The syringe

This week I’m off work, so I’m having to deal with the demons in my head telling me I could use the time alone to get high, get wasted with someone and have some amazing sex. My sensible head is managing to keep my stupid head in check so far, but this afternoon came a wobble.

This afternoon I was going to a meeting of the addiction recovery support group I go to, having cut my hair so short I thought I’d wear my cap to keep my head warm, only problem was, I had no idea where it was. Stick with me, there is a point to this story…..(point…..bad choice of words).

So I’m turning the house upside down trying to find it, hunting everywhere. And there it was, lying there hidden, not the cap I wanted, but a syringe. I stopped for a second and just looked at it, picked it up, rolled it around in my fingers, and promptly put it back where I found it. I’d been so thorough getting rid of all my drugs stuff, but there it was, hidden away in one of my old secret hiding places.

I guess that syringe is barely five inches long, quarter of an inch thick, how can something so small turn my world upside down so easily ? I’m not sure what thought entered my head first, you see it’s almost exactly one year since I last used, and the thoughts were like a blast from the past. This time last year I was battling a breakdown, every single day I was fighting the urge to take my own life. The thoughts in my head were running at a million miles an hour.

“Fuck I want to get wasted” was in there somewhere, along with a feeling of complete dread, an intense urge to find someone to slam with, a rush of memories of all the good and bad that came from sliding that needle into my arm. One thought does stand out, the thought that wished there was something in that rig, something I could use, even just a tiny amount to give me that feeling again, just the once. But would anyone really inject something into their bloodstream that’s been laying there for at least a year, sepsis here we come.

I started shaking, I was biting down hard on my teeth, I sat down and trembled, even now as I write this, I’m wondering if that was the needle I carried around for weeks that was full of ketamine, an overdose that I knew would kill me, that’s why I had it, was that the one?.

People tell me I’ve made so much progress, come so far from where I was, but have I really? If something so small and simple can bring about such a complete mess, turn a good day into a shit one, what does that say about me ? Thankfully I’m now feeling a bit better about it, going to the group really helped, those guys always help.

Would I have tried it if the rig was full? I honestly can’t answer that question.

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