addiction
The realities of addition; the truth about living under, above and beyond the influence of drugs and alcohol.
I’m Sorry
She stood over me, watching my eyes dance and look all over the room except at her. Her arms crossed and her body still. Towering over me, she stood motionless. I felt imprisoned by her eyes. Numb and expressionless, she bound me. And now, I was numb too. Overcome with the fact that she now knew what I've hid for so long, I suddenly felt emotionless and empty. The agonizing fear that once overcame me, and made me hide from the world was now my reality. I suppose you never really think it's real if the only one who knows it is you. And here she was. And she knew.
By Maja Zulovic7 years ago in Psyche
Finding Yourself in Sobriety
When I came out of treatment I had no idea who I was anymore. That might sound dramatic but thats honestly how I felt. I always knew myself as the “party girl” and thought thats what made people like me. Boy oh boy was I delusional… I used to think that was one of my best qualities, but in reality I think it was the quality people liked least about me. I remember coming out of treatment and for the first few weeks I think I cried almost every night in bed. I just felt so lonely… I had people around me too, so I wasn’t actually alone, but you know that feeling when your in a room full of people but still feel completely alone? That's what I was going through. The only thought that kept popping into my head was “who the fuck am I?” To be completely honest, being in addiction made me quiet self-centred and I thought everything revolved around me, and when I came out of treatment, I may have not been using drugs or alcohol but lets be real…
By Kyra Scott7 years ago in Psyche
Addiction
It’s time we get real about addiction. I’m not worried about what society tells you that you need to believe. I’m going to tell you the truth about addiction, and I’m qualified to do that because I was an addict. A doper and a soaker is what they called me. I popped pills and when that stopped working, I lost myself in the bottom of a bottle.
By Phoenixx Fyre Dean7 years ago in Psyche
Breaking the Cycle of Addiction. Top Story - December 2018.
I first discovered I had an addictive nature at the age of 18. I had recently started a part time job as a lottery sales clerk at our local grocery store. The job within itself was easy enough. My only role was to sale computer generated lottery tickets and scratch off cards to hopeful consumers. There was a lot of downtime involved with this position and to fill the void I would purchase a scratch off or two to entertain myself. One particular day I bought a $1 card and low and behold I won fifty bucks!
By Latrice Jones7 years ago in Psyche
5 Minutes
It was my first day off after a crazy Black Friday weekend at work. I was looking forward to sleeping in and engaging in some enjoyable activities and all around just relax. The day started out good, but as with most of my stories, sure didn't end that way.
By Jeffrey Joseph7 years ago in Psyche
Plants vs. Drugs
Autumn was falling again. The leaves were orange-ing and yellow-ing, and they still reminded me of that apartment in Haddonfield, New Jersey. Where all the leaves would clog the drains when the northeastern rains would fall and leave rust like skeleton stains all over the sidewalks. And the air was always cold and damp; the kind that bit at your skin and soul.
By Danielle Dragani7 years ago in Psyche
Unspoken Words
Tonight I gazed upon you and saw utter exhaustion. It may have been the guilt. It hurts me to see you this way. Yet no one can talk to you about it, about financial issues, or even hold conversation about life in general for more than five minutes. It's as though we're boring you. Maybe it's because we're interrupting whatever plans you're contemplating in your head. Most days, when I look at you I see a troubled man. A man that has dug himself in so deep. He doesn't know how to get out. However, he's afraid to admit that he needs help. The right help that is: Mental help. Before all of this exhaustion, I saw a handsome young man. A man with dreams and possibilities. A man that at the same time was afraid to move forward. If I wasn't there to do it for him, he would not budge. I wanted to hold your hand and guide you, but you just wanted me to do it all for you. I don't understand the physics of this way of thinking. The more I tried to push you to do it for yourself, it's as if it's the more you distance yourself. Then the sleep deprivation begins to produce unreal images of thoughts that you think are real. Now it's been so long, there's no way to start fresh—for you at a least. I understand it's a constant fight for you. That your own thoughts must be attacking you. But you are strong. You can do this. You can take the beast by the horns and flip it to the ground. But you must first truly want to win. I noticed you get discouraged easily. I also see how unmotivated you can be. It saddens me. I guess because my motivation comes from being told I can't do something. It comes from the words of others trying to bring me down, from trying to stop me, from trying to prevent me from succeeding my hopes and dreams. It may take me awhile to get where I want to go, but I know it takes time. It takes dedication, sweat, and sometimes even blood to reach those hopes and dreams. However, when those hopes and dreams come easy, we get cocky and greedy. That's when they can easily be taken away. It's almost like karma comes in and reminds us of how easy she can ruin us, or provide for our actions. If you're good to someone, it's returned; if your bad to someone, it's returned. Funny how it works that way. The past few days I wonder whatever happened to you? What in God's name led you down this path? It breaks my heart to know that something, someone once hurt you so bad. That this precious child of God has been corrupted by drugs and who knows what else. Wake up, my love, wake up from this terrible nightmare. Come into the light out of the darkness. Allow me to hold you and tell you I'm here. Allow me to love you and bring you up. Let me encourage you to rise. Let me be your guidance. As I watch you leave and as I hear you say, "I'll be back." I'm left here wondering. I pray for your safety. I pray for your return. I'm here waiting—that's all I can do. Only because I'm trying not to fail you. I know there's only so much I can do. How long before enough is enough. How long before I have to move on? Prayers and request, along with pleads and demands, can only go on for so long.
By Deborah Portillo7 years ago in Psyche
Life of an Addict with Paraplegia (Pt. 8)
I want to write a chapter to try to explain why I'm writing these entries. I don't want to glorify drugs in any way. There were times that I had a lot of fun, while I was using. But, once I was diagnosed as an addict, whether I knew it at the time or not, on the inside I was miserable. I was unable to do what I wanted to do. I had to do whatever the drugs allowed me to do. Let me explain what I mean.
By Fellow Knee7 years ago in Psyche
