So this is my first time writting down any of my thoughts and making them public. I still don't know how this will go but I will soon find out.

For the past 14 years of my life I have struggled with major drug addiction and at times, alcohol dependency. I started using to fit in, I guess, like a lot of experimenting teens. Although, I soon realized it wasn't me experimenting anymore. It was me addicted to precription pain medication.  I remember one of the first times I tried an opiate. Everything was just...BETTER! I was funnier, cooler, more attractive ( that's debatable) and the most important thing, I felt like I fit in. Looking back though, I noticed that I wasn't really "fitting in" because most of my friends at that time didnt use, maybe they smoked weed, once.

But for me fitting in with others meant feeling comfortable in my own skin, which I still struggle with today. It's like I'm an extra large body in a medium size skin. Not so easy to do. But the more important thought to analyze is why don't I feel comfortable in my own skin ? Was it my childhood ? Normal by any means in todays world. Parents divorced at a young age. Raised by a single parent until my step-father came into the picture. I suppose I might have felt abandoned by my father, then connected with my step father, only for him and my mother to have a child of their own, and that connection was lost again. Either way, I didnt feel accepted.

Then came the teenage years, oh the agnst. I hated everything. School, family, myself, the world, Brett "the hit man" Hart. I mean, come on, I was a Shawn Michaels fan. It seemed like I was on a crash coarse with pain and suffering, brought on by my own actions from an early start. But thats neither here or there.

Like many addicts, at one point in my life I was appearing to live an acceptable life by society's standards. Good job, my own place and a car. But what was really going on ? I was broke all the time. I isolated the 16 hours I wasn't at work. I had a family member pay all my bills so I could get high . Classy, I know. Then on April 19th, 2012 an odd chain of events took place which ultimately landed me in a drug rehabilitation center for the first time. My D.O.C. at that time, heroin.

I recieved a successful discharge and got a hold of my first copy of the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous and the Basic Text of Narcotics Anonymous. I wish I could say that that's the end of my journey but I feel I would be shorting you out on some first hand experience of pain and suffering. I did however stay clean for about 3 months, give or take. I didn't actually know the amount of time I had clean because I didn't care. I wanted to show my family I could do it, then go get high. Which I did, thank you!

The blackout lasted for about 2-4 days. Don't ask me, I dont remember. But in that period of time, I was kicked out of the recovery home I was staying at, entered a detox center, left a detox center in an ambulance, disharged from the E.R., lost my wallet, lost my cell phone and then FINALLY made it back to a detox center where I then woke up an extra 2 days later, not knowing what had happened. A social drinker may blackout for an hour or two, but us addicts, we go days! But had I had enough ? Sure, for about 6 months until it all happened again. This time I was staying in another recovery home in Rockford. I was doing good too, I thought. I had a girlfriend who was a liar. (Resentment ? No!) A sponsor I only used when I was doing well and an urge so strong for acceptance by the opposite sex all the hulk-a-maniacs in America couldn't keep it down. I was determined. Determined to make a mess out of my life and blame everyone else for my problems. So what did I do?  I got high of coarse.

MORE TO COME OF MY STRUGGLES WITH ADDICTION AND LIFE.