The Road to Hell Feels like Heaven

on having an addictive personality and a self destructive nature

tw ed drugs mental illness

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I recently read a quote that went like this: “the road to heaven feels like hell. The road to hell feels like heaven”, and I don’t think I could agree with this more. Letting yourself turn to bad habits and deteriorate is appealing, because being healthy and happy is so so difficult to maintain (for some people, anyway.)

Having depression is hard to describe to people that haven’t experienced it. It is highly illogical. It means being in unbearable pain on a daily basis, yet still having to convince yourself that you want to change. The sadness becomes comfortable; the thought of getting better is not. It took me a long time to go to the doctor’s and get medicated, because I truly believed that I wouldn’t enjoy being happy (how does that work??). I didn’t think I would feel like myself if I wasn’t depressed. I say this like I am a very happy person now, and that’s not entirely true, but I am certainly better than I once was. I can get out of bed, I can take care of myself, and I can smile at people on the street.

Having an eating disorder was the exact same thing. It is also a mental illness and therefore something you get stuck in. You forget what is wrong and right. I refused to get better; I didn’t want to eat. I didn’t tell anyone because I knew they would make me eat and that was terrifying. Starving myself was my coping mechanism, it was comforting; it was a massive part of how I saw myself. Thankfully something in my mind changed slowly. You can’t get medicated for it but you can chose to get better. Food became and a source of joy again and I didn’t have to punish myself for literally needing to fuel my body. Because who would do that?? If you love someone you would want them to be well fed. Be that person that you love and take care of yourself.

The worst of all my destructive habits was/is the drinking and the drugs. It took me years before I asked for help for this. I reached a point where most days I had trouble walking or couldn’t stand at all, I felt my body shutting down, and I would pass out for hours. I was frightened that eventually I wouldn’t wake back up, so finally I called my brother and he drove to my flat and brought me home to my parents. It was one of the hardest things i’ve ever done. I remember crying on the phone to him saying, what if I regret this tomorrow? What if I wish I had never called you? Because I knew everything would change. And he said yes, you probably will regret it, because it’s the harder decision to make and it’s the right one.

When we speak about that time now, he reminds me that I might not be here if I hadn’t called him that day. It sounds dramatic but I know he’s right, and I know I made the right decision.

These things all fit together. The depression, the ed, the substance abuse (and trust me I have more issues than this but we can cover those another day). They created a certain life that I believed was suited for me. A very masochistic life. Be aware I am talking about my near past, if not my present. Each day is a decision to be strong or give in and sometimes I give in because it is easier. Then I wake up with bloodspots all over my body, and I ask myself, is this really my idea of heaven? I am okay but I have not yet managed to escape altogether. I feel like something inside me wants me to fail. I miss the way I was living a year ago even though I was incredibly unhappy. Everything I try I get addicted to. Every day is hard and it’s a fight. It takes so much time and so much work, and it feels like hell, but that is how you get to heaven.

I know now that heaven is not taking pills from strangers in the dark and falling in love with them. Heaven is waking up in the morning and not already wishing it was over. Heaven is enjoying your breakfast and your coffee and being able to read more than a page without your head hurting. It is being able to have a hot shower without collapsing. It is safety and consistency and friends and family and art and poetry. I thought I might not be able to write decent poetry without so much chaos in my life, but I assure you I can.

But like I said, somehow I miss it. Somehow I seem to romanticise it (that is addiction). I tell myself I miss the hallucinations I would have when I was trying to fall asleep. I miss waking up shaking and sweating. I miss the secrets and struggling to hold a conversation. I miss tripping so much that I thought I was dead, or that my friend had died, or that I felt violent towards myself.

I miss the boy I was dating in my first year of uni. The strangers we would befriend on the street, the conversations we would have with them at four in the morning. The feeling of going through all the highs and the comedowns together, believing we were the only people who understood each other in the world. Addicts tend to associate drugs with people they would use them with, and that makes it very hard to get over someone.

I have a pattern of getting into these abusive or toxic relationships. I can’t imagine ever putting up with someone like my first boyfriend now, but I did, because at the time I didn’t think I deserved any better. I also relied on him to supply me drugs (peak romance, not), and the alternative - being alone - somehow seemed so much worse. I would rather be in pain than feel nothing. I would rather give in and get high than have everyone be proud of me but feel empty.

One of my favourite tv shows is skins. When I watch it, I see parts of myself in effy, though people say I remind them of cassie (interesting compliment, I know). It glamourises doing drugs, being out all the time, having sex with people you’ve just met, and generally making awful decisions. In real life there are bills to pay, there are lectures to attend, and having a one-night stand has only ever made me cry the next morning. I know my friends are tired of hearing me say i’m getting clean. They were so proud of me when it lasted two weeks. And a month. I don’t think it’s ever been more than a month or two before i’ve had a relapse. We went to barcelona and I cried the whole time because I wanted to be home and I only wanted one thing.

I want to live like i’m in an episode of skins; I want to have nothing to live for. But the truth is I have so much to live for. My family are there every time I fuck up to tell me i’m worth so much more. I know how lucky I am but I hate them when they don’t let me destroy my life. Not one of them can relate to me when I say I would rather live like this and die young than have a long happy life. It is a poisonous mindset, because addiction and depression are real illnesses and they kill every day. They make you crave hell and believe it is heaven.

As I write this it is raining. I have had a good day and I am in bed and I should be happy, but I crave doing something bad. I don’t know if I should make some food as a distraction, or go for a walk in the rain, or text my dealer who is waiting to hear from me anyway (update: I didn’t). Drinking doesn’t really help anymore. I’ve ended up crying in the pub too many times because nothing compares to the intensity of other drugs. When i’m drunk and I can’t have them I literally go insane, and that is why I try not to drink so much.

When you decide that nothing matters, nothing can hurt you. But nothing good can happen either. Sometimes i’m scared of myself but I feel like i’m trusting myself more each day. I am genuinely able to see that I don’t want to move backwards. I like my routine I have going. Some nights I mess up but i’m still proud that i’m moving forwards. There was a while when I didn’t post on substack because all this was going on and I wasn’t mentally or physically able, but now I post almost every other day. That is a massive achievement for me.

I’m not really sure what my point was in writing this. This is definitely not a comprehensive essay. I’m just sharing my thoughts about addiction and how good it can feel to be living in a way that is harmful to you, but how wrong that is. I guess I want people to understand what it’s like, and how important it is to pull yourself out of it. I hope you aren’t experiencing this but if you are, if you can’t decide what decision to make right now, make the decision that your loved ones would be proud of. It will be worth it and you will eventually like making the right decisions and living peacefully. You will stop craving destruction. But know that I am proud of you no matter what you do, so forgive yourself if you made a mistake today. You are safe here. I love you.

I want to leave you with another quote I heard recently: “the world breaks everyone. If it doesn’t break you, it kills you”. The point is it’s okay to be broken, but it’s not okay if you don’t carry on. I am broken, but I am alive, and so are you. Work hard to make a good life for yourself, and don’t get so lost that you think you don’t deserve it, or think you don’t want it at all.

all my love, always,

holly xoxo