Chapter 2: Rock bottom

- November 03, 2023

At the beginning of my addiction, drugs and alcohol seemed to shimmer like elusive treasure, like magical keys promising to unlock the hidden depths of my potential. They had this uncanny ability to make me to feel like the most handsome and interesting person in the room, or so I believed. They melted away my fears and insecurities. Suddenly, I felt charismatic, witty, and invincible. The euphoria and altered state of mind became addictive in itself, as I sought to chase that feeling of the life of the party, the center of attention. It was a seductive illusion that captivated me, a mirage that promised unending pleasure.

One of the most appealing aspects of my addiction was its ability to numb my deepest fears and insecurities. Behind the haze of intoxication, I found solace from the struggles and disappointments of everyday life. Drugs and alcohol became my escape, providing relief from the weight of expectations and responsibilities that felt overwhelming. They allowed me to live in the present moment without dwelling on my past mistakes or worrying about the future. It was as if I had a shield protecting me from the harsh realities of life.

While it's common knowledge that addiction is a progressive disease, my experience was marked by its aggressive nature. As my substance abuse escalated, so did its consequences. By the age of 15, I had already become a convicted felon, and by 16, I was living on my own. At 17, I was about to become a parent. For those who can relate, you understand how the next decade or so of my life would play out. I would spend the next 15 years in a wash rinse and repeat cycle of incarceration and treatment centers. The bright allure of those early days had long dimmed. The party was over.

I'm not sure exactly when I crossed that invisible line, when weekend party's and being the center of the universe crossed over into not letting anything or anyone come in between me and my next one, but I can still vividly remember times when the mental obsession to drink or use was so great, that it literally consumed my every waking thought. I can remember times when my only goal for the day was to avoid being sick, and I can remember days when I'd wake up, hoping, not to end up in jail.

This relentless disease took away everything that was ever important to me, except my life. And I can remember times when I found myself wondering if losing my life might be a relief. I'm one of those addicts who never had a clear "rock bottom." All the consequences that I faced, the disappointment and broken relationships, the shattered dreams of everyone around me who, hoped, prayed, that one day I could be happy. Those were all checks I was willing to cash, it all seemed like a small price to pay for what drugs and alcohol did for me.

(this is me 5/26/2020)

I guess my bottom came when my solution to life, that magic elixir that I chased every moment of every day stopped working and I found myself in a hopeless state of not being able to be happy with or without drugs and alcohol. I found myself in a place where it seemed impossible to go on like I was, and I was too afraid to kill myself. I was lost and I didn't know what to do. It wasn't until something intervened in my life that I had a chance at recovery. Whether it was a moment of clarity, a supportive friend, a program that offered hope, or some power greater than myself. I finally saw a glimmer of a way out. I realized that I had to make a choice: continue down this destructive path blotting out my intolerable existence the best I could or seek help to reclaim my life.