I’d always thought that I could dip my toe into the pool of illicit drugs. I, of course, never wanted to become an addict. I thought, maybe I can just use drugs occasionally. I’ll be a weekend warrior, I thought. And for a while I was able to contain my use.

I was slow in some ways to develop full blown addiction symptoms. I didn’t become an addict overnight and I sure wasn’t going to admit my problem that quickly either. For me, it was a slow progression from regular drinking to occasional marijuana abuse to heavy marijuana use to sampling harder drugs. Once I got to the street drugs it actually didn’t take too long for my world to begin to unravel. It was the getting there that took a moment however.

For me it was cocaine that eventually wrought havoc on my life. But it really doesn’t matter what your drug of choice might be. The progression generally follows the same path into greater despair and unmanageability.

Before cocaine I had been able to hide my bad behavior quite well I thought. I was drinking a twelve pack or more of beer a day and smoking marijuana about as often. I could sense, in all the little ways, that things were getting worse. There had been the DWI, the semesters I had to withdraw from college, and of course the frequent nights riddled with embarrassment. But I was just having fun, I thought.

But, if I was to be honest, I needed help for drug abuse before I even started abusing cocaine. I had become the picture of unmanagibility, but I wondered if anyone else had noticed.

Shortly before I first sampled cocaine I went to a meeting with a psychiatrist who himself is a recovering alcoholic/addict. I’d never discussed my binge drinking, pot use or general mismanagement of life with him. Still, he knew something was wrong. He asked me pointed questions about my drug and alcohol use and I answered half honestly.

He was alarmed. He recommended that I check into a treatment center, a drug rehab, for treatment of my addiction. But, it was too soon. I was not ready to listen. I calmly turned down his offer of rehab. I may need to quit, I thought to myself, but I certainly don’t need to check into rehab to do it.

Within a couple of months, while on vacation and at an inebriated moment, I was presented with the chance to try powder cocaine. I had this feeling that things had already gone to hell and I figured what do I have to lose?

As it turns out, I had a lot to lose. Though my drinking and pot use had progressed to the stage that professionals were suggesting that I enter rehab, I was still holding it together pretty well. I had even quit drinking and using altogether on my own for a short stretch. My finances were holding up and, though I felt terrible, I thought that I was managing just fine.

Everything changed when I first tried cocaine. Within a few short months, I had picked up a serious coke habit as well as nearly drained my bank account. I had found new “coke” friends with whom I had little in common and my behavior was becoming very erratic.

Within eight months of that first vacation use, things had completely flown off the handle. I was in a serious financial hole. I had lost weight and was beginning to experience concerning health problems. I was getting desperate.

But I was still too stubborn to accept help for drug abuse.

Looking back it was indescribable. I was miserable, I mean really suffering. However, I held on to my ego with both hands. If I couldn’t do this myself what kind of man was I?

Things got quite a bit worse and finally I called my psychiatrist and asked him about rehab. I felt so humiliated, so defeated. But, I was contemplating suicide I was so miserable. Things had truly hit rock bottom.

With my heart in my throat, I asked my shrink for help for drug abuse. I realized that somewhere, deep in my heart, I wanted to regain my hope for life. I knew that I could find it if I just gave myself a chance, a break from the three day binges, thousand dollar nights, and strip club ridiculousness.

He recommended a top treatment center and I packed a bag and made my way there. I was too defeated at that point to find my hope yet. I was simply hoping that if I could get away from the disaster that I drugs and alcohol had made of my life that I might give myself the chance to want to live to again.

What happened was remarkable. It wasn’t overnight and it wasn’t without work, but I found my hope at that rehab in Texas. Away from the hectic life I had been living, I got a break from the insanity. Within a couple of weeks I came to realize that my life had not always been a panicked hell.

There had been moments of serenity in the past. I had simply lost my way. It was a refreshing feeling that I obtained, learning once again that life can be worth living. I had regained my hope.

Going to rehab, actually turned out to be the best thing I had ever done for myself. It’s funny that I had needed it for several years before I finally got there. I was somewhat upset with myself that I allowed myself to waste so much of my life drowning in misery.

But, for me, it took what it took. I needed to fall down to the point that I was defeated, that I was willing to accept the help that was being offered me. Once, I got to that point I had nothing left to gain from holding onto my pride. I was ready to make a change.