I am a recovering addict. I’ve used drugs for over 3 quarters of my life and I never thought that I would ever stop using. Today I am 2 years 1 month 2 days clean.

I had plenty of support (in the beginning) but as time went by and I kept using no one cared anymore. No one tried to help me because I refused to help myself. I refused to help myself because I believed the lies that I was telling myself. I believed that I wasn’t that bad. That I could stop any time I wanted. That I would die using. ALL LIES. I had given up all hope a long time ago and settled for life the way it was. I was miserable all the time, I was angry, lonely, desperate, tired, ashamed, guilt ridden, fearful, disgusted, broken, battered and bruised. Then one day I realized that when I tried to stop, I couldn’t stop. For the life of me I just couldn’t stop.

Addiction had it’s grips on me from the beginning. I’m talking about being a dead black out drunk at the age of 12. I’m talking about snorting coke and heroin, smoke dust and dropping tabs of acid before my 15th birthday. All the while telling myself that I can stop anytime I wanted to, I just didn’t want to stop. I was having fun. I was free and everything was alright.The more the evidence pointed towards me having a problem the more I denied it. The thicker the cloud of denial the more I used. The progression got deeper and deeper and I got lost in the covering up and hiding. My whole life changed for the worse and I still lied to myself about my problem. Deep down inside I knew better but I had no idea how to turn things around. I had no idea the depth of my addiction. Jails and institutions followed but I still didn’t stop. I would come home and start the vicious cycle all over again. Over and over, year after year.

My story is probably no different than a lot of other people’s. I say probably because I can only tell my truth. I cannot speak for someone else. I can however say this.

THE STRUGGLE IS REAL.

Addiction kills everything. It killed my hopes, my dreams, my faith, my family, jobs, friends, relationships and in the end it almost killed me. I was ready to die. I wanted to die so bad that I looked for ways to carry it out. I thank God that I was not successful. I am grateful that I was blessed with opportunity after opportunity until I finally took advantage of the help that was being offered. If I had been successful in killing myself…

I WOULD HAVE KILLED THE WRONG GUY.

The guy that I wanted dead was fueled by obsession and compulsion, by self centeredness and ego. I was brain washed into thinking that I was worthless by a disease that wants me to believe that I am better off dead. But I was sick and I really didn’t have a choice. I was saved by my higher power. Something called and the real me in a moment of clarity was able to answer. A desire was awaken in me to change and I was blessed with yet another chance. I am given this chance to make a difference not only in my own life but to spread my knowledge, my experiences, my hopes to others. Letting others know that there is a way out of that mess. There is hope and life after the living hell from which I escaped. I know this today and I keep reminding myself that.

I would have killed the wrong guy.

Peace and blessings

Eric Ease