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The Sweet Rose Bowl

by Cheyenne Klein about a year ago in addiction
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The Sweet Rose Bowl
Photo by Kyle Cleveland on Unsplash

When I was 17 I was like any other angry, rebellious teenager. I did whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I took advantage of my mothers' guilt and illness. Obviously thinking back now I regret a lot of the decisions I've made; this being one of them.

My generation has a big online presence, so I spent a lot of time on Whisper, an anonymous site where you can post pretty much anything you want. I was desperate for money so I made a post asking if anyone needed a baby sitter. I got a few answers, but I ended up meeting with a guy about twice my age who had a very adorable four year old. After about a week he introduced me to his friend, Seth.

He told me he was 24, and, at the time, I was very blase about age. So I thought, "Oh, no big deal." We started 'dating' and it didn't take long for me to find out that he was meth dealer. Not a very good one, but a drug dealer nonetheless.

At this point in time my mother, father, step-mom, paternal grandparents, and all three of my uncles had all had a meth addiction either in the past or currently. So when Seth offered me some, I accepted. I was angry and confused about why everyone I loved had such an addiction to it.

He taught me how to roll the bowl over the fire and inhale. That first breath...the almost medical, flowery...sickly sweet taste and smell invaded every fiber of my being. It felt like every neuron in my brain was firing at the same exact time. I could feel my hair, where every single follicle was attached to my head. My belly curled and everything tightened and tingled; it was like this drug had a direct link to my groin.

I never thought that just that first puff would affect me the way it did. I just wanted to try it. Just once. Unfortunately, once is all it takes.

Around that same time I had gotten my first job. My need for this drug became so all consuming that I called him to bring me some during work. I had started to crash after being up for 3 days and I was literally falling asleep standing up. Something happened, though, when I saw myself in the mirror, with the bowl to my lips. There were dark bags under my eyes, my pupils were severely dilated, and my cheeks were slightly sunken. My clothes didn't even fit like they used to.

I realized that I had become like my family. I had lost probably about 30 pounds in the span of a month. It took one month for me to become so entranced by this drug. My heart broke that day in the mirror. I had always told myself that I would never become like my parents, and it took one month...just 30 days to see my drug addicted mother in my own face.

I immediately told myself that I needed to stop. Everything is kind of blurry at this point. I just remember quitting cold turkey and ghosting Seth for two week. I had found out from a conversation with his mother that he wasn't actually 24. He was 35. So not only had I turned into my family....I had let this...predator use me and introduce me to the worst drug I've ever had the displeasure of trying. I was so desperate for this drug that I even let him convince me to have a threesome with him and his friend. My heart broke at how blind I had let myself become because of this little rock.

In the two weeks that I was ghosting him, I met my now husband. I knew he was who I wanted to be with so, the next time Seth contacted me, I broke it off and blocked him. I knew that I needed to clean myself up.

All these years later (I'm 21 now) and I've only fallen off the wagon twice. My last one was on my 19th birthday at a concert. I will be three years sober in a month. I'm married, expecting my first child (a girl), and we have our own home.

Despite the sobriety and good fortune, I still taste it. I still smell it. Sometimes that sickeningly sweet flavor invades my senses and knocks the breath out of me. It knocks me off my feet, but I will always fight this want....this need for that drug because my husband and my daughter deserve a wife and mom who is cognizant, present and loving; not spacey, strung out and angry. However, I'm grateful I had a chance when I was young to have a problem with it rather than to develop an issue when my family needed me the most.


About the author

Cheyenne Klein

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