Victim to Victor – Andrew W_Jan 2019

I awakened with a start and the sickness was upon me. Like a sulking wild animal it gathered it’s strength to pounce upon me in the early dawn. My mind racing I checked the time, still too early to call the purveyor of misery I called my friend. I stared at things in my space and imagined what their monitary value could be. These family heirlooms no longer had any significance other than the base value. These things that my family had struggled to keep close to their hearts were now only dollars and cents to me. I had to feed that beast who lurked in my pounding chest, whose jaws clenched my joints so tightly to move meant pain. Through living with my addiction, not only had I lost contact with my deceased families familiar heirlooms, I had lost contact with my own body. So far removed from myself while high, the only reminder that I was still alive come in these waking moments when my body cried out in pain. I was emotionally dead. Hands fidgiting I sought distraction from that empty feeling. Old cotton filters empty bags with residue, these things had more value than the blood that coursed through my veins and ensconsed the very house in which I lived. I was hooked. The vampirous preditor that had sunk its fangs into my very soul had caused a transformation of my character, I was now one of the simpering preditors whose only care in life was to feed the habit that now had me in its grasp. Things that had once been very dear to me I put up for sale as I looked on with bovine indifference. Family and friends were next as I spent my way through the relationships that had once sustained me by feeding my heart and soul. Everything and everyone at once was gone and I was left in a void screaming with quiet. The only reminder that I still lived was the pain of sickness in the early hours, which I quickly killed away with more in order to escape the reality I had created for a few miserable hours. Gone were the relationships and material things which reminded me of my further identity, the only thing I had left was the tenuous relationship with the dealer from whom I was supplied. Day in day out I lived like I wanted to die yet no release from life as I was stuck at the lonely crossroads between life and death. Which way to go? I was afraid to ask for help as I felt I did not deserve it. Beaten I stuck out my thumb and stepped blindly into traffic ready to be picked up. I had asked for help! Step by step I trudged back towards the light, back turned on the darkness that threatened to suck me down for all eternity. Useless no more, I had found salvation. Surrendering was the hardest thing, yet through asking for help I became willing to grow. I realize now that everything I had ever been given was quickly spent or burnt to the ground. The step work I now put my heart and soul into is the true wealth in my life. From victim to victor, I now have puropse. -Andrew W

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