It didn’t take long for me to realize that what I was doing wasn’t working. It registered in my mind long before I actually did anything about it. Knowing wasn’t enough to take any sort of action; the addiction was too strong. I figured I had managed to hide everything for so long that I could do it forever. The justification was not logical. I’m pretty sure the people surrounding me must have picked up on something, anything, long sleeves in the summer, bathroom breaks every half hour, not feeling well every two weeks like clock work, lost of interest in everything. There had to be some indications. Every two weeks I would fill my prescription and every two weeks I would tell myself this is it, I’m not filling it again, I’m going to go back on the Methadone, I’m going to get clean and no one will have to know that I fucked up again. I was confident in myself, I truly believed every word I told myself, and I truly believed I had control. Hindsight is 20/20, that’s what they say right? Well I’m not so sure; I was able to convince myself in the matter of seconds knowing full well I had no control. It’s not like this was my first experience with addiction, but it was my tenth year.
Everything came to a halt when my doctor refused to give me a prescription a week early for the 10th time. I was desperate, I was alone, and I was scared. I didn’t or couldn’t wait another 7 days without ending up in the hospital again. So I changed the date on the prescription and got it when I wanted. Well, instant gratification…right? Yeah it worked, but it only lasted me 2 days and then I was right back where I started. I knew I couldn’t keep this up much longer; it was only a matter of time before I ended up in jail or dead. I was going on 10 years strong of addiction with “sober” periods of time at 23 years old. I had seen and experienced things that no one should have to. I had escaped my thoughts, my pain, and my emotions. I had hurt, stole, lied, manipulated, and ruined people’s lives. I can truthfully say I am lucky to be alive while so many others are not. For a long time I resented the fact that my loved ones had left me at 15 years old to figure it out on my own, maybe they were wrong; maybe they were right. It doesn’t matter; I am who I am because of my past. I have hit rock bottom more than once, countless times. Sometimes you can hit the bottom but dig deeper, sometimes there is no bottom. Sometimes you live but never learn. Only you can know for sure who you are and what you want, only you can learn from your mistakes…no one can teach you that.