So I took a look around my room today waking up from the usual same ol' same ol' screaming fever dreams to this eternal pit of suffering I put myself in. Without even realizing it at first, I felt like I was home again. I'm about 60 days sober with one relapse. Meth really took me for a ride and made everything gray for such a long time. Nowhere felt safe, warm, comforting, or normal. It's like a clinical depression that only stems from your awful decision, which makes it hurt even worse.
I would take meth continually because everything in life lost it's meaning. I wasn't alive anymore, and nothing felt real. I was a zombie for such a long time even after I was forced to quit; I wanted to die every day. The funny thing is the self pity, the mood swings, the awful nails against the chalkboard dreams just finally got to be a routine. This morning I woke up, and I was used to it. I'm near 60 days sober now (One relapse, one trip, shh, relapse often plays a part in ones recovery), and colors are bright again, and I feel like I'm coming back to life.
It does come back guys, I do want to use again, and I probably will, but being sober isn't that bad when you got a good grip on it (we all know that in recovery it feels like you're holding on to a bucking bull). I don't want to die today, life just isn't that hard anymore.
Stay safe guys
happy holidays