Another Relapse
My Experience with Crack Addiction and Everything in-between.
Forgive me, I’m not entirely sure where to start, I’m here with a heavy heart. You all know me or will, I’m honest to a fault. So whatever it is, wherever I start, I’ll tell the truth.
I’m known as Typical Angel, but my name is Ibi-ateli Blessing George and I am a crack addict. When I first made the post telling the world I was an addict, it felt surreal. People called me brave but I was far from it. Writing is my therapy. I only have to pretend no one is reading, it helps me spill. So, here I am again, eyes closed, no one’s reading this Angel, write.
Look, I used to be a crack addict right? What you need to understand is, that I’ve always been a smoker. All my life it’s all I’ve known. I had no idea I was addicted to cigarettes until I saw I couldn’t live without it. Since I was 16, I’ve been smoking. I’m 24 now.
In the year 2022, I met this guy Timi, he introduced me to crack. I wish I’d never met him. He fucked up my life. No, scratch that, I fucked up my life. I was a broke addict, but still I found the means to afford the lifestyle.
Whatever I had to do. But no, there was a lot I didn’t do. You really should read this. From the moment I became dependent on Charlie, you need to hear this please; I fought it. I fought it with everything I had. I fought it the best I could. But I was an addict already goddamnit, some days there was more desire than will. Honesty right? Most days.
But still, I fought, even when smoking. No one hated me more than me. What I’d become. Who I’d become. And what it was doing to my relationship. Given, that we already had our faults, but those weren’t anything we couldn’t handle. But the smoking? It completely blew the roof off. I remember once she asked me, “Babe, do you love me or Charlie?” I couldn’t answer. Of course, I loved her, it was down there somewhere. But Charlie, Charlie had taken control of my head. I admired bottles with a lust lost in my gaze at her. All I wanted to do was smoke. Everything else could burn down.
Believe me, I fought it, the best I could. Sometimes I’d go a week without it. Even a month. Last year I went for 6 months. Did I want to stop smoking crack? No. But I wanted to stop spending what little money I had started making from writing on it. And my God, crack costs a fortune. My fortune. Were it cheaper, maybe I might not have fought it after all.
Remember, I’ve always been smoking, way before crack. Yes, my lover, she didn’t like the cigarettes but she put up with it. Charlie was the problem. It brought out a different side of me. And don’t get me started about the pressure that comes from it. Even though I gave my best, I’m afraid I have ruined my relationship.
In January of this year ‘24, I decided it was time to put my foot on the ground entirely. No more smoking, especially cigarettes. It wasn’t an easy decision to make, of course, I still thought about crack every day. But I wanted to become responsible, to become better, for myself, for her. We got a dog and we changed cities. Anything to get me away from the crack. It’s been four months. Four bloody months. I beat Charlie. I swear to you I won the fight. I didn’t want it anymore. When I talked about it I saw it for what it was; a lie. Even when another addict tried to have a conversation with me, I had a lot of damning things to say about crack. All honesty. All my true feelings. Clarity at last. And the grace of God to see the deceit behind the acclaimed cruise.
I made a promise to my mother. I made a promise to everyone, I was done with smoking, I was turning my life around. No more reeking of cigarettes, no more burning foils on bottles all night. Someone else… I had to be someone else!
It wasn’t easy, at times I found myself wandering, completely lost, smoking had always been a big part of my identity. But I was doing this, I had to.
Meanwhile, as I struggled to ward off thoughts that drifted to smoking, our financial situation was also spiraling out of control...
The past four months have been absolute hell, and that had little to do with Charlie. Responsibilities got the better of me. Finances were always on red, and getting here, to this city, I lost a huge contract that would have lasted a long time and taken care of things. “Goodbye ugly me” was the phrase, but it wasn’t nearly half, perhaps I celebrated painting over the walls too early. Oh, those first few months were the worst. And my dog fell ill, right after we buried her sister. Things were all kinds of hell. Finally, they looked up, hence the goodbye. I got some other gigs, we found our feet again, but we were stuck in the circle of clearing off debts and taking more to survive. Yeah, things have been really hard.
I work remotely, she needs a physical job, and for a month she didn’t have one, but she finally did. However, as an intern in Nigeria, expect the pay to be a little above peanuts, cashew perhaps. It couldn’t assist us in these troubling times, and that was fine. My family, my responsibility. I’ll carry it. And I did. Not smoothly, not without murmuring, not without long talks on how we should cut down expenses. But I get her, she was used to a certain kind of treatment from me and her family before, so asking that she rations food and controls spendings was not easy to adapt to. I was frustrated the change wasn’t fast coming.
One of my biggest problems is that I talk too much with her. In my head, I figured three years right? Surely she should understand that it’s all talk and I just needed to let it out. I don’t go out. Not for work, hardly for leisure. It was a new environment, so no friends for me yet, or ever. I don’t know, I’m no good at socializing. I couldn’t see it, the rapidly growing frustration. And pent it did, my God. I had no idea it was that bad.
My sister, back in our home state recently got out of a job and needed help getting a new one. We reached out to her, my girlfriend, and I, for an opening at the firm she worked for. Unfortunately, my sister didn’t make the position, but we asked her to come over anyway, and see what happens with time. Was that a mistake? I don’t know, truly. Every day, I’m wondering the same thing. All I know is, whenever I try to give up, and trust me I’ve tried. Too many times, I’ve come up with excuses to convince myself she had to go, but something always stops me from pushing it. The Holy Spirit, I don’t know why, but I think He wants her to stay. Maybe her life is here. So I try, right? The best I can. I gave everything and more. I gave them everything and more.
I’m not perfect goddamnit, I’ll talk, I’ll complain, I’m human. I’m going through a lot. I’ve lost rep, I’m a borrower now, but it’s all good. It’s all for the best. At least I always pay back.
Soon alcohol became my best friend. Surely my neighbors must think me a drunk. Because, honestly? Almost every other night you’d see me out in the dark drinking. Now I get it, I get why daddy always sat outside at nights. It’s hard alright? Youths in my country are suffering. Long-suffering. There are hardly any jobs in the country, the ones available are reserved for the very tall ones. Rich kids, someday I hope to be like them. Meanwhile, the cost of basic goods keeps rising. A bag of rice is eighty thousand naira now. And the minimum wage for workers is thirty-three thousand naira. It’s crazy. You rarely get paid above a hundred thousand naira working a 9-5. People are out there on the road every day to work and back for a monthly stipend of less than fifty thousand naira. I swear to you, e dey happen.
Some sources suggest that:
- Over 60% of Nigerian youths earn below 50,000 naira (around $34 USD) per month.
- Around 70% earn below 80,000 naira (approximately $54 USD) per month.
- About 80% earn below 100,000 naira (around $68 USD) per month.
Making a living is hard here, that’s all I’m saying. And as I struggled with our finances, my relationship with my girlfriend began to fray…
My girl and I, have been having some issues. We communicate wrong. It is sad, but up till now, we haven’t found a way to understand each other. She’s bickering and so am I. I’m mad at something she’s doing and she’s mad at something I’m doing. We don’t really address our issues, we just talk around them.
To know a person, and to understand a person, I believe these are entirely different things, though connected. For a relationship, you need both. Unfortunately, we only knew each other. I couldn’t understand her, her needs, her flaws. She couldn’t understand me either. And we never quite found the right way to communicate with each other.
With everything going on, in the last few weeks, I found myself wanting a drag of crack. That numbness it brings, even if it was only for a few minutes. I deserved to have my brain shut down. A natural overthinker, that’s me! I have to distract myself before I can sleep, because at nights when it’s quiet, my thoughts scream the loudest.
I remembered Charlie, I remembered what the high was. Numb. Completely numb. And for the duration of that smoke, all you’d do is keep looking for more. Investing in it. I needed that distraction. Granted some other people would have gone out, hit the movies or somewhere better. I’m not some other person. Smoking had always been my go-to. Because I don’t make any decision without her, knowing how much she hates it, I went to her and told her of the recent development. I wasn’t seeking permission this time, I let her know it was a done deal already. We’ve been having mighty issues the past few weeks, and I just couldn’t deal anymore. Whenever we tried to address them, lack of proper communication reared its ugly head.
She wasn’t happy. But I don’t think I cared. I was doing it. I was certain of that. Everybody talked, my sister too. My mom, as if on cue, called and tried comforting me. She’s been the only rock I’ve had this year. The only person I could really talk to that’d get it. It’s hard. I always wondered how she was able to do this for many years. Every day I found myself talking to her, holding on to the stable. She knew of the challenges I had been facing and she called to make sure I didn’t go back to smoking, suggesting that she knew all was not well. I laughed, mothers, are always right.
I truly am sorry Mom, I reached my breaking point. I wish I hadn’t. Maybe I should have stuck with alcohol. Because last night I smoked Charlie, and this morning, my girl and I had the biggest fight. She’s gone now and I didn’t go after her. I love her. I love her. But we’ve been here three years, one begins to wonder, shouldn’t we at least by now, be able to talk? You know, my mom said, “Delicate situations cannot be changed with fists.” We’ve been going at this the wrong way since.
As I sit here, reflecting on the chaos that’s been my life, I realize that my struggles with addiction and relationships have been two sides of the same coin. Both have taught me the hard way that true freedom and love can only be found by facing my demons head-on. I may have relapsed, but I know I’m not alone. And I know that with every setback, I’m one step closer to getting it right. To my mom, my girlfriend, and everyone who’s supported me along the way, I’m grateful for your love and patience. And to those who are struggling like me, know that there’s hope – not in the numbness of drugs or the fleeting high of distraction, but in the quiet courage of facing our flaws and fears, and learning to love ourselves and others, flaws and all.
Glossary
1. Charlie — A slang name for Crack
2. E dey happen - It happens. It’s possible.
3. Very tall ones — Rich and well connected
