By Max Oppen
The clearer I get, the more painful life becomes. That's the thing about addiction and relapse—it's a double-edged sword. My memories are of better days that I will never get back. I chose drugs over family, drugs over friends, and drugs over a career. The deeper I sank, the more I wanted to stop but couldn't. I wanted the memories to stop. I tried to forget, but I also wanted to remember. I wanted my old life back so badly—I still do. But there are choices we make that are final.
Relapsing and using drugs excel at numbing pain. While I was in active addiction, lying to those I love most and hurting them to their core, I never fully realized that one day I'd snap out of those destructive patterns and create new, healthier ones. Recovery is possible, but it's the most straightforward, complex, and challenging lifestyle to adopt. Putting the drugs down was, surprisingly, the easy part. Dealing with the emotional wreckage? That's a thousand times more unbearable than being dope sick. With sobriety comes a searing clarity, and that clarity is brutal. I see now what an asshole I was while using drugs, and coming to terms with that fact is heartbreaking.
Once trust is broken, it's tough to earn it back—if ever. Some people in my life will never trust me again or forgive me. As much as I want them to, it's not up to me. I have zero control over that. I dug a deep hole and don't know if I'll ever see full daylight again. I took so much good in my life—so many people for granted—and now, as I write these words, the realization sickens me.
I was living two lives. One life was as the guy who could hold down a career, own a car, build a relationship, and be a loving partner and father figure. The other life was as the lying piece of shit who didn't care about anything but using. Eventually, the latter life took over completely. I forced people I love to make heartbreaking decisions that affect us all to this day. I lost people I care about deeply. I lost what I call "lifeshine"—everything bright and positive in my life became cold and dead, like an appendage with gangrene. My decisions led to the amputation of everything good I had helped build.
Now, in recovery, I see addiction as the rotten appendage that had to be severed. I almost convinced myself I wasn't causing anyone harm while I lied about my drug use. I was that far removed from reality. Those closest to me saw firsthand as I slowly destroyed myself and lost my mind. They pleaded with me to get help. They cried, and I didn't listen. I saw their tears and sadness for years and assumed I'd be forgiven. It got so bad that I had to leave everything and everyone behind. And I am so fucking sorry that this happened.
There are bright spots, but hindsight is humbling. Emotions I dulled for years now hit me like a baseball bat to the face. The clarity grows deafening. Yet, each day is new. Today, I want to be sober. I don't know what tomorrow will bring, but for now, I'm grateful for the good memories and resentful of myself for the bad choices that put me where I am today. All I can do is ask for forgiveness—but some bridges can't be rebuilt.
Loving someone more than they love you back is pure torture. It's devastating. People go through this kind of pain all the time, and I'd love to know how they cope with devastation, self-destruction, and loss. What techniques do they use to stay grounded?
I look back at the past, parts of which are painful - but this is healthy as long as I don't dwell on my mistakes. I will eventually forgive myself as long as I am sober, present, and live in the moment. That's the person I'd like to become again.
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