Through the eyes of an addict
“Oh my God, where is it!”
Kneeling on the floor, scrambling for hopeful misplaced pieces of crystal meth, weed. Damn it, in fact, anything will do right now. Dropping fragments of his dignity as he scavenged for anything, he needed a fix and he needed it badly.
In the corner of his eyes, he spots it, a tiny white rock.
Weak with desperation he starts crushing this rock. It’s the fourth day without any sleep, his mouth, raw. The only thing that went in his mouth during this time was copious amounts of alcohol and the ends of a tie that chocked his arm to find any remaining veins.
While shaking violently, he manages to roll a note and starts sniffing the crushed rock through this note. It was chalk.
The boy curls into a ball, pulling his knees as close to his chin as possible. “I can’t do this anymore!”
“God, please help me!” Whispered so softly, he could barely hear the desperation in his own voice.
The disease of addiction affects millions of people around the world. People around you are affected by these issues, not just those people, but those around them, co-workers, friends and if they are lucky to still have any left, their family. The harshest reality is that, most of us are to scared to confront these issues or simply choose to ignore the issue, in hopes that it may go away..
He was bullied and constantly mocked by kids in school, it was also at this age that he learned to wash and iron his own clothes. He found that in doing so, the chances of him being bullied that day reduced significantly. His journey with addiction started when he was just 13 years old. Being bullied for much of early childhood, he so desperately wanted to feel a sense of belonging, of comfort. He had found that in alcohol. In a very short period of time, he had gained this newfound sense of belonging. It felt amazing. He finally found what he’s been searching for his entire life, he found acceptance.
Numerous events happened in these years. Even more tragic events happened in his earlier years. None of which was being dealt with though, none of which had to be dealt with. Back then, his life became one big party. His tolerance for these substances increased drastically. His values and morals dropped at an even faster pace. Lying, cheating, stealing and having sex with random people he’s known for all of two minutes became the norm. He started gambling. He turned to sex and pornography. In an incredibly short period of time, his addiction progressed from mostly substances to behavioral addictions too.
Drugs and Alcohol were no longer fun. They had now become a means of survival, his sole coping mechanism.
The life he so desperately worked towards achieving slowly started falling away. It didn’t matter who was around anymore, he felt more and more empty. As his addiction progressed, he would often sit alone in his room, drinking copious amounts of alcohol, snorting and injecting. All of life’s traumas he desperately tried running away from started catching up to him. He couldn’t’ handle it. He constantly wanted to feel numb. It just wasn’t working anymore.
February 2017, something happened that would change the course of his life forever. While partying, the boy met up with an elderly man at a local night club, they immediately clicked, both highly inebriated and agreed that they would go back to the man’s house as he still had loads more alcohol and drugs. When the boy got to the house, there were two other guys. He slowly sobered up, knowing that something was very wrong.
He blacked out.
After a few hours, the sun shone brightly and he finally regained consciousness. He laid on the side of the highway, his belt buckle loose and his jean still left open. He knew what happened.
The reality is that until we can reach a point of speaking openly about addiction and all other mental wellness issues, it will remain difficult for people to recovery. It will remain even harder for people to ask for help. Help, before it’s to late
11 February 2017.
He takes a deep breath. Lays his head on the grass and closes his eyes, feeling the whisk of the wind brush against his hair. Simply, reflecting.
I then look up at the sky, as tears of hope flood my face and softly whisper:
This was a guest post – for more information on the author, Brady, visit his website: Eyes of an addict
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