He's 31. So it's kind of a big deal to me, and kind of in general.

I never knew him in his addiction. But I needed him clean.

I hear stories about how he was facing prison time as a (in his words) tweaker dirtbag.

We were dating only six months when I got diagnosed with stage 2 cancer.

He didn't flinch. He helped me through.

He taught my kids how to tie their shoes.

He makes the most amazing banana bread on this earth.

He gave me another child.

He actively makes me slow the hell down, and think. He, without trying, inspires me to be a better person.

This post is for him, but also for anyone who might be struggling, thinking that there's nothing better for them.

There is something better on the other side if you choose recovery.

I don't make promises I can't keep, but I can promise you that.

Someone needs you. Maybe a lot of someones.

You need you.

Ten years begins with a decision on one day.

Thank you for reading this.

You decide to pick up an eight ball of cocaine. It’s 8 p.m.

You lie to your wife, telling her you’re running out to Walgreens or somewhere else, while texting your dealer without thinking twice. You promise yourself you’ll only do a little, then head to bed with your wife. Save the rest for another day.

Before you even get home, you’ve already done three lines while driving. You make up an excuse for why you can’t watch TV on the couch with your wife, just so you can hide in your office and do drugs alone.

“Only a little” turns into too much to sleep, but you try anyway. You lie down next to her once she’s asleep, and within ten minutes, you’re back in your office doing more. You repeat this cycle until 4 a.m. You're alone. Isolated from the people you love, actively destroying the life you're so afraid of losing.

Eventually, you lie in bed, riddled with guilt, shame, and despair, knowing deep down that continuing down this path could eventually cost you your life, whether through a cardiac event or a moment of self-destruction.

You finally fall asleep, only to wake up a few hours later. Your wife asks why you slept so poorly. You lie again, telling her your anxiety was acting up and you were restless all night. You make her believe something you know isn’t true.

More guilt. More shame.

You drive your kids to school in this state of mind, exhausted. As you walk through the halls, you’re paranoid that everyone somehow knows what you were doing the night before.

Your children have no idea.

They just know Daddy is taking them to school. They don't know he spent the night alone in his office, choosing cocaine over sleep, over his health, over being fully present for them.

More guilt. More shame.

You promise yourself you’re done. This time, you mean it. You hate what you've done. You hate how you feel. You hate the lying, the hiding, the anxiety, the paranoia, the emptiness.

You prioritize a short-lived high over your wife and children. You're no longer chasing a good feeling. You're chasing the memory of one. And every time you try to find it, you lose a little more of yourself. Something that causes anxiety, borderline paranoia, and pulls you away from your family physically, emotionally, and mentally.

You know exactly what it’s doing to you. You know exactly what you stand to lose. And yet, you want more.

And the damage is no longer just emotional or psychological. It’s physical. At this point, it’s practically self-mutilation. Your nose is beginning to show signs of collapse. There’s a hole in your septum. There are stretches of time when you can barely breathe through your nose. You can see and feel the damage you’re doing to your own body. You know some of it may be irreversible. Yet you continue putting the very substance that’s destroying you back through your nose. You’re watching your body deteriorate in real time, and somehow, even that isn’t enough to make you stop.

You don’t believe in the supernatural, in demons, or in the devil. But if the devil does exist, you’re convinced he exists in the form of this drug. Something that promises you everything, takes everything from you, and somehow leaves you begging for more.

You’ve already come dangerously close to losing your marriage. You risk losing your children, your career, your livelihood, and ultimately, your life. Everything you’ve worked for, everything you love, and everyone who depends on you is at risk.

You know all of this. You’re not ignorant of the consequences. You’ve experienced them firsthand. You’ve seen the damage, felt the shame, made the promises, and convinced yourself time and time again that this time will be different.

And yet, you continue.

Not because you don’t love your wife. Not because you don’t love your children. Not because you don’t value your life. But because once you allow this drug back in, your desire to use becomes more powerful than your ability to choose otherwise.

More guilt. More shame.

You stay sober for a few days, a few weeks, maybe even a few months.

Then, it’s 8 p.m., and you decide to pick up an eight ball of cocaine.

You are completely and utterly powerless over this drug, and your life has become unmanageable whenever you allow it back in.

My friends and loved ones convinced me to detox social media because it's already affecting my mental health and relationships. I cannot focus on my priorities and happiness because I am too focused on the digital world like Facebook, Twitter, TikTok, and Instagram

I deleted all my apps already but I still keep falling into it by logging in to my accounts on the web. It's like I removed the apps to prevent myself getting addicted to it but my brain keeps finding a way on looking for it.

Maybe I'm not trying hard enough? It sounds easy to "delete the app" and focus on my hobbies or build a structured routine but I am quite having difficulties right now after a week in trying to get cleaned because my anxiety keeps reeling me in to check social media out of fear and everything.

So far what I'm doing: I exercise daily at least 1 hour walk, playing video games outside my phone, finished my responsibilities like paying for my taxes etc. I am starting somewhere but I still keep falling into these social media addiction.

I have had serious drug problems in the past and I tend to be able to do anything on occasion other than stimulants and opiates. I am going clubbing this Friday for the first time in a longgggg time and have been having a fit trying to find stims. I know it's self destructive and horrible for me but idk what it is. It's like I can't see myself going to a club without being blackout drunk and on tons of coke, Adderall or vyvanse. I get sweaty and filled with joy from just the thought of doing these things and I want to give in so fucking bad. I have the ability to have moderation with benzos, gabapentin and lyrica, kratom, kanna, alchohol and pretty much every other drug but stimulants draw me in more than anything I have ever felt. There has been times almost once a week for years now where I will consider stealing my girlfriends Adderall prescription. I never have and never will but it scares me that I even consider stooping that low knowing how much it helps my girlfriend and that she needs it. I fight the urge Everytime I have it but I'm freaking out right now messaging every drug dealer I know and friends trying to find shit and I'd rly like some advice to deal with this. The last thing I want is to go backwards. Thank you