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Hopelessly Addicted MAG
Why is it that no matter how incredibly hard I try to point myself in the right direction, I end up exactly where I started? It’s like a never-ending cycle of failure. I sometimes wonder why I even bother to try if nothing ever comes from it. The last few years have been extremely chaotic and frustrating; from friends dying, to my coke addiction, to running away, life has taken a huge toll on me. I have had nothing but horrible events, one after another. But my biggest struggle has been my addiction; it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to deal with.
I realize that many people think the life of an addict is easy – we just sit around all day getting money off of people and scoring a high. Do you really think it’s all fun and games? Or that we want our addictions to run our lives? My addiction, anyway, was anything but easy.
The days were long and endless when I couldn’t buy coke. I would spend between $40 and $100 a day, just on me. My weekly debt was only $60 when I first started. I was not using that much back then, but that changed when my boyfriend broke up with me. Then my dealer, who happened to be my best friend, started giving me coke for free.
Soon I couldn’t go a day without it. The white powder lifted into my nasal passages with ease. I took line after line into my body, hoping I could block everything out of my mind. My mind quickly relaxed, my heart raced, and my hands shook, but everything was good. I was happy – for the 10 minutes the high lasted. Then I’d do another line. Eventually my friend cut me off and tried to talk me into getting help, so I cut him out of my life.
With no coke in my system, I became angry, angrier than I had ever been. My body shook for no reason. I was irritable and distant. I couldn’t think of anything but coke. I wanted it all to stop – to go back to the way things had been before I started. I wanted my life back. I didn’t want to have to sneak out of my house and score in alleys with money I stole from a sleeping homeless guy. My life was out of my control and I would have done anything to get it back, but my body wouldn’t let me. I was lost.
Just when things were starting to improve and I was finally getting my life under control, I ran away. I met lots of new people who quickly became friends; they were either runaways or dropouts pushing 30, but they were all addicts. Our apartment had one bedroom with nine people in it. They took care of me. They fed me, bought me clothes, a toothbrush, and whatever I needed, as well as kept me safe and hidden from the cops.
Then one day I overdosed. It was like any other night at the apartment. A bunch of us decided we wanted to party somewhere else. One of my friends offered his mom’s house since she was out of town. We all hopped into cars, and on the way we stopped to buy some coke.
When we arrived the house was dark and music was blasting in the living room. I headed straight for the bathroom to get high. Everyone was dancing and drinking and laughing and having fun. That’s when I made more bad decisions. A friend took a “donation” from everyone and showed up an hour later with ecstasy pills. I took two.
I started to feel faint and collapsed. My friends carried me to a bedroom and put me on the bed. After I convinced them that I was okay, a friend helped me up and made me promise not to do any more drugs.
I promised, of course, but seven lines of coke later I was stumbling down the hall, falling every few feet. I ended up hot and shaking on the bathroom tile with four “friends” gathered around me while the others waited nervously outside. My entire body shook uncontrollably, and I couldn’t catch my breath. I felt as if I were suffocating and had no control over my body. The feeling was almost indescribable; an overdose is one of the worst feelings ever. I was scared. I was trying hard to keep my eyes open but couldn’t. My friends took turns pouring water on me to cool me down while the others tried to keep me awake.
Even after that I still didn’t stop using for another three weeks. And even though I was able to stop before I ruined my life completely, I still wake up in the middle of the night craving coke, almost tasting the drip in the back of my throat.
I ask myself every day how I let myself get addicted. Truth be told, no answer ever seems reason enough. Yet here I am, a year and a half sober. Drugs are the biggest demon any person can face. Once this demon is in your life, it’s hard to break free. It takes control of you, of your life, and pulls you down before you realize what is happening.
Escaping is an ongoing battle I’ll face every day for the rest of my life. I made the choice to quit on my own, without rehab or counseling. I relied only on my family, my closest friends, and myself. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Long, sleepless nights, mood swings, huge fits over nothing – I was on an emotional roller coaster and was a complete wreck. I know that those who were there for me had an equally troublesome time.
Though I am now a recovered addict, if I could make the choice over, I would have asked for help. Being with someone who had experienced with what I was going through would have been a relief and therapeutic. I was hesitant about completing this article; this private part of my life will be out there for anyone to read. It scared me. I then thought, Would I have felt so alone then if I knew what someone else had gone through?
I no longer feel the need to turn to this demon in my times of pain and confusion. However, I often reflect on that time in my life.