I’m 31, and I’ve been using for a little over a year.
At the end of last year, I met what feels like my perfect person. And over time, I’ve had to come to terms with something that hurts like heck to admit: I’ve been choosing my addiction.
I’ve gotten to the point where I can finally admit that I need help. Which is honestly wild to me, because before I was actually living this, I didn’t really believe in addiction the way I do now. It’s one thing to hear about it. It’s another thing to realize you’re standing in it.
About two months ago, I had 30 days clean. Then I went back.
What scares me most isn’t just what I’m doing to myself. It’s knowing I’m pushing people away. Knowing that eventually, they may look at me and feel like I chose something over them. Knowing I don’t want them to feel that way. Knowing I don’t want to lose the people I love, my life, or everything I’ve worked for.
Tomorrow is Monday. Tonight, I threw away everything I had left.
That hurt. A lot. But I know what this addiction can take from me if I keep letting it.
So I’m here admitting it: I need help.
I don’t know exactly what the next part looks like yet. I just know I don’t want to lose everything before I finally decide it’s worth fighting for.
I want my life back. 