"Drug of Choice"
Not exactly the correct way to put it. Least not for me.
It's not even about drugs. I mean maybe to an extent.
But the Chemical itself wasn't as much of a factor as some may believe.
This idea is really just kind of like a preferred flavor.
I preferred Opiates. I preferred Heroin. But Did I really?
I preferred Oblivion. Blotto.
Just shut it off.
My Drug of choice evolved. And I made My way to the deepest of bottoms.
One Compromise at a time.
Small compromises at first, Increasing in size over time.
Sacrificing my future for the moments.
Sacrificing more and more along the way.
But all of this, in and of itself was a compromise to my truest self.
I preferred a bond.
I preferred belonging.
I preferred to feel loved.
I preferred to feel.
My first drug of choice?
Not the traditional chemical.
But a Chemical reaction that occurred in my brain.
A Dopamine hit.
The Chemical reaction that occurred in my brain when I felt this:
The feeling that I was okay, that I was loved, in spite of all my flaws and insecurities, just as I was day in and day out. That I was good. That I was loved. That I mattered.
I loved my family.
They did their best. I loved all of them.
But I only really felt bonded with few of them. And that was ripped away.
Then I was shuffled around like a kid in the system.
So I looked for something to bond with.
I looked for someone to bond with.
I am not sure why I never bonded deeply with them like I should have.
Maybe it was me?
I searched for outside validation.
I searched for a place that I fit in.
I sought for ways to fill this void.
The more I fed the void, the deeper it became.
At first it was baseball.
Being a class clown.
A Girl's attention.
The wrong friends.
The right friends.
Anything for that Dopamine hit.
I had to Chase it.
My first Cigarette wasn't enough.
My first drink wasn't enough.
Video games. no.
I had to chase it.
The more I fed it, the larger it grew.
Maybe just one more will satisfy.
If I hit a home run on the ball field, I needed another one.
I just wanted to feel special.
I just wanted to feel celebrated.
I still do.
I just wanted to feel relevant.
I just wanted to feel noble.
I just wanted to feel.
but also, nothing at all.
I had to chase. I had to be on the move.
Looking back on things, I wasn't chasing towards anything.
I was running from everything.
Pot became Pills.
Pills became powder.
My friends became my adversaries.
I became someone else.
Just chase it.
Just get another one.
shut it off.
Shut it down.
When I cant feel.
Oblivion. Blotto. Blackness.
Out of sight and out of mind.
anything for a dopamine hit.
anything to make me feel something other than what I am.
Why work hard?
Why study? Why practice?
Why go home?
Why tell the truth?
Why be me?
When this one 10$ bag makes it so much easier.
To do nothing.
to be nothing.
to be someone else.
to just fucking escape.
Increase pleasure. Decrease pain.
Just stay numb.
and chase towards and run away from
the exact same things.
The generational loop in perpetuity
Run from my broken home.
Run from my lack of bonds
run from my childhood.
run from the beatings
The trailer parks
run from watching dad hitch hike on highway 74 and out of your life
run from the welts
run from the heart ache.
run from the domestics
run from the insecurities
run from the pain
chase towards the numbing of pain
chase towards the insecurities
chase towards domestics
chase towards the heartache
chase the welts
chase towards that highway
chase the trailer parks
chase the beatings
chase the childhoods
chase the fractured relationships. Run to what broke you.
create a broken home....
Ill be damned. I ended up becoming everything that I was running from.
This is the result of a phone call that I took from a gentleman yesterday.
He is an Atheist. I am a Believer.
But we share something in common.
He didn't push his, and I didn't push mine.
This is the beauty of recovery.
It's the clear cut difference between religion and spirituality.
Religion is for those afraid of hell.
Spirituality is for us who have been there.
We share that common pain.
That survivors bond.
Recovery is where Priest learns from Plumber.
Two Lost Souls.
Swimming in a fish bowl
This is the beauty of it all. There is no drug of choice. It is all the same.
We're all just wanting to feel optimal, or nothing at all. We addicts.
We get clean and get super into working out. Or shoes, or clothes, or the opposite sex.
Or work. Or God. Or art. Or Music. Or dogs. Or reading. Or writing. Or helping others. Or meetings.
Or church. Or food. Or family. Or Netflix. Or Cars. Or Money. Or Purpose.
Or we fall back into it.
To once again shut it off.
Everyone is addicted to something.
Everyone just wants to feel loved
to feel special
to feel respected
to feel celebrated
to feel a purpose.
Addiction is emotional
We are driven by chemical reactions in our brains.
Some of us more than others.
D o p a m i n e