CONFESSIONS OF A DRUG ADDICT
My Story
Hi, my name is Colleen. I am a Drug Addict (in Recovery). There’s even a legit psychiatric diagnosis called Substance Use Disorder (SUD) and thankfully I’m in remission from my substance use disorder.
What Happened to me?
The short version, I couldn’t cope with life without using something to make me feel “better” than “normal”. My “normal” was insecure, self-hating, shy, always feeling “less than”. I was “different” and “not worthy” and incompetent. “Fear” was up there, all the time, too. Because I was afraid of what you thought of me. I was disappointed in myself and constantly compared myself to other women, whom I admired. I was afraid of being lonely, yet I felt lonely all the time, even when I was in a room full of people. I was very lonely, I was fearful, and I wanted to escape and isolate, on my own, in my head, alone in my room. When I looked in the mirror, I hated what I saw. That “thing” that stared back at me. “Her”. She was revolting.
Big Feelings
I couldn’t understand how you could handle your feelings. I didn’t believe that you even “felt” anything at all? My feelings were huge, they consumed me. I was ecstatic and elated, or devastated and suicidal. I pushed people away because I expressed the intensity of my ups and downs. I needed you to understand my agony, my depths, my terror, but you couldn’t know how troubled I was. I longed for a place of numbness, suspended in light, warmth and safety. Safe from myself. Safe from my haunting, shameful memories.
Masks
Make-up. I covered my flaws, blemishes, my insecurity with it. Make up – my mask, allowed me to “go out there” without showing myself, my small, vulnerable, scared, insecure, ugly self.
My worth was measured by your approval of me, my looks, my body, my comparisons. The irony was that nobody really knew me, I had dark secrets I could never tell. My secrets made me doubt my own sanity. I must have imagined the abuse, perhaps I made more of it than I should’ve.
Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve.
Besides, what happened to me must have been my fault. I wore lipstick, that’s why he was provoked, I led him on. It was my fault. He told me that I couldn’t prove what he did to me. He told me nobody would even believe me. And he was right. I had no proof. I was too young to understand the concept of “proof”.
Hook.
My first sip. Disgusting. But that’s what adults did, they drank alcohol. It looked sophisticated, when I drank, I was “mature”. I liked the feel, the buzz. 15 years young, I was going to clubs, smoking and drinking. A lot. Rebel.
Anesthetic. Wonderful. Floating. Not alive. Not dead. Not real. I chased this state of softness, surreal and comforting. Despite the horrible after effects, nausea, dehydration, blinding headaches, blackouts. I was a blackout addict from the start of my substance use disorder. I was hooked. I needed it. I planned for it, fantasized about it, I had to have it even when it made me feel terrible.
Line.
That first line, on that cistern , in that grubby toilet. Wow. The buzz, the clarity, the energy. This is what super heroes feel like, I can do anything. I was awake and on fire with desire.
Sinker.
Done. I was in deeper than I could swim. I had to have it. I had to have more. I had to have it to enjoy myself. I had to have more. I had to have it now.
Drugs. I loved drugs. I loved the ones that made me “up” and I loved the ones that brought me back “down”. Because that’s what addicts do, that’s what addicts are. Self medicating. I am an addict. I love to feel better, more energetic, more happy, more sleepy, more. More. More. More. I like More. I need More. This is me, this is my addict. She is reckless. She is wild. She is brave. She is bad. She feels. She. Feels. Nothing. She doesn’t care. She. feels. Nothing.
My Addict, that Person.
Addicts have secrets. Lots of secrets. Addicts just want to feel good. We don’t trust you, or ourselves. Addicts like me get pleasure by “getting away with stuff”. Bad behaviors, bad relationships, bad attitudes. We like to feel that we are in control. We like to know stuff that you don’t know about.
Show and tell.
What does it mean to be a Proper Addict ? because addicts are bad, immoral, dirty, etc.
Over simplified, in my experience addiction sets in when you least expect it. There’s fine line between recreational and addicted Especially because Addiction is the only disease that tells you you don’t have the disease. “I can stop whenever I want to!” or “it’s this relationship that’s messing me up”, or I only use on weekends, it doesn’t interfere with work.” We convince ourselves that we have control over our using. We believe that we have you convinced that we are not addicted. The truth is that everyone around us can see we’re in trouble long before we admit it ourselves.
I measure it like this:
“When I could stop using drugs and alcohol without help, I didn’t want to. When I wanted to stop using drugs and alcohol, I couldn’t.”
Addicts want to feel good. We want to be in control. We will avoid admitting to being addicted at all costs. Addicts can’t not take drugs. Addicts tell themselves that we don’t have a problem, it’s all under control. You must be imagining it, this problem you say we have with drugs.
The most important thing for us is to have stash, or access to stash at all times, at any cost. Because we rely on drugs to wake up, stay awake, get through a day, cope with stress, manage our emotions, and go to sleep, or stay awake when we can’t honestly can’t manage to sleep.