Salt of the Addict

by Snacky Mild

Nine months of sobriety has put me a little out of touch with the scenes I used to know quite well.  Six months into my stay at Beit T’Shuvah the great Bath Salt wave of 2012 seem to be taking shape, and my newfound naivety led me to believe that people were truly getting high on Bath Salts (you know, the kind sold in pretty boutiques with scents like Lavender & Mango).  It wasn’t until the recent Miami face-eating incident that my interest was piqued enough to find out what Bath Salts really are.  Needless to say, it’s been an interesting switch- ‘researching’ a new drug from the angle of Journalist, rather than potential loyalist. Turns out Bath Salts really are a true blue drug intended on creating a high similar to that of mixing LSD and Meth. With of course an added touch of psychosis, drizzled with cannibalistic urges.   One thing I can tell you as a former avid drug user is that the last thing I would ever want is LSD and Meth ballroom dancing all over my brain.  It would be like two mutant rats fighting each other for a piece of Cheddar in a small burlap sack.

It was hard for me to learn about this face-eating man and not pass judgment. When I read this story about the Miami face-eater, of course the first instinct of a self-centered, paranoia-riddled former addict was to find the differences between this face-eating gentleman and myself. I prided myself on the fact that I never ate faces, and in a twisted way, that I was a “real man” that did “real drugs” and stuck real needles in my arm.  The more I wrote about all the differences between me and Face-eater, the more I found one major similarity glaring me in the face: I, too, have done just about anything to change the way I feel.

I was going to write this blog about how I couldn’t believe that Bath Salts were legal, and that the drug war was really a cover up for the government to manipulate communities and people to perpetuate the billion dollar prison industry.  About how the government wants drugs in this country to keep people employed: lawyers, cops, judges, doctors—drugs keep the classes clearly defined, and when distributed correctly keep people where the government wants them.  Then I looked at what I was writing and thought, “Geez, that sounds a little paranoid.”  It’s not that I don’t believe those things, I do.  But as I was walking over to work today figuring out how to structure all of this in blog form, how to list all my great viewpoints on political oppression, I noticed what old behavior I was exhibiting: How much I wanted to blame everyone for all these external things, and turn this blog into another gripe I have with society because I don’t feel like I fit in.

“Nothing that bad ever really happened to me in my using” is the lie I tell myself.  I didn’t get arrested and I didn’t die, so I rationalize that it wasn’t that bad.  So what if I wasted every dollar I ever earned, lied to everyone I knew, stole from my family, and used everyone around me for anything I could get out of them.   It wasn’t that bad, right?

The hardest part of sobriety is leaving everything you know. Contrary to popular belief, it’s not easy to become a drug addict.  Its more than a hobby, it’s more than a job; it’s a lifestyle you build.  Eventually you become so delusional in this ether of manipulated living, the thought of changing seems so insurmountable, we use it to perpetuate our addictions.  Lucky for me, I didn’t have to eat anyone’s face to decide I needed to change the way I was living. That’s not to say I didn’t have my moments when I was willing to do just about anything for my next fix, but that’s for a different day.

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1 thought on “Salt of the Addict

  1. A. Non Ymousfriend June 14, 2012 — 10:03 am

    Mr. Mild,

    This is a very “insightfully” written post. I think you bring a level of realism/honesty to the table that, although sometimes painful to go through, helps shed a light to both the addict/non-addict on a tricky (and often understated) concept: we all struggle, we all have demons — but our struggles/demons do not have to define us.


    A. Friend

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