A Road of Death and Despair

My addictions started, I imagine, as everyone else’s. I used to be a general manager at a restaurant and at times was pulling 60-90 hour work weeks. I started taking Percocets because my lower back would hurt so bad that when I got home, I couldn’t lay flat. So of course, one of my “friends” offered me a “Perc 10” and from there it just spiraled. Eventually the Percocets and Oxys got too expensive, especially after I started snorting them. I was up to about 40 a day. So, the same friend told me to try heroin because “it was the same as taking an oxy 30, and it’s way cheaper.” So, I started snorting heroin, but when my plug was arrested, I switched to Fentanyl. Fentanyl was cheaper and would last a while, since I didn’t have to do as much. Ultimately, my tolerance got so high that I was doing about 4 grams a day.

Eventually my wife started to dabble in it with me. She had her first overdose in January of last year. She became a travel nurse, and I got locked up for 2 months. When I got out, I lasted about 4 days sober until the demons got so loud, until the depression and emptiness got too much to handle. So, she left on May 6th of last year I told her, “Goodbye… I love you” and she said she’d be back that following Monday. So instead of dealing with my emotions I called one of my plugs, and he picked me up and I snorted a tiny line and that was my first overdose. That same day, my wife’s back had been hurting so her friend gave her a Percocet and it turned out to be pressed. She had ordered my mother and sister flowers for Mother’s Day, before she overdosed somewhere between 4:00 pm and 8:00 pm that day.

After she died, I went from snorting to needles. I didn’t care if I lived or died. I wound up homeless, starving, and wishing it would just end. I overdosed a total of 6 times in a 6-month period. My last overdose was November 20, 2022. Someone found me face down in a ditch and started doing CPR until the ambulance arrived. I woke up in jail in the medical ward, because I had a warrant for a violation of probation. But this time there was no withdrawal, there was no wishing I was out or cravings. I finally got out on December 13, and went to stay at my mom’s. I finally found a job, got a place to stay, and was able to play guitar and drums again, because I could an afford it.

I wish I would have never started down that road to despair and death. My wife might still be alive today. The guilt and regret are still there, and I write about it constantly. I got rid of all of my old “friends” who left me for dead when I was at my worst. Now I have sober friends who just want to work, play music, and have my back no matter what. I do know that no matter what happens next, I will never, no matter how hard anyone will ever try to push me to it, will ever touch another opiate or put my family through that ever again.