I spent 8 years lost in active addiction, from age 12 to age 20. If you want a story about miracles, I can tell you a story about miracles.
On january 9th, 2019, I was supposed to check into my 9th treatment center. My mom drove me all the way there, an hour and a half away. I refused to check myself in, and made her drive me all the way home. I started going through the house to find stuff to pawn, and she took my car. I saw her driving down the street in it and ran out of the house, chasing after her and screaming. After I realized she wasnt going to stop, I turned around and went back inside. When I sat on the couch, exhausted mentally and physically, I finally surrendered. When she got back home, I told her I'd check myself in, and she drove me all the way back. I checked myself into rehab and actually stayed. Miracle number one.
On July 3rd 2019, I had decided to relapse, and picked up a bag of dope. I sat on the gas station bathroom floor staring at it, contemplating the 6 months I was about to give up, when the man who was with me stopped breathing immediately after doing his bag and hit the floor. I jumped into action and gave him cpr and called 911. The cops never found the bag I had, and for days I looked for it, on my bedroom floor, in my pockets. I dont know if I would've done it or gotten rid of it, but I never found it. Miracle number two.
At my one year celebration, an old timer turned to me and said, so, how'd you do it? & I said, I have no fucking idea. I still dont. I never planned on making it past day one, much less making it to day 416. I have money in my bank account today, my life is peaceful. I go to meetings, go to work, I meditate and do step work, and I hardly ever think about using. My life isn't a crisis today. Miracle number three.
An addict, any addict, can stop using, lose the desire to use, and find a new way to live
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