A letter to my psychologist
You said the first step in treating a problem is acknowledgement.
The word you used was addiction.
Addict.
But, that word fits loosely around my slender shoulders.
Addiction is recounting the pills 16 times to make sure you have enough to last the week.
Addiction is hiding in the bathroom at work so no one sees you take your 5th pill of the day.
Addiction is canceling plans with friends because you are too high to stand let alone drive.
Addiction is making plans with friends because you feel so fucking good right now.
Addiction is stealing.
Addiction is lying to your family about how many pills you took today.
Addiction makes you feel dirty and ashamed and alone.
I know addiction.
Before I moved, I was taking upwards to 700mg a day because I was not afraid of dying.
I was mixing my drugs with other people's drugs.
I was mixing my pain killers with 5 shots of rum.
I was putting so much poison into my body that it couldn't handle water the following day.
I overdosed.
While a friend stayed the night to make sure I could breathe on my own.
I know addiction.
When you first saw me.
My usage was at 150mg a day.
Now, it's at 50.
36 days I was able to stay completely clean.
Addiction doesn't fit right in my mouth any more.
I have no physical attachments to the drugs.
But they help my depression better than any antidepressant ever did.
I do not stress over whether I have enough to last.
I don't rearrange funds to buy more.
I stopped drinking.
Call me, an abuser.
Like all the people who made me turn to drugs in the first place.
Call me a pill-pusher
Like big pharmaceuticals.
Call me, self-medicating
Because I found something that sometimes works.
Call me, a work in progress
Because I am still alive.
I know, taking any pills at all is not ideal by your standards.
But I'm not who I was.
I'm not where I've been.
The blood in my veins isn't toxic.
My stomach isn't empty.
My eyes aren't pin needles.
My memory isn't shit.
I'm not as impulsive as I was in the past.
I have control again.
I have control again.
Addiction, doesn't share control.












