I started drinking and using drugs when I was 14, hanging out with the older lot. At first, I enjoyed it—the parties, the raves—but when I started using crack and heroin at 20, everything changed.
In the last couple of years, I was using on my own, only going out to score, then locking myself in my room, I was broken. I hit rock bottom. I tried to end it a few times. The last time, I had a snowball (injected crack and heroin), wanting out. When I woke up, I realised I didn’t want to die—I just didn’t want to live the way I was living. That was my turning point. I knew I was done. And this time, I wasn’t just saying it to tick a box for someone else—I actually wanted recovery for myself.
I detoxed in a hostel, rattling bad. People around me were still using, but I kept my head down. It was brutal, but I got through it. When I came to Lindale, I was fearful. Groups felt intimidating, and I didn’t know how to open up. But then one day, I wrote some stuff down and shared it. After that, it got easier. I started listening to other people’s stories and realised I wasn’t the only one who’d done bad things.
Recovery’s been about more than just not using. I’m learning how to live. I learnt how to talk, not to fight. My first instinct was always to lash out. But the other day, someone got in my face, and I didn’t react how I usually would—for the first time ever. Every morning now, I wake up feeling happy. Before, I just wanted the day to end as quickly as possible—that’s why I’d smoke Mamba. Now, I want to be awake.
My head’s clearer, I’m off antidepressants, and my body feels better. Even my arthritis has eased. Lindale’s done a lot for me. I can’t fault the staff. My support worker, Daniel Wakelam, has
been a massive help. I keep busy. I volunteer at a church, helping cook and deliver food for the elderly. I’m working on my Step 2. I’m dyslexic, so writing’s always been hard for me, but I’m pushing through. It’s been helpful for me to write things down.
If I could go back and talk to the old me, I’d say: Trust the process. There’s help, but you gotta take it. Don’t hold stuff in. Last time I tried recovery, I kept secrets, and it ruined
me. This time, I’m being honest, and it’s different. I’m still getting used to the calm—I have always enjoyed chaos in a way.
Be honest! You’re only as sick as your secrets. Last time, I held things in, and it destroyed me. This time, I speak up. It’s not always easy—old behaviours creep in—but I catch myself now.
And when I slip, I listen. Four months clean. First time in my life I can say that. And for the first time in a long time, I actually believe in what’s ahead.
