We've all heard, "once an addict always an addict".?
Question:
Answers:
Hi,
The short answer is no. Here's why.
Addiction is a brain disease. Abuse is a mind game. The brain always controls the mind. Try this. Tell your friend you will give him a hundred dollars if they can sneeze without blinking or closing their eyes while looking at you. You are sending a message of pleasure and reward to his mind, yet his brain says, no way "I'm closing those eyes".
The brain always controls the mind. Same with addictive disease. Once you start using again it is only a matter of time before he returns to active addiction with the original drug of choice.
Other Answers:
You answer your own question by asking it: Formerly?
I wrote this poem in a depressed stupor after going for a very long time only using a little and then falling over the edge....Again.
An old trap sits outside my door
It cant be moved or destroyed
Or disabled
Or reasoned with
Its cold and dead
And I step over it until my legs are weak
Until I am weak
I hold my forehead in disgust at myself
This the third day
Silently I scream for help
But no one hears me
I think I hear the trap laughing
It says "No one cares."
"Liar!" I scream
Im so stupid
It uses my strength and my
Faith in myself against me
I hate when it tricks me into speaking to it
Its cold and dead
I hear nothing
Except myself chewing on my own leg
Next time you get that feeling.. that need to make an excuse or find a way, drink a gallon of whole milk. Just do it..have some cookies with it..or what ever, just keep drinking it. you'll feel better the next day.
I would like to add: People dont sit around thinking about Cocaine
They are reminded.
Be strong.
Like "flsons", here's one I wrote after "falling over the edge again":
Remember? The pain was so intolerable you were certain that this, finally, was your bottom. Remember the cheap room within whose stained walls you languished through the small hours of the morning? Beads of condensation dripped down cold bricks like the desperate tears of former transients who’d done time in the room’s sordid past.
You do remember, don’t you, how hope had flickered for a brief moment, sputtered and died, a corpse candle at its wick’s end?
Remember how utterly alone you were, how you curled tightly into a ball, terrified of what you had become, and quietly choked on the only words your mind would allow, “Help me”?
You could not imagine it would become worse than this. But your pain did increase and the isolation intensified and you stared into the chasm that waited patiently for your arrival.
Yet still you sought dangerous places and dark companions and you lost yourself in the dead wastelands of oblivion.
Centuries passed, or was it merely an instant, until once again you found yourself at a crossroads. The dark path whispered while the lighted path stood immutably silent. Your soul knew the offerings of each as surely as it knew that either would lead you home.
A tentative step toward the light was interrupted by your obsessions (how you longed to be satiated with the familiar) and you succumbed to the dark journey so well trodden by Hell’s elementals.
Faint voices, a whiff of dope carried on a thin ribbon of air, and you flew to God’s orphans, never knowing the illusion.
All the professionals and former users say absolutely not.
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