I Remember Sitting In My Room Wishing To Die.

I remember sitting in my room wishing to die. Praying to God every day for years that I would simply just not wake up the next morning. I came to a place in my life that was centered on pain and regret. I was driven to feed a beast that was always selfishly hungry no matter how much I gave in.

I had short-lived moments of reprieve, yet made me feel complete. That was the point now, the only point. I learned two things during these times. I learned to understand and come to love the true meaning of comfortably numb. Most importantly I learned how truly great it is and how whole it makes you feel to have a release even if momentarily from true agony.

Before we go too far into this, I would like to make it clear that I fully understand that you as an individual are not responsible for your circumstances but you are responsible for your actions. This is not a cry for pity or a way to justify the things I have done. This is just simply like all things in life, it is what it is.

I grew up in a loving broken home. I experienced divorce and separation from day one. Both my mother and father were always good to me, they just didn’t love each other.

My brother and sister are ten years my elder so I was raised as an only child. Always pawned off on my grandparents. It wasn’t a reason to blame my parents, they just did what they had to do. I would spend days at a time entertaining myself. I would play with toys and make imaginary friends. Anything I could to pass the time. It was a loving yet lonely environment.

I was an awkward child with zero social skills. I was picked on and bullied as a child. I made it worse by not knowing when to let it go. I was a talker who always said the wrong things, who always had to get in the last words. It’s a lingering problem that has taken me many years to get over. It’s sometimes still hard for me to simply let things be.

At the time I didn’t understand why I was only able to make friends with oddball children but we seemed like beacons that attracted one another. I eventually came to appreciate that in life. The crazy or misunderstood. It helped me keep an open mind. It helped me become who I am today.

I had experimented with alcohol at a very early age. My dad would throw wild parties and I would sneak beers. I think I was around six or seven the first time I ever had a drink.

Party life eventually went on to become my norm. my house was always the party house. I was too young to participate but being a lonely child in normal times, when given the opportunity I would do everything I could to cling to the attention of all the party-goers. I became somewhat of a mascot for the drunken youth on Hazel Street.

Let’s fast forward to high school. I’m finally starting to halfway understand how to interact with my peers and I reluctantly get accepted into a group of friends.

These were the “freaks” as we so proudly called ourselves back then. We were good kids. In time we split, like always in life and some of us became functioning members of society and some not so much. I ended up way too far on the wrong end of that spectrum.

Drugs became my new normal after high school. Not quite an ‘addict’ yet because in my mind I was functioning. I wasn’t stealing or homeless, yet. I had dreams of becoming a rock star and playing in bands was the love of my life.

At this point, I had done most all drugs on the market, except the one that ruined me. I dabbled in psychedelics and as to be expected they really opened my eyes to some of the grander things in life. Maybe there was still a void because I reverted to strong alcohol and then back into things such as meth and cocaine.

It was very much like an Alice In Chains song.

“What’s my drug of choice? Well, what have you got?”

I could see myself slipping. All of my remaining friends growing up and moving on. Me being the last one to want to continue to live this way. The last one to “grow up.”

I made new friends. The wrong friends. I was introduced to opiates and fell in love. This was magic, this is what I have been looking for my entire life. They were my best friend in the beginning. They made me feel whole and alive. No pain, no depression, and no worries.

They would hold my hand and guide me to water. It was the best and only thing I could ask for. This wolf in sheep clothing gave me just enough rope to hang myself and end the pushed me off the stool I was standing on.

It was a rapid fall into madness. From having everything to nothing. The point in which I knew and just didn’t care anymore came one day when the singer of my band just happened to run into me when I was pawning my drumset. He begged me not to, but all I could say was “I have to.”

Pawning led to stealing, stealing led to jail, jail led to homelessness for a short period. I would go in and out of rehab for ten years or more fighting this thing that had attached itself to me.

I was no longer getting high I was just functioning. While on drugs, that was my norm. While not, life became the thing that creates nightmares. Withdraw consisted of flu-like symptoms, legs feeling like you ran a marathon, and the occasional shitting yourself. The depression and anxiety were actually the worst part of withdrawal.

I had no choice. I had to be whole because without it I was broken. For one to four hours a day, everything was right in the world and I could forget about the pain all over again.

Many times I would get clean only to fall back into it all over again. What they say is true, “it gets worse every time”. It’s taken everything and everybody away from me. I lost the trust of my family and friends and I made enemies of perfect strangers.

This story does have a happy ending. I’m one of the few. I am truly a miracle. Most people can’t boast recovery. It didn’t come at a low cost I assure you. I finally had to break down take a good look at myself and just completely give in.

I moved to California (I’m from Texas). I went to my final rehab and afterward moved into a halfway house that was serious about recovery. These men were my lifeline and I have no problems or shame telling each one of them, without hesitation, that I love them.

Addiction is without a doubt a mystery to me still. I have come out of the hardest thing I think any human being can go through and lived to tell the tale. I have no desire ever to return to that lifestyle, yet some days come where sometimes it’s easy to forget.

I have been clean for well over three years now and it’s hard to explain, but you know when you are done. Rehab after rehab I thought I was done, but now I know.

Knowing that I’m done and being done are my saving grace. There are times when out of the blue the old monster will get dressed up and come knocking on my door. Looking good and wholesome and I think things like, I miss getting high. I miss that feeling.

It would be a lie to say I stopped because all of a sudden I didn’t like drugs anymore. The truth is it finally got to a point where the consequences outweigh the “good”.

I’ve worked hard and I’ve built my life back up piece by piece. I’m not talking about the material things (which, yes I have gotten all that back as well). I’m talking about the love and respect of my family. My friends are not afraid of me anymore. I have become a decent human being. That, I would not trade for the world.

Thanks for reading!

Originally posted on my blog. Check it out here: https://kryztoff.website/

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