Excited Fearless and Hopeful
The first time I tried you in a needle I was excited, fearless and hopeful. Three traits which fueled my addiction from the very first bottle of vodka and first blunt I ever smoked. Five and half years later and I can still vividly remember this fateful day. I was excited to have found a “real dope dealer”, you know someone shady ridding with a gun on their lap, hidden behind tinted windows in their car parked in an alley, an upgrade in my twisted mind from the college dorm room and house down the street which had supplied my sustenance up until now. I was fearless of the dope dealer, illegal activity, potential overdoses and consequences of my actions. Nothing bad would happen to me. I was too smart to let my drug use turn into an addiction I could not control. I was not phased by your warning not to blame you when my life gets fucked up and out of control after I asked if you could show me how to shoot up heroin. Yes, I asked. Yes, I wanted this (or so I thought). No one pressured me to into shooting up for the first time. I was content with my combination of crushed painkillers with my cranberry juice and vodka, weed and snorted heroin. I was content until I saw the immediate relief and high you experienced as you pushed down the plunger of the needle. I remained fearless even after seeing your breathing slow and lips turn blue in the passenger seat of my car. That hit didn’t kill you, it showed me what I wanted. I was hopeful that day you helped show me how to find a vein. Pulled over on a side street somewhere in the city you told me to get out of the driver’s seat and into the passenger’s seat. You would drive in case something happened to me. With the seatbelt tied around my arm you found a vein and I experienced what I thought would be my saving grace. A high so great I could take on the world, be carefree and not feel the emotional pain and emptiness that lead to me to this place. I was hopeful that ten dollars of heroin, a spoon and a needle would be all I needed to finally feel whole.
Fast forward a year and two arrests later, and you will find me at my lowest. Desperately trying to sell some stolen item at the pawn shop, shaking and sweating as I wait for them to hand me the money. Calling the dope dealer before I am even out of the front door asking if their good. Feeling a small amount of relief when I hear “yes, come through” on the other end of the phone. Driving and waiting where they tell me to, handing over the money and receiving my life handed to me in small plastic baggie. Pull over somewhere or head to a gas station bathroom to struggle to find a vein and stop shaking enough to hit it with a dull, reused needle and repeating this cycle repeatedly, day in and day out. My life was consumed with money and drugs, money and drugs, money and drugs. Nothing else mattered to me and I did not care what I had to do to for just one more hit. One more hit to feel complete, to feel at peace and help me forget that my life was in complete shambles, causing harm and destruction in every area of my life.
Excited, fearless and hopeful. Once three traits which worked against me as my drug use I once thought I could control progressed into an uncontrollable addiction. An addiction which left me wanting it all desperately to end, whether that be at the hands of an abusive boyfriend or a perfect hit drawn up in a needle. Today I am over four years clean and still excited, fearless and hopeful. Excited about the possibilities my future holds for me, fearless as a I continue to excel in school and further my education and hopeful that one day I will be able to make a difference in the lives of those struggling with addiction.
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