Date: October 9, 2012
Word Count: 1361
My Heroic Journey
I woke up warm and safe on a cold February morning with a tough decision to make. Either pack my things and get back to the madness my life had become or find the courage to escape my own hell. I finally had the opportunity that I ‘d been praying for. It was a chance to change my life. But that change also meant I had to sacrifice my freedom.
Unlike King Odysseus of Ithaca, in Homer’s epic poem “The Odyssey”, I was very unhappy with where I was in life. I was an addict, homeless, abandoned my children and had warrants for my arrest. I didn’t trust anyone, so I isolated. My isolation spiraled into despair that I’ve never felt before. I missed my kids and my family. I wasn’t suicidal, I just hated being alive.
A week earlier, I reunited with my childhood sweetheart, Terry, after more than twenty years. As soon as we began to catch up, I was comfortable confiding my troubles to him. He understood my ordeal. He’d gone through almost the same situation over six years before. He offered to let me stay at his apartment. I was hesitant. Part of my downfall was that I didn’t want to be a burden, that I could take care of myself. As soon as I accepted his generous and brave offer, I felt a huge weight lift off my shoulders.
After arriving at Terry’s place, I fell asleep, for three days. He waited patiently for me to wake up, just for me to leave with my friends to get high. As I sat there with my friends, I thought about my next step. I knew Terry was waiting for me to come back and I wanted to but I was afraid. I didn’t think I could stop using. I would rather leave and disappear, then be responsible for his relapse. I still loved him and would do anything for him, including staying away from him. The thought of never seeing him again was unbearable. That’s when I decided to answer my call to adventure. I committed to never using again. Once again, I felt pressure lift off me....