I started using meth about the same time I moved out of the house and away from my marriage and kids. I felt like a failure. I wanted to never think about anything that meant anything. I wanted an escape. Meth did that for me. I started out snorting it and after a while, when that didn’t keep me as high anymore, I moved on to smoking it. And I could never get enough. And I couldn’t think about anything else besides when the next time I could get high would be. I knew even as it was happening that it felt out of my control and stupid and that I should make myself quit but I couldn’t. I would think, ‘This is so stupid. I’m being so dumb.’ and then light the pipe and inhale deeply.
I drove to Seattle after not sleeping and contemplating suicide for almost 2 weeks straight. My sister took me in. I tried to quit using but it went on for a few more weeks. It was so easy to find and people were practically giving it away to strangers. It’s not easy to say no when people are offering. Eventually, my self harming took care of all of it. I cut my leg so deep and long with a razor that I needed emergency attention and lots of stitches. I went from there to a mental institution where I started getting all the help I needed for so many things.