Auto Biography Of An Addict Part 5 (HItting Rock Bottom; Everything Happens For A Reason)

They teach us in NA that changing geographic locations in order to escape our addiction never works.  That we learn to manipulate new people to get and find the drugs that we want.  I wish I read that book before I decided to move!!  Guess what I did after I moved?  I lied to my family about where I was and what I was doing.  I kept my job in the city and continued to use Meth as a way to escape the reality that had become my life.  After I found a new job in the suburbs, I lost my job at Floyd’s after I walked out one Sunday in a self centered tantrum.  This is nothing new for me, the addict.  I’ve broken many bridges with employers doing the same thing.  After my full departure of the city I then felt so lonely that I manipulated new people to get and find the drugs that I wanted.

I met someone.  He was a good kid.  He was 14 years younger then me but a whole lot smarter then me.  He’s the only name I feel like I need to protect in the story of my life, however eventually hurting me in the end like I set him up to do.  I refused to date him.  To me, I was a horrible person, caught in the grips of addiction and I didn’t want to expose him to the animal that I became.  I loved this guy very much for all the times he was there for me when I needed him.  He didn’t have the label of being my boyfriend, even as much as he tried, but emotionally and physically became just that to me.  I tried to “white knuckle” my way through life at this point with my addiction to meth.  I thought drinking and smoking pot was ok, as long as I didn’t do meth, however I was still using these drugs to mask the reality of my addiction.  I used twice in the period of 8 months that I told this kid I wasn’t using.  He really was my anti drug.  He kept me clean for as long as my brain would allow it.  I never then used because I wanted to have fun.  I used so I could feel normal again.  I wanted independence.  I had my own studio apartment in Glen Ellyn and my boy had a key.  He cooked me dinner, he bought me a puppy for Christmas and he helped me with anything I asked.  This guy was the most loyal human being that has even been apart of my life.  I felt like a piece of shit.  My ship sailed a long time ago and I missed my ride.  If I pushed him away from me, then maybe he would not miss his.  I was no one to even try to spend your life with and I reminded him everyday.  He chose to stick around and I honestly treated him the best that I could in the state of mind and emotion that I was in.

My suburban job sucked.  I hated work.  I was at a salon all day doing nothing but smoking weed and sitting on dating apps that I swore to my friend that I would stay off of.  I couldn’t take it anymore.  I called my old boss at Floyd’s and begged for my job back.  I knew that I should not be back in the city but I needed to feel how it felt to actually make money and be productive again.  Everything happens for a reason.  The district managers who I figured hated me anyways, denied my request for a re hire.  This left me feeling so broken, knowing there was no way out.  There was no future for me.  I thought this was a guarantee that I was going to fail, a realization that on most days, I smoked myself stupid so I could accept this fate.  Strike 1.

I needed an out so naturally I turned to my dating app to seek meth.  I found it.  I planned it.  I planned it so precisely that I told myself that I couldn’t smoke weed when I got home or I would get to lazy to meet up with this troll that was going to get me high for free in exchange for a night with my body.  I wish I never downloaded this app that night, an app I promised my guy I would never use again.  Strike 2.

While using I got a text from my friend that I’ll never forget.  “I hope that app you were on 2 hours ago was worth our relationship”.  I turned my phone over, already high and finished my night.  Strike 3.  I went hope and obviously couldn’t sleep.  I stared at the wall for 12 continuous hours.  No TV, no music.  Nothing.  My buddy came over to get his things and to tell me he could no longer talk to me, and I couldn’t talk to him, a promise that he has kept to this day.  Strike 4.  I lost it.  I went crazy.  The next day I had to move in with my parents because I couldn’t afford to live on my own, and couldn’t even be sitting alone as thoughts of self harm crept into my brain.  Strike 5.  I went to my doctor and wanted to beg for Xanax.  Everything happens for a reason.  She was rushed into emergency delivery, a month early in her pregnancy, and I was thrown into an office of a doctor that had no clue who I was or what I was going through.  Strike 6.  This doctor suggested Linden Oaks out patient.  I figured this was  a mental health program that I had NO time for.  I shrugged it off, as if she was the crazy one and went home.  I polished off my Xanax and drank heavily for the 4th of July weekend.  I have never been so broken in my life.  I swear I cried for 6 days hysterically every time I had a moment alone at the loss of my friend.  What did I do??

Six or seven strikes of life brought me to my knees.  I emotionally collapsed,  I wanted to die.  I wanted to end my life.  I needed the pain to stop.  The next morning was just as bad as any.  at 7 AM I took that crazy doctors advice and called Linden Oaks assessment hotline.  I had an hour to get there and have my life assessed, whatever that even meant.  I wish I knew then that I made the most important phone call I have ever made in my life.  Recovery was right around the corner.

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