As we sit in a room shut off from society, borded up windows, old musk smelling lounges and nothing but a bottle of water, pen and paper on a table. We all sit anxiously as the little bag filled with the chemical infused substance is bought out along with a glass pipe. Our eyes widen and there is a slight sparkle just like a child on christmas. We are all craving a hit to keep us going for the next 12 hours. living day by day, hour by hour wanting more and more, never having enough to keep each and everybody satisfied. Within an hour $300 is gone as fast as it arived.
The conversations start, turning into a deep dark confession session where nothing is judged and there is no right or wrong. This is followed by triggers of emotions coming to the serfice of each of us. Evil has raised its ugly head. peaceful, friendly conversations, supporting one another and being as a one happy family turns sour as we all come down. Aggression and hate, survival instinct. We need meth.
Images of a zombie apocalypse or starving ethiopians come to mind. All fighting for the one thing to get us through. Its desterbing and hard to comprehend. What went so terribly wrong for us all to be in this possistion? I was happy, married, had a loving family, great loyal friends and a job. I lived in a beautiful house and my husband bought in enough money to keep us living a comfortable lifestyle. What went wrong? Why did I do it?
I started smoking meth to lose weight. I continued because it stopped the pain. A few months before I was engaged I was faced with a monster I hadnt heard or seen in years. The man that had molested me as a child. My mums ex boyfriend.
“There is a guy at mine and he knows your family. He knows your dad, your real dad!” My friend had told me. She didnt know what his name was. All she knew was that her boyfriend’s friend bought this man over and he knew me and my family. Nobody that lives in my small town knows my real dad unless they are bad news. I was curious. “He said you are a slut” my friend told me, this is something that doesn’t shock me as I was promiscuous in my younger days. I walked in with my son by my side and saw him sitting, smiling a grin only a predator would grin.
My heart skipped a beat, my throat felt tight and my stomach dropped. My face would have looked shocked. I felt sick and I walked out. Nobody knew my secret except my fiance and my mum. I couldn’t hold back the tears. I went to my mothers and told her that this pig was in town. She brushed it under the rug “Hope he leaves as quick as he came” and nothing else was said. This broke me. My soon to be husband took a stand and went looking for him, but it was too late, the horrible beast had left.
Months went past and I was planing my wedding. It was time to make the decision about the roles in my wedding. I called my father (a man i dont have a very loving relationship with).”Would you like to walk me down the isle or should i do it myself. I have already given myself to my fiance by giving him our son” I said. After coping abuse my father hung up. For weeks and weeks I tried to call asking him to walk me down. However there was no answer. I asked if he was coming to my wedding. “I dont see why I would” was his reply.
That was all i could cope with… My heart was broken. Nothing eased the pain untill i was introduced to the pipe and the “friends” the people who “stuck by me” the people I saw as “family”
lonelyrecovery 