I remember it like it was yesterday. My three friends and I were parked in a car at a park, as the rain beat down on the roof of the car. We were getting high on heroin and I had just got done doing my hit. I look over at my friend in the drivers seat and she was nodding out, barely able to hold her head up from her chest. My other friend in the back seat was mumbling something and I could just barely make out what he was saying. My friend next to me finally lifted her head up and stared at me with glossy, red eyes and said in a raspy voice. "We won't be doing this forever. One day we will get our shit together and grow out of this. We will all have families and live normal lives. I promise." I smiled and every one of us in the car agreed in unison. At twenty-one years old we truly believed to the depths of our core that this was the truth for us and that this was only a phase. Like the many, many phases kids go through in middle school and high school. We were so convinced that we would all grow out of this and go on to lead normal lives.
Everyone who was in that car that night is now dead except for me. None of us really knew how bad it was going to get. Or that our lives were at risk. None of them were bad people. They just all got caught up in something bad. Something that places it's hooks inside of you. Something that doesn't let go easily and something that doesn't grant you forgiveness. It doesn't care if you have a family. It doesn't care if you have kids, or a future. Or people who love you and depend on you. Addiction isn't a phase. It isn't something that you can do for a little bit and then stop and just be fine, especially heroin. It literally steals your soul and makes you feel as if you will die without it.
I wish I could say that after their deaths I pulled myself together. I wish I could say that my friends all dying led me to be better and do better and to lead a more productive life but that would be a lie. Them dying should have woken me up. It should have shown me what I was toying with and why I shouldn't mess around with it, not even as a once in a while thing. But instead it made me want it more because of what it did to me internally. My mental health became my prime excuse on why I couldn't stop.
We all have things that we try and hide from. Things that make us prey to God, or whatever it is we believe in, to help us. My internal demons are what kept me using. My demons are what made me continue to be a drug addict well into my late 20's and early 30's. I was able to stop using here and there, my longest time without using drugs was close to six years. But I never dealt with the things that triggered me. Which then would always end up triggering my relapse later on, regardless of how long I went without using.
Since the night that my friend had said that to me, I've had another six friends I grew close to, overdose and die. I have overdosed countless times, some on purpose but the majority on accident. It's sad when you begin to believe that the way you are going to die, is going to be due to an overdose. It's heartbreaking when you believe that this path of life, is the one that you are meant to be on. I know that this cant possibly be true, but the things our brain tells us we begin to believe after it replaying in our heads for so long.
My story has never been told to a living soul. The only person who knows all of the things that I bury deep inside of me is me alone. I believe it is time to share my story with anybody who wants to hear it. I have lived through things that a lot of people don't survive. And it all correlates with my choice to participate in drugs. It isn't pretty, and it isn't something I will be proud to share but my hope with it is that the people who are perhaps struggling to get clean, or for those who are clean but are struggling with thoughts of using, that my story will help those people to see that a life using drugs is a life that will end a lot quicker than anyone had ever intended it to.