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Open Your Eyes To Face Your Beast

August 16, 2014

I can feel the breath, sense the intimidating eyes on the back of me. The calm before the storm. It slithers around my feet. I

Drowning in the dark seas of sorrow with the addiction beast.

Drowning in the dark seas of sorrow with the addiction beast.

am fearful, cannot move and cannot open my eyes. I can feel it tapping on my back. Tap, tap, tap. Looking for a weak spot to sink it’s claw into. Another tap, faster, harder and I am squeezing my eyes shut tighter. It slithers up my ankles, my legs, my stomach and continues to tap my back look for the right spot. It taps again and finds the weak spot and digs it’s claw in deep, then another and another. It tightens and constricts its grip around me. Its claws are all deep in my flesh, hooked in and pulling. It squeezes tighter, I can’t breathe, I can’t open my eyes I refuse to open my eyes. There’s water rising over my feet and up my legs, slowly. Its tightening and constricting and I can’t breathe. The water is rising faster and I cold. I’m so alone and scared. Why can’t I fight? Why can’t I just open my eyes and face it? Why can’t I move? Why can’t I just open my eyes and face it. I am going to die. I can feel it, death is all around me, tightening, constricting, ripping its claws deeper inside me and won’t let go. I am so alone, suffering silently, in the dark, cold, and suffocating. I know it, it’s coming, there’s not much time left and there’s nothing I can do.

Death has me now, then I see something bright deep inside me, reflecting off my eyelids. I am so scared and fearful but I open my eyes. I will not die like this. Opening my eyes is the first blow the beast takes. It’s grip loosen just a bit. I am starting to struggle, to fight and I free my hand. I grab it’s throat and kick my feet violently struggling with the beast wrapping my other hand around its throat choking it.  The battle warms my blood, my heart starts beating and pumping, adrenaline gives me the energy to continue. I have to get to the surface, I break through and take a huge breath of air. The beast screeches the light is so bright and people are around me now, helping, telling me to swim towards them. My hand is wrapped around its throat and I’m not letting go. I’m fighting but I swim. There are others, telling me to come to them, come to shore.

I come out of the water and I am no longer alone, no longer cold, no longer scared. I see that the others have their beasts by their throats. I follow them on their journey and watch how each one keeps their beast from sinking its claws in again. Sometimes it works sometimes it doesn’t. Some beasts screech louder then others, a sound only we can hear, a feeling only we can feel, a place only we have been. Together we teach each other we don’t have to go back in the murky waters with the beast ripping our flesh and drowning us alone, cold and scared. We can be warm, loved and live. Each of us carries our beasts with us. We keep an eye on it, we learn how to fight it and keep it subdued. We recognize the signs when it’s gaining strength, when it’s screech becomes louder, when it starts to tap it’s claw on our back and we immediately get our friends to help knock it down again. Some of us do, some of us don’t and some of us drown, suffocated, alone, cold and scared.

The battle rages on, we stand at the shore with our hands extended to help those who swim towards us and we wait there patiently for the ones who refuse to open their eyes praying one day they will and we will be there to pull them out, give them warmth, love and support and help them continue to fight their beast, together and never ever alone again.


From → My Story, Recovery

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