Life Off the Shackles
Life in Shackles
My life began well just like a normal kid life would, my parents had an average living standard, they were very religious and consequently I knew my way to church, way before I could learn how to spell my name. My childhood life was, consequently, that of a normal religious, humble background kid. I had a limited list of friends, and, this went on for my teenage years, I had to come up with a way to cope and consequently became an introvert. Those who know a thing or two about introverts, we are our own greatest companions. We delve into in any case our mind promises to be the best another companion in our lonely world.
My teenage life was not that easy, being the only child to a family of busy parents, I was left to figure out adolescence turmoil on my own. So I would time to time, try on some nerve numbing concoctions, and that began with little Dad’s whiskey imbibing whenever I could lay my hands on the bottle. As time went on I got better at handling the effects of the whiskey and I found myself yearning to gulp more and more. By the time I was in college I was a complete blown alcoholic and I quickly learned of better stronger nerve numbing elements. Started with some few puffs of pot, and I quickly graduated to hard stuff such as cocaine and heroin in less than a year.
Summer break came as a relief for me, I was already losing interest in books and I had lost hope in my academics owing to the fact that I was scoring very low. I took myself for a vacation to the Caribbean Island and as the fun turned up I decided never to head back home. I discontinued any communications with anyone back home since my parents had gotten the wind of what is happening and were pestering me. Hell broke loose when I decide to make the Caribbean my new home. I nevertheless had some money saved up and so I could continue myself there for a associate of months.
When the money started running out I tried several method to meet ends meet, such as peddling of drugs as I nevertheless used them. Other times I found myself doing strange stuff just to get money to sustain my addiction, I cared less if I ate and only cared of where my next shot will come from. I was the real definition of a drug addict by my twenty-second birthday. I remember this because I recalled it was my birthday when being probed by an immigration officer who had been alerted of an immigrant who had overstayed his welcome.
When awaiting deportation, I met a friend who had connections and I would later find m self in streets of Durban. How or what it took to get us there I do not really comprehend up to date, keep in mind that I was high all the time. Being an addict and a hobo who did not have anything besides my weary beat down skin, I found comfort in the same place as any other street ratchet would. I lived only for the next minute kick and euphoria provided by any drug I got to use. My mind was a wreck and I found it difficult to explain m origin, I was thorough into a life that I didn’t see a reappearance.
Later that year as I was peddling drug on a busy street in Durban frequented by tourists, I came across a school mate of mine who could not recognize me; both the shock and the surreal difference between us threw me off. I tried running away but he caught up with me and forced me into a seat down. We had a lengthy conversation and he took pity in my current situation. I also got the urge to go back home after three and a half years of facing the gory drug life head first. When I landed home, at the airport everybody looked at me like a vagabond or a ratchet pulled out of a bin. My friend had called and informed my parents of my arrival and so I found them waiting for me. I was taken to rehab that very same day.
Having experienced life out there I found it difficult to stay intact in the rehabilitation center and barely a month of being there I managed to escape. I would later go back to my drug use now with a resolved mind of taking it a notch higher. However, this did not go on for long, I got arrested and placed under mandatory therapy and a sentence of five months at a correction facility just near my city town.
It’s now eight months into my sobriety journey. I am focused on staying clean and making a difference with in any case little is left of my life. The journey is tough and consequently I need positive minded friends to keep going in addition as discarded the introvert attitude.