I sit here writing this in active addiction. Last time I wrote I was two weeks clean. This is just the latest of at least a dozen relapses, but to everyone around me I’m doing just fine. You see, not even those closest to me know what’s really going on.
For the last five years, I’ve been in this sporadic cycle of using and intermission. I hate to use the word “clean” because I’ve never fully intended to stay that way. Every stretch of sobriety is an inconvenient intermission to my self destructive routine. I physically can’t resist the temptation of an unattended bottle of narcotics or an invitation to go out for drinks, and I hate myself for it. Every time I get back up I fall just a little bit harder and I’m quickly losing the strength to keep trying.
I feel like I have no support network because I feel like I can’t tell anybody what’s going on. People would judge and push me away if they knew, so it’s better to stay silent. I even feel set apart from other addicts, because I’ve never been to a meeting or rehab or any sort of program. I’m constantly struggling to figure everything out on my own, in secret.
That feeling of Nothingness wears off. That’s the part you don’t figure out until it’s too late. I do feel. I feel lonelier than I ever have, surrounded by people who don’t really know me. I feel desperate. I frequently wonder if I’ll ever manage to get clean, and if not, will anyone care about the loss of just another junkie?
I can’t help but wonder what life would be like if there wasn’t this stigma attached to our disease. I know that I’m here because of my own choices. But those were choices I made as a stupid kid, a decade ago. I’m not here to whine about how I’m a product of my environment or my parents. I just want some support and understanding while I try to take a shot at a normal life.