I’m college educated. I came from a real family that lived in a good neighborhood. I was reasonably attractive. I had a great sense of humor. I was self-confident.
Were these things true? Sometimes, but that didn’t stop me from self-sabotage. Conversely, I’m was pretentious. I was entitled. I’m vain. I found myself being the only one laughing at my jokes more often than not.
I was unquestionably insecure. So what did I do about my dualist personality? I turned to drugs; I turned to spice.
I can be and all of these things at times. I told myself so many times that I could never be an addict. Never! People like me, confident and well put together people, people of privilege, do not become dirty, disgusting and self-seeking addicts.
But here I was, in the throes of addiction. My life was falling apart, and it was all because of spice.
No matter what I thought to myself, good or bad-I was a drug addict. I slowly began drifting into a fog. I wanted it to be my secret, but it was impossible to hide.
The disgusting smell, the horrible breath, the red tires and droopy eyes, the slurred speech. I became that person I always looked down.
Sure, I dabbled in other drugs. What addict doesn’t at some point? I always seem to come back to spice. To be addicted to an obscure, unknown and yet highly dangerous drug was not acceptable in my world.
My cookie cutter life, where did it go? I envisioned a life of perfection (there is that word again) and calmed. I worked hard for what I had and wanted to continue this pattern to ensure a great future for me.
The picturesque family I could one day have perhaps. I quickly let it all go by the wayside to use this drug.
I think, in a way, all those things turned me to drugs. To spice, I never learned how to be myself truly. To be a person that makes mistakes and falls.
I needed to be perfect. That was ultimately a facade. It took me time to realize that no one will ever be perfect, no matter how they look on the outside. It is a fact.
If I had realized this sooner in life, maybe I could’ve reasoned with myself. Drugs are not the answer to the confusion about who I am. Maybe, it would’ve resonated with me that drugs only temporarily mask my moments of weakness.
But spice wasn’t all bad, was it? It heightened my euphoria (temporarily, but still), it made me fit in with the “cool” crowd so to speak. Those people were terrible, beautiful, and seemed untouchable.
The ones that did drugs and appeared to manage their lives. Wasn’t that what it was all about in the end? Feeling good and being liked? But at what cost?
My health began to deteriorate quickly. I couldn’t breathe. I gained a rapid about of weight in short amount of time because of the uncontrollable urge to want to eat after I smoked.
I was tearing stomach muscles from coughing so hard. I had bronchitis, laryngitis, a respiratory infection and my asthma had never been worse.
I rarely showered, did my hair or makeup there’s was no time! There was more spice to smoke, after all.
I began to realize that my desire to be someone I wasn’t worth giving up my health, for my family and hopes. I finally relinquished control that the addiction had over me.
I asked for help. Believe me; someone also offered me help. Sometimes was just given ultimatums: spice or my family. Spice or my boyfriend. Spice or my job.
I decided to take that help and their not so empty threats and finally went to treatment.
I cannot say that I stayed completely sober after completing treatment. Every time I relapsed, a voice whispered into my ear: “just one more.” As any addict knows, it’s never just one.
I was cocky and self-reassuring. But the relapses were different and shorter each time. Each time I came closer to the end. The end of the desire to want to smoke spice.
I needed a change. I wanted it for myself this time. When sobriety finally stuck months later, I took what I learned and utilized my skills and knowledge to help others. Which, in turn, helped me.
I talked about my experiences and the horrors spice brought to my life. And that could bring to them. It was part of my recovery process.
Eventually, I did become that smart, beautiful, funny and confident woman once again. She wasn’t gone or forgotten after all was said and done.
What I can say today is my life has potential and ability for growth, something that could’ve been lost forever with my use of spice.
I am grateful to the ones that stood by me and ultimately, encouraged me to take my life back.
I am educated. I have a great and supportive family. I am attractive. I am funny. I am confident. I am myself once again
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