April 21, 2019
What do I fear?
I fear my emotions.
I fear what you think of me.
I fear I will never live up to my or your expectations.
I fear failure.
I fear loneliness yet I push people away.
I fear those dark shadows of my soul and what I will find should I shine my light there.
I fear myself.
April 21, 2019
She’s scared, almost desperate.
I lay in the dark listening to the voices in my head are hers.
They are loud, oh so loud tonight robbing me of the sleep I so yearn.
Whispers, unintelligible garbled sobs of desperation.
She waits in the shadows where I have banished her.
A child, I can feel him clawing at my throat. Reaching. Falling. Trying again.
He can see my light she tries to extinguish.
Tonight a battle is being fought.
April 20, 2019
My name is Chris and I am a recovering addict.
This is my story. After 20 years of sobriety, the apocalypse arrived silently December 31, 2016.
I was celebrating New Years with friends when he arrived. He was a young man, tall, athletic, with sandy blonde hair and soft brown eyes. I’ll call him Tom.
Tom noticed me and casually introduced himself with a cocky “”sup?” slyly grinning. I’ve always sought validation – it was my drug. I never felt I fit in anywhere and yet desperately wanted to – later it would seem at any cost.
Tom and I chatted for hours when he finally said “I like you” and commanded “come with me” leading me to the bathroom. He closed the door and said, “Wanna do a line with me?”
As he prepared the lines of cocaine I said yes – which was a lie. I hadn’t touched cocaine in decades, but if Tom had said let’s jump off the Ambassador Bridge I would have agreed. And I did – but that wouldn’t happen until nearly two years later after Tom died.
In that moment, this young man made me his world. I felt validated. I felt important. I finally felt like I belonged.
In hindsight it was strange.
I had everything. A loving partner. Family. Friends. And yet here I was in a bathroom with a young man ready to drive off the edge of the world with him.
I watched as he snorted the first three lines and he handed the straw to me. An explosion of light blinded my eyes as the freight train rushed over me. Tom grabbed me, pulling me close to him, lips brushing my ear and whispered, “Let it go.”
But I couldn’t.
I pushed him away and rushed out of the bathroom.
I never heard from him again until I read his obituary two years later.
Drugs had claimed another soul as its own.
Unknown to me at the time, mine would be next.
April 20, 2019
I first tried meth when I was 24.
I had just moved to Toronto and discovered the bathhouse scene – a place where men went to have sex with men. A man I met offered it to me and I tried it, screaming at myself to stop, but ignoring it.
What followed over the next 4 days was just foreshadowing of the destruction I would unleash nearly 20 years later.
My aunt saved me by calling my father. Whether she knew or not she did know something was amiss and I found myself back home in Sarnia living with my parents.
Through the love of my parents and complete abstinence, I beat my addiction into submission for 20 years.
Then the apocalypse came.
Before I share this part of my story I have to warn you of its graphic nature. I will make every effort to remember this is Facebook and write accordingly.
April 21, 2019
Today is rough.
Hard to see the light for the darkness. Alone amongst the crowd.
She keeps calling; knocks on the door I ignore. They call it isolating. I call it survival.
Crystal is cunning, yet I can’t believe her lies.
Her voice is in my head telling me she’s my only friend. She is right here with me, never leaving my side but patiently waiting for me to open the door and play.
I sound insane. Fucking nuts more like.
But I am strong.
I must be strong.
I will overcome because I have an army at my side.
Playing the Tape Forward
April 20, 2019
It’s been days since I slept
Can’t remember when last I ate
I’m consumed by anger and hate
Meth is leading me to hells gates…
Even tho I put it behind me
Everything I do constantly reminds me…
The wounds are so deep
The climb back to the top so steep
How did I ever get so deep…?
It disturbs my sleep to hear
The erratic beat of my heart
My breathing is shallow
But of no concern
I’m happy meth made me mellow…
I don’t want it to end
But I have to defend
The little morality I have
Still intact…
The dribbles run thru your head
While you lay in bed
Some good and some bad
All reminders of things you’d rather forget…
Chop it long chop it short
Be cunning enough not to get caught
Chop it fine make that line
Dnt you see the meth makes you blind?
But it’s not over yet
You’ll deceive those that care
Still challenge meth?
You better be aware …
I’ll make you cry
At times you’ll wanna die
You’ll turn on your friends & family
Love the ones you hate
for in their arms
On a plate
is da thing you crave
Yes it’s a line but it’s also a way to your grave …
You sold what you owned
Just to get high
Still you wonder why u getting the awkward eye…
Meth is not a joke
Harsher den coke
You continue to use
Even tho you broke
It’ll make you beg borrow and steal
And never will you heal
The person you were is now dead
All that’s left is jus a thought in Ur head
So tell me now dear friend
Will you let meth lead you to the end?
April 19, 2019
Anonymity is important to someone struggling with addiction. But anonymity rooted in shame is deadly. I do not share my story to be brave or for accolades. I share my story because it is necessary for my survival. I am a recovering addict and I am not ashamed.
April 19, 2019
I see him for the first time in years, huddling in the shadows, his tear stained face searching for the light I hold, but cannot yet see. I’m calling out to him, but he cannot yet hear. I’m reaching out to embrace him; he is so close.
April 20, 2019
The hardest part of recovery is forgiving myself and truly believing I am worthy of love. The difference today when I say, “I am worthy,” is that I am crying for the first time.
April 19, 2019
There is a frightening aspect to addiction and that is a neurological and genetic component. Dr.Clark yesterday showed a meth addict’s brain responses and activity. One is too many and a thousand not enough.
