What Addiction Actually Felt Like in My Body

It was never about getting high.

It was about trying to outrun overwhelm, burnout, and emotions I didn't know how to carry.

People assume addiction started because I wanted to get high.

The truth is, it started because I was desperate.

Desperate to focus on one thing at a time instead of feeling scattered and overwhelmed.

Desperate to be productive.

Desperate to create a life that felt different from the one I was living.

Growing up, I watched my mother's depression consume so much of her life. I saw the misery. The hopelessness. The weight she carried every day.

And I was terrified of becoming that.

So I did the opposite.

I stayed busy.

I worked.

I took on responsibility.

I pushed myself harder.

At 18 years old, I was carrying more than most people my age should have had to carry.

Not because anyone forced me to.

Because slowing down meant being home.

And being home meant sitting with emotions I didn't know how to process.

So I kept moving.

Until I couldn't.

Eventually, all that pushing led to burnout.

And burnout led to something else.

I started abusing my ADHD medication because I couldn't afford to crash.

I couldn't slow down.

I couldn't rest.

I couldn't stop.

I thought the problem was exhaustion.

What I didn't realize was that I was trying to outrun myself.

When I ran out of my prescription early, I became desperate again.

Desperate not to lose my productivity.

Desperate not to feel the crash.

Desperate not to feel everything waiting underneath.

And that desperation eventually led me to meth.

Not because I woke up one day wanting to become addicted.

Not because I had some grand plan to destroy my life.

But because one small compromise became another.

And another.

And another.

Until I found myself somewhere I never imagined I would be.

Looking back, addiction wasn't the first problem.

The first problem was believing my worth was tied to productivity.

The first problem was believing rest was weakness.

The first problem was carrying pain I didn't know how to name.

Recovery taught me something I wish I'd learned years earlier:

You cannot heal by running faster.

Eventually, your body demands that you stop.

And if you're brave enough to listen, that's where healing begins.