Why I still write about addiction

Recently someone I respect suggested that I put this all behind me, and this was someone who used to have a problem with cocaine years ago. This wasn’t the first time I heard this kind of sentiment though, but rather one of several. It has been suggested to me many times that my addiction was long enough ago for me not to think about it or mention it any more. Well, maybe one day it will be, but that day is not today.

In my years of addiction, I put myself in a dark place, and caused myself years of pain. I can’t let go. Not yet, maybe not ever. I don’t know how it works for other people, but for me, my memories take me back there at the oddest and most unexpected moments, and every so often I am forced to relive some of my worst experiences. Besides that, there are many things, sometimes things have no real connection with addiction or meth, that trigger memories of those times, even little things like buying a new cigarette lighter that reminded me of something and led to my remembering my calloused thumb.

Writing about those times helps keep me sane. Expressing the memories of those times, whether I describe personal experiences in the form of anecdotes, or write about and mock some generic tweaker using and projecting experiences that I had, is therapeutic for me. I can’t do much to help other addicts directly – in fact I detest that so many addicts who go into recovery end up working in rehabs, because in my mind they have let the drug win. To me, beating the drug means having a life that has nothing to do with drugs. But by writing about it, I can help others a little bit. If I can leave them with nothing else, I can leave others who have struggled and who are struggling with addiction, one simple message: You are not alone.