It was my second day at the rehabilitation center. I had not yet made any trustable friends since most of my time I just asked myself how I had gotten that far into drug addiction.
Ten years ago, I was an innocent mama’s boy who was so revered that I was my mother’s favorite kid. It is true that I had heard of cases where people had been killed by drug overdoses or from the long-term effects of drugs. I had never thought that I could ever find myself in such a situation. However, here I was staring at the white painted ceiling wondering how I had got it.
When I started using drugs, I guess seven years ago; I had not specialized in any drugs. I had done a few sticks of weed, snorted cocaine occasionally but fully got into using meth when it hit the streets.
We guys loved the new drug since it was cheap. With just a few bucks you could get a couple of grams that could last you a week. This is how I got into it.
It was on a Sunday evening, as a rebellious yet loved son, I had left home very early that I had not even taken breakfast. Mom had already gotten tired of my behavior, and he was no longer concerned about me. A friend came with a few grams. Meth was as potent as I had earlier heard from friends. It took over someone’s mind delivering a gush of “pleasure” no knowing that we were digging our graves.
We had found a new solace, where we could spend every dollar we could manage to steal. It was cheap, yes, but we could not manage to get bucks for our increasing addiction. During this period, I had almost spent a month in the streets where we were in constant conflicts with several drug dealers. Our debts had started to increase, and I watched as one of my best friends almost get shot in the head for failing to pay 50 bucks on time, I knew this was a bad road.
Personally, my skin had started to peel off, and I had lost several of my teeth. I, myself, had even escaped death by a whisker a few times. I felt deep within me that it was time to stop using the drug. I had lost my life and even my body. I wondered whether even if I stopped, I could regain my life.
Despite the fact that I had lost my real self, I was not ready to lose my life. One of the evenings while it was raining, I made up my mind to return home. I did not except mom to accept me back, but she was there always like the caring mom I had known. I gave her part of my story, and she was convinced that I was ready to change.
She made plans for me to get admitted in one of the local rehabs where she would come to visit frequently. Already, I had started feeling better. I knew that I had lost several of my friends and also lost a drug that had been a companion for more than seven years ago. Speaking to mom alone gave me the feeling of wanting my life back. I will fight my way until I recover fully from this addiction and let everyone know my story along the way.