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Diary of an addict
“The first use”
Sensitive or triggering topics for those suffering addiction or in recovery. Read with caution.
I was a Barely turned Seventeen year old student sitting in freezing cold fields with people 10 years older than me supplying both alcohol and tobacco on a weekly basis since 15, these people had no business at all being around such young students. One was actually a faculty member at my school despite being the age I am now, He had a girlfriend in my year who was just 16. For some reason at the time I didn’t believe anything was off or bizarre about that behaviour or why adults wanted to hang around or be in relationships with minors -only with age did that disgust come and still haunts me to this day.
Prior to the day:
I had lost my adoptive father of a heart aneurysm whilst I laid on a couch hungover in a strangers house, I remember the blaring bass of a terrible band playing, at the time i used my biological dads home as a pit stop between where I was living and said field since my friends lived in the same town he did however it was passing ships in the night and we never saw eachother, however that day I came back to said pit stop and he was here and he was the one to break the news to me, and I felt entirely betrayed that no one told me prior, as I would’ve had the opportunity to say goodbye before he went into major surgery and died on the table, little did I know between then and his funeral id also be dumped by my first boyfriend for not “acting like myself” my world crumbled at my feet, I had no barrier no safety, no friends who cared about anything other than their next fix and not even my school questioned anything when I never showed up again.
I was completely and utterly left to the elements of the darkness in this world. Older men, alcohol abuse, self harming, sleeping on benches in the dead of winter outside hostels, letting my education fall down the gutter.
Nothing I did felt like a way out, I was at one point a “girly girl” I had been raised in a way that didn’t fit the scene I was in, so you can imagine a girl showing up to a drum and bass rave in platform heels a peplum dress, tights and blonde long hair amongst again older people who were there for two reason, drugs & music. The looks I got and the comments saying I should’ve been elsewhere and to be careful looking back I should’ve listened. My mind however was not so clean as my exterior made out, I didn’t think the person I was raised to be by my adoptive father would look at drugs that had been snuck into an event up someone’s lower cavity as appealing but alas they were and from then it was a slippery slope and as quick as that night went by I was there constantly Thursdays Fridays Saturdays every week became a repeat of any drug I could get my hands on, no matter who it came from no matter what it was. Eventually it turned from doing it at night to doing it alone in the day because I couldn’t manage any come down without risking my life in my own hands the come downs were horrific. My mental health slipped further than it had ever been, I had relapsed back into severe anorexia and weighed a measly 85lbs. I went to a unit, where I was told any help would take atleast a year of waiting to be accepted, I was visually and physically in disrepair, and was so angry that despite crying out for help, I got none. I re enrolled in education but throughout was an addict, traumatised by the words and disappointment once again put on me by my biological father who I had no option of living with once again, I destroyed myself getting A* after A* with no sleep or support because if I got less I was petrified I’d fall back into the physical abuse I withstood from his hands as a child.
I am unsure why I decided to share the start of my journey today, but maybe it felt time to openly speak about it. All I know is I wish more than anything that I could cradle that little girl, who put out for everyone else but never for herself.
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