We admitted we were powerless over our addiction, that our lives had become unmanageable.
We tried to stop, but we couldn’t. It wasn’t even remotely fun anymore. No matter how much we drank, we couldn’t reach the point where we felt good. No matter how much we smoked, snorted, swallowed, or shot, the rush of getting high just wasn’t there. We were walking misery. Sick and tired but unable to quit. Like the boxer past his prime, we couldn’t resist getting in the ring, even if it meant death.
Walking by a mirror, we no longer recognized the face we’d see. Who was this stranger? Who had we become?
Darkness under the swollen eyelids, red, empty eyes, all but lifeless, except for each struggling breath I took. Did I need a boost or a lift? Maybe I needed to come down, ease up, relax. Confused. I didn’t have a conscience anymore. There wasn’t a line a wouldn’t cross. There were no boundaries I would obey. Nothing mattered. Just feed my addiction. Let me get my fix. Leave me alone. I don’t want your help. I don’t have a problem—YOU have a problem! I’m fine. Where am I again? How did I get here? I did what? Really?
If only I could stop. I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m finished. I don’t like feeling this way. Who’s out there? Did you hear that? I know you heard it. Don’t lie to me. Crap. How did that get there? I wonder if I hit anybody. That’s an awfully big dent. How did it get there? Why are the police here again? What do they think I did now?
I just want to stop. Help me. Please. Help me. I didn’t mean to turn out this way. It started simply enough. It was just one drink. It was just a little toke.
Looking up to see bottom, I don’t see any way out of here.
If you need help, it’s out there. You don’t have to live this way. You can stop. You can get your life back. Question is: are you ready?