Update-DISCLAIMER: This is a story based on a composite of many people-it is NOT MY STORY. It is based on someone I knew but this is NOT ME!!
All you need to do is change everything. But that is easier said than done and it takes so much hard work and I am not sure I want to put in the effort.
What does changing everything mean anyway? I have been grappling with this damn drug addiction for how many years and I cannot, for the life of me so far get a handle on it because maybe I am weak. The draw to obliterate consciousness—to wipe out all negative emotions and painful thoughts is too tempting. But, I will try—yes I will try yet again. I will try to get clean for my child, my family, but most importantly for me. If I don’t get clean for myself, there is nothing.
Well, what is the first step to take? How about changing people, places and things. OK, people—all the people in my sphere are druggies—but they are my friends. How am I supposed to just eliminate them from my life? Well, I tell myself I must do this if I want to get any amount of clean time. How am I supposed to tell my friends that I can’t see them anymore—I just cannot do that, no way. I love these people and they love me, at least I think, or thought they did. Well, what happened when I OD’d last year—who took me to the hospital and dumped me there to die and just by chance was found before the end. If I think that’s true love I am delusional when I look too closely at it. Addicts are just out for themselves when getting a fix, just to ameliorate the dope sickness. The merry-go-round keeps going over and over until that change is made or you die. Do I want to change? Am I strong enough to recognize that the futility of life without any hope or future is all I have to look forward to if I do not take the necessary steps to change? The question is whether or not I want to get busy living or get busy dying—it is my choice.
How the hell did a nice upper middle class kid ever get mixed up in the seedy underground of the drug culture? How did I go from a good girl, with hopes and ambitions, and good grades to a drugged out shell of a person with absolutely no conscience, doing anything to get what I want. How did I become a person with no moral code who would sell my soul to the devil or leave my child just to get my high? I did not have a terrible family; I didn’t have any horrible tragedy befall me, so what is my excuse? But, just like so many other kids in that nice Atlanta neighborhood, I got bored. I needed something to occupy my mind and having so much privilege I became a follower, just looking for the next high. Nobody thinks when they are young, “I want to be a drug addict when I grow up.” It was so gradual that I almost never even saw it coming, a pill here, a pain pill there—trips to the pill-pushing doctor to say how I was sad and couldn’t sleep or cope. The doctor was all too ready to prescribe the latest pain med. But pain pills are so damn expensive and even buying it from the other kids was becoming a drain on my budget. It was just so much easier to graduate to the big H—so easy to get—the greatest high known to man. There is nothing like it—the euphoria is totally unimaginable and I will do pretty much anything to get it—to chase that high to the ends of the earth, only to come down and start the chase again. Logically I know there is no good ending that will come from the life I have chosen, and I did originally choose it, but I am now a prisoner with no choice.
So, what is the way out of this maze I am in—just existing until the next fix? What do I have to live for—the reason for changing must be for me and not anybody else or it won’t work. I know just detoxing in jail or a detox unit is not a solution because it is more than a physical addiction, it is a deep soul sickness and unless I commit to changing my thought process, I will never be free and will remain a slave to this disease. I hate my life the way it is—I have seen my friend OD, my boyfriend die, done morally reprehensible things, and I wonder why them and not me. I can only surmise that they were collateral damage put into my life to guide me in a divine way—to save me. I must pay attention to these spiritual experiences and learn from them because these are gifts from God. If I don’t I am a fool and will be one of those expenditures used as an example for someone else because I just wasn’t willing to take a chance and change.