Drugs and Addiction

I was checking out some blogs today and I stumbled upon a couple threads discussing marijuana and other drugs and there effects on intelligence. I, of course, left my 2-cents and decided that I would relate my story on my blog in hopes that it would enlighten and/or educate others. Now I’m not by any means “reformed”. I still smoke buds and drink on weekends and I even have “fun time” with other substances of my choice. The point I will be trying to relate in this is that you can’t let these things control you. You have to control them. Easier said than done. So without further ado let’s get on to my story.

As a young kid in grade school I thought of how special I was. And I don’t mean special short bus special, I mean “gonna be something important” special. As time wore on and mistakes were made and lessons unlearned, I began to change the outlook on my future. Settling more and more for mediocre jobs and “just getting by”, I chose to hide from reality behind an ever thickening cloud of drug induced blindness. And for a time it was fine. I kept up with bills, rent, taxes and even prospered to a certain extent. But there was always something missing. A wholeness that always seemed out of reach. No matter how lit I got, or how good I felt there was always this thought in the back of my mind, “your meant for something more”. Now I’m sure everyone has these same thoughts, but when your the one thinking them it seems like it’s your destiny. Your path is higher. Better.

Eventually things just got bad. I discovered OxyContin, a new drug that, at first thought, didn’t seem like such a bad thing. I mean it was a prescribed drug given to me by a doctor. And that, in retrospect, was what destroyed the well built wall I had, for many years, constructed to keep myself safe from addiction. OxyContin is, essentially, synthetic heroin. At first I had a prescription because of a bad car wreck were my left leg, from the knee down, almost had to be amputated. A year and five months later when I was “recovered” my 160 mg per day prescription was abruptly removed and I was left to my own devices. And what devices they were! I stole, I scammed, I did anything I could to get my “fix”. My relationship with my wife nose-dived and we were so close to divorce I could almost smell the ink on the papers.

I eventually realized how bad my problem was and decided the best thing to do was move. The problem with that is no matter where you move, if your a good addict, you will always find a dealer. And I was a damn good addict. I could score $120 worth of pills with a $20 and five $1’s, or a baseball bat and a smile! There is something very strange that happens to a man that has no reason to live. He doesn’t care. Feels no fear, and will fuck over anyone in his way.

Eventually, as things tend to do, it all caught up to me. I did a little time and took a couple beatings, but it didn’t change anything. I went back to that same thought I had as a child. I’m special, nothing can phase me. Albeit, a more twisted thought, not one of a child dreaming of future possibilities, but one of a grown man justifying his actions so that he can continue to do them. I was devoid of feeling for anything, anyone, other than myself. And the only feeling I could muster then was hate. Now during this time I was functional to a certain extent. I always held a decent paying job, construction trades in were most of my knowledge lies, I was lucky enough to have bosses and supervisors who understood what I was going through. They would allow me a few hours every morning to get my fix, knowing that once I did I would work my ass off until sun down and even later. This only contributed more to my problem and made it easier to justify in my mind. “Well, if I hold a job I should be able to do whatever the fuck I want,” I would often tell myself. Eventually I realized something had to change. My health was deteriorating as well as my relationships. No one trusted me, especially my wife, and without the drug I felt weak and sick, unable to do the simplest tasks.

Now that I look back, I understand that’s what changed my outlook on the addiction. I became disgusted with myself and what I had become. I hated constantly chasing the drug, every morning waking and knowing there would be but one thought on my mind. I missed enjoying the day because it was, simply that, a new day. I missed loving my wife and loving my life like I used to when I was that kid dreaming of the things I could be. I missed regularity.

Now I know those of you reading this, struggling with your own addictions, are thinking, “No fucking way will I just be able to wake up and say I’m Done!” And your right. I strongly believe that in order to over-come an addiction like this you have to genuinely hate everything that the drug has turned you into. What it’s made you do and say and how it’s made you act. You have to think, ” I hate this shit. I’m over it.” And not just when your coming off of it but when you first dose or snort or shoot. You have to open your eyes and look around and realize that you do have a reason to live. To be someone better.. special.

I would like to extend my hand to anyone struggling with addiction. Please feel free to email me at mikeydee3937@yahoo.com and I will happily answer any questions or just be a genuine support system for you. And always know that you are someone special.

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