Meth: a Ticking Timebomb Gone Viral

The Sum of Three

I thought I was through the worst of withdrawal, but today, my addiction showed me otherwise.

The day started out like any other, but there was this focus I didn't like at all. Everywhere I looked were jobs...tasks that needed doing which became a tidal wave of negativity and ended up coming close to an anxiety attack.

After breakfast, came this need to finish all the jobs I am halfway through. To try and complete one room at a time is next to impossible. I don't like loose ends though and today, they were flapping around in a breeze of failure...laughing at my ineptitude and inability to finish a single task.

I tried to push through the negativity, thinking it would pass, but after only a few minor jobs were done, panic hit me like a freight train. I didn't understand what was happening. How could this be after not using meth for the best part of two months? I didn't even see what it was at that point and instead of calling it a day, I took a break and made myself some lunch in the hope that would change everything. After I had eaten, it became obvious that nothing had changed. It was then I made the best decision...the only decision I had available to me, and laid down in my bed in the hope of taking a nap.

I hadn't slept well the night before and despite advice from my most trusted friend to take a few days off the chores, I thought every day of sloth would be a wasted day...and a day's delay towards my goal of flying out of this place to Thailand. I never was good at taking advice and today, I paid the price. After only a few minutes of laying down, I felt the familiar warning signs of withdrawal, and along with that, came cravings. No two sets of circumstances are ever alike when it comes to quitting this drug, and this time is no different in chemical dependencies' ability to be different.

I am thankful my anxiety was mild. I fell asleep for an hour, only to wake up with a new outlook. Not exactly jumping for joy, but certainly better than I felt only an hour before. I grabbed that feeling with both hands and ignored every task on the way out to my gym. I then put on some music and hit the weights hard. A lot of anger was channelled and dispelled in that forty-five-minute session. Then, on my bike, as I pedalled, I considered whilst racking up a few miles.

This is where my mind went...

Think of an old-school, Walt Disney cartoon, where Goofy has an angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other. Only for me, it isn't an angel/devil scenario, but my past and my potential future. And these two were going at it. The voice of my past was telling me not to take any chances...to stick with what I know, even if that has caused me a lot of negative outcomes. At least, it said, those choices have brought me to this point where I am still alive and relatively happy. The voice on the other shoulder, however, had a very different view of things. It argued that although change is scary, it could bring me a better outcome than the voice on the other shoulder was spruiking. My potential future voice urged me to break free of these past experiences; to take risks and follow a new path for a chance at an even better future.

I should point out that these two voices are not real to me and have nothing to do with schizophrenia or psychosis, although they were compelling in their rationales. With three possible perspectives to consider, I will dictate a compromise between the two disputants and hopefully, we can all get along in the small space between my ears.