Could be a Family Member

It’s 10 AM and in my active addiction, I’d be finishing my first bundle of heroin right about now. That was just to get me off empty. That was just enough to make me not feel sick.

For years my life revolved around the very complicated goal of just not being sick. 60 dollars and ten bags of heroin would buy me approximately 8 hours of relief. From there began the quest of finding my next bundle of dope. Who could I manipulate? Who could I steal from? Who could I middle man?

Heroin killed me 8 times in my lifetime. Each time I was saved by the first responders of NYC equipped with Narcan. It took me a long time to learn that this was a winless battle. A never-ending war within myself with only two possible outcomes—death or sobriety.

I am blessed to have found the latter of the two.

I am blessed to once again know what 10 AM is supposed to look like. It’s no longer me barricaded inside a bathroom stall loading 30 gauge syringes full of my next hit of heroin. It’s no longer me wandering the streets looking for the next human being to use and abuse to fuel my heroin addiction. It’s no longer about just being “not sick.” It’s about life, and I’m living it.

They used to say heroin addiction was a death sentence. Today, I beg to differ.

— Kevin, The Addict’s Diary