I remember I really wanted to slow down. I noticed that my friend / drug dealer seemed to be living on drugs and continuing to live and take care of his responsibilities. He just didn’t do as much dope as I did, so he was more balanced. His secret was to do a little to keep him active during the day and give him energy. Another plus was that his drug bag lasted longer because he wasn’t crazy all the time. He controlled everything he did. That seemed like a good plan to me!

During this time, I was with my ex-husband, Mark, who introduced me to methamphetamine on a fateful New Year’s Eve. We were your typical methamphetamine partner; We did all the fighting and love that any meth couple does. Life was full of meth and drama. Our lives evolved around methamphetamine. I shared with Mark my desire to try to be more responsible with our habit. He was an internal line diabetic, so eating was essential to his mental stability, and he was in a much better mood if he slept a little rather than no sleep. He half agreed with my plan.

It would work for a couple of days; especially when we were running out of money and trying to figure out how we could get some money or have the courage to ask our dealer / friend to advance us something. In those days, we could get by with little bumps during the day and even tried to sleep at night. Then we would run out and make the call, meet him at lunchtime, and go back to work with a big bag of methamphetamine in Mark’s pocket, grinning with excitement. We would come home that night and all the dreams of ‘making it last’, and ‘doing only what we needed to do to function’ and ‘being responsible’ with that went up with the smoke from our bowl.

That would be followed by great regret. I was starting to hate myself for feeling exhausted and sick. I would hate myself for being weak and dependent. I would hate myself for not standing up to Mark and telling him that we had to be more responsible, but facing Mark was not easy. But I think the real killer moment was when I woke up, looked at my sucked face, and realized I couldn’t quit. Many times I cried for the face in the mirror.

It’s a horrible feeling. If you are there, you know it. You no longer want to do it just because you know it governs everything you do. You don’t even know what you would be without him. You tell yourself that you are going to get out of the bathroom and deny yourself to show yourself that you ARE in control. She knew she would never survive the urge to work without him.

My message to you is that it can be done through God’s strength, outside support, resources, responsibility, and a lifestyle change. Through all of this, you can have a truly satisfying new life without methamphetamine. I’ve compared meth to a scar on my knee because that’s it for me. Yes, friend, it can be like that for you. But I beg you to make the decision before I am FORCED to resign due to incarceration or death.

When I Realize I Can’t Quit Meth: Why Am I Stuck And What Are My Options

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