My wife was addicted to cocaine. I should rephrase that, my now ex-wife was addicted to coke. We were married a very short time, three years, but we have a child together… so I’ve had to deal with her, her temperament, moods, druggie boyfriends, and addictions until our son turned 18. We met when I was 26 and she was 22. I had one more year left in the Marines and had met my future wife at a party where she did a monstrous line of coke. I had naively thought that she could walk away from drugs if she wanted, at any time. I was so very wrong. It took her almost 20 years to kick her addictions: alcohol, drugs, and sex. It would start with one drink on a Friday night with girlfriends. By the end of the night, she would have progressed from a drink to coke to whatever drug was also available to leaving with strangers to having sex with strangers for more drugs and she would find a way home by Tuesday or Wednesday.
If you respect yourself and everyone in your life, please stay away from meth. It’s not something to be fucked with and will rob you of all your dreams, aspirations, sanity and happiness. Friends don’t let friends drive drunk and friends certainly don’t let friends do meth. Please pass the word on and watch this video and read this testimony.
I spent two years addicted to meth. I broke the addiction cold turkey. It was fucking horrible, I was seeing shards and pipes EVERYWHERE (hallucinating).
I was never as bad as the video, but I was about four months away from that. I had lost so much weight that the callouses on my hand would shift when I gripped the steering wheel. I lost so much weight that when I bent down, my belt buckle would jab me under the ribs, painfully. One time when I came down from a tweakend, I slept for 30 hours straight.
It killed my best friend, twice. We had been friends for eight years when he robbed me, and then two years after that he killed himself (accidentally).
My wake up moment was when I took a look at my surroundings. I was in a trailer with five guys, none of us had taken a bath in five days, it was 3 in the morning. One of them had a crater on his forehead, where he’d been picking at a zit (and picking and picking and picking…), another was telling me about how he sucked dick in jail, and just… I knew I didn’t belong there. I left. I never went back to that life. The withdrawal was cruel, and I didn’t have a friend in the world anymore (when you’re a tweaker, all your friends are tweakers too… funny how that works out).
There are things you lose, that you can never get back, when you suffer from an addiction. I can’t remember the last time I was happy. I can find amusement in life, but it’s no replacement for -joy-.
I should clarify. I used meth for five years. For two of them, it was the only drug I was on. The only time that I wasn’t using was when I was asleep, or at work, and I would only sleep two days out of the week. I made enough money, and it was cheap enough, that I was never without.
The guy who robbed me wasn’t the friend I grew up with. He wasn’t my high school friend who came to hang out with me from 2am to 6am one night when I was feeling depressed. He wasn’t the same guy that helped me spend time with my first high school love. He wasn’t the same, awesome, best friend that I knew. Meth killed that friend of mine. Turned him into a scumbag that broke into my house while I was at work, and stole my computer and a big jar of loose change.
Two years after he robbed me, he accidentally hung himself (auto-erotic asphyxiation gone wrong). I had suspected him of the theft, but had confirmation after his death through a mutual friend. He bragged about how he stole from me.
During World War I, in the winter of 1914, on the battlefields of Flanders, one of the most unusual events in all of human history took place. The Germans had been in a fierce battle with the British and French. Both sides were dug in, safe in muddy, man-made trenches six to eight feet deep that seemed to stretch forever.
All of a sudden, German troops began to put small Christmas trees, lit with candles, outside of their trenches. Then, they began to sing songs. Across the way, in the “no man’s land” between them, came songs from the British and French troops. Incredibly, many of the Germans, who had worked in England before the war, were able to speak good enough English to propose a “Christmas” truce.
The British and French troops, all along the miles of trenches, accepted. In a few places, allied troops fired at the Germans as they climbed out of their trenches. But the Germans were persistent and Christmas would be celebrated even under the threat of impending death.
According to Stanley Weintraub, who wrote about this event in his book, Silent Night, “signboards arose up and down the trenches in a variety of shapes. They were usually in English, or – from the Germans – in fractured English. Rightly, the Germans assumed that the other side could not read traditional gothic lettering, and that few English understood spoken German. ‘YOU NO FIGHT, WE NO FIGHT’ was the most
frequently employed German message. Some British units improvised ‘MERRY CHRISTMAS’ banners and waited for a response. More placards on both sides popped up.”
A spontaneous truce resulted. Soldiers left their trenches, meeting in the middle to shake hands. The first order of business was to bury the dead who had been previously unreachable because of the conflict. Then, they exchanged gifts. Chocolate cake, cognac, postcards, newspapers, tobacco. In a few places, along the trenches, soldiers exchanged rifles for soccer balls and began to play games.
It didn’t last forever. In fact, some of the generals didn’t like it at all and commanded their troops to resume shooting at each other. After all, they were in a war. Soldiers eventually did resume shooting at each other. But only after, in a number of cases, a few days of wasting rounds of ammunition shooting at stars in the sky instead of soldiers in the opposing army across the field.
For a few precious moments there was peace on earth good will toward men.