Sometimes I have to remind myself that I used to be a drug addict.
That feels like such a strange thing to say now. That part of my life feels like a distant dream, almost like a life that belonged to someone else. I’ve gotten so far away from it (Thank God) that it’s hard to even fathom I was once that person.
But I was.
And it’s not something I particularly like to talk about. I experienced a lot of dark things during that phase of life that I’m still trying to unpack. I’ll post a little about my past online occasionally and then promptly delete it out of fear of people knowing that side of me. I still carry a lot of shame around those years. The things I did, choices I made, and the people I hurt trying to sustain an addiction. But to heal from it, I have to talk about it, little by little.
It’s a part of my story that I can’t change, no matter how far away from it I get.
I remember being 20 years old, restlessly lying in bed in the middle of opiate withdrawal, in tears wondering if I would ever make it out of that life.
I was terrified that I had extinguished every dream I’d ever had because I chose to use heroin. I was in my first few years of working as a massage therapist at this point, and my body was so physically dependent on the drug that I couldn’t go more than a few hours without it or else I would become violently sick.
I figured I’d probably end up in jail or dead, and at the time, I didn’t really feel like I was worth much more than that.
I wasn’t dreaming about owning a business, being a mom, or continuing my education.
I wasn’t thinking about the person I wanted to become ten or twenty years down the road like all of my friends in college.
I just wanted to make it through the night.
I wanted to sleep without my body writhing in pain.
I wanted to wake up and not feel trapped in the prison of addiction.
That was it. That was the dream.
And now here I am. All these years later, my dreams have come true tenfold. I wake up in a comfortable bed without that pain. I get to be a mother and have a home of my very own. I get to be present to experience my children’s joy. I get to run a business doing something I absolutely love. I get to take classes, meet incredible people, and continue learning new things. I get to dream about a future that, at one point in my life, I wasn’t sure I’d have.
And to think, I would have missed all of this- had I kept going down that path.
But I saw the light and changed course. I overcame. I got through the temporary pain and I didn’t give up. I made it out alive and only got arrested once…
But then
There’s days like today where I still catch myself feeling so overwhelmed trying to keep up with life. It’s been difficult splitting my attention between homework, soccer practice, sick kids, unfinished projects, endless laundry and making dinner, bills, a business or two I’m trying to grow, trying to have friends, exercise, and somehow finding the time to be a functioning human being. I know this is not a unique human experience, but it doesn’t make it any easier. I feel like a lot of people are better at it, than I am.
On social media I compare myself to people who are further along in their careers, who seem to have everything figured out, who have the knowledge, experience, and confidence that I’m still working toward. I know that comparison is the thief of joy, and I shouldn’t do it, but I find myself doing it and doom scrolling daily. There’s an unfriendly little voice in my head telling me I’m falling behind. That I’m not doing enough. That someone else is already doing what I want to do, and doing it better - So just give up.
And that’s where I have to remind myself of where I’ve been. Remind myself that I once fell down to my knees and ugly cried/prayed for this life that I currently have, and remind myself of the strength it took to stand back up on my two feet. Sometimes I get so caught up in the distance between where I am and where I want to be that I forget just how far I’ve already come. I owe it to that younger version of me to occasionally stop looking at everything I haven’t accomplished and recognize everything we’ve survived, built, and become. She helped me get to who I am today - A STRONG INDEPENDENT WOMAN WHO CAN HANDLE WHATEVER THE DAY THROWS AT HER *snap snap snap* who deserves to slow down, breathe, and enjoy the present moment.
She would be absolutely amazed by the life I’m living.
And if there’s one thing I know about my younger self, it’s that she was resilient and determined. I mean, the sheer amount of persistence, creativity, and resourcefulness I once put into getting my daily drugs was honestly impressive. Terribly misguided, obviously, but impressive nonetheless. I made it happen. So maybe it's time to put that same relentless determination toward something a lot more worthwhile- towards the dreams that I’m still dreaming.
But slow and steady. No rush. One day at a time.
If 20-year-old me could move mountains for all the wrong reasons, I'd like to think 35-year-old me can move a few for the right ones. Preferably with significantly less chaos and a lot more sleep.
