“It was like being in a car with the gas pedal slammed down to the floor and nothing to do but hold on and pretend to have some semblance of control. But control was something I’d lost a long time ago.” – Tweak, Nic Sheff
Some people get addicted to methamphetamine, to heroin, to prescription pills, to alcohol. The feeling of getting drunk, getting high, the calm that rushes over when you finally get your next fix. For me, a person was my drug of choice. The feeling of our lips and bodies melting together, the way that she could touch my soul without even putting a single finger on my skin. I became addicted to the way that she made me feel. Even as I was lying to my friends and family about my whereabouts, even when I was making excuse after excuse about how she was going to change-how we were both going to change. When I would make an impulsive decision to cut her off, I would eventually end up relapsing. It was one blow after the next. This was a pattern that continued for several years. I repeatedly relapsed on her just as an addict would on heroin or methamphetamine.
It wasn’t the feeling of being alone that I could not handle. I made my apartment my own again, I took down the pictures off of the walls and burned everything that had even the slightest trace of her presence. It was the simple fact of knowing that she was out there, living and breathing and existing even in my absence. It was the reminders of our memories that haunted every single street of this city. Ashes scattered on the pavement everywhere. The slow and intensely, undeniably painful deterioration of our relationship. Just as it is excruciatingly easy for an addict to find a dope supply after a period of sobriety, it is just as easy to unblock a number or see that person and succumb to your weaknesses. An addict in recovery will ruminate constantly about their drug of choice-they will successfully convince themselves that one drink or one more hit will not cause them to enter into a full on spiral. Just as I have thought before that one kiss or one conversation will not cause me to fall back into the depths of my own addiction.
I have been able to stop smoking. I have been able to stop drinking. I have been able to overcome a dependency on Xanax. I have not been able to ever successfully quit her indefinitely. 24 days into my recovery from her I genuinely thought that I had built up enough mental strength. I had surpassed the 21 day mark in which doing things differently becomes a habit. Changes in the brain begin to occur. I was wrong. I relapsed on her, once again, and all it took was one meeting. Even with the most incredibly dedicated support system, even with regular therapy sessions, even with numerous coping mechanisms under my belt, I gave into my addiction.
I am starting right back where I started, from day 1. I thought that I could overcome this addiction alone. I thought that I would be able to stay strong and resist the constant urges to be around her. I managed to completely fuck up my 24 day progress in only under an hour. Our lips met and I felt everything that I had been desperately missing and dreaming about for nights on end. I was instantly and utterly intoxicated. The question I now have for myself is, was it really worth it? Was it worth the immense amount of guilt and resentment that I feel towards myself as well as towards my emotionally charged decision making? The simple answer is that it was not. Even after experiencing a rush of such intense euphoria, I know that this person does not have the ability to love me in the way that I deserve. Furthermore, I know that this person is not the one I am meant to be with, as deeply and desperately as I want her to be. She may have been at one point in time, but our relationship became far too toxic and co-dependent in order for it to ever be healthy ever again. I am aware of that reality. I am aware of my addiction. I am aware of the overwhelming sense of power that this person has over my mental health, my physical health, and my overall sense of well-being.
The first step in overcoming addiction is admitting that you are powerless to your drug of choice, and that you cannot stop on your own. As much as it pains me to not have this person in my life, I know deep in my heart that it is inevitably the only possible way that I can ever reach recovery. I can no longer bear the idea of being a disappointment to others in my life that I love, and more significantly, I can no longer bear the idea of being a disappointment to myself. Even if that means avoiding certain places, being aware of all of my triggers, and ultimately losing this person in my life forever, I know it is something that I absolutely must do. As difficult and excruciatingly heart breaking as it is going to be. They say that relapse is a part of recovery, so I am accepting the fact that I did. I am only human, and I am far from perfect. I do not believe in God, but I believe in the power of self-love and respect, the power of determination and dedication. These are all things that I must diligently work on, day in and day out, in order to successfully recover once and for all. The quality of my life depends on it.
“Fortunately I have a son, my beautiful boy
Unfortunately he is a drug addict.
Fortunately he is in recovery.
Unfortunately he relapses.
Fortunately he is in recovery again.
Unfortunately he relapses.
Fortunately he is not dead.” – Beautiful Boy, David Sheff
Blue Octobers 