To whom it may concern,

I was on day three of my binge. By binge, I mean combining: weed, Jack Daniel’s, chocolate bars infused with mushrooms, and sleeping pills. It was an odd combination, but it did the trick. After nine years of drugs and alcohol everyday, my tolerance was higher than I could ever be. In those days I chased that high, that happiness. Everyday I added new ways to make me feel better. If someone approached me with a harder drug, like meth or coke, I’m positive I would’ve done it without question.

I was just fired from a job I loved, being a high functioning addict and alcoholic wasn’t something they signed up for. I was morning a loss when I got fired, which helped fuel the three day binge.

I was living with roommates. I slept in the garage when it was nice. During the binge I stayed in the house because it was winter. I liked the garage at the time, it was my own space. I wasn’t judged for how much I smoked or drank. I got in my roommates way a lot. My problems got in the way a lot.

Day three was New Years Eve. I started early that day, and by night I was drunk and high. Then I ate more of those shroom bars until I was disconnected from reality. But for the first time in nine years, instead of a wave of relief, euphoria, and happiness – I was engulfed with fear, dread, and paranoia. Everything felt wrong. It felt like something bad was about to happen. I was terrified. I thought I was going to die. I ran to the living room panicking, shaking, and screaming, “something is wrong! something is wrong!” But no one was there. My roommates weren’t home. I was alone.

Next thing I knew I was on the ground shaking and convulsing uncontrollably. I felt fear and death weighing me down. I kept my eyes wide open because I was scared of the darkness when I closed them. I didn’t wanna get lost in the dark.

I heard a thousand voices in my head, scary and screaming like demons. I wanted it to stop, begged in my head for them to stop. Only in my head because I couldn’t talk aloud. I couldn’t utter a word. I stayed on the floor internally begging for it all to stop. It kept going. I saw dark shadow figures dancing around me. It made me feel even more sick and scared.

They eventually disappeared and I was still on the floor. I didn’t know what was real and what was a hallucination. The voices were still swirling around me. I felt stuck in this nightmare for eternity, I thought it was never going to end. Then, like a crack of sunlight on a dark and cloudy day, a familiar voice screamed, “STOP. GET UP!” The convulsions stopped.

The command drowned out the demon voices. It shouted again, “GET UP!” I obeyed. I got to my feet and felt for the wall. The room was spinning while I felt my way to the kitchen. I remember drinking some water. I remember throwing up in the sink.

I don’t remember how I got to the couch.

The next thing I do remember was waking up, feeling a wave of relief that I was alive and the dread was gone. The feeling of death holding me down was gone. I felt sick to my stomach but relieved.

In that moment, I thought about everything going on in my life. My personal losses, my friends, the job I lost (didn’t seem too important anymore), my family, the things I’ve done but didn’t want to talk about, I thought about everything. I ultimately decided I never want to feel that kind of fear again. The drugs and alcohol are going to kill me. I decided I didn’t want to die. I decided I didn’t want to live like that anymore.

The days that followed were rough, paranoia laid on me like a weighted blanket. I still felt a demon on me. I moved out of the house and had a mental breakdown because of other traumas and withdraws. I felt low, but I eventually got better.

I think back on the voice that told me to get up. I’m not sure if it was God, a guardian angel, or a version of me I lost years ago; because, the voice sounded like a better version of me. Instead of chasing a high, I started chasing that voice. I wanted to be that person. I wanted to be strong.

A year sober now, I can say I am a lot stronger. Fear can be a motivator. It was the kickstart I needed, but the strength I heard in that voice is what kept me going. The voice that told me to get up.

This is my life, the only person in this world that can really help me is myself.

Listen to that little voice inside your head that warns you, before it’s too late and it’s no longer a whisper but a scream telling you to get up.

It warns, guides, and protects you for a reason. That voice loves you.