addiction
The realities of addition; the truth about living under, above and beyond the influence of drugs and alcohol.
Sobriety Timeline and Milestones
”Where do I start?” is one of the many questions I see in articles, forums and online communities nowadays from people looking for help in trying to navigate their own way through recovery from drug addiction and alcohol abuse. I began my journey at the age of 19 and am coming up on 9 years completely sober from alcoholism and poly-substance abuse. These are my experiences, in a timeline fashion, to help shed some light on how and when things progressed for me and hopefully answer some of those questions for others!
By Jordan Crowley5 years ago in Psyche
Yellow and Whites
She believed one of those little yellow and whites would change the tide for her as well her generations to come. If only she could win. If only those five white balls would descend with the right red one coming after. She would squirrel away single tips, change in a little mason jar, and would pick up every lost coin she stumbled upon. Because who knew? It only took a few dollars to change her story. She would buy from the grocery store, from the little convenient store on the corner, and even an app when only download guaranteed two free tickets. Right when she was on the precipice of giving up, of ridding herself of this silly dream, of this silly hope, she would hit. $2 here. $4 there. Once a $20 ticket yielded $17. A score that would drag her back down into the thick of it. She convinced herself it was innocent. Just a few bucks here, just a few bucks there. She didn’t smoke, she gave up drinking, so why couldn’t she have this one vice? One was normal and two were a problem, right? And if she won, it would all be worth it. An investment. Yes, an investment. But every loss stung. It felt as if though God, if there was one was disappointed as hell and Satan was dancing all around her. Or perhaps the other way around. Through the insistence of innocence, she could not quite shake off that damned burning sensation that would creep up her neck as she shoved those dollars into the machine, as she could not quite make eye contact with the gas station clerk every time she asked for her fix. That creeping shame to it all that she would chase away as she stuffed those small, square papers into her pocket. Yet, it always came back. All in time.
By Jess Mason5 years ago in Psyche
The Empty Man
It was the foliage that drew me to those apartments. The view through the large white gate to the main building was like looking into some exotic palace's courtyard. The driveway tiled in red and canopied in green created an illusion of beauty that the dilapidated buildings couldn't muster autonomously. Our home was the first apartment to the left. It wasn't anything special. In unification with the heavy air brought in from the ocean, a large wooden armoire engendered the mildew that perfumed the air inside. A black trash bag fastened with duct tape replaced the glass in the window over the kitchen counter. It didn't matter how rigorously I scrubbed the small bathroom. It never met the clean standard that my home in the United States had set.
By Alexi Hastings 5 years ago in Psyche
Lady Luck
Stepping into the betting shop, the familiar scent of cheap carpet and despair didn't stand a chance to the renewed hope that had come to inhabit Jasper. He couldn't help but think that this was a sign. This was his chance to turn things around, why else would that had happened? Earlier in the day he had received an email from Laura in accounting informing him that payroll had made a mistake and that he had been paid £20,000 this month instead of his regular £2,000. She had apologised for the inconvenience and assured him that this would be corrected on Monday morning. It had always been easy for Jasper to see connections and patterns in anything that supported his urges. Gambling was one of them. Growing up in a family that ran a horse breeding business hadn't created the healthiest environment for his disposition, however even then, Jasper was convinced that it had all been for a reason.
By Maria Vulfovitch5 years ago in Psyche
The End of the Rainbow
Hands are the most revealing of all body parts: they might not leak with emotion, like one’s eyes; they might not melt into grey and fall with age, like one’s hair. In contrast, they are a reflection of every moment in one’s life, holding memories of dances and fights, affection and war, love and labour.
By Alfie Saunders5 years ago in Psyche
This Time, Four Days In
Vertigo. Stomach upset. Lightheadedness. And a feeling that I’m stuck in a “damned if I do, damned if I don’t” mode. I haven't “enjoyed” my usual nightly schooners of wine in four days. I decided that I want to take a break. Note, I didn’t say “quit,” as I only set myself up for failure when I make such pronouncements. I’m hoping some of you understand this.
By Sherry McGuinn5 years ago in Psyche
Against the Maple
Buffalo County sits thick in fog as my mother and I put the finishing touches on our faces. It’s too early for anyone to be doing their makeup. The kind of early that when the sun finally reaches and stretches into the sky, it reveals patches and crooked lines upon the face. But now, here in the dim light before dawn, Mom looks beautifully made up. Tired-but gorgeous. The skin under her arm hangs loose as she blots her red lipstick, weighed down by the day’s task.
By Ian Hardeman5 years ago in Psyche
Nights are Different in Hospitals
Nights are different in hospitals. It's quieter yet murmuring restlessly with a dry whispery voice all its own. Felt more than heard, the pain of the suffering, the comfort of pain relieved, the Souls transitioning that couldn't bear to leave with their families around. They instead depart quietly, holding the hands of family waiting for them, then almost running towards others in the misty distance. Joy
By Jimmie Sherrill5 years ago in Psyche
Run For It
The train jerked forward and I collapsed in my seat, fumbling the zipper on my jacket to make sure I still had it. The envelope. I squeezed my hands around the stack of bills inside, just to feel it was real. I wiped sweat from my forehead, shrugged out of my jacket, tucking the crisp white envelope under my leg. The only way to know it was real was to touch it, keep it close to my body. The train rocked the brick of money into my sore, tired leg.
By Melanie Alexander5 years ago in Psyche
Debts
My first day home after three years, and I already knew I was making a mistake. The girl was sitting out on the lawn when I pulled up. She wasn’t playing, just sitting there and staring down the street, so she was already looking at me when I turned the corner. All I could think was that I didn’t recognize her. I got out of the truck.
By Nicholas Moschetto5 years ago in Psyche
Short-Lived
“Abby! You’re going to be late for your own graduation!” Abigail’s mother yells from the island in the kitchen. Abigail tosses clothes from inside of her closet, rolling her eyes at her mother’s screeching. She grabs her cap and gown and throws the gown over her shoulder. She slides her feet into her flats and heads for the stairs.
By Michelle Santana5 years ago in Psyche
