My struggle with meth addiction has been the hardest thing I’ve ever faced, and I have faced some hard-traumatic things. In high school, I drank at the occasional party, sometimes blacking out. In college, I smoked the occasional joint or took the occasional ecstasy, especially if I was going to a music festival. In my twenties, I had a successful career and things were good. At 30, I had an emotional breakdown and ended up on a 51/50 (a short-term involuntary psychiatric hold)… still at that time I wasn’t doing any hard drugs.
For the next two years, I lived as a ghost, living my life in bed. That’s when I placed myself in a bad situation and started exploring with almost every drug possible. Still, I knew I wasn’t an addict. My use was scarce. Then entered meth. From the moment I inhaled my first hit, I knew I loved it. I was suddenly up from bed. I was meeting friends that I ignored during my depression. I was confident and felt happy.
My meth use started off as a weekend thing, then a couple days thing, and before long it was something I couldn’t live without. My sexual appetite was uncontrollable. The situations I placed myself in were so dangerous. I was tearing my marriage apart. I would be up for days; as much as eight nights without sleep.
I used for little over a year. In that timespan I lost 40 pounds, was having sex constantly and loathing myself. There were many times when I just wanted to die. Death seemed like the only escape. In that one year I went to five rehabs, four detoxes, and so much pain. I wanted to stop, I wanted to stop so badly and yet in the same breath that I would say “this has to stop,” I also yearned to get high.
That’s addiction. It’s a war in your head. My rock bottom occurred during the holidays. People stopped enabling me. I had the worst emotional breakdown. The tears were coming out like water out of a faucet. The weight of what I had done hit me like a train, coming at me at a million miles an hour. The pain was so painful, unlike any pain I have ever experienced.
Up to that point. the worst emotional turmoil I had experienced was losing my beloved nana. This was just like that pain but so much worse. That’s how bad it was.
I was fortunate that my husband still had some faith in me. He drove me to yet another rehab. That was on December 2, 2016. I have been in treatment since, and nearing almost 4 months sober. I have good days, bad days, and those in-between. I’m doing what is told of me.
On the days were my cravings get bad, I recall the misery, the desperation, and my rock bottom. For me, I needed to hit my rock bottom so I could then build my new foundation. It’s the bedrock of my foundation.
Today was a good day for me, and with just one trigger I was in agony. Sweaty palms, racing heart, recalling the “good times”. I’m fortunate to have the tools to know what to do in those situations. I found this blog and I am sharing my story.
My story isn’t unique. Addiction is the hardest thing most of us will ever face. For me it’s a day-to-day process. I’m being gentle with myself. I’m learning to love myself again, to have others forgive me, but the above all, (and the hardest part) to forgive myself. If you’re reading this and looking for hope, know that change is possible. Learn to heal. My addiction is always doing push-ups out in the street, waiting for me to be weak. I have to be stronger. Today, I have hope. I have faith. I have trust that my higher power will protect me.