I lost my way.
I used last night. I don't know why. I'm still coming down so I'm not thinking very clearly.
During the darkest hours of the night, I thought about how my brain works. I knew that if I waited for morning, I would try to hide my mistake, and would find myself caught up in the machinery of addiction. I would think that I could stop it all through prayer and willpower and work, sidestepping disclosure. I've been there with embarrassing frequency, in that cycle of swearing off, planning, acting out, then starting over again and again.
So I woke up Linsey at 4:00 and told her what I'd done. I don't want to get caught in a week or a month, wandering the house while the world is sleeping. I need to stop now, I said. I'll reset my sobriety date (I had seven months) and get back to living. And I knew that whatever shame I felt today or tomorrow wouldn't be worse than the nightmare of living in my addictions.
My addictions. I've been a little vague because, frankly, I'm kind of embarrassed. But what the hell, here ya go: I'm addicted to DXM and internet porn. DXM is dextromethorphan, or cough syrup. Yes, over-the-counter cough syrup in “recreational” quantities. The reason I feel stupid is that being addicted to Robitussin is very high-schoolish, and a real sex addict is supposed to be visiting massage parlors, right? I'm such a fucking teenager when it comes to my vices. I throw in abusive doses of a couple other prescriptions as well, and I find nirvana. My rehab psychiatrist once said, “we become chemists.”
I am the luckiest man in the world. I have beautiful, intriguing children. I get to sing and make music for a living. My wife is generous and kind and diligent in her own recovery, and we are finding the way together. I have been reading through your past comments and I am humbled to be here with you. I ask that you forgive my selfishness. I'm getting back to work.
Image credit: nervousgravity @ deviantart.com
