When heroin is removed, all that remains is the obsession.
When you don’t have it, you’re antsy and anxious and depressed. You can’t enjoy the weather, people, music, movies, or art.
The idea that people can be outside mowing the lawn, or talking on the phone, or smiling and laughing is unfathomable.
“What is there to enjoy?”
It just doesn’t make sense.
You view the world and all of the people in it as an organic prison. You see people as slaves, trapped in a spiraling existence of total conformity.
You actually feel bad for them.
Why would they want to mow the lawn, or talk on the phone, or drive to work?
Is that really living?
You look out the window and feel bad for other people as your own body wastes away in darkness.
Lawnmowers growl and the sun peeks through a blanket that you thumb tacked against the window.
You roll over to stare at the wall and slam a fist into your face, wishing you were anywhere but here.
You turn the TV on and stare into the abyss.
In the darkness, you imagine the light. The warmth of an afternoon sun.
You envision yourself traveling, exploring the country and making friends. You see yourself waking up without sweaty bedsheets or stomach cramps.
You imagine yourself re-learning to live again, so you grit your teeth and endure the pain another hour longer…
You emerge from detox with a sense of urgency.
A willingness to fight.
On the way to your first meeting you contemplate never doing heroin again, but your head is conflicted….
“What if you change your mind? What if someone hits you up to score? You could use one more time…”
Before you think another thought, you toss the dope kit out of the window and into the river.
In your mind you see the scene as if it were a movie…
And you’re the hero.
You share in the meeting and tell everyone exactly where you’re at. What you did on the way there. The pain of detox you’d just endured.
The room is quiet as people listen attentively.
The meeting ends and you’re approached by someone. They say that they want to help.
You’re relieved because you don’t want to be alone.
You’re thankful because someone knows what to do.
And you’re hopeful because you don’t know what to expect.
You’ve never stopped sharing because that’s what saved you.
You made a decision to be honest and the world showed up to help.
You found answers in the process of trying; questioning, analyzing, and interpreting life as you attempted to make sense of it.
People say that you’re helping them, but it’s not entirely true…
They are helping you.
You wake up in the morning and bask in the rays of an afternoon sun.
You hear lawnmowers and people and laughter and it doesn’t hurt.
It makes sense.
You pick up the phone and make a call.
And on the other end is a person who wants to get better…
Just like you.