BOOK DETAILS

Swimming in Addiction

Swimming in Addiction

by Ms. M.L. Holly

ASIN: B011JZ5EQY

Publisher CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform

Published in Biographies & Memoirs/Memoirs, Parenting & Families/Family Relationships, Biographies & Memoirs, Parenting & Relationships

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Book Description

$2.99

This book is not like other addiction books. This one will let you walk through the start of addiction through childhood, generational dysfunction and unknowing addiction by denial.

Sample Chapter

Recovery

It was five o'clock in the morning and important to be on the first bus headed towards the housing project. The travel would take me to the office where most of my days were spent as an office assistant. The bus made the usual stops from one block to another picking up riders from every corner. However, work was not the plan for the day. The mission for today was to steal money from the office safe and to leave my note of confession.

They say that confession is good for the soul, but my soul was not my concern at the moment, my concern was focused on how not to get caught. For months I had stolen small amounts of money from the safe that held rent money received from tenants. It was twenty dollars here and fifty dollars there, but somehow the money was always replaced by the same hand that stole it. The money had to be right for the next deposit to the bank.

My office manager trusted me with the safe combination; it was simple to take advantage of that. Not above the actions of any other thief, it was too easy to steal from those who had less than I had. After all, the people who lived here were low income, welfare recipients. If they didn’t care that they were poor, why should I? What they had or didn’t have was of no concern of mine, at least not at this time. My concern was to get what I needed. There was no way to deny my drug addiction. One thing for sure that a drug addict needed was money to buy more drugs. It didn’t make any difference where or how it was gotten or from whom. There was no room for mistakes; this mission had to be timed just right.

The bus on this route would stop at the office every two hours. As the bus continued on its way it was the same old scenery that was now blurred in unfamiliar shapes. The rush in my steps when the mission began did not allow me to care about my looks. There was little doubt my appearance was more than a “hot mess”. My hair was pulled back in disarray. My face had no makeup to hide behind. With any luck, no one else would notice the smell of someone who had not bathed in days. After all, most of the last forty-eight hours had been spent with a crack pipe in my mouth; hygiene was the least of my concerns.

My unease now was not about my looks, but to get into that safe and get the money before anyone arrived to start their day. Little thought was given to how much money would be taken. Whatever it was, it needed to be enough to make it worth my while. Besides, the last part of my plan was to confess to my crime and there was a good chance that my crime would send me to jail.

My heart began to pound as if it had no mercy for me as the bus pulled into the office driveway. Beads of sweat rolled down the sides of my face. My hands were gripped tight around the metal bar of the seat in front of me. My mind was not sure what to do next; breathe or hold my breath. Fear began to creep into my wild and racing thoughts. At the last minute an unexpected thought battled its way into my consciousness, “You do not have to do this Casey; do not get off the bus.” It would have been simple to stay on the bus and return home. However, my body craved the high of crack more than the need to stop my crime. It was easier to allow this unexplainable urge to lead me.

It’s hard to explain this internal urge through which a crack addict goes. Without a doubt; this urge requires few words to describe it to a fellow crack addict. It’s what drives us to continue to abuse our bodies the way we do. Even as we take the first hit for the night, we know in our minds that we should not do this. The money spent should have been used to pay bills, put gas in the car, buy food or pay the rent. But it is the immense euphoria of the first hit that fuels us to use more and do things that we would not normally do.

If my heart pounded any harder, the other passengers would hear it. As the bus door swung open my feet hit the pavement. It felt as if time began to move in slow motion. It took forever to get to the main entrance of the office. As my feet stepped into the hallway my adrenaline kicked into high gear. Time began to move faster. Once the safe was in my view my fingers went into position to tumble the numbers for the right combination.

It seemed that hurry had gotten the best of me because as well as my fingers knew the combination, the safe door did not open. A voice began to direct me inside of my head. “Okay Casey, you've opened the safe hundreds of times, slow down, and remember to turn the dial one number at a time.” “Twelve to the left..., thirty to the right..., twenty-four to the left.” At last the door opened.

My hands reached for the tray that contained the money. “How much, how much would be enough? Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty, one hundred…that should be more than enough.” Satisfied with the amount, the money found its way into my pocket. As my body prepared to go into escape mode, my brain had another plan, “Get fifty more dollars”. As the extra money slid into my pocket my eyes glanced over at the clock on the wall. Ten more minutes before the bus returned. With the money in my pocket, the safe door closed, there was one thing left to do.

It was now time to write my confession of thievery to my supervisor. There was no time for hesitation as the pen met paper.

“Melanie,

This letter is to let you know that I have taken money from the safe. This is not the first time. You will find one hundred and fifty dollars missing from the cash drawer. My drug addiction has gotten the best of me and I am ashamed of where it has led me. Perhaps you will find it in your heart to forgive me one day. Please have personnel take money out of my next paycheck to replace the money I have stolen. It would be understandable if the main office contacts the police.”

Casey

Another glance at the clock told me there were four minutes left before the bus returned. With quickness, the letter found its way to Melanie’s desk. There was no time to waste; the way out was within my view. Before the door closed behind me, the need to turn around and look at my desk over-powered my need to flee.

This job was important to me. Unfortunately, too much time was spent with my eyes on the clock as the hands danced to five o’clock. The sooner it got to five o'clock, the closer it was to head for home to get high. There was so much self-hatred within me. It was far greater than expected. My self-hatred began to boil over for what I had just done. But no matter how much I loathed the crack addict within me, the urge to get high was stronger than the thought to leave the money behind. It was time to turn and close the door.

A careful look outside told me no one was there to witness my escape. With subtle movements my feet hurried my pace to the bus stop. Within the nick of time my crime had been committed. The bus had just pulled into the driveway; when it stopped a criminal climbed aboard with the evidence in her pocket; evidence that would buy more crack.

My bus trip home was as much as a blur as it was on the way to the office. But this time, there was little doubt that the police would find themselves at my front door. Would it be too much to ask for them to at least wait until the party with the pipe was complete? My stomach turned in disgust but not enough to change my mind; my addiction ruled. My mind repeated the same message over and over again. “You're no better than all the rest of the crack heads out there.”

Once my body was in the cold blue fake leather seat, it molded into a slouch as if to go under cover from view of my companion riders. There’s no one to hide from but myself. As the bus got closer to my apartment, the more my mind asked the question, “How could this have happened to me”?

Continues...

Excerpted from "Swimming in Addiction" by Ms. M.L. Holly. Copyright © 2015 by Ms. M.L. Holly. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher. Excerpts are provided solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
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Author Profile

Ms. M.L. Holly

Ms. M.L. Holly

After sixteen years as a crack addict M. L. Holly took the path of sobriety seriously and never looked back at a crack pipe again. During her twenty-two plus years of recovery she learned how family dysfunction, DNA and poor choices easily led her to the path of personal destruction. Ms. Holly also earned three college degrees and numerous awards throughout her journey in college Unlike the rich and famous who are in and out of rehabs or constantly relapsing only to end up as guests on talk shows, Ms. Holly wanted those who cannot afford fifty thousand dollars per month for rehabilitation to know you don’t need fame or money to beat addiction. The only thing you need is determination to make a change and the fight for survival.

View full Profile of Ms. M.L. Holly

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