My Fight

Things are always different for an outsider. One that has no idea what you are going through.

Back Then...
I was never really a book reader. Sure, I read the required books in high school. I didn't become a cult fan of the books like "The Catcher in the Rye" or care too much for "To Kill a Mockingbird." Only one book stood out for me. A book I had to read in Psychology class. "Go Ask Alice." Mostly because I read it during my recovering from addiction years. Since no one really knew what I was going through, that book helped me remember why I was going through it. I wanted to live.

ad·dic·tion
\ə-ˈdik-shən, a-\
noun
1: the quality or state of being addicted
2: compulsive need for and use of a habit-forming substance (as heroin, nicotine, or alcohol) characterized by tolerance and by well-defined physiological symptoms upon withdrawal ; broadly : persistent compulsive use of a substance known by the user to be harmful


with·draw·al \-ˈdrȯ(-ə)l\
1 a: the act of taking back or away something that has been granted or possessed b: removal from a place of deposit or investment c (1): the discontinuance of administration or use of a drug (2): the syndrome of often painful physical and psychological symptoms that follows discontinuance of an addicting drug

Addiction is like a lover that sneaks into your life, takes over your life, and then refuses to leave. Yes, like a lover.
Because in those moments...when you are so high, feeling ten feet tall and bullet proof with no pain and no worries...you believe that pill you took or whatever your drug of choice was, you believe that it loves you.
And you love it because it took away that memory, that pain, that hurt, that worry, that fist, those words...everything. You are blissfully numb and you think that you are in the middle of the worlds greatest love affair.

My addiction refused to leave without a knock down, drag out fight. I was determined to win. Like I said, I wanted to LIVE. And if a person ever tells you that withdrawals are easy, they are lying and have no idea what addiction really is.

Withdrawal...good God. Pain, so much pain. I swore my marrow hurt. Sweat. Freezing. Shaking. Nausea. Hallucinations. Paranioia.
Again, I told my mom I had the flu. I'm sure if she wasn't working so much, she would have figured it out. During the day, while she was at work, I would sit in the corner of my room, sweating to death but freezing to the core. I'd pull the fibers from the carpet in my clinched fists as I'd bite my lip so hard it would bleed. So many times I was sure I was going to die. I heard voices and swore they were angels coming to take me away.

It was the worst physical and mental experience of my life. I didn't see day light for at least two weeks. But finally, things subsided enough for me to feel confident I could go outside without freaking out. I still stayed away from my friends, though. Slowly, I began to realize that they weren't worthy of being called friends anyway. They would be the first to drag me back down.

Yeah, I never really read much, but that book...it could have, would have, and almost was...me.