Why I was an addict

This is why I was an addict

Martin Bodker Fritzen

Martin Bodker Fritzen

“STOP NOW, MARTIN!!  Why don’t you just stop?”

We are standing in our toilet in our apartment, and my girlfriend has caught me taking amphetamines and eating a couple of painkillers. I have promised her many times that I would stop, but I can’t handle it. She sits disheartened on the toilet and whispers: “I can’t anymore. I can’t anymore, Martin”. Tears role slowly down her cheek, and black mascara lines are drawn on her skin.

It’s a beautiful spring day in May .The suns rays warm my face through the window. I can hear the birds sing and neighbors boys playing football in front of the toilet window. I’m standing in front of my girlfriend trying to console her; she hits my hand hard, “LET ME BE“, she shouts and calms down. It’s as if she has used all her anger.

I get eye contact with her and see her powerlessness and frustration- she has given up, I think. Suddenly she says very quietly:” Why can’t I help you? I’ll do anything for you. Help you with everything. Why don’t you want that?…Why don’t you stop?….I’ll support you…Martin?!…Answer me! MARTIN!…

“Yes,yes, I’ve heard you”…I hear myself saying.

I’ve been in this situation a million times before. I’m overwhelmed by a great guilt I can’t handle. I’m aware that it’s not good to eat 50 different painkillers every day, and on top of that take amphetamines and cocaine.

Again and again i’m revealed and caught lying, stealing, being unfaithful, and I’m aware that my behavior is stupid, and that i’m not contributing with anything constructive to this world.  It would actually be easier if I wasn’t here at all. I’m so filled with shame, that I could vomit over my behavior. I view myself in the toilet mirror, and am disgusted by the image, fuck; I’m so vile! How… I even have a girlfriend is quite incomprehensible.

I feel the anger and hatred of myself fill my body. My stomach knots up and hurts. My body heats up more. The nausea fills my throat and mouth cavity- I’m about to explode inside! I hate myself! Hate the person I am, hate what I’m doing. Hate that I’m constantly hurting other people and..yes..myself. Arghhhh!!! My brain, my body, my mind and everything in between is filled with hatred against myself and the person I am..and nothing else enters.

“Martin, answer me! Let me help you! We will get through it together”.

I notice that my girlfriends anger has subsided a little, and her tone has changed to something that sounds like compassion and sensitivity. She is still crying, Her love and compassionate human wish to help me, accentuates even more my intense self hatred. She is so good. I’m very wicked.

Like on the weighing scales, where my self hatred, my dependency, abuse and drugs, lie on one side, weighing ten tons. On the other side of the scales is my girlfriend, who with her love for me wants to support and help me; she weighs ten grams. The drugs will always win.S he doesn’t have a chance. All her opinions, that we will do it together, we will do it, as long as you are honest. It will happen. And all her help, relating to her driving me to the doctor. Driving me to work. Washing clothes. Paying for food etc,etc. None of this can compare with the ten tons of self hatred, my dependency and importance of the drugs weigh. I can’t go on like this…I can’t no more……….

I look at her, and gaze deep into her eyes -my self hatred is great, and the little hope that exists to find a way out, does not emerge at all.

Why I was an addict

Martin Bodker Fritzen

My girlfriend gets up, takes a wipe from the cupboard and starts to dry her mascara from her eyes and cheeks. “I can’t deal with this anymore, Martin. If you won’t let me help you, I’m afraid I will have to leave you”. “BANG“! A football slams into the window, as proof it’s about time that I wake up! The boys outside shout “Sorry……..!”-and continue playing on.

My girlfriend is finished now. She turns around towards me, and places herself very close to me, so that our eyes are only ten centimeters from each other, and our noses nearly touch ,and asks: “What do you want, Martin? What will you choose?” My self hatred fills all my presence, I love her, but she will never be as important as the drugs. I have promised her that I will stop so many times, it’s ridiculous.

I can’t no more. The drugs, the pills and alcohol-all of my abuse-helps me sedate my hatred of myself. As long as I take my drugs, life doesn’t hurt. Just like now, in the middle of the bathroom in a huge crisis, I managed to take a couple of pills, some amphetamine, before my girlfriend discovered it. It works now. I’m filled with an intense joy, peace and sense of calm.

It just doesn’t matter anymore. I’ll manage it all on my own. As long as I have my drugs, all will be well. I don’t need her. I don’t need anybody. I can manage on my own. I don’t care about myself, or with her, with everything. I’m filled with a million feelings, which overwhelm all my person and soul; still I’m cold and senseless. “Just leave me alone”– I say with an ice cold voice to her. “Move out, if you want. I’ll manage”. I turn around, take my purse, my keys and my telephone-and walk out into the spring weather. She’ll manage, she’s a good girl. I’ll manage, because I have my drugs.

The boys football lands just in front of my feet: “Let me play along”-I say, and play along with them. There are no confrontations here, no demands, no feelings except happiness. The drugs are working now, as they should. I don’t care. That’s why I’m an addict. That’s why I just can’t stop. Therefore no one can help me now. My self hatred, inferiority complex and extreme feelings of guilt and shame are so domineering, that nothing is more important for me than the pills, drugs,alcohol and medicine-which all together sedate the intense feelings, enabling me to wake up every morning.

Far away I can hear fragments of my girlfriends conversation on the phone. She’s moving out now. At last I’m alone. At last. Now everything is going to be fine. Just me and the drugs.

By |August 17th, 2017|My Story|Comments Off on Why I was an addict