Hello I am new on here and im not too sure where to start. So, I split with my fella about a year ago after my constant xanax/liquor cocktail binges finally broke his patience. Out of anger and impulse I decided to pick up smoking crack, just because I didn’t have my husband telling me what I couldn’t do anymore and I was really out of shape in need of an easy hunger suppressant and I already knew I enjoyed the high. I picked up crack on November 2, 2019 and didn’t stop until almost one full year later, costing me every penny of my savings, losing easily around 40lbs leaving me at a lowest weight of about 95lbs, and most heartbreaking being my dignity towards the end when I was introduced to the dark world of not needing money to pay for drugs. After catching a felony and beginning to dabble in the two drugs we all swear we’ll never try (giving me my first real flatline overdose) I finally felt my time with drugs was up and I haven’t gone back to them since.
I have since gained all my weight back, roughly 135lbs now, and moved back in with my husband who is so lovingly letting me take time off of work to focus on staying healthy. Most days I love my life and am so grateful I don’t even have to work. The support system I’ve built around me is so great, endless laughs and reality checks when needed. I should love it all the time and not just most days. I love them all so very much. I look at my husband and want to wrap myself around him or have him carry me in his pant pocket all day everyday. I’m so grateful that my body is still able to function this well after such long abuse and almost 10 years after high school. I’m lucky to have gotten out of the hole when I did and have jt as good as I do now. I should love my life.
But then there’s some days when I wake up and the first thing I feel is how my bones don’t stick out anymore, which then leads me on a 2 hour nostalgic daydream trying my hardest to vividly remember exactly what taking a good hit feels like and how much richer and skinnier I was when I could afford said good hit.
I literally have to slap myself when that one relapse thought starts. THE ONE, which brings along another 50,000. “I won’t let it get this bad this time, I’ve already been clean this long I could do it again, plus it would only be to lose 15lbs, i wouldn’t even need money for it, etc.”
I should love my life. I should be so grateful that these thoughts shouldn’t even cross my mind.
I fear that these thoughts are foreshadowing an opportunity for a relapse, but I hope it’s just the passing of a subconscious milestone. Some days it just really feels like I am losing my mind.