A Broken Spirit

I did not ask nor choose to be an addict, I suffer from a disease. My disease isolated me from people. Resentful and self-seeking, I cut myself off from the outside world. My world shrank and isolation became my life. I used drugs to keep up, to give me energy, and to continue throughout my day. It became the only way of life that I knew. I was caught in the grip of my disease. Failure and fear began to invade my life.

One aspect of my addiction was my inability to deal with life on life's terms. I tried drugs to cope with a seemingly hostile world. My ultimate problem was myself. At times- all the time I was defensive about my addiction and would try to justify my right to use esp. When I had a prescription for them.

My life seemed to be a nightmare, and I became that person no one deserved, a mother my boys did not need. My spirit was broken, the capacity of feeling human was long gone. I was my own monster in my very own nightmare.

As my addiction progressed I was searching for the answer- that person, place, or thing that would make everything alright. I lacked the ability to cope with daily living.

There was something wrong with my life and I wanted an easy way out. I felt overwhelmed with worthlessness. I was trapped.

I believe there is nothing shameful about being an addict, as long as I take a positive action with my dilemma.

I am allergic to drugs. My reaction to drugs is what makes me an addict, NOT how, nor WHAT I USED.

When others told me I had a problem, I thought the world was wrong and I was always right. In all honesty, I knew the drugs were killing me long before I could ever admit it to anyone else.

Before becoming sober I had forgotten what life was like before I started using. I had forgotten how to be legit happy, how to express myself, and how to feel. When I was using I was living in another world. 

Drugs would give me that feeling that I could handle whatever situation might develop.

After seeking help and becoming sober, then it was easier for me to see the destruction, disaster, and the delusion of my using.

 I use to regret the past, dreaded the future, and weren't to thrilled of the present. I was a prisoner of my own mind and was condemned by my own guilt. I used drugs to cover my feelings.