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My Brutal Addiction

People always ask me what it’s like to be a heroin addict. I guess it’s different for everyone, so I will not speak on behalf of all addicts, but I sure can tell you what the hell of being a heroin addict is to me. Being an addict is in itself was me not knowing when to stop and quickly crossing that line of not being able to stop. At first being a heroin addict was exciting. It was meeting dealers, feeling like a badass in Oklahoma City, where everyone knows everyone. It was snorting lines of coke, in the dope girl’s hotel room so I wouldn’t be nodding out from heroin. Being a heroin addict had me on my knees in my car hoping I’d find a piece of dope I probably never dropped. It was me looking at old used foils hoping I forgot some. By the next few months a heroin addict was all I had become. Being a heroin addict was smoking that dope because I had to, not because I wanted to. Being a heroin addict was seeing my best friend sick and wishing I’d saved a piece so I could have helped a little bit at least. It was smoking as soon as my eyes opened so I could consider getting my day started.

Being a heroin addict was always having a straw, litter, and foil on me.

In my first rehab, I learned the rate of relapse for me would be between 40-60 percent. I thought I had shit figured out, I thought I had life figured out. But man, was I wrong. When I got home, I had a high. A different high, a high for life. A high for better things, I felt amazing. Being clean was so amazing, I dedicated my life to God and started to go to church, and man did I have a spiritual awakening. I was happy, happy for once.

Happiness doesn’t last long at all, I started to get those thoughts in my head. The thoughts that at the time I did not know but would end up leading to my relapse. I remember I would sit there at my desk at work, thinking about the days when I’d get high and have such strong cravings. I learned when I have cravings I’m supposed to reach out to someone, but me and my pride were not going to let that happen. I just was not going to let that happen, So I tried to stop the thoughts all on my own. I know now if I try to go through my recovery alone, it will not work out. I have to put my pride aside, I have to stand up at meetings, I have to be okay with saying, “My name is Johnny, and I am an addict.” Why hide from the struggle I have come to live with. As much as I would take it all back, as much as it has killed me emotionally, physically, and spiritually. I also would not. I love being to know there are people like me out there. I love knowing I’m not alone with the disease. I know one day, once I’m okay with certain situations, I will do bigger and better things with what I have learned with dealing with the horrible and painful disease.

Once I started having the thoughts of being and getting high, I kind of new it was a rap. But did not want to admit it to myself. So I finally convinced myself One time will be okay. That one time, turned into every other day, every other day turned into once a day, once I hit than I knew I was addicted again, I was fucked. I tried to hard to hide it from my family. But they knew it, it’s not hard to tell when you’re around someone so much. I remember a lot of people telling me, “I would never take you for the heroin addict, you have your life so put together” so they thought. I had it down, the hiding the getting my drug everyday.

I now know, one time is not okay. One time will lead to so much more.

You know, I would sit in my room at night “Getting High” and I would cry. I hated being a addicted, I would cry and cry and ask god why? Why did I have to have this such strong disease? Why me? I use to be able to say no? I let stress, and my insecurities get in the way of the Johnny I normally was.

The sad, crazy part is. I have seen addiction, I have seen the high life. I grew up around it, I have come in contact with the worst of the worst. Addiction is honestly a family disease. It runs in my blood, its in my DNA. That is not an excuse at all, I’m grown. I should have known how bad things could have turned out.

Things started to go south, I lost my job. I lost who I was, I was trying anything to get my high. I had seriously hit rock bottom. Never in life, would I take myself for the person I had become. I finally got tired, Sick and tired of being sick and tired. I opened up my laptop and said, “God, if this is it, I’ll get into a place and everything will work itself out.” I knew this time I had to something more than just “going to rehab” So I found this Natraxon implant. The use for the implant is to help with the cravings of wanting to get high, and if I was to get high it wouldn’t be a good thing. I know this isn’t the end for my addiction, as much as I wish I could say it is. As much as I wish I didn’t even have this problem. I know I will have to work on this, I will have to work on this for the rest of my life. I will have to continue to struggle, and honestly I can’t say I’m going to stay clean, I can say I want to stay clean. But tomorrow is never promised, and I know relapse just isn’t too far away. Anyone struggling with this heart aching, life draining disease just know: It does get easier, it does it better. You just have to want it.