The Fix: A Story of Hope

The holidays bring back many memories for me. Many of them are warm and happy, but as a recovered addict, I’m sure to have many not-so-happy memories when it comes to reflecting on the holidays. Often times, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years were just like any another day that ended in “y.”

Three years ago, the day after Christmas, I gave up fighting my long battle with a pill addiction. I had been abusing legally prescribed prescription benzos, muscle relaxers, and pain pills, along with a prescription headache medicine that contained a barbiturate for two years and began incorporating alcohol and long nights at the bar into the equation. My addiction to pain pills graduated to higher, stronger doses and became very expensive to maintain. I picked up a second job as a cocktail server at a local restaurant. I needed a way I could work longer hours without getting tired. Adderall and Focalin (prescribed for ADD) became my solution for fighting off the tired. Not only did they keep me from being tired, they kept me from getting drunk at work when customers offered to buy me one of the shots I was serving. Pills, pills, and more pills. I took a handful of pills to get me up in the morning, a handful of pills to carry me through my day, and a handful of pills to tuck me in at night. Now I had pills to keep me awake if I wanted that too. Guess what I got from all of my friends for my birthday and Christmas that year? Yep! You guessed it: pills.

In spite of having access to every pharmaceutical one could ever want, it just wasn’t enough for me anymore. Nine years prior, I had heavily abused club drugs like Ecstasy and crystal meth. I knew there was something more, something better. My kids were with their dad for the remainder of Christmas Break visiting relatives out of town, and I called an old friend to come to my rescue. I suspected he was still using meth after all of these years, and if he wasn’t, I knew he maintained a friendship with our old dealer. I bought a half an eight ball. We blew through it in two days. I bought more. I told myself this was temporary, and I would go to bed and get some rest just before my kids came back from their vacation with their dad. When I said I gave up my fight with my pill addiction, I did. I gave up the fight and succumbed as a prisoner of war to methamphetamine, along with the pills. Within two months, I lost everything but my life. I lost my home, my car, my job, my children, most of my clothes and furniture. To top it off, I went to jail.

I stayed a prisoner of war to addiction, living like a gypsy, for another eighteen months with little to no contact with my family and children. I was homeless and couch surfing. Sometimes I stayed in places with no electricity and/or running water. I managed to get another job, but I didn’t keep it for very long. My job was interfering with my addiction. Not everyone in addiction winds up living like a bottom-feeder, but my rock bottom has always been hard to find. I started realizing one day, I was not living. I was existing. The life I so desperately wanted was killing me while driving me to the brink of insanity. Paranoia took control of my mind, and I lived in a state of constant fear.

My family was ever ready and willing to help me when I got serious about wanting to change. With their help, I checked myself into a faith-based treatment facility in June of 2014. I needed a Power greater than myself to restore me to sanity. I have never regretted this decision. I learned how to live again and not just exist. I found true peace to calm the war that raged inside my soul. I am no longer a prisoner to addiction. I found freedom. The Love of God came down and rescued me. In this Love, I found forgiveness and healing. For this, I am eternally grateful.

In many ways, early recovery was an uphill climb. Recovery was and still can be hard work, but the work I put into recovery is nothing to compared to the work I put into trying to stay high and trying to get outside of my paranoid mind. Recovery is helping me build a life with purpose and meaning. Recovery is helping me mend and repair broken relationships and teaching me to be a better mom. Addiction and recovery taught me the same thing: anything is possible.

My name is Candace. I am a recovered addict since 6-17-14.