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He’s A Different Kind of Drug Addict Than Me


As a drug addict myself, it never really occurred to me that I would lose someone I care for to addiction.

You see, I have always hid my addiction well from the outside world but not him. I almost see myself in a different type of addiction. I have never pawned my belongings, let my bills go to buy drugs, stole from my family, or put drugs before family/friends. I have, for the most part, been able to hold down a job and “appear” to be normal. Honestly, maybe I’m just better at lying to myself than he is. I keep telling myself I am in some type of recovery because I don’t go out and do the things “other addicts do.” I know that is a lie. I just cannot bring myself to come to terms with my addiction.

Day and Night, Night and Day

My partner, on the other hand, is on a different level. Lets call him Jack for privacy reasons. Jack has never had control of his addiction. He has spiraled out of control more times than I can count. He has been to jail, been to rehab, pawned all of his belongings, stole from his family, and had a love affair with everything from crack to heroin. This doesn’t even touch the tip of how we differ in addiction. But I love him. How could I not love the person that gave me my daughter?

The Ties That Bind

I often wonder where my life would be if we had not had my daughter. I doubt we would still be together. As I try to dig up that hole to recovery, I can feel him pull me down. I’m not blaming him for my current situation, but it would be a lot easier if we was not together. I just cannot bring myself to walk out that door. I know when I leave, he will die or go to prison. I know I am the glue holding him on the ground. You don’t have to tell me that is not a reason to be with someone, I know that…I just feel so guilty. Not to mention, I still love him.

I Lost The Man I Love to Addiction

I’m waiting. I am waiting for the man I used to know to shine through. Sometimes things are normal. In fact, so normal I forget what is actually going on. I forget about all the lying and stealing. I forget that he has chosen heroin over us time and time again. For a few weeks it feels like we are a real family. A family not plagued with addiction. Then, reality sits in again when he steals money from me to run off in the middle of the night. I am once again reminded that we are not your all American family that I have always longed for. I’m not sure that I deserve that type of family.

I miss the good times we used to have together. Although, when I look back, I can see all the good times was a lie. We had good times together because we were high together. I think if I still got high, I would not be writing this. I am stuck in a cycle of taking suboxone, which I admit is not the recovery I want, but it is better than getting high. He is just not there yet.

I Miss The Good, Sweet Times

I just want Jack to love us being together. I want him to love watching our daughter grow up as much as I do. I want him to be happy just to be in the room with us. I want Jack to enjoy playing with our daughter and seeing a smile on her face. I just want a family. I want normalcy. I want to know when I ask Jack a question, I can trust the response.

I feel unreasonable for feeling this way. After all, I am a drug addict. How can I not understand what Jack is going through? How cannot I not be able to understand how he feels and see his opinions? You would think being an addict would give me a special insight into his addiction. Well, it doesn’t. Addiction affects everyone differently. Not everyone is created equal. Addiction is not a standard “one size fits all.” I do not understand his decisions. I do not understand how he can pawn our belongings to buy heroin. I do not understand how he can chose to be high over playing with our daughter. I don’t understand what he is going through. I wish I did.&

I Keep Hoping He’ll Change

I hope to one day have the family I long for. Rather it be with Jack or someone else, I just want my daughter to grow up differently than I did. I want better experiences for her than what I had. I know she will ask me one day “mommy, where is daddy?”. I just hope I am able to give the response I desperately want to be true. “Daddy is at work and will be home later.” I hold out hope for this day.