I hesitated to put "meth" in the title, as if calling the drug something else would make it easier to stomach. There in lies the problem.
The drug is not offended when I call it by name. In fact, even when I say it, it still feels like it never happened.
It feels as though that part of my life melted away...
But the damage... The damage to my body is still so very obvious....and the damage I see it causing in others is so very obvious.
As a former user, I am not oblivious to the fact that I know some people that still use. They call for help, like I used to... in such a subtle way that very few... unless experienced themselves... would ever recognize. Or unless bold, would ever confront.
Those of us who have been addicted know what it's like to live tormented. We know what it's like to feel desperate. We know what it's like to feel alone. We know what it's like to feel like "the world owes us something."
So when someone challenges us, or attempts to take away the only thing that veils us from that which we are so desperately trying to avoid, we get angry. We get defensive. This is our "fun."
Even though we want to tell them the truth, even when we want to say, "YES, I AM AN ADDICT. PLEASE, PLEASE HELP ME." We don't first want to believe it ourselves... even if it is true.
The unknown in saying that is so scary.
What will I do if I give this up? Will I be able to pick up the pieces of my life that I've already wasted away? Will I be able to make it through the detox? Would I truly be able to change? Am I even deserving of anything but this? What will I do for fun? What will happen to all my friends?
A lot of us don't want to admit it. We know that someone knows the truth but we STILL try to hide it. We find it comforting when they go away... but then wallow "wishing someone cared enough" to help us.
It breaks my heart.
After almost five years of being clean, I am just now starting to see the full amount of damage I've done to myself... but it's not undoable.
Everything that has been broken, can again be renewed. It's scary. It's not an easy threshold to cross: From addict, to Freedom.
It's not always seen that way.... But why is it that when every addict finally goes to bed, or comes down, and it's just them ....alone.... depression sets in? We were never meant to live constantly running away from ourselves.
Sometimes, we just liked to call ourselves "recreational drug users," but at WHAT POINT are we honest enough with ourselves to know that we don't want to live life without it?
There are a few of us that can maintain a front...for a while. We can do well in school, we can eat like normal, we can even go to our jobs and act like nothing happened...
But why submit yourselves to imperil. ANY drug is like a wolf.
A wolf may appear thirsty, so we go to give it some water. However, you will not receive appreciation. For indeed the WOLF is HUNGRY and will not politely drink, instead will ravingly devour. The fool thinks they have control when they are really consumed. The fool is the one who believes himself invincible.
As humans, we are not interested in torment until it reaches an undeniable depth that only then peaks our curiosity. When we see someone fall so hard or commit suicide, it is only then that we want to extend a hand.
We rarely see things in the beginning because of our own ignorance. Just like the addict wants to escape and be found; the helper wants them to be found but without being their escape.
All those times I thought I was living, but now I know what it's like to truly be alive.
If you or someone you know, needs anything. PLEASE reach out to me; either by phone or Facebook.... I'm desiring to pray for you or your friends.