April 25, 2019
My name is Chris and I’m a recovering addict. This is part 4 of my story.
Crystal and I would dance the dance of the death for several months in between desperate moments of clarity where I tried to quit. Of course, quitting would have been more feasible if I could set aside the guilt and shame of starting to begin with and admit that I was powerless – but I could not. After all, I’m a man. Not only that but a Schnurr. I didn’t need help – I could overcome despite all evidence to the contrary.
How could I face my peers, successful, seemingly happy, and productive? How could I face my co-workers, mainly university students to whom many looked to for advice, leadership and companionship (okay and my endless stream of Dad jokes).
How could I face my parents, parents who were so proud of their children, for the paths we had taken, for the successes we have met, and for the families we had built?
How could I face my mom, my confident, my best friend that even though she survived a life threatening illness, I still chose a plastic baggie over her on Christmas Day, spending my money on hotel rooms and drugs rather than a train ticket to feel that warm embrace only a mother can give?
How could I face my partner of 16 years after the walls of lies I had built to protect both him and myself from the truth of what I had become? How could I admit to him I risked both my and his life selling narcotics in the United States?
How could I admit to him that I had exchanged sex for drugs in desperate attempts to feed my addiction? How could I admit that despite our 16 years of shared memories, I loved crystal meth and all of her false promises more than him?
The short answer – I could not. I was a coward. Carrying lies was far easier than releasing the truth, so I told myself.
So Crystal and I danced the dance of death for many months before the music stopped December 27, 2018.
