It's been 63 days since I walked away from my saviour, my drug, my best friend and I'm beginning to miss the support it provided me. The only way I can describe it is that if you had someone in your life that was no good for you, you knew it and so did everyone else, and yet you just didn't want to/couldn't say goodbye to them. Well, thats how I felt about my 'friend'. I use the term 'friend' loosely as it was no friend - nor person in fact.
The Oxford English dictionary defines a friend as "a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard". I guess this means that it was never my friend. Sadly, I have only just realised this - after the addiction has been formed and my heart has been broken. I promised myself that I wouldn't ever feel the way I do now again. And I'm so angry and humiliated that I let myself down - yet another broken promise.
I've actually become somewhat of a pathological liar over the past couple of months. With people asking me if I'm okay it's just been the simple "yes, I'm fine thank you", it's not that I think they won't listen, it's more a case of I don't want them to see me as a weak person. I don't want people to have to deal with the negativity's of my life as well as anything going on in their own. Besides which, I was getting so good at lying I was even starting to believe I was okay. So instead of telling the truth and saying "things aren't going too well at the moment actually" I've been walking with my head in the clouds trying to put on a brave face. It's like when you go in to the cupboard at lunch time for that last can of soup you were looking forward to, and you go to reach it, and it's just out of your reach. So you go on tip-toes, do the superman stand and still nothing. There's a chair at the table in the other room but you're determined to do this yourself with no help. After nearly dislocating your shoulder you realise that it has beat you and so you decide that you'll just forget about it and move on to something else. Okay, so that probably wasn't the best analogy to have used. Basically, I've known that I've never really moved on from when I was at my lowest and I could see it just in front of me (the soup can) but I just couldn't bring myself to reach for it (tip-toes and superman stance) and due to my determination to do this myself I wasn't going to ask for any aids (the chair) in order for me to get it and deal with it. But the problem is the soup has now gone out of date and I just feel like I've left it too long. And if I open that cupboard door again then everything will just come flooding out - and I can't cope with that right now.
My saviour, my drug and my best friend will always be in my memory, as will my scars on my body. But it has been 63 days and in another 37 it will have been 100. Life will always pose its challenges, and there will be days when I want to give in. But I won't, because I'll remember these times and then the days after when I wake up after and realise things are never as bad as they were the night before. Things get better and life goes on. Things change and so do people. But the need for honesty will never alter, and the need for a hug and a chat with someone you trust won't either.
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