So here I am, sitting in front of this computer, about to tell the rotten tale of addiction that has been my life. I'm in my early 30's, been an addict for more than 15 yrs. You know how it goes, smoking dope and drinking turns drinking, smoking dope and eating mushrooms turns to ...blahblahblah... turns to isolated, miserable, angry, ashamed...addicted.
For me it started around 14, you know stealing beers off the old man, sneaking out at night, screwing around, being a punk. At that age everything’s new, an adventure, and me...well I'm adventurous. And so began the cycle of abuse. Pretty much did whatever I could get my hands on, other than oxy and heroin. And the only reason for that is I don’t like needles and I watched lots of people I respected lose everything including their lives, in some cases to those damn oxy's. I have a daughter. I can’t die, is what I'd tell myself. Honestly, I probably shouldn't be here ,the crazy bullshit that goes on when you're living the fast life from running around town at 5 am all drunk looking for another bag of blow, to waking up in some apartment not knowing where my truck is or whose place I'm at. Just remembering some of that shit gives me chills.
You know, at the time I didn’t care about repercussions, who I hurt or what I was doing. It was all about me, the selfishness of the party lifestyle. I couldn't see it, probably didn’t want to see it, right?
I had been through several long term relationships, all of which came to an end because of my drug and alcohol problems. I'd get fucked up and do or say stupid shit. I'll spare the details, pure embarrassment, and the kind of things people see and just shake their heads. I'm shaking my head right now, writing this. I hate that I can't take back a lot of things I've said/done, especially to women. Don’t get me wrong, No physical stuff, ever. Regardless...asshole type shit! And I'm not that guy, but the years have shown me when I've consumed enough chemicals, I can be.
I'm finding my guilt is fuel for the fire that is my sobriety. I think the "fun" disappeared about 7-8 years ago. I slowly I became more and more miserable. My temper at work was out of control, co-workers didn’t want to work with me, or around me. I became a loose cannon. No patience whatsoever. It might have had something to do with getting only 2-3 hours of sleep night after night, drinking a 26-er of vodka and doing a couple grams of blow. At home too, family started telling me, "you’re looking rough" or "you should get some sleep". Ya ya, thanks for giving me a great excuse to lock my door turn my phone off and get tuned up again. You know how it goes. It starts to feel like you’re not yourself unless you're numb.
I started to think I couldn’t change. Even right now I'm so unsure about the future. The things I've been through and seen. Wow. All bad. I'm so sick of being sick and tired. I know this is a popular saying in rehab world, but it’s just so fitting for where I'm at right now. I went to detox a bit ago for 3 days, it was very difficult, but they gave me some ideas on how to stay clean. I'm hoping to get into an inpatient facility, I'm sure I need it. Just waiting for a call and hoping that I don’t slip. I’m trying to keep busy. I'm far from perfect, to say the least. I'm hoping I can find a real person in me if I can beat this thing, I think there was someone/something here before...years ago. I put myself here, in this hole. Hopefully I can dig my way out.