This Is What It's Like to Experience Heroin Withdrawal

I was desperate for help. I was only 22 years old and I had already been shooting heroin for five years. I wanted to die, and I tried, I tried really freaking hard. For some reason, I always woke up.

When I reached the point of complete surrender, I finally went to my parents for help. They called everywhere they could find to find me a detox, but nowhere could take me until Monday morning at 8 AM.

It was Friday night. I had one, maybe two doses left. However, I’m an addict, and for me, two doses are really one if I really want to feel right. I did my little sick shot injection ritual, and got high for the last time. It was at 7 PM. I knew what was to come.

I fell asleep, hoping I would make it at least throughout the night until I started feeling sick. Unfortunately, 2 AM rolled around and I shot up out of bed. My legs were restless and my lower back had this dull ache. I had felt this feeling before—it was the early onset of heroin withdrawal. I still had 54 hours to go until I could get into detox and get some medically-assisted relief.

I didn’t sleep for the rest of the weekend.

A few hours later, I couldn’t stop yawning. My eyes were tearing up like I was about to cry. My skin felt clammy. This was only the beginning.

My parents woke up several hours later and tried to feed me breakfast, but I had no appetite. I was covered in sweat from head to toe. My body was uncontrollably shifting from burning hot to freezing cold within a matter of seconds. I couldn’t bundle up in a blanket because it was too hot. I couldn’t lay by a fan because it was too cold.

My hands were shaking and my heart was racing. My pupils were so big you couldn’t even see the green pigment in my eyes. Opioids make you constipated, but when they leave your body, the opposite happens. Nausea set in and diarrhea began. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t drink. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t sit still because my bones felt like they were going to burst out of my skin but I couldn’t move because my muscles ached like I had been run over by a massive truck.

By the time Saturday night rolled around, my withdrawals were at their worst. I was anxious and depressed and angry all at the same time. I wanted to run away and get high. I wanted to stay and be strong. I had so many thoughts running through my head. Some were impulsive, others were sadistic, and the rest were simply self depreciating.

I waited until my parents fell asleep to raid their medicine cabinet, desperately searching for anything I could find.

I found nothing. They cleaned it all out. I settled for a glass of Jack Daniels, but it didn’t help. I was still sick as can be.

I spent all night tossing and turning, desperately hoping for just a few minutes of sleep. All I wanted was oblivion to sink in so I could stop feeling the pain I was feeling. Instead, I was kept awake by the demons of my past, my heart beating out of my chest, the feeling of every bone in my body shattering.

Then, came the self-pity. How did I get here? A once smart, beautiful, young girl with so much potential, who turned herself into a desperate drug addict who wanted nothing more than a fix.

The next day is a blur. I remember clawing at my skin. I remember yelling at my mother. I remember throwing up and going to the emergency room to see if there was anything they could do.

Heroin withdrawals aren’t fatal—they’re just miserable. So they sent me on my way.

There’s no doubt about the fact that detox is the most difficult part of the recovery process. It feels like you have the worst case of the flu and there is nothing that can make it better than another hit. However, that pain is something I will never forget. I need to remember that misery to have gratitude for the three years of sobriety that I have today.

When it was finally time to check into detox, my withdrawals were beginning to subside. They started a Valium drip and I could finally breathe. They gave me a dose of methadone, and the sickness went away.

Heroin withdrawal was hell on earth. And I'll never go back.