I started over three years ago. I was trying to beat a drug test.
I liked it so much more than pot.
I ultimately had a 20 hour a day habit. Lost so much weight. I would have anxiety attacks if I couldn’t smoke every half hour.
I was content to lose every relationship. I just wanted to be alone and smoke. I lied and made excuses and nearly bankrupted my family.
I spiraled down in such a bad way – there were no consequences I feared, no rules left to break. Everything people describe – nausea and withdrawal pains and such – I experienced.
But I needed to stop for me, my wife and my kids.
I quit for the first time in November. It was 6 months of getting healthy – mentally and physically.
I relapsed yesterday and wound up in the ER.
I’m not sure of everything, but I know my mom found my face down in a pool of vomit, my lips were blue and well, it was bad.
I am humiliated. I can’t imagine if my wife and kids had found me.
I let a moment of weakness nearly kill me.
Today is my second start over. I feel so lucky to be alive.
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