Some days it feels like you'll never be able to escape reminders of crystal meth use. That's because, as gay men, we have slutted it up everywhere within a 50-mile radius of our home.
I wonder if that's how people with alcohol use disorder feel on a daily basis. There are beer ads on highway billboards, on TV, in grocery store aisles, and on the walls of gas stations.
There is a differentiation here that must be acknowledged. The exposure to the availability of the substance is no doubt triggering. But, the way meth sears memories onto our brains like a hot branding iron can feel maddening.
In my experience, I barely remember what occurred during the nights I was drunk. That's why we call it 'black-out drunk,' right? But, let me tell you, I recall every single minute detail of my parTy nights. Every one of them.
Crystal meth is a Polaroid camera (sorry if you are too young to remember what that isā google it). The dopamine rush flashes and captures images and incidents eternally.
Then we must interact within a world of constant memory triggers.
We take a different route to work.
We turn our heads when we spot that house where that guy lives.
We avoid certain public parks like the plague.
We turn down offers to go out to that bar downtown.
We avoid that part of town in case we run into that certain someone.
Sometimes we have to leave the entire city.
This past Spring, I decided to deliver for DoorDash to save up some money to invest in my coaching business. Pretty noble and innocent, right?
Until one delivery led me to a familiar apartment complex. A place where I used to parTy often with a partnered couple. My hands shook as I stared at the GPS directions. I was headed right to the exact same apartment. SAME APARTMENT.
Out of this entire complex, what are the damn chances?
I knew the guys who lived there had moved out long ago. But what if they hadn't? Before I knew it, my mind went into a spiral of conspiracy, entrapment, and then fantasy. I was sick to my stomach, walking up the stairs to the third level. It was surreal and just weird.
Sitting down the order, I snapped a pic for the customer: "Barbara." I stood for a few moments. I was oscillating between fear and rhapsody. What if they were in there?
Wait...how would they have ever been able to choose me as the delivery driver? Or was this fate?
What the hell am I doing right now? I am saving money to invest in a sobriety coaching business, secretly hoping to relapse.
As I walked away, I heard the door open. Looking back, I saw a lady in a nightgown collect her bag of Carraba's pasta.
Guys, getting and staying sober from this drug is no joke. It presents a set of challenges like no other substance. Our drug treatment centers and most therapists don't get it. Hell, most sponsors aren't giving you the grace and space you need in recovery.
Not only have I lived what you've lived, I AM living what you're living. Triggers and cravings don't disappear. The incident I described above was 5 1/2 years into sobriety. Meth buries into our neurons and sets up camp.
My brain is still hungry for the needle. It tells me how badly it needs that rush very often. But, I have developed the skills, the recovery network, and the resolve to say no.
I'm here to share my knowledge and experience as your personal coach. I am here to hold you accountable and guide you through the process of finding your own skills, network, and resolve.
I am currently on a waiting list but feel free to schedule a FREE call with me to discuss my Recovery Alchemy program. Let's see if we are a good fit!
Love you guys,
Dallas
August 20, 2024
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