- Alcohol
- Drugs
I am an addict, and my name is Annie.
I have a little over five years clean. My drugs of choice were heroin, crack and, before that, alcohol. I first went into treatment in 2008 for alcohol abuse. This was my first introduction to recovery and my first introduction to hard-core drug addicts.
Alcohol took me hostage at age 16. I knew I was in love. I always wanted to feel that way. No other drug compared. I tried almost everything. I liked everything, but I loved being drunk. I loved it. It was an escape; it was my way of coping with my teen years. It was my way of feeling okay in my own uncomfortable skin. I did plenty of other drugs too. It almost gives me chills to think about it. I shouldn’t be alive. I really shouldn’t.
The consequences of drinking were immediate. I had plenty of run-ins with the law. I lost at least 12 jobs. Everyone who loved me suffered because of my disease. I lost many friends. I lost so much in such a short amount of time, so much. I can’t even tell you. My family gave me an ultimatum: go to treatment or find somewhere else to live. I had no money, no friends and nowhere to go. I chose treatment.
I loved everything about recovery. I loved my rehab program. It was something I had never experienced. I made so many friends and did so much more writing and reading than I ever had. I was living the dream. Oh, and I fell in love in treatment. It made so much sense. We wanted the same thing out of life, I thought. We went to meetings together and got sponsors that were a couple themselves. I got a cute coffee shop job. Everything was perfect!
Then he relapsed, and I came to his rescue. Every time. I had his mom on speed dial. I had to save him. I was capable. I was strong enough. I was also strong enough to save my roommate since she kept relapsing too. I was strong enough until she asked me if I wanted to get crack. We were bored. We stopped going to meetings. We moved out of sober living and into a friend’s house. We were going to keep each other safe. All of us. I told her I would never do crack, that it was disgusting. I asked her if she had cocaine instead.
We got crack. I relapsed that night. It was 3 days before my 24th birthday. On my birthday I went to pick up rehab boyfriend from yet another rehab, and we decided to stop and get one drink. That one drink turned into a blackout. He drove my car and crashed it into a telephone pole on the passenger side. I should be dead. I don’t even remember putting on my seatbelt that night. An angel must have done it for me. I spent my birthday in the hospital. I had a broken nose and a mangled face. I couldn’t even look in the mirror. I left the hospital with my three rehab friends, and we proceeded to pick up crack and alcohol to celebrate my birthday.
That night I was introduced to heroin. My two “friends” were already using their drug of choice, heroin, at this time. I decided to try it. I snorted it at first, but after a couple weeks snorting it was too expensive because my tolerance got so high. I was shot up by my rehab boyfriend for my first time, and I never looked back. After this I never drank again. I had no desire to drink. What was the point? This was the feeling I had been searching for my whole life. I was trapped, but I was in love. Heroin took over my life. I needed it, and then I really needed it. I was starting to have withdrawal symptoms. I ended up living in the basement of the house, shooting up all alone and smoking crack. I had abscesses on both of my arms so I started shooting up in my legs. I would cry as I did it. My dog couldn’t even look at me anymore. I was about 90 pounds at this time.
There is so much more to the story, but let’s get to recovery. My dad came to save me, and he is my hero to this day. I wasn’t ready, but I didn’t have a choice. I had legal issues hanging over my head. I had to go. I brought a bunch of drugs home with me. I used the whole ride home. I used in the bedroom I grew up in until the drugs were all gone. Detox began, and it was the worst feeling I have ever felt. I wanted to die. I wanted to rip my skin off. I wanted to die some more. I hated everybody, everything, every touch and every piece of food I tried to stomach. I hated life. I hated the life I had created. How did it get so bad? Who am I? I had an amazing childhood, great grades, graduated high school and did some college. Who is this woman I have become? This broken crack-and-heroin addict that thinks she is so cool?
My family put me in treatment, and I stayed for about six months. I was a little rebel in treatment. I almost got kicked out a few times, but I had a few counselors rooting for me, thank God. I finally surrendered, got a sponsor and worked the steps. I became obsessed with reading again and really obsessed with nature. I found God in nature. It was my way of escaping. I would bring a journal with me to meetings and write down anything I thought was profound. I am so thankful I did that that, now I have sponsees do the same. I like to go back and look through those journals. I don’t think I would be where I am had I not brought my journals and taken notes. I felt like I was hearing everything for the first time. This second time around was different. I was broken, and with brokenness comes willingness.
Today I remain teachable. I still do everything I used to do. I just added more. I am of service today. I was taught that early on. I am passionate about carrying the message of recovery to addicts who still suffer, because I have been there! I know how it feels when you’re hopeless, and I am so grateful for my life today. I have so much. I have a little over five years clean. I have had trials and very difficult times in my recovery, but because of what I learned, I was able to get through everything clean. I really can’t believe this is my life. I really can’t believe I no longer need drugs. That in itself is mind blowing. I have tools for life! I am a productive, thriving member of society! I can do anything now. Life is meant for the living. I am so glad I am no longer dying.