By: Marcus M.
As far back as I could remember I always felt unique and different. I felt invisible and in the geek spotlight at the same time. I loved insects, science, comic books, Sesame Street. I was fascinated and absorbed everything and anything that popular average kids had. My addiction started around the same time as far back as I could remember. Me and the neighborhood kids would swim in Lake Olerwood out to the dock. I learned how to swim in gym class in the 9th grade. I always wanted to swim farther, faster and better to attempt to impress the rest of my friends. I nearly drowned twice. That's my disease. I always wanted to do more, above and beyond the rest, in order to gain attention and acceptance. I felt I never had that. I like the fact that it put me in danger or result in serious consequences.
I was also very good student in school. My first crush was the little light skinned girl on the playground. She was absolutely gorgeous! Long hair, pretty eyes and a smile that blinded more than the sun that glared over the sandlot on the playground. I wanted her BAD! I wanted her to pay attention to me. I was invisible to her or at least that's how I felt. I chased that craving and obsession in every area of my life. From my first cigarette that I snuck out of my friend's Mom's pack when I spent the night over their house to my first swallow of beer that I snuck out of my Mom's boyfriend's 6 pack he kept in the veggie drawer at the bottom of our fridge, to my first love of cocaine I tried in my freshman year of college in the dorm room with my classmate who was a little more rebellious that I was to my first sexual experience when I was 16 after a high school dance in Sheila's bedroom while her parents were away that late Friday night to my absolute silver bullet – the one that I chased and obsessed over and above anything else.
My first hit of crack, in Peter and Tommy's studio apartment. I was hooked almost immediately. It felt like no other feeling I ever experienced in my entire life. It took me to a place somewhere in the stratosphere. I loved it up there. I loved it so much, I didn't care how much it cost. It was the most expensive feeling I ever experienced. It cost me every dime I earned. It cost me my job. It cost me my close relationship with my mom, sister, brother, stepdad, aunt, cousins, coworkers, friends, girlfriend, my fiancée, my car, my home, my health, my hygiene, my weight, my sanity and almost my life.
I tried to stop and couldn't. I needed help. I got it multiple times in the form of rehab, halfway houses, jail, psychiatric wards only to return back to the insanity of addiction time and time again. I tried to commit suicide. I couldn't find any other way out. I failed miserably and survived. There must be something out there that loves me more than I love myself because I'm still here. Today I believe. I believe I can recover not only from drugs, but a tumultuous childhood, bipolar disorder, suicide attempts, unhealthy relationships and a distorted perception of life because I have a second chance. A whole new one. I am 10 years clean thanks to Narcotics Anonymous and a will to live and not die.