[jonathan1980]

Einstein defined insanity as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Something must change if you want change to happen. If my wife had not left our family home to pursue a new life in another country, I may well have died and or become irreversibly mentally unwell. Cocaine had quite literally fallen into my life and had taken over my mind and body, sometimes I could not rationally explain the hideous and irresponsible acts I performed while under the influence of one of the world’s strongest stimulants. Once I had developed a taste for cocaine, I believed there was nothing that could stand between cocaine and me. I had plenty of funds, an industrious dealer and I began to master the art of lying to my wife about where I was, who I was with, and when I might return home. On the face of things, I believed I was in control because to a large degree I got away with it. My fears were not will I lose my wife, my job, or my home. Instead, I was concerned with at what time could I sneak out of work or my home to score, and should I buy two or three grams tonight? The point is I was not on the same planet as others, especially not my poor wife’s. It would not have mattered what temporary obstacle she may have placed in front of me, because I knew almost any chastisement from her for being home late, indifferent or argumentative would be a low price to pay for the reward of cocaine I would later grant myself. However, one day, she left me to face what can only be described as a glimpse of hell. I am not expecting violins, but until my wife had cut the cord I was not able to heal from what is a seriously dangerous and filthy drug. If I may provide some background to my situation: at the time cocaine enveloped me, I was performing a highly stressful job, very comfortably off, reasonably popular, and thought life was sweet enough. We had first-world problems. Cocaine was sold to me at a posh black-tie event, but I did not consume it at the event. However, two weeks later I am alone in my kitchen at home and I remember having bought it and go to check my dinner jacket to find a bag of white powder in the inside pocket. Within weeks of this find, I was hooked. After six months, people started to notice how often congested I was, then came the calling in sick at work followed by weird behavior. In short, I was screaming out for help but no one had thought I had a problem, certainly not with Cocaine. Eventually, my wife began discovering the paraphernalia associated with taking Cocaine: rolled notes, dusty surfaces, and bank cards lying in strange places throughout the house. I was so relieved to be found out, I was lost and needed a friend and not the merciless dealer who had begun placing bags of Cocaine under my doormat to promote his buy now pay later scheme. However, before my wife left, she got me therapy and it has immensely helped. I have developed a profound relationship with my therapist and he has unlocked in me why I felt compelled to abuse myself and disrespect others, but until I had realised the source of my problem I misled my therapist and deceived my wife into believing I was cured. After a short stint sober, I was back on it again, and eventually, my wife left me. I needed her to go and for me to face some horrendous demons. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, and two years later I have been teetotal and I joined my wife in the country she immigrated to. I do not believe there is one clear reason as to why one is dependent on drugs, but a plethora of reasons. Sometimes, it is not the recipient’s job to ascertain those causes but the abuser themselves. I needed to be left to walk alone in the valley of darkness to realise what I was singlehandedly destroying. One cannot lead another person’s life. After leaving me, the next best thing my wife did for me was to leave the door open for when I wanted to change. If not the original post, I hope my story helps somebody.

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