I thought that my love for opioids was the cause of my depression and influenced my acts of violence. Yeah, I may not be targeting those I love anymore, and I haven’t in MONTHS, but my depression? It feels stronger than ever. My cravings? They’re so powerful. I could hear my demon whispering at my alter-ego, trying to wake him up. Trying to make her way back into my body where she’d attach herself and never let go. I don’t want to give in, I don’t want to go back to the life that destroyed everything but what do I have left?
I never expected to become a drug addict, but after I did and hit rock bottom, I never expected to find the strength to start climbing out of the hole I dug for myself. But I haven’t fully reached the top of the hole; I still have to face the consequences and aftermath of my recently solved addiction issue.
Once we leave this house I understand that Lily will take her own path with the kids. It’s so devastating that she’s been acting so secretive that I wouldn’t be surprised if she already has a whole other replacement for me. I know I shouldn’t be negative but I can’t help it. It feels as if my depression has a vital clutch on my essence.
I can’t help but wonder if all of this writing and networking through Twitter, Instagram, and other social media is enough. Am I doing all of this for my goal to spread awareness or for myself, to hopefully catch an eye and have someone notice my never-ending pain? Are my intentions truly as selfish as I believe them to be?
My intentions have always been pure. I can’t let that negativity and mental weakness keep dragging me down anymore. I destroyed my life once, and at this point, the only way I can go is up. I’ve experienced sleeping in the cold, I’ve experienced starvation. I need to understand that I am not living for myself. With or without Lily, I’m a father. With or without my family, I’m still alive. I’m fully aware of my potential, and I know what my capabilities are. Maybe I have to prove myself all over again but that’s a process that everyone has to take.
RECOVERY IS NOT EASY.
January 9, 2020.
After a few days of self-pity and depression completely taking control of my daily activities, I managed to stumble across stories of success on Twitter.
The whole time I was feeling bad for myself, others were only beginning their journey of self-discovery and recovery. Seeing a woman post a selfie every day for a whole week, sweaty, visibly weak, but still have a huge smile on her face. Another man reaching his 42nd day sober. Then another man writing poems about his own journey against addiction, whose words helped me realize that sobriety isn’t just for your loved one’s happiness. Sobriety is a lifestyle meant to help you realize your own happiness.
Yes, I am so much happier since I stopped getting high every day. Of course, I have my cravings and moments of depression but I still managed to keep myself together. If others could be happy, I could too.
Regarding the hardships that my family and I are facing, there’s nothing I can do to avoid any of that from happening. And Lily feeling hatred instead of love for me? Well I have enough love for the both of us. What I did is unforgivable but maybe my story can prevent another couple from facing the hate and trauma I caused with my woman. Again, I can’t do anything to prevent her hatred towards me but I can at least be the man she needs now that I can at least see clearly again. As for my own emotional issues, I might have to do more research on how to cope with my regrets but I feel motivated again. Maybe these past few days feeling weakness is what I needed… Oh and my book!! I decided that I need to be happy with it before I publish it and I’m not happy yet! I’m still waiting for beta readers and reviewers to look it over but I am happy to say that it should be ready in a few weeks!
I waited a few days to finalize this post because I wanted to show my readers that it’s okay to want to give up. Whether you have a support system or not, the most important person to be honest with is YOURSELF.
I hope I don’t give off the wrong idea, but my point is to stay true to yourself. Like I said, recovery isn’t easy but it’s doable. It’s life-changing and it’ll completely change your perspective once you clear your mind of all the toxicity caused by your substance of preference.
I’m human too guys, and I am not perfect at all. I’ve made so many mistakes but no matter what hardships I will continue to face, I know that I can be the rock star I’m meant to be. I really hope I didn’t contradict my overall mission but I had to be honest because I know I’m not alone, and neither are any of you.
For those of you who have been keeping up with my posts and actually helping me with my content, I thank you. Also, I’m sure you’re aware that I had decided to stop posting chapters of my progress but I decided that posting one more wouldn’t hurt. This is one of my more emotional chapters that hopefully captures the interest of anyone who’s willing to help review other chapters. Again, I want this to be as perfect as possible because again my goal is to help people face and overcome their addiction but also spread awareness on the growing issue. Like always please let me know where I could improve!! Thanks again and I hope you enjoy!
Emotionally in pieces. House being foreclosed on. The many accounts I once had tens of thousands of dollars in are now closed off all with negative balances of hundreds owed. I’m not working at banks anymore. I’m not a manager anymore. I’m not even working with cars anymore. Shit I’m too dope sick to even get a job to maintain my habit. My friends? What friends? It’s just me. My girl? What girl? It’s just me. My kids.. oh my god. My kids, my beautiful step daughter now 6 years old and my gorgeous son, quickly closing in on 3 years since his birth. Where are they? With their mother, meaning I don’t have them. So it’s just me. I’ve been cursed with curiosity for risk taking and danger since birth. The type of curiosity that kills the cat. And this cat is down to its last life.
My pedestal was cracked and falling apart, there’s no way I’ll ever get back on that old thing. Gun in one hand, my last bag of dope in the other. Messy room, empty bags and straws all over, McDonald’s bags, mcchicken wrappers and a mattress with no frame under and no sheets on top. What the fuck am I doing? By now I had started my 5th revision to my suicide note. How am I going to do it though? Get in the tub, turn on the water, slit my wrists and wait it out? Bullet to the head maybe? Shoot up a few grams and let her put me to sleep forever? That sounds like a nice ending actually. Me, a weak flame about to be blown out by that one love that once ignited me and made feel like I was strong enough to catch the world on fire. I put it before everything that ever mattered to me. I burned bridges, I burned relationships, I burned opportunities, and I eventually burnt myself out.
From emptying out my own accounts to leaving my girl unable to pay her own bills. From sneakily snatching hundreds from the safe after just opening it with a fellow manager to pawning any valuable I had because I was left unemployed. I once felt like I could change the world for the better but instead I was just another statistic. Another decimal of a percentage added to a growing average of addicts residing in America.
At this point I’ve fucked over dealers, sold fake drugs to fellow junkies so I could get my own 40 hoping it would last, beat people up from arguments cause I was too high to calmly understand what was going, and disrespected anybody who I thought did me wrong.
> “You know who the fuck I am? You better kill me, I’ll tell you that much.”
Yeah, yeah. Who did I think I was? I mean can you blame me? The fear of taking my own life transitioned into begs for someone else to do the job for me. Any chance I got, I’d start an argument hoping that I’d finally be able to rest. Okay, it might be painful at first but it’ll be worth the eternal slumber. Heaven? Hell? It doesn’t matter to me anymore. Son? Daughter? They’re better off without the life of having a junkie father. Girlfriend? Parents? They all turned their backs on me, this’ll teach them to give up on a junkie who reached out for help. There were no limits to how little I cared about the rest. My world revolved around doing enough dope to not get sick. How will I make money for tomorrow’s batch? That’s a problem for tomorrow’s me.
As I look through my phone I come across pictures I took of myself, glowing with no worries, me and my beautiful girlfriend once happy and striving, us kissing cherishing the love I single handily destroyed, her pregnant, our son being born the last time I experience the high I unwaveringly chased for years to come, her daughter quickly growing up, my son as a baby to my son as a toddler. I pause and again, darkness.
6 years since I popped that first pill while being heartbroken over a high school/ college girlfriend. 6 years since I fell in love and gave my all to maintain the most unhealthy relationship I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing. No, Im not talking about the relationship with Lily.
Darkness. Darkness. And still darkness. All I can picture is that color black. I begin to hesitate. Why the fuck can’t I remember any of this? My mental state is so distraught from my depression and addiction that share control over my body. I start to watch videos with the hopes of being reminded what I recorded, the words I said, and the laughs I had. Nope. Still a void I can’t seem to shake. I go through 2000+ pictures and over 80+ videos of nothing but past friendships, past coworkers, past experiences, and more importantly… the family I pushed away. The woman who I promised to love and protect. The kids who gave my life purpose. Or so I thought.
I slowly look down at my hands. Fixated on the contents. I can’t help but stare. The fact that I made my life’s one purpose the dope in the bag I currently carry in one hand doesn’t hit me just yet. Another round of self victimizing sobs begin again. What did I do to deserve this? I’m human, I’m meant to make mistakes. I’m an addict, I accepted that a long time ago. Why isn’t anyone here to feel bad for me? Where’s the woman who said she’d help me get clean? Where’s the “friends” who said to call if I ever needed anything? Where’s the kids who, no matter how much pain I caused them, looked up to me innocently as if I was perfect just as I am? Gone. Everyone is gone. I inevitably pushed everyone away because of the monster I became. If I wasn’t using someone for money or favors, I was making my frustration obvious and making everyone feel like they were burdening me by coming to check on me at my house. I was depressed and I was an addict but I tried my best to blame my isolation on my depression. There were certain people I just didn’t open up to about my addiction. I couldn’t bear any more looks of disappointment or judgment.
At this point I hadn’t smoked weed in years , hadn’t taken pills in months, hadn’t done coke in weeks, and hadn’t done dope in minutes. I started to hate smoking weed because I’d eventually have eye-opening moments where I’d find myself in deep thought. Contemplating my every decision, whether good or bad. Wait. That’s not right. I’d only ever think about my bad decisions and punish myself mentally. That would be the only time I’d ever think about anyone but myself and for that reason I stopped smoking. And after looking at these pictures on my phone I had a feeling that’s what I needed before I decide to fall asleep forever.
I desperately look for a back pack I know I had weed in. For what reason? I have no idea. I probably stole it or something. After what feels like forever, I find it. Sweating, out of breath, that bitch whispering to finish my last bit of dope as if I wouldn’t start feeling sick a few hours after. Damn, after all these years what I want still doesn’t matter, huh?
Wait… the main reason why I’m in this position because I only did what I wanted. Jesus Christ, no one left by my side and I’m still blaming others for my faults. Okay, not really “others”, I gave my addiction a persona to avoid admitting that it’s me that’s wrong. I believe in a nonexistent force who speaks to me and influences my decisions acting as a conscience but I refuse to believe in a higher power and that we’re all here for a reason. Somebody slap me…
Anyways, back to my search for the initial cause of my addiction. Marijuana.
So I finally find the backpack. In a pill bottle I have 6 suboxines and that bag of weed I knew I had.
> “Okay, once I finish this last bag, that’s it. I have no money left, no favors left and no girl left to con money out of.”
After that I’ll be back to my fucked up withdrawal state and I’ll have nothing to minimize the pain. Well I got suboxones but who the fuck wants those? I’ll tell you who, no one. I want my drug of choice, I don’t want to feel like this.
I rolled a below-average joint, I prepared my last few lines. Here I go.
After an intense joint to the face, i cough histarically, I told you it’s been years. I strongly wished my tolerance to opiates was as low as my tolerance to weed. I lay down and the mental punishment begins. Again, tears rolling down my pale skin and sucked in cheeks. I had lost so much weight that I looked like I had anorexia. The rhetorical questions begin.
> Why did I treat her that way? I abused the one person who loved me when nobody would. Why would I abandon the only kids I’ll probably ever father? Because that’s what addicts do, we focus on our demon and only our demon..
I start remembering all my fuck ups and all the times I spread pain. The times I grabbed my woman by the hair or by the neck, to express the anger that wasn’t even her fault. I remember my kids crying, every time I scared them with my loud violent phases of anger. From punching holes through walls and doors, to using their mother as the target of my aggression. This isn’t what I wanted to remember, I tried so hard to push these embarrassing and stomach turning memories to the deepest corner of my Mind. This isn’t the torture I was expecting but I give up trying to remember anything else. The darkness is pushed out by my main regrets. This gun isn’t the answer just yet.
I decided I’d give it one more shot. I couldn’t give up on myself just yet. Still high from weed, I sniff the rest of the dope which is then obviously enhanced from the insane weed high I had from not smoking for such a long time.
What? I’m still a drug addict remember?
## A New Motivation
Finally smoking weed after what seemed like forever I had an eye-opening epiphany. As an addict who has no real intentions to change, that was saying a lot. From that relentless session of self realization just from smoking some low grade bud, I came to realize 2 things:
1. My beautiful and amazing Lily had left me. She’d occasionally come to the house to sleep or to shower but all in all I was *alone*. I was *broke*. And the only thing I hated more than being alone and broke was the punishing 72 hours of unforgiving body aches, the explosive diahrrea (as I like to call it), the random projectile vomiting, the merciless insomnia, the continuous and violent Bursts of arm and leg twitches that will ruin the composure of even the most experienced addicts, and every other miserable mother fucking side effect I’d have to experience if I didn’t do another bag or find some sort of help within the next 12-24 hours.
And 2. I wasn’t really planning on looking for help. I mean that was the plan but my dope high was long gone and my weed buzz was on its last legs. Fuck me.
What was I thinking? I didn’t really believe being reminded of my greatest regrets from a below average weed high was enough to convince my strong 6 year of an opiate developed drug addict mindset to just kick the habit because I was lonely. That’s more unrealistic than me convincing myself that I could get clean without any help just because I had an interview in 4 days. I just had no drive anymore.
I aimlessly found myself walking down Main Street thinking about which “I promise I can change speech” I was going to give the mother of kids when I ask her for another $100 to give myself more time to think of another motivation or solution. The more I thought about it the more I started to advise myself against it. I had to face the facts, I destroyed my relationship and she was already moving on. It hurt to say but she’s not the type of woman who could support an addict, it’s not in her nature. She was raised by a single mother, Giselle. Giselle drilled the idea that a man should be the one to take care of her and the kids into Lily’s head. That wasn’t me anymore. I had never experienced rock bottom and Lily had never been with a man who’s gone through the shit I have. We’re were both new to this lifestyle.
Another half mile later I find myself in front of the methadone clinic. A subpar establishment with employees who know they’re better than you but don’t want to admit it when you sign yourself up, tell them your name, age, and experiences with drugs. I’ve tried going here before. If you haven’t died from boredom, plain tossed this book back in its box and returned it for the clichés, “ha that’s what you get” mindset or inevitable disgust on what I was before and during my addiction, then I thank you. Although some of you might really be interested and reevaluating your own lives on what-not-to-do, you other still want to be able to say, “ha that’s what you get, woman and child abusing junkie.” Either way, you all know my goal was to spread awareness the second you read the first few pages.
Yes, I tried coming once before and never came back. I wasn’t willing to stay clean for that weekend until they got my drug test results and the doctor was in the office to check on me. So I went to do even harder drugs for the years to come. Anyways, I find myself looking at my baby mother’s phone number. Yeah, she’s probably gonna ignore the call but maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe she still loves me deep down and would listen to the bullshit that was about to spew out. Fuck it.
## “Fuck it”
When you’re an addict, the phrase “Fuck it” becomes a bigger habit that the drug usage itself. ”Fuck it” becomes a way of life that usually results in actions that are irresponsible.
I’m already an hour late to work but my dealer said to wait another 20 minutes? Fuck it.
There would be times Lily would forget her debit card at home but she said if I ever used it again she’d leave with the kids… fuck it.
My license is suspended and insurance got canceled from the last time I got caught driving without it, but I’m out of dope. Fuck it, I’m going to have to drive!
See what I’m saying? It’s not just words when you’re an addict. It’s a lifestyle. When you feel like you’re at the point of no return, you don’t care about the consequences. The rush you get from the process of going to the atm to take out money for drugs. Then finally rushing home or rushing to a public bathroom, even the employee bathroom (70% of the time for me) to finally get to taste that dope dripping down the back of my throat, eventually dies down too.
For me it happened every single time until finally, it didn’t. At this point, I was getting high because I didn’t want to experience the dreaded pain that follows after a few hours. Yes, I loved the pleasure and I still craved it but my chase for that “first time” feeling lost its charm. My fear of withdrawals was much greater which eventually led to my “depression” to multiply ten fold. My “little” secret whom I saw as the love of my life had become a burden. It was an essential. A daily obligation. It was nutrients to me. If I didn’t have at least a gram, I wouldn’t be able to move after waking up. If I didn’t have a quarter, I wouldn’t be able to stay focused nor live my life for the day. If I didn’t have 5 or more grams, I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I began to hate the process so I continued to make myself the victim.
I isolated myself, avoided those who wanted to check on me and hurt who I wanted to talk to. I had learned to lie so well that even I felt bad for myself. But being alone, there was only one way I could feed my hunger for venting my sadness and horrible life that “wasn’t my fault”, I grabbed my pen, old suicide notes, fresh notebook and there you go. “Fuck it” is a lifestyle.
## Please Answer!
I somehow convinced myself that I needed to hear Lily’s voice. I honestly have no idea where she is at this point. We were losing everything because of me, she was financially struggling because of me and she was traumatized. Why? Because of me. She’d leave our house early in the morning and sometimes wouldn’t even come home. We had no communication whatsoever. She was all I needed and I managed to drive her away. The only support I had. So I build up my courage decide that it’s time.
I pull out my phone yet again. Lock screen, a picture of Lily wearing a cute yellow dress with a red poca dot type pattern that would rise above her knees if she’d sit. Of course, because of her model mentality when taking this picture she had sat down. Since she was a thick girl, her beautiful white legs were so captivating that they were the first features my eyes were always drawn to. That is by far my favorite picture of her, so naturally, I made it my lock screen. I enter my password and my phone opens. The home screen. My pride and joy, the children whose impression of myself I was quickly staining. A picture of all three of us sleeping taken by their mother, captured us when we were mostly peaceful. Although I was probably asleep from taking too many perks at the time, it’s still one of my favorite and one of the only picture of us. Thus my decision to make it my home screen. I open my contact list, look for “Baby” and hit “call.” Okay, game face.
A few rings go buy and I’m standing there waiting. Heart racing as if I was buying hard drugs by myself for the first time. A mix of fear, excitement, regret, happiness and a deep sadness come over me. Yeah, this is definitely like buying hard drugs by myself for the first time.
I was about to talk to the love of my life, why am I feeling like this? Okay, she’ll most likely say no to my request but there’s also a .001% chance she’ll say yeah. Maybe she misses me enough to send me some money. I need to stop being delusional. One of the main reasons she broke up with me was because I used all her money. She’s not going to answer. I’m going to hang up and save myself the embarrassment if she does which she won’t so yeah. I’m hanging up. I pause. Hang up damn it. *She doesn’t love me anymore*, why am I trying to kid myself?
Lily answers at that last ring before the female voice comes up saying;
> “I’m sorry a voicemail box has not been set up yet. Please call again later. Good bye!”
She actually answered. I was so flustered from the fact that she answered the phone. I needed to make these next few words count, I don’t want her to hang up on me!
> Baby, I miss you so much. Please take me back. We both know I can change and I’m ready to be the man you fell in love with. I’m ready to be the father my kids need, and the provider you all deserve. I want to change and I’ll do anything you ask, I promise. I put it on my grandfathers grave!
Is what I thought I said. My lies and empty promises have became so common and scripted that I convinced myself that’s what I really said. But I stood silent.
She says, still on the phone.
Her voice, her beautiful voice. Her voice was always very stentorian but she would seemingly try to modulate it to avoid coming off as too aggressive.
Because of her powerful personality and tough demeanor, I’m beyond scared at this point, and as I try to say something I choke. What the fuck is up with me? We’ve been together for the 6 years I’ve been an addict. We have kids together, saw each other naked and she’s even heard and seen me dying from withdrawals. Explosive diarrhea, uncontrollable body pain, excessive screaming and crying because when she’s around I become a Grammy nominated actor etc.
I try my absolute hardest to convince myself that I’m a man and I have no reason to be afraid of my woman.
Finally, a somber,
> “What do you want J. I told you not to call me that anymore.”
With a shy tone as if this was my first time speaking with a girl,
> “I miss you…”
Quicker than the speed of light she responds with,
> “I’m not giving you anymore money J. You took everything from me and the kids, if you want to die we’re not having any part of it.”
Fuck. It’s like she knew. But honestly I wasn’t even mad. I wasn’t going to proceed to the usual scripted “I’m an addict because you left me” bullshit. Hearing her voice right then and there gave me sense of purpose and responsibility I didn’t know I still had anymore. The vague memories of her holding our son and daughter while hugging me telling me “we love you, daddy,” all staring at me with more love than I’d ever deserved, began to flood my mind.
At this point there is no darkness. I don’t see black. The whispers of my demon are silenced and the fog that distorted my vision began to clear. Although I only heard my demon, I never had the chance to look her in the face and end our affair. I truly want to change, I want her gone. Although she’s going to be a part of me forever, I need to lock her away in the deepest and darkest part of my essence. I finally realize that I need my family to do that. I need my woman and my kids to give me that strength.
I proceed to explain where I was and what my plan was. I admit to having a hidden purpose and that I was at a point where my love for drugs superceeded everything else in my life and days where I was out of money and out of drugs I felt like I needed something to hold me over. Something to give me life. Something to have me bury what ever weapon, tear up whatever note I had and be what I was originally meant to be the second I decided to start a family. A provider, a protector, a father and a man to a woman who I caused an incredible amount of pain too. Although I realize that I’ve caused too much damage and it’s near impossible to repair whatever relationship I once had with Lily, all I ask for is faith. Even that is too much to ask, but being the amazing woman that she is goes on to say:
> “I know you can get clean but don’t do it for me, do it for your kids. I’m always going to love you but they’re always going to love you more.”
Her words, so simple but so sincere.
I had it wrong this whole time. All my decisions revolved around a woman’s love. From Curly to Lily, every decision in response to the anger, pain, or love I felt because of the women in my life.
It took me years but I finally came to the realization that would change my perspective on what my motives should actually be.
The women in my life are temporary, they will eventually do what’s best for themselves and no matter how much we loved each other, and the support my love was willing to give me, that was all temporary. But my kids, those who look to me as if I was perfect, those who don’t see me as my story’s antagonist but as their own story’s hero.
This whole time I was punishing myself on how much I hurt Lily when in reality I should’ve been on my knees begging for my kids’ forgiveness. As much as I regret neglecting my children, I’m grateful I finally came to recognize that I need them as much as they need me. That’s the answer I was unknowingly looking for.
Merry Christmas to all once again!!! As some of you noticed, I thanked those of you who have been so helpful with my project in my previous post this morning. So I received some amazing and well-needed criticism from the #WritingCommunity’s own @NirakSyu, Karin and @bookauthor_56, Vickie Hughes!!! (Thank you two so much)
Of course this is NOT in any way a final draft, but I was able to hopefully structure my book in a more interesting manner. Hopefully not a way that is doesn’t seem too long. Initially I kept my book at 10 chapters but I’m going to start breaking everything down so its easier to handle! With that being said, my chapter one is also much different and was broken down into two chapters because of its initial length.
Please provide harsh feedback I will NOT GET OFFENDED. In fact you’re helping in a manner that is so amazing and I could never repay those who actually take the time to read my work!!
THANK YOU AND GOOD NIGHT
At some point addicts admit to themselves that they indeed have a problem. Some later than others, and few actually work on their issue to find a solution. Me? I didn’t realize I had a problem until I found myself spending almost double on pills so that my dealer would hopefully drive half hour to my job. I began noticing my own physical changes but it wasn’t to an extent where I’d feel the need to quit my habit of substance abuse.
I confessed 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. Since my daily habit began to affect my performance at work so I assumed that quitting pills cold turkey would be easy. I didn’t see it as an addiction, I saw my dependence as an intense preference. Plus I strongly believed that I was unbelievably mentally tough so the mental aspect of addiction would be easy for me to withstand. Me mentally tough? That’s funny, I’m the same person who’d sob after any miscommunication with Lily. Aside from being a mentally and emotionally fragile person, I wasn’t aware of the hell behind physical withdrawals at all. That didn’t matter though.
Percocets, oxy, hydro, etc. If it ended with “condone”, my love for it was undeniable. In my mind 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 at me, judge me then leave me. No, I shouldn’t think that way. 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 Lily about my minor addiction that I finally confessed to her. No matter how much I denied the idea that I was an addict, it was time I faced the truth. I am a drug addict. Not as bad as others but I’m still an addict. Deep down I felt that because I only popped pills, my addiction wasn’t as severe as being addicted to heroin so I laughed at the idea that I would struggle with addiction. Before truly grasping the reality that my addiction was so much more serious than anticipated, I became aware of that idea that the worst of any withdrawal symptoms I’d face would be over after 72 hours. Commonly referred to as ”3 days.” With that being said, I had high hopes that this little issue would be temporary. Funny.
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, faithfully 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. It would have never processed in my mind that I was years away from actually getting clean. In fact, I was completely unaware that I would lose everything from chasing my demon. If I was told that I’d be responsible formy own failings and the hardships Lily and I faced as a couple, I would’ve laughed it off and applauded you for the creativity. Even though I was quickly losing control of my ever-growing demon, I still felt invincible.
I constantly promised that I’d never commit any crimes to feed my addiction and I’d never sniff anything or pump narcotics into my veins. I promised that I’d stay away from the hard drugs. I even talked down on the kind of addict I would eventually become. Wishing the worst upon their very lives. I truly believed that I was unique and that I was fully capable of controlling my actions.
It’s not at all humorous but I find it ironic that I basically foreshadowed my life for the next 6 years and I didn’t just ruin my life, I ruined Lily’s life in the process. For that, I will never forgive myself, and I will always consider myself the word I hate the most. A “junkie”.
As addicts we forget about the importance of acceptance. Specifically, accepting the decision we made to poison our bodies with the drug we love the most which 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 stuck to the straight edge life I always preached about.
Unfortunately, life does not work that way 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.
I became obsessed with the idea that 3 days was all it took for me to supposedly getclean. No matter how unrealistic it sounded I quickly began to strongly believe it. I’d always tell myself, that it’ll only be 3 days of suffering which was something I thought could easily handle. Besides, at the time it seemed like days were moving so fast, I had no idea that when you go through withdrawals time drastically slows down. I eventually forgot how idiotic the idea of a whole addiction subsiding after 3 days sounded and would confidently give myself pep talks about being mentally tough and it would be easy for me.
> ” It’s only 3 days, I’ll easily quit doing percs and I’ll be back to my normal self! There’s no way I’d let myself stay addicted forever like some people.”
With that being said at one point I really did quit opiates. Not my drug habit but I was clean from pills before I had transitioned to dope. I traded out one addiction for a minor habit. I began sniffing coke and for a whole 3 months and I had not even thought about percs because of that one traumatizing experience. From time to time I still think about my first and worst experience with withdrawals.
My love and 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 punishments as well. 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 and crazy shaking leg syndrome. I was even sweating through my clothes and blankets but I felt 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. Before attempting my first time actually ”quitting” opiates 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 Lily of my decision and she was fully supportive. Even she believed that “3 days” is all it would take for me to detox myself off of opiates. Lily was so cute, she’d give me little pep talks about how after those 3 days I’d behealthy once again and that she was so proud of me for making the decision to quit. Little did Lily 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 ever known to man. It all started with an excruciating stomach pain which caused me to almost throw up all over myself. Luckily I managed to make it to the toilet and at that point my living nightmare began. That night Lily 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. I managed to look in the mirror and was truly frightened at what I had seen. I was a completely different shade, I was all sweaty and my face looked flushed.
> ”I can’t do this alone… I need help”
Before I take off, I call Lily in the hopes that she could hopefully leave work to help me get to the clinic but she reminds me that her manager, Wanda, wouldn’t just let her leave. See, Wanda was my old manager from when I worked at that given bank. I got Lily that job so I was already aware of how strict Wanda was.
> ”Okay well I guess I’m on my own”
I think to myself as I begin this unbearable journey to the methadone clinic. As I commence my walk down the stairs my legs give out and I plummet all the way to the lowermost 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 sobbed again and laid there like an animal who was just ran over by a truck. After giving myself the “getup bitch” speech I manage to pick myself up and get in my car and struggle 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 admitted guilt but the physical state I was in would’ve left the victims with the same reaction. They were hit by a sick junkie.
After finally signing myself up and taking a drug test was required to make a payment because I didn’t have health insurance due to my recent unemployment.
> “Whatever I’ll pay the fee”
I thought as I was desperate for treatment. I could barely stand still because of the body pain so I’d dance around off one leg to the other trying to relieve the pain in my legs and back. They ladies that worked in the office noticed my distress and decided to warn me of the issue I had. First one being that they had to wait for my drug test to come in before they could let me meet with the doctor. 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.
I don’t know how much more disappointment my heart could take but once again my heart dropped to the acids in my stomach. It was a Friday and the thought of dealing with that pain for 4 days was very unnerving for me. I was already trying to last those initial 3 days, but a 4th? No, I’m not doing it. On top of that, they wanted me to stay clean until that given day which something I was not willing to do. I quietly have a panic attack from the thought of having to suffer for not 3 but 4 days. What was I supposed to tell Lily? I couldn’t do it. I had no other options, I had to give up and buy some pills. I had barely lasted a day and I already gave up. I thought I would be strong enough to face my demon but she overpowered me and made me look like a bitch in front of Lily and anyone else who had seen me that day.
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 yearned for the feeling of satisfaction and for my suffering to gradually fade. Sometimes it felt as if the misery was worth the wait because the pleasure I’d experience after was unbelievably gratifying.
The second I had those pills in my hand I anxiously swallowed them and desperately waited 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 me 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 recommended 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 cultivate.
> “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 the habituated for the opposite of it’s purpose. Comprehending that, I decided 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.”
After using suboxines to successfully trade opiates for cocaine, things began looking up for me. I did it, I kicked my addiction!
Again, that first time quitting only lasted 3 months 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 that yet. Those next 3 months I used any money I had on cocaine and began to use coke the same way I’d take pills.
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. Throughout the duration that I was popping pills, there was the breakout of fake pills where people would replace Percocets with fentanyl with the primary goal being, having their clientele develop a robust addiction for their product rather than their competitor’s product. I would unknowingly take those pills which would pull me deeper into the curiosity for fentanyl. While pushing 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 crisis being more than just a ”habit.” I knew 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. For whatever reason, even after figuring out that even with enough suboxone to last me a week, 3 days wasn’t the extent of withdrawals. I’d only fully come to understand that after I’d try to quit years after my transition to dope.
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 and 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 Lily 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 Lily 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 prevent. 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.