An Addicts Journey
I think I finally understand what it’s like to be a recovering heroine addict. Right now I’m at the tail end, going through a withdrawal period and I’m not sure how I’m going to get through it. Yes, I do believe that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, but the journey is long and the closer I think I’m getting, the further it actually is. Kind of like the hotels in Vegas. They are so huge that you think it’s just a short walk to its front doors. Three hours later, it’s still the same size, in the distance and all you’ve accomplished is a collection of flyers and cards assuring you of a good time. However, as part of my 12 step program, sharing is a must. I just want it to be over.
Many of you have heard of this drug. I actually didn’t know it was a dependent narcotic until after the first hit. Then I was hooked. Sure I met a lot of people during my addiction period that made me feel cool, like I was part of the group. The little kid in me that was picked last for every team including a little kid contest starting to rear his shy, attention starved head excited at the chance to finally belong. But now I realize that it came at a very high cost. My family suffered, my health suffered and all that seemed to matter was when and where I could score my next hit. Damn you Vancouver Olympics.
For 17 days, I binged like a 70’s porn star on your non stop bombardment of what you call “sport”. I became transfixed to my television, my computer, my phone, and anything else that would get me to that euphoric state I was looking for. At first I thought I could easily control it. Sure, a little hockey here and there and okay, maybe some curling. But then everyone started hanging out at the moguls, then the mesmerizing speed of skating. It started to dawn on me that I had a problem when instead of playing go fish with my family, I sneaked away for some sweet Super G.
After that day, I thought to myself… no more. For the sake of those I love, I must stop this. But I couldn’t. The true me was being slowly consumed (measured in 100th’s of a second) by the monster. I started to have out of body experiences in which I was floating above myself in the room watching me watching it (diagram to follow). There was a different experience every time I took a hit, but the outcome was always the same. Luge, skeleton, and not just two-man bobsleigh, but the four-man as well. It gets worse. Soon figure skating and ice dancing were part of the routine. Ice dancing! Short and long programs!
The last day was the worst and in retrospect, probably the best thing that could have happened to me. It was a Sunday and I woke up needing a hit (which was the usual routine). I found a vein and hooked in the television cable and sat back to enjoy some exciting 50km cross country skiing. But for some reason, I wasn’t satisfied with just that. Because of the past sixteen days of building up a tolerance, I was in need of something more. And it came in the form of Men’s Gold Medal Hockey. Yes, the ultimate drug. I’ve heard of people taking it and never coming back. I had to try it, I needed it. At that moment, that’s all that seemed to matter in life. Well, that and some hot wings… and beer. But the hockey was the main ingredient.
I took the hit. I had to. Fully aware of the repercussions, I went full speed. And at the end, after almost three hours, I felt like I was about to have a heart attack. The stress, excitement and shock all seemed to create the perfect storm and I felt my heart hurt. I can honestly say that I’d never been so scared in my life. If it wasn’t for my kind, loving better half assuring me that it was the plate of hot wings causing some heart burn, I don’t know what I would have done. And with that, it was done. I realized that nothing was more important to me than family. I came back to them. I also knew that it would be a long road ahead to get completely off of the Olympics, but for them, I had to. I just hope that I don’t fall into a relapse… say in four years.