DRUG CRAVINGS NEVER GO AWAY

Just For Today

I get asked a lot if I still think about getting high.

The answer is a resounding ``yes.'' Maybe not every day, which is progress
from the early days of my recovery, when it was on my mind constantly. But I
still think about it from time to time.

There is no cure for drug addiction. There's no magic pill that will remove
that part of our brains that craves something, anything, to alter our
perceptions of reality. All we can do is be diligent about our recovery,
which is the most proven method I've found for arresting my addiction.

That doesn't mean it goes away. That's a fallacy too many addicts, and too
many loved ones of addicts, fall victim to. They believe that being clean
for an extended period of time is the same as being cured. They feel that
because they've done 28 days in a treatment facility, everything is going to
be OK.

I'll be blunt -- it's not. Things might be better than they were, but
without some sort of spiritual, mental and emotional maintenance to keep the
addiction at bay, things will get pretty far from OK real quick.

I've said before -- just because I'm blessed enough to share my experience,
strength and hope in this column doesn't make me any sort of professional
when it comes to addiction. I'm not a counselor, psychologist, therapist or
priest. I'm simply a recovering drug addict. And without maintaining my
recovery, I'm just as capable of getting high as the addict who's still
using daily.

Addiction is a cunning, baffling and powerful disease. Its most insidious
trick is convincing us that we don't have a disease. That, because we've
been through rehab or have some clean time, we can control it -- that we can
have one drink or one pill or one hit.

That's a lie, and I know it. I've never been capable of doing one of
anything. Even today, when I stop by the convenience store to buy something,
I'll usually get two -- two Cokes, because what if I drink one before I get
to where I'm going and I'm still thirsty? Two packs of cigarettes, because
what if I run out and haven't had time to buy another?

That's the addict's mentality -- more is always better. I could be directing
a tractor-trailer full of drugs into my driveway, and instead of wondering
how I'm ever going to take or smoke or drink everything that trailer holds,
I'm worrying about when the next truck is going to arrive.

I can't do one. I've never been able to do that -- it's a foreign concept to
me. I still can't fathom how a person can go to a bar and drink a single
beer. My mind can't grasp the point -- because to me, drinking is about
imbibing enough to feel differently, and once it gets me feeling good, I
keep going because I want to feel even better.

And after 13 years of living that kind of lifestyle, it's not going to
change overnight. The 12-step program of which I'm a member teaches us that
we didn't become addicts in one day, and we're not going to recover in one
day, either.

So yes, I still think about getting high, and the funniest things trigger
those thoughts sometimes. I see a weightlifter at a restaurant and admire
the veins bulging along his forearms and think, ``I'd never have trouble
finding a vein again when I'm shooting up.'' I'll be at the pharmacy, buying
a birthday card or film, hear the pharmacist call a customer to the back to
pick up a prescription and wonder what sort of pills they'll be taking home
with them. I drive by the methadone clinic early in the morning, when the
addicts are in line for their government-supplied fix, and wonder if any of
them are selling their supply in the back parking lot.

But because of recovery, those thoughts don't turn into obsessions or
cravings. It's kind of like seeing a nice car -- you think, ``I'd like to
have a car like that,'' but you're not going to run out and steal one.

I'm not responsible for my disease, but I am responsible for my recovery.
And recovery has taught me I don't have to act out on those thoughts. And
because of recovery, I'm ever mindful of the hell I pulled myself out of,
and the miracles God is working in my life -- just for today.

Steve Wildsmith is a recovering addict and the Weekend editor for The Daily
Times. His entertainment column and stories appear each Friday in the
Weekend section.