If I were to describe my life as a heroin addict in one sentence, then the only thing I can say is that itís a confusing montage of freeze frames. One second youíre drinking a beer with your friends at the bar, the next you wake up driving up to your parentsí home at 3 a.m. in the morning, dressed in a bathrobe.
I often used to make trips to my parentsí home every Sunday for the traditional family dinner. However, instead of spending quality time together, our family lunches were nothing more than unbearable moments of awkward silence and undistinguishable mumbling. As much as I hated being there for 2 hours every week, I had to do it; I needed their money to buy heroin.
I knew I had to break the circle
There were moments when I really preferred my own company. Nighttime was my place of comfort and interval when I used to drink, smoke and pump heroin into my body in another yet failed attempt to obtain relief from… I didnít even know what from anymore.
While initially booze and heroin used to have a purpose and opened the path to freedom, clarity, and cheerfulness, I allowed the solution to become the problem. What used to be my means of escape eventually became my prison. I needed a new solution, but the only thing I actually wanted was to die.
I caught a glimpse of the future
I contemplated dying and the idea of death for several months, until I got the unique chance to catch a glimpse of my future. During one of my walks, I came across the funeral of man who had apparently died of an overdose.
It was the saddest funeral service I witnessed, but nobody was surprised. Instead of talking about his achievements and qualities, people would only point out how he wasted his life.
I immediately envisioned my own funeral and couldnít help but think that everyone would discuss my potential and how I wasted it all for the sake of heroin. My parents would surely blame themselves and go on with their lives in shame and regret. My memory would be nothing more than baggage for them.
I decided to take action
I knew that my addiction was pure masochism, but I simply couldnít imagine my life without heroin. Despite the dilemma, I realized something had to be done. I finally reached out and agreed to seek professional help. Although after two months of treatment in a rehab center I didnít make much progress and was feeling more exhausted than ever, I didnít regret my decision.
While many people falsely believe that all you need is willpower to overcome addiction, this is only half-true. Self-disciplineís role in this equation is to help you realize you lost your way and give you the strength to find the right path. Even though willpower alone is not enough to get you off a powerful drug such as heroin, it will help you take the first step of a very long yet definitely rewarding journey.