Confessions in NA

Nea H. 

November 17, 2024

“Hello. My name is Nea, and I’m an addict.” 

“Hello Nea,” they said in unison. 

 “So, I used to drink and get high to feel better because I felt like shit because I felt like I ruined my life – which I hadn’t had much faith in regardless – and that I would never be anything more than what I was, and I’ve been doing the same this year too. 

“I’d get down and pitiful because I’d be neglecting my responsibilities with work and class and shit because I didn’t want to do it because I’d get frustrated because I wouldn’t understand the material because I wasn’t in class to learn it because I didn’t want to get out of bed because I didn’t want to experience this again; living another day as someone who wasn’t where she thought she would be in life and who blames and criticizes and supervises herself constantly, someone who is exhausted all the time but also so fucking insatiably restless – probably because there’s a fucking war inside me and  I’ve been trying to ignore it. But it’s ripping me apart. 

“I don’t even like the feeling of being high anymore, or drunk. Don’t get me wrong – it feels great, but it’s not enough. An illusion of serenity is not really what I need right now, I think. When I’m drinking or smoking or whatever, the consequence of feeling good isn’t the work I put in to feel that way – you know – usually some kind of hard work or physical labor. The consequence of feeling good now is the hangover I get and the brain fog and the need to feel good again and again and the fear that without it, all the pleasure in my life will be gone in perpetuity. Now my consequence is all other methods of joy becoming secondary, and I don’t like the person I become when that happens. I don’t want that anymore. 

“So… now I’m here. I’m at the start of this journey for the millionth fucking time. Let’s hope the millionth time is the charm.” 

The room was still. 

“Thank you for sharing.” the instructor said, permeating the silence. 

“Okay, who’s next?”