It’s been a year and a half and I can still remember the day I succumbed to my addiction like it was yesterday. The random flashbacks come and go but when they come they don’t leave without taking another piece of me with them. I always believed what sober people said…if you just get sober life will be so much easier…but in all honesty choosing to be sober is only 10% of the work that needs to be done! I really don’t want to frighten anyone who uses drugs, drinks, or any one trying to get rid of any addiction to not choose this path but I do want you to know that it takes a lot of willpower and strength and not every day is sunshine and rainbows! You have to want this for yourself and no one else’s feelings can be on your mind. In due time relationships that were meant to be will work themselves out and in reality some of them you really wanted to work out won’t!
As I stated before in a previous post, I am writing a series of posts about my journey into this foreign territory called sobriety and how i got all caught up in that mess of madness! Putting my life out there is not easy but deep inside I feel like it needs to be said and heard bc I can’t tell you how many times I felt alone because nobody understood me. I understand. Even if you don’t use, know some body who does, or thought about using I want you to read this and ask you try to find your source of relation and inspiration. My story is a wild one that can cross all types of situations in a diverse sea of people. The fact I have made it so far through it still WOWs me every day!
So here is the beginning to the end…my peace…my journey…my personal journal! Comments will be allowed but any with hatred will be deleted. I believe everyone is entitled to their own opinion but this is not the time or place for it!
That’s what I felt in the black of my coma. Was I dreaming? I don’t know. Was it my soul falling back into my body because it wasn’t time yet? Sometimes I feel that way. Whatever happened, all I know is that I was surrounded in pitch black slowly and softly falling and it was the most calming feeling I ever felt in a long time. Then my eyes opened. I could see and I heard beeps but I was confused. It hurt to move and I felt like I had pounds of cement on top of me. I looked to the left and noticed the hospital bed arm was wrapped in towels like some sort of padding to protect me. I looked to my right and a woman I never knew sat in the chair next to me. She started talking about why she was sitting there but to this day I can’t remember what she said or who she was. I was exhausted, in pain, and couldn’t speak so I decided to go back to sleep.
After that several times nurses came in and kept waking me up saying my blood pressure was low while really loud annoying beeping sounds kept ringing from the monitor I was hooked too. I would wake up for a few seconds then go back to sleep. It felt so good to finally sleep. I don’t really know how much time passed but eventually I woke up and was more alert. The lady was still sitting there in silence and it made me feel really awkward but I honestly didn’t want to speak to anyone. I knew everyone knew why I was there…what I had did! The stigma surrounding a drug user is very sad and makes me angry. I shouldn’t of felt ashamed, embarrassed, or even afraid to open my mouth in a hospital but I was because of how often they have people come and go through there for the same reason I was there and see them come back sometimes dead sometimes still alive. This was my first time overdosing. I have read so much vicious talk on the Internet in local news forums and Facebook about how all of us drug addicts are wasting tax payers dollars and should be killed off and we deserve what’s coming to us. This was probably a big reason why I was always afraid to ask for help and told myself I could fix it alone some day.
People believe that all drug users are people that grew up poor, from the ghetto, and never had anything going for them in the first place. No no no my friends! This is far from the truth. Personally, I grew up in a well off family, on a horse farm not to far from Chicago. My dad raced horses for a living. My mom well that’s another sad story to be addressed at another time. I finished high school with a GPA of 3.69 and went to college for my Associates in Business Administration. I’ve worked my butt off with full time jobs while going to school and paid my taxes. I have met so many people during my addiction who came from a background that is nowhere near what people believe is the truth. Drugs take this all away slowly and sweetly and you don’t even realize til it’s to far gone.
To be continued…