Crack Cocaine

I remember the day that I first told my mum I was addicted to crack cocaine. The night before, I woke up on my living room floor - blood everywhere. I got up and stumbled to the bathroom where I caught myself in the mirror. I had a gaping gash in my forehead that was still bleeding. I had no idea how long I'd been passed out for but it must have been a while as I was starting to feel faint. I had no idea what had happened at this point. Initially the last thing I remembered was one of my dealers being with me. I frantically started messaging him asking what on earth had happened and what I did and why he beat me up. But then I remembered him leaving; so then I was just completely confused. Turns out this was my first of four crack overdoses, which I only know now because of the other three. I had a seizure and whacked my head off my glass coffee table.

I got in the shower to try and wash the blood out of my hair but the lightheadedness was only getting worse and the bleeding just wasn't stopping. I FaceTimed my dad and he said he'd meet me at the hospital. I told him I'd just fallen off the bed... even though my bed frame was barely a foot off the ground and I had carpet.

By now the middle of the night was moving into early morning. I had a flight to catch to see my mum in Boston in literally just a few hours. I managed to get my forehead stitched just in time to head home, grab my suitcase and run to Manchester airport. I made the flight and I have to say, if anything good ever came out of smoking crack, it was that I could pass out for the whole flight on a comedown (I hate flying but no, still not worth it).

My mum picked me up from the airport and drove us to Trader Joe's to grab some groceries before we got home. We arrived and she turned off the car and we just sat there for a moment in silence. Then she asked, "so what happened?". I started to cry as I told her, "Mum, I'm addicted to crack cocaine." I still remember how her face went from worried to distraught. I could actually feel how helpless she felt and I just know that she had no idea what to do anymore. I had caused so much pain and destruction for so many years already, and she had tried so many things to save me from myself with no luck. It just felt like, 'What now?" "Where can we go from here?".

Growing up, the biggest lie I ever heard was that crack cocaine hooks you the first time you ever take it. From 15-18 I probably only smoked crack less than 20 times. Each time never thinking about it the next day. So I thought, well that's it then, I'm immune to the addiction of this drug. Please don't be fooled like I was.

The same went for heroin, between 15-17 I only used sporadically. Eventually though, I started using more and more. I was a lot more careful as I knew about the physical dependency so I tried to do a few days on a few days off. But after a few months the withdrawals started to creep in. I remember the first day I noticed them - my mum had flown over to the UK to visit me and my sister and we went to an art gallery. I could barely walk with the pains in my legs and I just felt so clammy and nauseous. That's the day I switched. I actually thought that crack cocaine was the answer. I couldn't have been more wrong.

I wouldn't wish a crack addiction on my worst enemy. It creates prison bars around you and shackles you with chains that just about reach the window. And through the window you can see life passing by. Your dreams, hopes and ambitions slowly fading. I've heard a lot of addicts say that in active addiction a future without drugs seemed overwhelming and boring. For me, thinking about being clean for the rest of my life brought a feeling of relief. It felt exciting. All the things I could do. All the things I could see. All the things I could become. There is nothing fun, and I mean nothing, about sitting alone, hunched over a pipe or a sheet of tin foil, just smoking smoking smoking all day, every day till your inevitable death. Weeks, months and years just vanish. It's a terrifying feeling knowing what the result of your behaviour will do to you and your family but having no ideas, hope or strength left to stop yourself.

Crack became my 'drug of choice' and where in the past I would take anything and everything given to me, now I would actually turn down anything that wasn't crack or heroin. I ended up eventually picking heroin back up to help with the side effects that crack brought on. It helped me eat and sleep and as crazy as it sounds, the withdrawals waking me up in the morning became a positive because on many occasions without that I would sleep for over 24 hours at a time after being up for days on crack. In my experience, I found crack to be the harder drug to stay off of because, as horrible as detoxing off heroin was, when the physical withdrawals were over, I didn't really crave it again. I felt instantaneously free. Whereas crack takes a daily effort for me. Sometimes hourly.

The most devastation I have ever felt was every time I thought I'd beat crack addiction. The second time I overdosed I was in my apartment with a friend. The last thing I remember saying was, "wow, I've never been this high before" before I dropped to the floor and started seizing. I came round extremely confused as to what was going on. My friend was panicking and made me lie down. He then showed me the clip in pulp fiction where Uma Thurman overdosed. He told me after I stopped seizing I just lay flat on the floor, lifeless, with my eyes open but still, blood coming out of my nose and foam coming out of my mouth. He thought I was dead. Thats when that feeling I spoke of in my first blog post hit me. I felt sick thinking about drugs at that point for a few days. Sick but almost happy because I thought I was now free. It was finally over. But it wasn't, and that disappointment was a hard one to live with. But even worse than that was the disappointment after my last rehab. I had already been to five rehabs and relapsed the day I left each. It wasn't that I didn't want to, or try to, change but in the back of my head I sort of knew I wasn't going to stay clean. But in my last rehab I worked so hard and I really truly believed I was going to stay clean this time. I made it one day before I slipped back into that quicksand and it swallowed me whole. I really can't even describe how soul destroying that was for me.

I believe that the happiness you can feel is in direct proportion to the pain you have felt. That's why addiction in a way is a blessing - but only if you get and stay clean. Everyone on this earth has misfortunes and obstacles to deal with and so I feel lucky that one of my biggest tribulations in life so far is addiction, because unlike a lot of life long problems, it is one that can change me and my life for the better so long as I choose it to. The freedom and joy felt in each day clean is something I couldn't have ever dreamed of. My emotions have always been extreme ends of the spectrum but the happiness I'm speaking of here is a pure and true gratitude, contentment and acceptance. Life can be beautiful, I just have to open my mind to see it.

Copyright © 2020 Mélisande Ottoline Erin. All rights reserved