By Nick Mcglashan
October 30, 2016
I never imagined catching such a high.
This is amazing, why wasn't I doing this earlier?
The feeling of ecstasy slowly begins to saunter away as my high liquefies, my mind cautiously dances with reality once again.
Did I really just put a needle in my arm?
I've built a towering mountain of guilt and it's covered by a blanket of shame. After hitting rock bottom so many times, I fear for my safety in a way that I’ve never experienced. Something I told myself I'd never do now trumps every priority in my life; I need to slam more dope.
How has my addiction progressed at such a swift pace?
November 5th, 2016- Last Day Of Use
I struggle to find the button marked '3'. In the ascending elevator, the pressure of upward movement on my knees is incredible.
Why am I feeling so weak?
“Bing.” The door opens.
My right leg moves first. My left knee, unable to support the weight of my body above it, buckles and I fall awkwardly to the carpeted floor of the Marriott Hotel in downtown Anchorage, Alaska.
I roll on my back and my vision begins to blur. Sweat starts to seep from every pore on my dying body. Fed up with the abuse, my heart feels like it’s going to erupt.
August 17, 2016
The sound of my cell phone brings me to consciousness. I grab my it, the time is 9:37am. The text is from my travel agent advising me to remain sober so we don't have to reschedule my flight again. Check-out is 11am.
I need to be at the Kalispell International Airport at 4pm to catch my flight to Seattle. If I can't drink, I will get as high as I can. I figured if I parachute a gram of meth now I'll be good to go, if I overdose the maid will find me. This is the insanity of addiction. At the time this was a responsible and logical thought.
I swallow the bundle of meth.
It takes about an hour for my chest to hurt and my body to soak my clothes, then my world went black. I woke up in the hospital, alone scared and confused. It takes about an hour to figure out what had happened. The nurse told me an employee of the 'Downtowner Inn' in Whitefish Montana had found me not breathing and called 911.
I notice the clock on the wall.
I could still make my flight.
The staff recommends serious help. My chest hurts. My heart felt severely damaged. Having no authority to keep me, I am allowed to leave the hospital against medical advice.
November 5th, 2016- Last Day Of Use
I force myself to my knees and then to my feet. Patiently waiting for my vision to return, I stand upright against the wall next to a framed photo. I recall my last overdose, I really don't want this to be number four.
"God help me" I mutter out loud, as if God is standing next to me.
Right leg, left leg, right leg.
I get light headed and vomit vodka and green bile on the wall to my left. I am cold from my drenched clothes. The tears produced by forcing vodka from my body disappear and I can suddenly see clearly. I lift my head and find what I'm looking for, room 356.
Skyler is a small pretty girl covered in tattoos. There is something mysterious in her stoned eyes that intrigues me. She is one dope dealer that is still willing to do business with me. Sprawled on the bed across from Skyler is RJ, who is a brilliantly intelligent Alaskan native. They look at me with concern.
"Are you okay man?" RJ asks. His massive lips move way too much, his black hair a mess that needs to be cut.
"How much do you need," Skylar asks, unzipping her backpack. She has a perfect face. Her hair hiding beneath a slightly twisted cap.
"One gram of heroin and one gram of meth"
Thank god he has a bottle of rum on the desk. I take another swig to steady myself. I stumble quickly to the bathroom to cook up the dope, prepping my dope and rig before injecting these poisons into my body has become a ritual. I'm perfecting it in my own twisted world.
I'm really starting to enjoy that feeling of the needle entering my vein. Feeling that 'pop' is so good, I can almost hear it. Pulling back the plunger, seeing the blood mix with the dope at the bottom ensures that I haven't missed my mark. I lose myself in the euphoric feeling, standing motionless the needle drops to the floor. Nothing matters.
No thoughts enter my brain. I have no idea how much time has passed.
I walk out of the bathroom. Skyler is gone. I silently watch RJ. The empty pen body in those big lips chasing a black dot that is traveling across the shiny aluminum, producing a thick cloud of smoke. Nothing is wasted, he is a pro.
Something comes over me. A feeling I cannot explain.
I need this to stop.
I need to get out.
I need to go.
I run from the room, take the stairs to the lobby and hail a cab.
"Where we going?" asks the cab driver.
"To the airport"
I cautiously walk to the counter.
"How can I help you?"
"I need to be on the next flight to Orlando"
November 6th, 2016- First Day Sober
My dad meets me at the airport. In full detox mode and dripping sweat, haggard, I throw my bag in the back of his crew cab Chevy diesel and crawl into the front seat next to him. With his heart broken glare upon me, I roll down my window, the hot Florida air rushes in. My lips soundlessly mumble something, my mind unable to glue one thought to another, I vomit green bile outside. My father’s eyes begin, shyly, to water and his throat swells as he silently thinks of where the innocent boy he once knew had gone, and if he'd ever get that boy back. We begin moving and the concerned faces of strangers waiting for their rides with their luggage disappear in the rear view mirror.
To be continued...