I ended up homeless from Fall ‘22 till summer ‘23, while being turned away every single time I asked for help. I was straight up told “there’s nothing the ward can do for you anyways” by an ER doctor.

I went back to the drug house I was crashing at, and they were sitting around the living room, passing a meth pipe around. I figured “fuck it, there’s nothing the hospital can do for me anyway” and took a huge hit next time the pipe came around.

For the remaining 3 weeks I lived there, before landing safe housing, I joined them whenever they were smoking, usually a couple nights a week.

I detoxed alone after I moved into the safe, secure housing, because “there’s nothing the ward can do for you anyways”.

My life turned around for the better, and I seemingly managed to old turkey off it.

I was clean for almost a year. No cravings or anything.

Then May Long Weekend came along, and I was slapped in the face that I had my entire life wiped out, that I lost everything I owned, and was alienated from friends and family because no one believed that I was actually trying to get help.

Because “no doctor or nurse would say that” and “if you were actually trying to get help, you’d stop lying to us and your doctors, you would have gotten help by now”.

I lost any respect I ever had in most friends and families eyes.

I don’t have anyone left that would take me camping with them, and I don’t have any equipment anymore anyways.

I spiralled bad.

I was suddenly craving meth, as it was what worked for me a year prior when I was that low.

My amazing partner made some calls and hooked me up in hours.

I took a huge hoot, and as the rush hit me, I suddenly didn’t care about killing myself for a moment. I felt too fucking good. I stayed up all night smoking, and was up all weekend.

I’ve had 7 or 8 smoke nights since, and will be picking up for this coming weekend.

I’m looking forward to it this Friday after work.

But.

I noticed that I haven’t been actively suicidal since I started using again, because I’ve been reminded how euphoric meth is, and why bother killing myself without one more meth night?

It’s a game of Russian Roulette with a non zero chance of dropping dead at any second, so it’s a win win situation in my eyes.

Anyone else have the same epiphany?