When honesty is difficult

I have to be honest with myself, because if I’m not, who will be?

The thing about addiction is that we lie to ourselves. We lie to ourselves constantly... hoping that things will somehow get better, but all we are doing. . . . All I am doing is using whatever substance I cling to, too hide the pain. For real healing to begin, honesty is essential—no matter how dark or painful the journey might be. Coming face-to-face with, for lack of a better word, your trauma is essential.

I turn to cocaine because I haven’t figured out how to face the loss of my relationship and the toxic nature of my previous workplace, which was the main factor why the relationship ended, and my fear of her not being in my life.. She was someone I trusted more than anyone in the world. I confided in her things I’ve never told anyone—not even my therapist. I shared parts of myself I’d buried for years, things that are still painful to think about, let alone discuss.

These past six months have forced me to question everything: my relationship, my choices, even who I am.

Now, there’s this constant emptiness inside me, an ache that only deepens over time. Weekends are especially hard. I feel disconnected, unable to find any real passion or joy in anything. Basically, I have no motivation.

4 months ago, I started a new job. It’s a good job with a supportive team, and it should feel like a fresh start. But it feels hollow, because there’s no one to share it with, no one to celebrate or lean on in those moments of accomplishment.

Mornings feel especially heavy. Today, I woke up at my usual time, 5:50, but stayed in bed for an extra 20 minutes, not because I was tired, but because I couldn’t see the point in getting up.

And sleep, when I get it, isn’t restful. It’s been almost five months since I had a decent night’s rest. When I do manage to fall asleep, I’m often up two or three times during the night, or I’m just lying there, my mind running in relentless circles.

This is why I turn to cocaine. I hate it while I’m using, and I hate myself afterward too. But in those short hours between finishing and the headache setting in, I feel... something. For a brief moment, life feels manageable. And then, just as quickly, it fades, and the depression crashes back in.

Depression and anxiety have become a constant presence. Three years ago, I wasn’t like this. Yes, I’d struggled with depression before, there was a time I was out of work and felt lost for a while. But I eventually pulled myself together and reached a place of contentment. Then came a toxic, deeply stressful job, and over the next two years, my stress levels skyrocketed. It took a toll on my relationship, my health, and ultimately, on myself. Even now, despite being in a healthier work environment, I still feel the weight of those years. Losing my best friend, my partner, now my ex, has only amplified the loneliness and emptiness.

So I turned to cocaine to cope. Or maybe not to cope, to avoid. To numb myself from facing the truth and one of those truths is, was I a good partner? I truthfully don't know any more, at one point I believe I was. Yes, they were disagreements, but when it came down to it, I tried and I believed I was always supportive in what she wanted to accomplish.

Adding to it all, I’m dyslexic and might have ADHD (a couple of people have mentioned it, so I’m looking into getting tested). My brain never seems to switch off, especially with anything negative. It’s a relentless cycle of thoughts and emotions, a loop I can’t seem to break on my own.

It would be easy to blame my ex, but like with anything, it takes two. One thing I’ve stopped doing, though, is blaming myself for everything that went wrong in that relationship. I wasn’t abusive in any way. When she needed help or support, I was always there. Was I moody sometimes? Yes. Was I ever abusive? No! I didn’t agree with everything she did, and vice versa. To me, that just added to the relationship; you’re not going to agree with everything everyone does. Something I’ve learned is that any relationship worth anything is worth fighting for, and I was fighting for ours. Maybe to some people, it didn’t look like it, and maybe it even came across as obsessive. But that “obsession” came from a place of fear, fear of losing the person who meant more to me than anything else. Maybe I didn’t go about things the right way, but it was the only way I knew, and it didn’t come from a dark or horrible place. It came from a place of caring.

I’m passionate about photography, but I can’t seem to find the motivation to pursue it. I’ve gone back to writing, journaling my thoughts or posting on a blog, just so everything in my head doesn’t stay in my head. Writing makes it tangible, something I can look at outside myself. Right now, that’s important to me. It helps a little with my anxiety and even my breathing because, strangely, it feels like I’ve forgotten how to breathe normally. I find myself taking short, shallow breaths.

I’ve been reading a lot about mental health. The organisation I work for is even putting on a men’s mental health event at the end of the month, and I’m helping to organise it. For the first time in a while, I feel like my job has a purpose. I feel that spark in other areas too, like reading the classics. “Around the World in 80 Days” is my favourite book, and I recently bought a new copy because the one I was gifted holds too many memories. I still have it, but it’s locked away, out of sight.

The hardest part of all this is feeling like I’ve let down someone very important to me. I don’t feel like the person I used to be or the person I want to be. And it’s not because I haven’t been trying. I have; I just don’t find it easy to connect, and when I do, I value that relationship so much. I guess that’s why I’m finding it so hard to let go.

I’m using this space, this blog, to be honest with myself and, hopefully, to find the person I’m meant to be. . . or want to be. But one thing is certain: for that person, the relationship with cocaine ends once and for all.

Writing this has not been easy, and posting it is even harder, for many reasons. But like I wrote at the beginning. . . I have to be honest with myself, because if I’m not, who will be?