The thing about heavy drinking in your teens and twenties and acting like a complete nut job is — there’s an awareness of how young you are, and you think, “I’ll eventually stop doing this, but for now I’m just having fun.”
Mindless Instagram scrolling or virtual Scrabble usually accompanies any minor break in my day instead of “me time” for things like yoga or finding God. I’m an addict.
The next step in the cycle is always relapse, and it always brings comfort and ends all pain. How do you quit something that seems to make everything better?
“I cannot stress enough the importance of avoiding girls who have daddy issues.”
He held my face to his and told me: “I have a history of heroin use, but I’m clean, and I’ve been tested. Are you sure you want to do this?”
Heroin in our house, in front of our child, while I was growing a baby inside me was worse than any of the fears I’d conjured for myself over the years.
Telling yourself that you are a “recovering” addict is like telling your spouse that they can “probably” trust you.
When it comes to addiction, it’s always the little things that remind us. They remind us to refocus ourselves. They remind us of memories that frankly, we would rather not be reminded of.
Obviously not in love with her mobster husband and bored with her life, Mrs. Wallace is always found in a drug-induced state as she attempts to entertain herself.
Smokers are in a constant state of denial.