My addiction was in full swing, and I was so good at hiding it. Life wasn’t ideal, but it was certainly much better. That is, until about five years ago. On his way home from work, Jerry fell asleep at the wheel. He crashed head-on into a guardrail. Medics said his death was instant. Jerry wasn’t perfect, but
I felt so guilty after the drug deal. But that guilt only lasted as long as I was high. After the Xanax wore off, I was right back at the store. Since I wasn’t making any more money, I had to rely on Jerry to give me spending cash. My allowance was definitely not enough to support my habit.
Now I know that doubling the dosage of Xanax is a crazy and idiotic thing to do. But at the time, it was genius. Soon, I got that calm feeling back. Like a tree in the breeze, I was mellow yet happy. Not having sex with Jerry didn’t bother me anymore. I didn’t need him. I had my meds.
I never thought that I would ever be in a position where I would become addicted to Xanax. But it happened, and while it seems as if I had no control, I know that the blame rests fully within me. Before I begin, I would like for you to all understand something. The events that occurred in my life,