This is how I felt:

One day I decided that I was going to participate in a race, I was nearing thirty years old, and, to be honest, I was quite out of shape. I figured a little exercise wouldn’t hurt. The day of the race came and it was a bright and sunny day. And, Yes, I had dressed for the occasion. Nearly three hundred people showed up and that is just my estimate.

Finally, the starting gun was shot and, hence, the race had begun. The first mile I struggled, and realized that I was very out of breath. As I ran, it seemed like everyone was passing me. I thought I was the slowest one there. I kept pushing along and by the fifth mile I felt completely run down. I was expecting to see the finish line but it was nowhere in sight.

I thought, how long am I going to run this race? I decided I was not going to give in. The next five miles were treacherous, and my legs had become stiff as logs. Surely the finish line must be near. I could barely even jog at this point. My mouth was bone dry. Still, I wasn’t going to give in. It seemed as if, the more I ran, the further the finish line became. At twenty miles in I could barely walk.

There were no other runners around; I was by myself. Everyone must have completed the race but me. In the distance, I heard the sound of traffic. At this point, I knew I was lost. It must be because I took a wrong turn in my life. There, I approached a busy highway. I began to walk without looking left or right. The only thing I wanted was to get to the other side of the street. A car sped by and came inches from my leg. I didn’t care if I was going to get run over or not.

Would you cross the street without looking?

At this moment, I realized that my whole life, I was crazy. My only wish was to have my sanity back. How could I be normal and still despise myself? I remembered to stay away from people, places, and things…because I was a monster in hell doing the wrong thing and I was dying spiritually.

I deprived my family of a brother, son, and uncle. I was climbing a mountain that had no peak. I was climbing through windows to rob my mother’s pain medication. I forged checks because morally, I was bankrupt. I chose drugs over family. I didn’t give a damn if I lived or died and I was pissing in the eyes of God. It was all about me…If it was a void I was filling, I was filling prescriptions to fill my habit. I couldn’t stand to look in the mirror anymore. I sold the car my sister gave me so I could buy more drugs.

My soul had been bought at a discount price. I used to have dreams, and then all I had was a nightmare. I spent time living in the streets, in and out of shelters. My home became the side of a library in the freezing cold. It was life on life’s terms, and I wanted death.

In the mirror there was a demon. I had to surrender. The drugs had won and I had destroyed my life. I spent eight months living in a shelter. The only thing I held onto was staying clean. I started attending a program, as well as NA meetings. There had been a lot of damage that was done that needed to be fixed.

My spirit is still wounded, and I can’t do this by myself. I need God’s help to repair my mangled brain. I feel like I’m crossing the finish line and I see my family and friends there waiting all along. No more running from myself. I finally have accepted reality.

Today I can look myself in the mirror. I have been clean over a year, and, take it from me—the next line and you could be finished.