Hi... My name is Joseph

Hi.... My Name Is Joe....
Hi... My name is Joe, and I'm an addict. What am I addicted to? Wow. That's a good question. As for drugs and such, I would have to say my main substances were and are benzo's, such as valium, xanax and the like. Cocaine would come in right at the line with that, pretty much nose to nose. Alcohol would be a strong second, as it's simply easy to get. And it's quick too. But as far as drugs are concerned, I have done pretty much everything, except meth. L.S.D. and all of the halucinigens were alwys a favorite of mine, and I never really, and still don't, feel they were all that bad for me. I have only used a needle once, which was clean, fresh out of the package, and that was back in, probably 1979. I really don't like needles all that much. I don't like pain, either, but I seem to be pretty good at inflicting it onto myself, and to others, or so I've been told. If there was ever such a thing as being raised to become an addict or an alcoholic, I would have to say that I fit that bill perfectly.Addiction for me, was a learned behavior. I don't really believe in all that 'X-Factor' stuff. The 'gene-pool' version of addiction. While I do think certain people are predisposed to addiction, I think that is in the raising, or rearing of said people, not that it is inherent in one's genes. But that is just my opinion. And like I was told just this morning, "opinions are like ass-holes. Everybody has one. and everybody's stinks." God but I hate cliches. But it is what it is. Another obvious addiction of mine is love. Sex and Love. Yes, they have always seemed, to me anyway, to go hand in hand. Another would have to be escapism. I was taught, by my mother, who didn't get on with my father very well at all, to escape from reality at a very early age. Run. Flee. Leave. Escape. Much easier to do these things, than to face the reality that we have made for ourselves. To actually look at ourselves, means acknowledging to ourselves that there may be a problem, and then, we might just have to deal with it. Better to run away and hide. Better to pretend that there is no problem. Better to blame others, when the problem raises it's ugly head, and looks us right in the face, making it next to impossible to ignore, than to accept any part in the cause of the problem(s). fuck that Shit... Better to Run Away. Better to hide. Man, we spent probably three, maybe four nights a week in motels and hotes when I was a kid. Drive in movies, sometimes three nights a week. Spending the nights at aunts' houses and grandparents' houses. It was crazy. And my mom, for whatever reason, would buy me anything I wanted. Anything. For instance, for my 13th birthday, she bought me 13 bottles of Annie Greensprings wine. Can you believe that? I can't. When I finally figured out how easy it was for me to get drugs, it was like a blessing to in disguise for me. I could escape, without having to leave the room. I didn't care about much of anything anymore, other than getting more drugs. That became my entire life. Better Living Through Chemicals. That became my vehicle to get away from whatever problem was facing me at any given time, and remained that way for me, for the better part of my life. But enough about that. I haven't been all that inspired as of late, to write anything on here, but I was a little while ago. I get pretty focused on things, and when I'm taken away from the focus, it's hard for me to get back on track. I have told a few of my friends who read this, that I suffer from an illness. It is a life-threatening illness, but it can however, be treated. One of the criterea for treatment is that I have no alcohol in my system for 6 months time. I am up to about 4 months now. What I have, really doesn't matter. What I am going to do about it does. I am scared. I want to run away so very badly. It was so much easier for me to deal with this when I was drinking. When I was drugging. But I'm not now, and I am like a raw nerve at times. The fear that I have is immense. But I have faith in my heart that I will survive this. As my head becomes clearer, as the cobwebs slowly are lifted, I will probably be able to share more about what I am going through. But right now, suffice to say, I am having a hard enough time just writing these vague words, this vague description, of how it feels to be sick with an illness that has no symptoms and is as silent, and yet as deadly, as a calm sea full of hungry sharks.