Category : Diary/Journal
Sub Category : N/A
Who am I without drugs?
I have become so accustomed to being high all the time; to rely on narcotics to cope with life (which wasn't all that bad, after seeing what it's like while strung-out on heroin) and then deal with the ashes of a life drugs had destroyed. Even now, when I'm sober, I'm invariably looking back and becoming lost in daydreams of my past. I remember the fun times and how good it felt after shooting a dark shot of heroin into my arm. However, if my mind ventures off into these dangerous lands, I have to force myself to recall the dark side of the spoon—being sick on the toilet after weeks of being constipated while vomiting into a bucket I hold in front of me, as well as the tormenting aches and pains throughout my bones, muscles, and mind.
I had been in-and-out of Recovery for over a decade—being a patient at five different rehab centers, and the countless amount of stays in detox. Yet, in rehab I had been forced to cut myself open to look deep within me to find the root of all my problems; the real reason why I had used drugs.
With each reawakened traumatic event in my past, I was forced to stare at my fears and insecurities straight in their dark, abysmal eyes. Ultimately, I learned how to deal with them in healthy, positive ways—according to their morals. In each rehab, I had discovered a new part of myself that I loved; having a new outlook on life. In a sense, rehab made me.
For those addicts who keep relapsing and attending rehab over and over again, I can truly understand the reason why. It's what we are used to doing. Like when we had became accustomed to using drugs as the solution to our problems, we've conditioned ourselves again to keep going back. It's what is and feels normal to us.
I ask myself nearly every day if I can—or even want to—keep up with this unfamiliar sober life. To not have an escape—well, not an escape like the one heroin brings.
I now know why some addicts choose to take their own lives…
