Don't smoke meth.
Seriously don't do it. This is why:
1. It eats more than just your teeth -- it eats your soul.
2. The number one reason explains it all.
Where and why am I coming from/at with all this?
Well for the past nine months I fell into the darkest darkness I have ever experienced in all my years as a struggling drug addict. The abyss that was my addiction led me to pimping, violence, and on the roof of my apartment building wanting to jump into the busy streets of downtown Dallas. I cannot describe in words the emptiness I felt ontop of 1623 Mainstreet, looking down, wanting it all to just end. But alas, I wasn't completely hollow. No, I still had an ounce of my soul that hadn't been robbed from me. I still had a girl who despite my best efforts, still loved me. I had a family that hadn't given up on me, and I was still breathing air. I wasn't entirely dead inside, which at the time was enough to talk me down off the ledge.
This is heavy shit, and if you feel like judging me then judge away. I don't really give a fuck. My experience in the dark has made me stronger than most. I have experienced more anguish in my 25 years on earth than most people do in a lifetime, and I consider that fact one of my greatest strengths, not my greatest weakness.
I sit here now nearly three months without a mind altering chemical in my body, and the fog is just beginning to clear. I see light at the end of this hell hole. My bursts of rage that landed me in the hospital (psych hospital that is) have subsided. I am filling the shell of a man that I was with the shattered pieces of my being. Slowly but surely I am coming back.
To those who struggle with an addiction or to those who have gotten clean (there are more of us out there than I think people realize), you know what I am talking about -- the first 90 days are hell. And hell it has been. I almost didn't make it out this time. I don't think I have another one in me honestly. I learned (again) the hard way. I can't do dope. I can't smoke meth, weed, heroin, spice, crack, peyote, and I can't drink the beloved ice cold beer at the end of the day. I don't have the control. I take one and I want another. It is my nature. Finally, I have no reservations about that fact. I have no qualms about abstaining from drugs and alcohol, and I have no reservations about asking for help. I cannot afford to muddy my mental water with the temptation of a final drink, or a final hit. It's done.
Subscribe to Cameron Banowsky
Get the latest posts delivered right to your inbox