The Daily Life Of A Drug Addict
By: Glenna Gill
Tags: Addiction, Addiction Treatment, This Happened To Me, Addiction Recovery, Life Lessons

Fortunately, I didn’t have to see Slash anymore once Micah got his prescription. He had severe pain in his hip and went to the emergency room where they told him he had necrosis. He needed surgery and a referral to a pain doctor.

“I guess I’m going to become an addict now,” Micah said with a straight face. I rolled my eyes at him to let him know he wasn’t fooling me. We were both addicts, and with his huge bottle of 120 opiates per month things could only get worse.

I was at the point where I couldn’t function without a pill. My body would ache for it when I woke up, and I’d refuse to get out of bed until Micah reluctantly gave me one. Sometimes he refused and forced me into withdrawal. My body screamed with searing pain during those times. My brain was cloudy and I couldn’t think straight. The clinical depression that cursed me would kick in after about half a day, and I’d weep until Micah changed his mind and handed me what I wanted.

I had leverage over him once. He threatened to take the pills away from me for good. He said I was taking too many and cutting into his stash.

“You can’t stop giving me pills,” I said in the meanest voice I’d ever spoken. “If you do, I’ll tell your mother you sell some of your prescription.”

This was true. Micah had a deal with one of his old friends from high school, exchanging money for some of Micah’s pills. I hated the arrangement because it meant fewer pills for me, but I couldn’t let him get away with not giving me any.

My Life Was Held Hostage

Those pills were everything. I knew it from the minute Micah handed me the first one a year ago in our old apartment. For the first time in years, I’d felt blissful and calm. I thought I was invincible with the drug running through my system, and the first thing I did when it wore off is ask for another one.

There were days when I didn’t get pills because Micah legitimately ran out of them. We both took them at a rapid pace, too fast to last the whole month. We spent those days in bed, not talking or touching, just waiting for the date when Micah could refill his prescription. I wasn’t able to eat or work or perform basic tasks. I didn’t transcribe for days until I was eventually fired for not showing up.

Then there were the “good” days, the first week after Micah got a refill. He was generous then, handing out two, three and four pills at a time. I told myself I would stash them away to save them for later, but I always ended up taking them all at once trying to reproduce the original high they used to give me.

There was the night I took too many at once, four or maybe five. I lost count and felt drowsy and confused.

“I just want to go to sleep,” I told Micah, turning away from him.

Next thing I knew Micah was hoisting me up by my waist and dragging me outside. He walked me up and down the streets of our neighborhood to keep me awake. Everything was a blur, and I only remember the random faces that passed us as we circled the blocks.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Micah warned. He looked genuinely scared and pushed me to walk faster. I just wanted to be back in my bed.

The next morning, Micah was standing over me as I woke up. He looked tired, like he’d been up all night, and he wrinkled his brow with concern. He looked as if he was waiting for me to say something, maybe to thank him.

“How could you?” I shouted at him to his surprise.

“Glenna, I saved your life.”

“Who told you to do that?” I was out of control. There was so much lost in my life because of drugs. I lost my job, my children, my friends, my health and my money all to worship those little blue pills. If death was the only way to escape the nightmare I was living through, then I reasoned it would be welcome.

The Fallout Of Drug Addiction

People we knew died for real. It started with the high school friend who bought the pills from Micah. He owed Micah money and offered to pay our electric bill if he could get a few pills. We only realized he fooled us when the power went out in our apartment. The guy overdosed soon after that. Instead of learning a lesson from it, I was glad there would be more pills for me.

I was the most selfish person in the world. Nothing came between me and my drugs. I asked friends to borrow money so many times they stopped talking to me. Maybe they knew I used that money for drugs, but I didn’t care. They were a necessity, and I’d cheat and steal and use people to get them any way I could.

The kind and reasonable woman I used to be was gone. I didn’t recognize myself anymore, and the thought of it was devastating. I knew the real me was somewhere inside me in a place I couldn’t reach, but my life was so messed up I feared I’d never find her again.

I forgot about that person who remained deep down, but she never forgot about me. My gut told me I would die, for real this time, and I had to do something about it. Even though I stayed away from my children because I was so ashamed, I didn’t want to hurt them further by overdosing on purpose. That couldn’t be the way my story ended.

May You Find Some Comfort Here

I reached out to AA and NA, going to meetings and making a few friends. They were unanimous that I should leave Micah as soon as possible. They told me about detoxing, which sounded worse than the withdrawal I experienced before, and they named a few halfway houses that might take me in. Before I could stop myself, I agreed to everything.

Because of the love of those people, I’m here today to tell my tale. I was a wobbly baby deer who they helped stand on her feet again. They understood the pain I felt, both physical and emotional, because they went through it before me. They were more than happy to show me the way.

The halfway house I moved into was more of a home than my apartment with Micah. There were supportive women everywhere I turned, especially the ladies in charge of the house. Because of them, I learned again to pay rent on time, make my bed every morning and how to be a good friend to people.

Detox was one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through, but when it was over I felt tremendous relief to have that poison out of my system. I knew even the tiniest bit of an opiate would derail the new life I was creating. It wasn’t easy, but I gave up those pills for good and liked myself a little more each day.