I think back on my time as a meth addict and it’s like I wasn’t even Me, you know?: like I was someone else, a person who had somehow hijacked my body and my mind and who only knew or thought or cared about using meth.

To be hooked on meth is to be consumed by the Need: to crave meth when you wake up in the morning; to crave meth when you fall asleep at night. When I was hooked on meth, I didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of ever quitting on my own. And that, if you really want to know, is why addiction treatment saved my life.

I wouldn’t be here, writing this, if I hadn’t gone to rehab. I’d be dead, probably, or at the very best strung so far out that no one…least of all Me…would ever be able to get where I was. But I did, thankfully: I did get drug treatment, and it saved my life. Helped me rediscover the world as I used to know it; helped me reclaim Myself, from whoever it was that had taken him away. Addiction treatment helped me be Me again. And that, I guess, is the only point that could ever really be worth making.

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