I used to be a meth addict
15 years ago I was a meth addict. More specifically, I smoked what was commonly referred to as Ice. And I loved it. Before I jump right into how that all came about, let’s back up a bit. To know my story is to know that I was 19 before my first alcohol-induced blackout. A gift bestowed upon me by a man that stole me away from my life, and quickly learned he could control me with alcohol. I was a quick study on checking the hell out of my life, even better if it tasted sweet. After I escaped his clutches, by no less than a miracle, I was lost. Like a starving and desolate pup dropped by the side of the road looking for any scraps or refuge. Be careful what you seek, for you will find it. Or it will find you. This is where I tell you that drugs saved my life. Not an exaggeration. They did. The people that brought them into my life also saved me. I had no idea how to survive the hell I emerged from, and drugs helped me. We will call this the “trauma self-medication” years. Time is shady a