My illness of addiction tries to tell me that drugs weren’t really all that bad for me. Every day, a sly little devil on my shoulder whispers seductively…
You can still take drugs. It’ll be fine, remember how much fun you had on drugs. There won’t be any bad consequences. You can learn to moderate your behaviour.
But the brutal, uncomfortable truth is that drugs nearly killed me. They made me isolate myself, I reached new depths of loneliness, and I wrecked many friendships.
The last time I went to Ibiza, I was utterly obsessed with taking drugs. I could barely think of anything else the whole time I was there. As soon as I had drugs in my possession, I had to take them. And I kept taking them, all night and into the next day, until I had none left. After a little sleep, I’d repeat the cycle.
Holidays are supposed to be fun, but my obsession with drugs totally ruined that holiday. I was in the party capital of the world and utterly miserable. I remember sitting in the hotel room crying my eyes out. I couldn’t believe how fucked my life was and how lonely I felt.
My life seemed pointless. I didn’t want to live any more. The one thing which made me feel good was drugs… but it was all a big fat lie.
Drugs promised me the world, but they very nearly took away everything valuable in my life.
Step 1 – we admitted we were powerless over our addiction.
Yes. I was. I am.
Drugs fucked me up. My life became unmanageable. Drugs were taking me on a fast track to the grave.
But now I’m claiming my life back, thanks to the 12 Steps.