Every Day is a New Fight: Part 1
An Anonymous True Story of Addiction Recovery
Written by Megan Wilczek
Just out of high school, I met some new friends who liked to party. They were into smoking weed and would pressure me to do it. I never did until one day, I had a really bad day at work and decided to try it. I didn’t care for it and thought it tasted bad. However, I continued to do it here and there. I didn’t think it was a big deal. It was “just a little pot.”
One time when I was at a party, a guy had some pills. I tried those and didn’t like them either, prompting the dealer to give me something else to try. This time it was an upper, and it made me feel good. It gave me energy and helped me get things done. I continued taking pills, smoking pot, and drinking alcohol.
Eventually, I ended up unknowingly trying cocaine. I felt happy, and like all my problems went away. I continued using it. Eventually, all the partying led to me quitting my job. Shortly after, I ended up selling drugs myself to be able to buy more drugs and make money. I was good at it, too.
This led to experimenting with other things. The house I was staying at got raided, so I had to move in with a different friend. We didn’t have enough money, so we started to steal to make ends meet. This friend introduced me to some of his friends, who then introduced me to their friends. “High ‘til I die” was our classic saying.
This new group of friends offered me a job driving them to Minnesota. I needed the money, so I did it. One of the guys in the backseat was constantly twirling his guns in his hands, so I was always worried about getting shot. I was really tired and needed to drive for a couple of hours yet. The guy I was with said he could help me with that. He shoved his thumb in a baggie of some substance and shoved it in my mouth. It tasted gross. It turned out it was meth. I was wide awake for days.
While in Minnesota, this guy got a bunch of meth to take back and sell. He didn’t end up getting any money because instead of selling it, he got high and kept me high. Looking back, I think their only goal for the trip was to get high. These people said they would beat others up for money. My car was in rough shape, so I was worried about getting pulled over. I was starting to wonder what I got myself into.
Coming down from the high, I felt horrible. I decided I would never do it again. However, the thought about the good high feeling was always in the back of my head. I ended up doing it again. This time I was completely hooked. I started doing it daily.
Time flew by fast. Days felt like hours, yet time stood still. Once, I borrowed my parent’s car for a whole month, but I thought it was only a couple of days. I was always so high that I didn’t know what was going on. I kept selling drugs to be able to continue using them. I wasn’t eating and didn’t feel hungry. All my belongings fit in one bag. I didn’t have my own place; I was just couch surfing. I finally admitted to my sister that I had done meth. She tried to get me to get help, but I wouldn’t listen. I didn’t think what I was doing was bad. I didn’t even understand why it was illegal. As I slowly killed myself, my family prayed for my return.
“As I slowly killed myself, my family prayed for my return.”
One night, as I was coming down from a high, I woke up completely terrified. I thought I was dying. Something told me I needed to get clean, or I would not survive the night.
I ran. My cell phone data was shut off, so I ran to the library and called my sister using the library’s Wi-Fi. She called my dad, who came to pick me. When my dad asked me what was wrong, I broke down in tears and sobbed. I admitted to him that I was addicted to drugs. When we got back to my parent’s house, I confessed everything to my mom. I laid down on their couch and passed out. The next day, my cousin, who was a recovering addict, came over to talk to me about going to rehab. I decided I would go. My family was calling around and couldn’t find one that had openings. By the grace of God, they finally found a rehab facility that would have one bed open soon, which they reserved for me.
On June 14, 2016, at 4 pm, I was admitted to rehab.
I hugged my family goodbye, went in, registered, and got my picture taken. They had me put all my belongings in a locker which was in a locked room. My intake nurse was also a recovering addict. She had been clean for several years and had become a nurse for the same facility where she had been to rehab. I saw a doctor as well. They did my vitals, drug testing, and lab work. Due to what my medical screening showed, I was considered critical. I went to detox and slept a lot. However, since I was considered critical, they had to wake me up every 30 minutes to take my vitals at first.
One night there was someone wandering the halls. I noticed he was acting weird. He talked to me a little bit. He came back later and thanked me for taking the time to talk to him. Then, he cut his wrists with a plastic knife right in front of me.
At one point in detox, I started seeing things. They looked like demonic creatures surrounding me in my bed. I tried closing my eyes and opening them again. They were still there. I was paralyzed in fear, stuck in my bed. This went on for 3 or 4 nights.
Finally, on June 17th at 11:35 am, I tested clean of all substances. It was the first time in 3 years that I didn’t have drugs in my system.
I got moved from detox to the residential program. In this program, I learned how to do life again. They taught me how to keep a routine and cook. I started relearning who I was and what I liked. I was 19 years old, and coloring because it calmed me down. I took walks a lot and played sports.
After I was there for about a week, my withdrawals were so bad that I decided I wanted to leave. I called my mom and asked her to pick me up. She said, “Nope,” and hung up. My roommate had left and said he would pick me up, so I decided to leave myself.
I was ready to walk out, standing just before the double doors that would lock behind me if I left. I paused. Something inside me said, “If you do this, you’re done.”
