(Story for a second chance...)
I took this week off of work to do one thing...binge on meth! Oh yeah! Even though I wanted to stop smoking right after the first couple of days of smoking, I couldn't help myself!! Blowing huge awesome clouds is more important than pursuing goals that I previously set for myself! Being stuck and looking stupid felt better than setting new Personal Records at the gym! After all, I had "mastered" the art of "handling" meth! Binge hard on it for either a weekend or a week every couple or more months, suffer the comedown, and everything will be okay.....yeah.
Everything was going good, however. Saturday on up through the week was nothing but blowing really huge awesome clouds, getting stuck on the couch for hours, tweaking on the Internet, sleeping, and repeating. It didn't matter that I was stupidly twacked. Because after all, I wasn't robbing, killing, stealing, or hurting anyone. Right? I was just being a worthless bum at home for a week and having fun in the form of brain damage! It would all go back to normal soon......yeah.....until I had a harsh realization........
I woke up early Thursday evening, showered, and went on a food run to have my first real meal. As I was driving I thought obsessively about one thing, "I have one good-sized shard left. Whatever happens now, it can't go wrong. I will not be able to smoke again for a while. I literally cannot screw this up! This is it! Tweak productively or tweak spunfully stuck! What should I do?" It was like something was warning me that I'm going to not have a typical night. I got my grub from a Mexican Fast-Food restaurant then head straight home. As I was driving a voice in my head said, "You know....Crystal is laughing at you! You fell for her seductive smoke as it dances out the top of the bowl. Then you breathed in her toxic fumes and blew out a big thick cloud that you waited so long for. Then breathed her in you again to feel yourself let loose! You know, Crystal can't believe how stupid you are. She laughed and said she will make you hate yourself if you dare smoke her again. So seriously. Stop!" Even though the voice sounded like a highschool diva, I became a little concerned.
When I got home and ate some tacos, I went to pack the one last load. After being spun all night and to the next day, I spent Friday afternoon realizing its time to move on. See, Thursday night when spun and cleaning out the garbage, I tweaked about what it really meant to quit. Even before I binged the rest I knew that this was it. I spent Friday afternoon laying on the couch demanding myself to move on. At this point everyone knows what happens next. The hopelessness, the disappointment, thinking "its impossible to quit" until I noticed something. People who have been clean and sober for 20 year or more didn't put emphasis on "I want to quit" They said, "Fuck this shit. I need to fix my life and move on." And that's exactly what I'm going to do.
I won't say "I'm going to quit." I pledge to move on with my life. I will fill the space I held for dope with something worth much more than a simple hit. I had ignored all past signs that yelled at me to stop. Even the words of a former "friend" who first introduced me to this, but told me I should quit if I felt any sort of guilt because doing it again would lead to a road I do not want. Boy was she right. This time though, the tweak was real, its time to just let go. Of course pessimism tried to presist. Taunting me by asking when I would need a fix. But, I made three promises outloud to myself and it stopped the comedown demon from resurrecting the urge:
1) I will focus on improving my life and bring back my motivation for success.
2) I will persist through temptation because I prefer real productive results.
3) I will be a better son so my mom and dad will be proud.
Saying the last one hit me and led me into a deeper thought. My parents don't know about my meth use. If they knew, it would tear them apart. I had vivid images of my mom and dad finding out. My dad turned his head in pain and my mom had a look of shock and cried. The sheer guilt of this alone was too much for me to bear. I soon rolled into the fetal position and shed uncontrollable tears. When I first smoked dope, I would talk to my mom and dad while hella-spun on the phone, but thought nothing of it because I was dumb. One night while spun, my mom and dad called. I talked to them and their friend who is also the town's priest! But it took this image of them crying and look of sadness to realize how much I'm hurting them even though they don't know I'm using.
The sun has gone down and I was still laying on the couch working on my new ways. But because I happen to be yet another user wanting to escape, I could hear the nay-sayers checking with statements such as "Oh really?....Well every meth addict I know....." "Out of 99% only 1%....." The critics, the cynics, the meth/drug elitists. Hah! Who knew "drug culture" had elitists? Besides. My worth is more! Wanting to impress them is wasted time. But to the hopefuls, the lost-souls, and all else who are either stuck or slip in-and-out of this drug's hold. I hope to be an example of how to break free and move far from its reach.
While I know cravings will exist, trigger warnings are just mouse-clicks away, and even though I threw away my pipes I could always buy some more. The road won't be easy and I am well aware of this. But I will promise one thing: I will make up for lost time that was wasted fiending and using for months. I wasted all potential and witnessed my early success fade away after that first hit. This alone motivates me to bring myself back. So, no, I'm not going to "quit". I will move on and take my life to a new level that is absent of wanting a hit!
(Those of you who read through all of this, thank you! I needed to vent this out.)
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