Room of memories

I cant stay in that room. I go in there to get my clothes and that’s about it. I don’t sleep in there. I haven’t in years. Everything in there reminds me of my addiction.

room of memorys.jpg

When I was using, that room was my oasis. A place to feed that growing hunger for drugs. Any drugs. Anything that would alter my state of mind. The marijuana,… the pills,… lots and lots of pills. Uppers to wake me up and then downers to let me sleep. And sleep I did. For days at a time. All those pills ~ disguised as freedom. Instead they were my prison. I would sit on the bed and roll my weed,… or crush my pills. I would be in that room for hours on end. Ingesting my escape from reality. To have the drugs whoosh through my body and take it into another world. A world where nothing mattered but my next high.


But now that I am clean and sober,… I can’t even look in that room. Too many memories. All I see is failure and weakness and shame. I sleep in the spare room. The one I have decorated brightly. Pretty,… innocent,.. walls of purple with white furniture. The room of a teenage girl. Safe and guilt free. I wished it were only that easy to blot out the past. It helps. But nothing can ever erase the destruction I have caused to myself and my loved ones.

Maybe its time to change that room. To open the curtains and let in the light. Hidden so long behind the blinds. A couple coats of paint and to hang a few pictures. To rid the room of all the paraphernalia that helped me self-destruct. To rid the room of all those memories that will always be in my mind. But at least I will be able to use the room once again without feeling such disgust for that addiction.

Maybe this should be my spring project. To clear out that room and start again. Just like I’m trying to do with my life. A fresh start to move forward. I want to be able to go in there and just live ~ normally.

Its time for that rooms memories to go,….


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