diary

I have to remind myself daily of the horrors and bliss inherent in addiction because, sometimes, I feel so safe from relapse that it's dangerous.

The truth that no one wants to hear is that being high is the best feeling in the world, whether you're a drinker or a drug taker or indiscriminately consume anything that will alter your brain. I'm 32 years old and, to use that old clićhe, I can remember the first time I ever drank alcohol (it was whiskey, mixed with water; stolen from a cupboard where my parents, who were never big drinkers, stashed their booze) like it was yesterday. Time stops and the scene plays itself out in my brain like a movie reel. I'll never forget it. I'll never forget what I thought as soon as the alcohol fizzed and bubbled on my tongue, either, because at the time it seemed so dark and ridiculous: "This is going to be a very big problem for me." I was 14 years old and I ignored it. All teenagers are dramatic but I lived in my own head more than the real world and was especially precocious and sensitive. I was still young enough to be somewhat unaware of the permanence of certain choices and I wanted my life to be important or tragic.
But that first drink: It was like I'd been holding my breath for a long time and could finally let it out. I'd never felt peace like that before; I've never felt peace like that since. I truly believe that the main curse of addiction is a constant and inescapable desire to "return to." Like I said, we can never go back. Addiction keeps you in the present tense. I took my first drink when I was 14 and I stayed there, suspended in time and place, for over a decade. My whole life after that first drink became about trying to get back to that feeling.