Hi, Hello, my name is Miquela and I am not an addict.

Good morning sunshine!

I want to talk addiction.

I have been surrounded by "addicts" my whole life. My best friend was an addict, my ex husband was an addict, I was even an addict for a little while. I've visited people in jail and rehab more times than I can count. I have watched someone I love dearly go through heroin withdrawals, begging and pleading to just do a little more so they wouldn't be so sick. I watched someone come into my home, overdosing on heroin. I have watched someone I thought I knew, turn into someone I wanted nothing to do with. 

Whenever I go to a family group meeting to support someone I love, it's similar to an NA or AA meeting. When the meeting starts, everyone goes around and introduces themselves one by one, which usually consists of "Hi, I'm so and so, and I am an addict".  Every time I hear someone place that label on themselves makes me cringe! Let me tell you what the definition of an addict is: 

ad·dict

/ˈadikt/

noun; a person who is addicted to a particular substance, typically an illegal drug.

Here is what I want to say when I go to one of these meetings, but have never been able to muster up the courage to do so. In fact, I would love to say it to the world.

Hello, my name is Miquela, and I am NOT an addict, and neither are any of you. 

You are divine beings who picked up a drug, gave your power to that drug, and when your world came crashing down, you surrendered. You made a choice to stop giving that drug your power. We all have a higher power guiding us, and helping us navigate this world. You finally listened to that higher power and stopped using drugs. 

When you made that choice to surrender and give up the deceiving drug that was destroying not only your health, but your life, you no longer carry the label of an addict because you are no longer addicted to anything, make sense? When you get clean and sober off of drugs and alcohol, you are no longer an addict. When you place that label on yourself for the rest of your life, that immediately sets you up to fail,  and eventually relapse. Because what is the number one thing addicts will most likely do in their life? RELAPSE. Why? Because they're an addict, right? Having this label is a way to justify certain actions and behaviors for the rest of your life. Like relapsing. Oh I relapsed, It's because I'm an addict. What? No. You relapsed because you made the choice to relapse. When you're dealing with someone who is going through an addiction, they develop certain behaviors. When they get clean, those behaviors don't just disappear. They have to work on them every single day. Behaviors are basically habits and unfortunately, when a drug has power over you, those habits you have developed are not healthy habits to carry out into the real world. Especially when you're trying to live an honest, healthy, and fulfilling life. When someone smokes cigarettes, they label themselves as a smoker. But when they quit smoking, they are no longer a smoker. When someone runs every single day, they are a runner. But when they quit running, they are no longer a runner. Being an addict is more of an action than a noun. I have this theory that rehabs have created this label for people who are struggling to stay clean, in hopes that they continue to come back. WIthout "addicts" there are no rehabs. I know there are thousands of people out there who claim to be addicts and are in recovery that will totally disagree with my outlook on this. I will respectfully look at anyone and say "you are not an addict, you are you". Your past choices of using drugs does not define who you are today. 

Let me share my story.

In 2010 I tried my first drug. Ecstasy. I was 18 years old. The months following that I dabbled in other drugs, alcohol, and weed on occasion on the weekends. Cocaine, meth, some more ecstasy. It was all so new to me and it didn't become much of a problem yet. There were 3 people very near and dear to me where it was becoming a problem. I didn't realize the seriousness of it until I learned that 2 of them were shooting up heroin and the other one was consistently shooting up meth. They were no longer doing it in a social setting. It was everyday. All day long. They were in the thick of their addiction and it was slowly taking away who I remember them to be as a person. There was a darkness in their eyes and the spider web of lies I was being told was massive. 

I started hair school in the beginning of 2010, a few months before I tried my first drug. I had goals and was working on bettering my life and building a career. The friends I met at school were similar to my new friends that I tried ecstasy with. We were always taking breaks at school to go smoke some weed. Eventually I wasn't taking hair school very seriously and dropped out. I then got married in October 2010. I was only 19 and the drug use didn't stop. For me, it was still social. I lived a fairly healthy life outside of the weekend partying. I still ran every morning and focused on eating nutritious food, and was working full time at a frozen yogurt shop.  I thought I was living the life. 

I became pregnant in March of 2019. The day of my sweet grandma's funeral was the day I took a test. It was also the same day I woke up and snorted a line of cocaine that was leftover from the weekend. When that little stick showed a plus sign, my whole world changed. I immediately flushed the drugs and started googling everything about pregnancy. I was scared shitless but excited for a new chapter in my life. By the following week I was in to see a doctor to  confirm the fact that I was pregnant. The ultrasound screen showed a little tiny thing that looked like a gummy bear and the size of it meant I was about 9 weeks pregnant. I even nicknamed it gummy bear ;). The excitement to become a mother was unreal. I had another doctor's appointment scheduled 4 weeks out. I was 13 weeks pregnant by that time and ready to see my growing gummy bear on the screen. We began by using the little tool that listens for the heartbeat. After a few minutes of silence and watching the nurse with a questionable look on her face, she finally said she would be right back and that she had to go get the doctor. I felt a rush of worry fill my body but was trying to remain calm and positive. Doc came in and said don't worry, sometimes when you're not too far along, it can be difficult to find the heartbeat. We went into the next room to use the ultrasound machine so we could get a visual of my gummy bear. After a few moments of silence the doctor confirmed that the little beating heart was no longer beating. It was an immediate feeling of loss that I didn't know I would ever feel. That feeling quickly turned into guilt and shame. I was told that there was no real cause behind it, but I was convinced it was because of all of my stupid choices using drugs. 

I went home that day feeling empty, lost, and broken. I cried myself to sleep more nights than I can count, and I woke up starting my days with tear filled eyes. After some time had passed and I got back into my normal days of going to work without a baby on my brain, things started to settle down. The drug use however, slowly picked back up. Adderall became a favorite for the amount of hours I was working every day. I never took more than a pill a day so I thought I was totally good, regardless of the fact that I was buying it on the streets. On the weekends, we always turned to something a little more extreme. Like I said before, it was either meth or cocaine. Sometimes ecstasy. Whenever we would ask "what are we doing this weekend?" We were usually referring to what drug are we going to get high on this weekend? 

When I started taking a step back and looking at our life I noticed that it was always a battle to stay on top of our bills. Gee I wonder why? Drugs are fucking expensive. Fun fact: I was never the one to go and get the drugs. I was never involved in the run around or the communication. I was the good little housewife who stayed home and waited for them to be brought to me. I remember one specific day, the morning after smoking meth all weekend long. I got up to go to work and felt so low. I was depressed, angry, and pissed off that I was working where I was. I felt pathetic and stuck in rut. My life should be going somewhere. I went home and talked to my husband about how I was feeling and he told me that it was from the drugs and it will pass. What goes up, must come down. And boy was I down. He was right, it did pass and I started to feel normal again. I also made the decision to never touch meth again because of how low it made me feel. I never wanted to feel like that again. I continued to drink and smoke weed and live my life as I always had and life went on. 

In November 2011 I learned I was pregnant again. I was terrified of going through another loss so I did everything in my power to make sure I was healthy. I quickly learned that my partner was not on the same page and continued using. Not in front of me, but I always knew. The kind of people that you deal with in that world are awful, and they were always coming by the house. We never had any money so I was always a total stress case, even more now that I was carrying a child. How was I going to bring a baby into the world if we can't afford even the basics? We ended up having to move out of our apartment when I was 8 months pregnant. I found us a cute little cottage like home and made it feel like home just in time for our sweet daughter to be born. I'm convinced that because of all of my stress she came 3 weeks early. Thankfully she was healthy and strong. 

As time went on, and the stress of adulting and being responsible kept building up, my husband and I soon split up. I couldn't keep living the way we used to live now that we had a daughter, it was too unstable. My daughter and I moved in with my parents and I began working again...and drinking. I was a mess. I was full of hate and resentment toward my husband and I acted out. My new job was at a golf course, serving drinks. That meant I knew right where the alcohol closet was. My boss was a degrading piece of shit and didn't care if I was drunk at work. As long as my titties were showing and I was earning tips, he was cool with it. The attention from men that I received was something I wasn't used to when I was younger. I soaked it all up like a sponge. I dated several guys during this time, drank a shit ton of alcohol, and had no fucking clue what I was doing with my life. 6 months of trying to be a single mom, juggle work, and keep track of all my boy toys was a lot to carry! I clearly wasn't over my husband, and I was so mad at him that I drank to make me feel happy. We eventually got back together because we have a daughter together and I was somehow convinced that things were going to change. I was told that the drugs were no longer in the picture and the income was steady. 

We moved into a little townhome and things started out pretty smooth. I finally felt content again. Life was good and I was grateful to have some financial help so I could focus more on being a mother. On the day of our wedding anniversary we got a sitter and got all dolled up so we could go out. Of course I had a few drinks and the conversation was flowing. On the drive home I looked at my husbands arm and noticed a track mark. I was a little shocked, then upset at first when I noticed it, but then the curiosity hit me. I looked at him and asked what it was. Obviously I knew what it was, but I didn't know he was an IV user and I wanted confirmation. He was honest with me and I asked him why. What is so great about this drug that you can't stop? Is it really that good? Maybe I should try it... All it took was a phone call, and a few minutes  before we even got home there was a little baggy hiding up on the wheel well in his work truck. He even had two little syringes. He had been using this shit the whole time. It never stopped. With a little alcohol in me, I didn't even question that part. I was just happy to be back together and not fighting. I was truly trying to understand WHY this time. Maybe if I experience it just this one time, I will be able to understand him. I couldn't believe what I was doing, and I couldn't do it myself. He had to do it for me. I couldn't even watch while he did it. As I turned my head I felt this huge rush take over my whole body. It was euphoric and I felt so alive. Whoa. 

Every day after that I found myself wanting more and more. Constantly chasing that rush and that high. Like I mentioned before, I never did the runaround. I was at home with our daughter and I took care of the house.  I still functioned like a normal human, I was just high on dope so I was REALLY awake. All the time. I forced myself to eat and sleep because I didn't want anyone to know what I was really putting into my body. I was determined to not become the typical tweaker that we all know. Deep down I was ashamed, but I felt so good I made it up in my mind that I can still get high and be a good person. It's just a drug. I'm not hurting anybody. I'm still here for my daughter 24/7 and we played all the time. I was a good mother. During this time I discovered my love for painting on canvas. When  you use dope, you tend to get overly obsessive with things, and my thing was painting. It's all I ever did and it's all I ever thought about. What's so bad about that, right? Let me tell you what started to happen though after a few months had gone by. The amount of weight I lost was grotesque, and my family started calling me out. I was a fat kid in high school, lost a lot of weight so I was pretty fit. When they saw me this time I was basically skin and bones. You could tell it  was unhealthy. My skin started breaking out with big sores on it, and my hair was really thin. My family continued asking me what was up and I hated it. I would get so mad at them for judging me by my appearance that I would stop going to family gatherings. It was easier to stay home and paint than it was to face my family who knew something was going on. I eventually would isolate myself so much that I wouldn't even go to the store because I was afraid people would look at me and know that I was high on dope. It got so bad that whenever I would take my daughter to the park, if there was people there, I would turn around and go look for a different park that was empty. It was like this drug that showed itself to be so great and euphoric, was quickly sucking the life and soul out of me. I was losing who I was as a person. I found myself feeling so depressed at times until I shot up again. It made no sense at the time. I didn't want to stop. I was a good mother! I can still get high and be a good person. 

Thanksgiving came around and it's tradition to get our whole entire family together and celebrate at my mom's. I came up with some lame excuse as to why we wouldn't be there so that I didn't have to face my "judgmental" family. My husband was gone the entire day doing god knows what, and my daughter and I stayed home and painted of course. I was completely crushed deep inside for missing Thanksgiving. I've always loved Thanksgiving, it's one of my favorite holidays. As long as I was high though, all was well and I could look passed it. 

When dealing with this kind of a drug often comes with some scary people. We had a lot of people come into our home that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up. Some of them were so bad, that I felt like our lives were in danger. When someone stays up for days at a time, they tend to get a little crazy and think someone is out to get them. There were 2 different people who were convinced that my husband had stolen from them. The first time, one of them showed up with a taser demanding that we give him something of value. It may have just been a taser, but I was beyond scared. My daughter was in the house and I was beside myself. The second time someone thought we stole from him, he made several threats against me and in a roundabout way said to watch out and he'd be coming around sometime. I no longer felt safe in my own home. My husband stayed up all night one night with a shotgun in his hand while my daughter and I hid in the back room. The days following that I was always looking over my shoulder and was scared to go outside. 

After those two events, I started questioning my choices and mentioning that we needed to stop. It was time. But I didn't want to stop. I couldn't. Maybe we'll just cut back. 

When someone is in the thick of their addiction, responsibilities go out the window. We could never pay our bills on time, if at all. Our power got shut off in the middle of the winter, on a Friday, which meant it was going to be off all weekend. We were in a duplex so we snuck an extension cord over to our neighbors  exterior outlet so that we could at least have a space heater. I have never felt so pathetic in my life. I felt like a horrible mother. By the following Monday we managed to pawn enough stuff off to get the money to turn our power back on. A few months later we were constantly getting eviction notices on our door. I didn't understand why the "provider" of the house was working all the time but had nothing to show for it. All I wanted to do was be a stay at home mom and paint all day. Is that so much to ask!? After a whole year of living life this way we got our final eviction notice. Our landlords were tired of us never paying rent on time and they had enough. As we were preparing to pack up our house, I found out I was pregnant again. 

I remember standing in the shower one night feeling depressed and lost. I asked my higher power for some help and guidance and the first thing I heard was "Miquela, you have to stop living this way or you're going to lose your baby." So I did. It certainly wasn't easy. Trying to get off of meth after using it everyday, all day long for over a year, on top of being pregnant was a daily battle. Especially when the people around me were still using. I was beyond exhausted and there were moments in the day where I would crash. We were in the middle of packing and moving and I could barely get up. I remember sleeping for hours on the floor in our empty townhome trying to gain just an ounce of energy.  We didn't know where we were going to live so once our house was packed up, we literally slept there on the floor trying to buy some time to figure out our next home, without a dollar in our pocket.  Eventually we were forced to leave. We ended up moving in with my parents which was the best thing we could have done, even though my spouse was completely against it. 

I was finally able to sleep restfully and focus on getting healthy. It was a relief being back at my parents house. No bills, no responsibilities, no more drugs and awful people coming to my home, it was just me and my daughter. I felt so much guilt and shame for being where I was in life, but I am beyond grateful that I was able to face my addiction and say no more. Becoming pregnant is what truly saved me. Who knows where I would be if I didn't. My daughter could have been taken from me, I could be in jail, or dead somewhere. Things could have been so much worse. Unfortunately, my marriage ended a few months after I gave birth to my second daughter. My spouse and I were on different paths. I was clean and sober and trying to better my life, and he was still stuck in his addiction. I have learned over the years that cutting out toxic people so that you can grow as an individual, is extremely necessary. Ending my marriage, and losing my best friend to addiction, was one of the hardest things I have ever gone through. It was also one of the biggest growing experiences of my life. I don't believe I would be who I am today, if I hadn't gone through all of that. 

Sometimes we have to surrender, and allow our higher power to take over and guide us in the direction that we're supposed to go. It's not always going to be easy, but it will always be worth it. You just have to be open, and listen.

I know there are hundreds of thousands of people who have gone through similar, and worse experiences as myself. I also know how many people are still struggling with their addiction. All it took for me was one time of losing everything, including myself. I was no longer the Miquela I knew myself to be and I hated that part. There has to be something that keeps you from going back, no matter what. If you have no reason to stay clean, you're not going to. I have watched people very close to me relapse after 3+ years of being clean because they couldn't find it within themselves to stay clean. No goals, no purpose, no self love. Not even losing your own kids was enough for some to stay clean.

 It truly lies within yourself to make that decision. Nothing outside of you can force you to do anything. I think that's the hardest part for most people is they are always looking for something outside of themselves to change the way they feel. Only you can decide. The power we have within ourselves often gets underestimated. Find what works for you. Many people discover that NA or AA meetings are their safe haven to help them stay clean. Working the 12 steps, having a sponsor, etc. I think that's great. I personally don't need those things to help me stay clean. My "escape" is exercise. The feeling of my body working hard, and doing things to make it stronger has become my new drug...so to speak. I have to move my body every day, not just to be strong physically, but emotionally and mentally as well. It allows me to take on the challenges life throws at me and deal with them in a healthier way. When I feel sad about something, I feel it, work through it, and move on. I don't go pick up a drink and get wasted anymore to try and mask those feelings. I've learned over the years that when you suppress your feelings, they just get piled up inside until you burst over something small. 

If you are struggling to get clean and/or sober, discover your "why". For me, my why was my kids. If i wanted to show up for my kids, I had to be in my right mind. Maybe try going to a meeting, work the 12 steps, start a new workout regimen. Try journaling, meditating, or being of service to someone in need. Whatever you do, just do it. Try something new, learn something new, read something new. Just do something DIFFERENT than what you normally do. One small change at a time will eventually build up to something huge. In my opinion, getting drunk or high becomes a habit. It's the routine and ritual that we get stuck in, and breaking a habit and changing a routine can be difficult at times. But not impossible. Keep yourself busy. You know what they say...busy hands are happy hands! :D 

Anybody can get clean and sober. Anybody can STAY clean and sober. Whether you identify as an addict or not, at the end of the day, it's still your choice. If you relapse, that was your choice. Not because you're an addict, but because you chose to pick it up again. Please for the love of God, take responsibility for your actions, and stop using the excuse "i'm an addict" for going back out. I genuinely believe that the label "addict" is just another excuse for someone to use to justify their shitty choices. Addiction is not a disease. It is a choice. I know addiction is real, but it is not a disease. 

Ok end of rant. When I look back at the time when I was going through my addiction, my heart breaks a little bit each time. The choices I was making were so against my true character. Despite the pain I caused though, I am grateful I went through that experience so that I could have a better understanding of those who are still going through it. Rather than sit back and judge, I can sit back and say "I see you, and I know what you're going through". I was listening to a book and it talked about compassion creates connection. I have never heard something more true. If we showed compassion towards those who are struggling, maybe this world wouldn't be such a scary place right now. I understand it's difficult to show compassion for those that are willingly suffering. It really is our choice to suffer, whether we believe it or not. 

We have the power to change our own world. I love the saying "change your thoughts, change your world".

 

If you can overcome an addiction, I believe you are strong enough to do anything you want to do in life. It takes a strong mind to stick to the decision of never touching another drug.