This is a tribute…

to my addictions and to my absence.

May I never take a tab of acid while accidentally inhaling Golden Teacher spores. No. I’d do it again.

But I would never admit to crying about how much I want to have a drug cocktail consisting of medical grade oxycontin and neurontin.

How did I get addicted? How do most people with insurance get addicted? That was a question I had, one day, when I was walking at 4 am from my place to the Starbucks I worked at. (Note: Any job existing in a capitalist system knows enrollment for insurance has deadlines.) I did not have insurance because I missed the deadline. When I got my own insurance and got hospitalized, I found out how people with insurance get addicted to pain killers/ opiates / drugs.

I got addicted because I didn’t know I could get addicted. I stayed in the hospital for five days hooked on an IV. I was not given food. I was only given juice. I was given really bad food. They took the food away. I got more juice. More blood got drawn out of me. I was not allowed to shower. I was fed a cocktail of oxy, neurontin, pain meds, and melatonin for five days. I was sent home with the cocktail.

I had my gallbladder removed.

I was addicted to comfort and comfort meant companionship — to me. My husband was addicted to food. I grew addicted to food that made us comfortable. The act of eating out and eating meat-based meals mimicked celebration.

We were addicted to whatever chemicals happiness had. One of them was Oxycontin and the rest was the thing you have when you want to run away from depression.

I AM AWARE I DID NOT REACH OTHER PEOPLE’S EXPECTATION OF A ROCK BOTTOM instead it was an experience with a realization. My husband properly disposed of the substances. I went through painful withdrawals while working. I cried a lot. It’s okay to cry a lot.

Because the pain those opiates distracted you from, the pain was recreated from the absence of those opiates. It was an endless cycle of dependency not even people with will power could go through alone. I experienced more of a physical dependency more than an emotional dependency.

I wouldn’t have realized that I was craving for it, if it weren’t for my husband.

I knew I needed to change. Kindness, acceptance, and existence were concepts. However, they’re alien to me. I was addicted to the stuff anger was made out of. (NOTE: My upbringing was toxic and it made me anxious with a pinch of worthlessness.) My surroundings provided me with intense emotions. I was not aware it would shape me. I was not aware I would crave for it.

I don’t think I’m ready to talk about [my] anger yet. I don’t have the right words for it. Not yet. However anger and adrenaline give me anxiety when I’m not feeling them… when I’m not feeling negative. My childhood had a lot of negative things happen around me. One filled with tenseness and anxiety.


  • Led me to pursue distractions
  • Led me to let go of myself
  • Let me to a lot of negative emotions
  • Let me be cruel
  • Stopped me from writing

People don’t owe my anything. I don’t owe people anything. I’m trying to speed type through this paragraph because I got distracted and I am addicted to distractions.

I’m trying to get addicted to small amounts of change. I’m going back to the person who I was ten years ago – prior to immigration – and I’m trying to get to know who I was little by little before I move on from hating myself.

A while ago, while tripping out on psychedelics in a hotel room, I told my best friend I was tired from working and that I think we all deserve to change.

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