I had 6 months clean - the longest stretch of time since I was 16 years old. I was doing good, but not really. Mentally I was beginning to crumble. My mind began to wander. I couldn’t stop thinking about using. The obsession began and I could not make it stop. I went to meetings every day. But I didn’t talk about it. They told me to find a sponsor, but I never called her. They told me to be of service, but I sat on my ass. So the thought of using crept in, and it stayed in my head until I eventually would succumb to my demons.
It started with xanax, of course. But that wasn’t enough, of course. I then got ahold of fake oxy30s - the blues. The blues became crystal. I found myself twisting the pipe and holding the straw in between my lips. I was a junkie again. And I kept it a secret, because I was so ashamed.
It gets worse. After smoking the blues, my ex asked if I wanted to hit some pure fentanyl. I said yes. I took one hit - and wow. Did I feel good! I took another hit, and blackness overcame my blurry vision. Just…black. Nothing. I suddenly woke up, gasping for air. There were hospital lights above me. I was naked. Doctors and nurses surrounded me. Oxygen was flowing through tubes up my nose. I was confused, then hit with the sudden realization that I had overdosed.
It was horrible. I silently wept, ashamed and sickened that I had ended up here. The doctor told me I had turned purple. She told me that my heart had stopped beating and that I was not breathing. She told me if I waited any later, I would have been dead. I am so disgusted with myself. I can’t even look in the mirror.
This happened almost 2 weeks ago, and I can’t get it out of my head. I haven’t used since Sunday. It was so hard to stay clean today. It was so hard to stay clean this week. I want to use again, and it’s completely fucked up. I am fucked up mentally and I don’t know what to do. The worst part is - is that nobody knows. I kept my overdose a secret and I don’t intend to tell anyone - maybe I will if years pass me by. But, I’m lucky to be alive. I’m lucky to be typing this.
I feel so alone. I feel like my soul has been sucked out of my body. I try to pray to God; I cry to Her every night. Sometimes all day. I can’t seem to get out of this funk, and that is why I am writing right now. Please, pray for me. Pray that I can stay strong. I need help. I don’t know what to do. So I just type, and type, praying for relief.
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