I never intended for my life to end up this way.
The road to hell is paved in good intentions and I’ve now come off it with a spring in my step.
No one would have thought this possible when I was caught up in a vortex of selfish desire to do everything I wanted to do and I wasn’t going to let anyone on this planet stop me.
I was driven by a desire to look the best, be the best and feel … er the best?
Little did I know the thing I sought was an illusion fashioned only in my own mind.
School life was based on reputation and I came from a home where I couldn’t be honest with my family.
Driven by a desire to impress my peers, little did I know that progression through the substances would be so fast.
Life was never good enough.
Never fitting in.
Drugs fixed that.
I was smoking aged nine and selling not too far after.
By thirteen, taking pills and mushrooms.
In the playground they said I’d die.
Two years later they were buying them off me!
The people who slagged me off before were now turning to me in their time of need.
I started to neglect my education and focused on my social life.
My grades dropped.
I scraped through school not really even attending for the two years before my GCSE’s.
I applied for college only to learn that it wasn’t for me and I dropped out after two weeks!
I screwed up two mechanics apprenticeships and refused an accountant’s offer to train me.
Before I knew it I was seventeen and I’d got into my first legal rave in one of the more prestigious clubs in London.
After a while I decided to go to illegal raves where drugs were taken freely and the security was lax.
I ended up selling ketamine and MDMA to DJ’s.
My father had called the police on me and had me evicted from his house; as in a rage one night I’d had a fight with him, beaten him up and fractured his ribs.
I turned to living on people’s sofas and living in squats but I still felt like a king! Why was this!?!?
Was I mad!
I’m living in abandoned buildings thinking I’m on top of the world when really my life had slid to a new low!
On a council estate one day we were attacked and robbed.
One of my friends was seriously hurt to a life threatening degree.
I had to go to a Crown Court to protest as a witness and this only pushed me into taking more of the drugs I was selling.
I then turned to crack cocaine and heroin to escape this life that I had created for myself, or delude myself into thinking it was pretty in some way, shape or form.
After years of trying to stop I reached breaking point.
I was robbing off friends and family.
The people around me started to look somewhat different to my school peers, and reality was starting to kick in only; pushing me further into darkness.
The people around me were drug addicts and drug dealers.
Apart from my family no one I knew was really living.
We were all abusing ourselves without even knowing it, being blind to the picture which stood before us. .
I was desperate, running out of options. Live my life out like this or try.
Anything but this.
There had to be a way out.
But no escape was in sight, I swallowed my pride.
I had denied asking for help for so long, not wanting to accept the predicament that I had put myself in.
I needed to remember this was all my own doing.
My life was my own making.
Only I was responsible for the road I’d gone down.
No matter the circumstances, I was the one who had made the choice to do these things.
I’d thought I was cool.
I’d glorified drugs to fill the void inside of me, the feelings of insecurity, the absence of friends.
But here I was at the turning point.
Counselling and therapy didn’t work with me.
Then I tried a 12 step fellowship group, where I found my people at last.
People who’d experienced horrors like me.
Whether they had slightly softer or darker experiences than me, they welcomed me with compassion and acceptance.
I found a place I belonged.
Somewhere I could speak my mind without holding back.
A type of love that stopped me in my tracks.
I wanted what these people had!
A sense of freedom and love for life without the emotional crutch that I had relied upon for years – but didn’t actually work anyway.
I was approached and taught how to face my fears of the real world.
Building love for myself and self-confidence.
All I needed was willingness, honesty and open mindedness.
I was home.
A 25 year old recovered addict.