I love my life, I really do. And I am once again beginning to love my body and my mind. I weigh almost 215 lbs again, the most I have weighed in 10 years and for the first time I find myself smiling when I look in the mirror and see myself. Because I look good, both inside and out. And I am proud of that because I worked hard for it, damn hard.

It is only Tuesday and already it has been some week! On Saturday I received notice that my unemployment benefits had run out, not the most pleasant news to receive. And while I did have a mild anxiety attack on Sunday, overall I remained calm and instead focused on my plan of action without having to even fight the urge to escape. I took another baby step.

Jumping into gear on Monday morning, it only took two phone calls before my hard work was rewarded: Social Security confirmed that my request for disability benefits had been approved. This in itself is a two fold victory for it not only relieves a lot of my immediate financial pressure it also strengthens my lawsuit. I now have confirmation from the US Government that I am indeed disabled and can use that to argue both my disability insurance company as well as my old employer in my lawsuit for HIV Discrimination and wrongful termination.

As I am going on my 71 days of sobriety, there are a lot emotions that are beginning to surface that are now asking to be dealt with. Not all of them are pleasant; some of them are rather terrifying to me. But the one thing that I am only now beginning to realize is how truly evil and wicked of a drug crystal meth is. I mean, I have always known what it consisted of but I never really understood the tentacles it has until I started dreaming again. As my body is slowly eliminating all traces of it from my system, Miss Mess fights back with full force; attacking me when I am at my most vulnerable, when I am sleeping. For those of you who have never done drugs or Miss Mess, it is hard to understand what it is like to drug dream. They are the most pleasant and amazing dreams to have, they put a smile on your face as you grab your pillow and seemingly recall the joy and pleasure you once derived from getting high. Preying on the fact that now your conscience is unable to tell you that there was very little to no joy or pleasure, it instead lures your subconscious with distorted fantasies and memories. Fantasies and memories so intense and wondrous that I have woken up several times this past week shaking, craving to get high more than ever before; I have woken up high from the memory itself. And as I open up my eyes my conscious brain has to make a serious effort to once again subdue Miss Mess and shut off her illusion machine, I am tired before I even start my day.

A lot of you have asked me how often I was getting high, a question that made me extremely uncomfortable and I often refused to answer. It makes me uncomfortable because it brings out feelings of shame and guilt. Shame for being an addict and guilt for having lied to so many of you for so long. And there is fear, fear of losing my friends now that I finally and honestly have gotten sober and I need you all the most.

You see, when I first confessed about doing drugs it was November of 2001. And hard words were spoken and tears were shed and for a while there the support I received from my friends was great. And then Miss Mess found another way back into my life, only this time she became a lot more evil and taught me how to become much better about hiding my habit from all of you. Prior to November of 2001, I had only shot up 2 times but after I went out on leave in March of 2002 I bypassed the single digits in no time.

What I am about to tell you may make you feel really uncomfortable. If it does, I apologize but please understand that it is just as uncomfortable for me to write about it, along with the fear that I may alienate some of you. However, if I am going to continue to stay sober, I have to do it with honesty and respect. Honesty and respect to both myself and to my friends.

I have never borrowed money from my friends to buy drugs; my conscience would never let me. I have borrowed money to cover my bills and to buy food because I did spend my own money on drugs, maybe that is still the same as having borrowed money from my friends to buy drugs but in my mind at the time it was a huge difference. The other thing I need to share upfront is that I have never stolen from any of you or have sold anything you have given me to buy drugs with. It is important for me that you know that first and foremost.

After my habit returned in full force back in March of 2002, it didn’t take me long to find a way to find new and clean syringes online (I have always been big on hygiene and cleanliness!) by ways of pretending to be a diabetic. Each box of syringes counts 100; I have ordered and used a total of 6 boxes between March of 2002 and December 1 2003. If you do the math, you will figure out that I shot up at least once a day, every day for 20 months uninterrupted. The reason why I have no revealing marks on the inside of my arms? Two reasons: for one I was very good at administering myself, the other one is that I used the outside of my arms most of the times. I was a sneaky little bastard.

I have shot up a total of 600+ times with Miss Mess, each time using at least .25 grams. That means that over the last 20 months I have injected close to 5 ½ ounces of battery acid, cat litter and liquid plumber into my veins, not counting the ounces that I managed to smoke as well.

I am not proud of any of it, I am not. I am disappointed in myself, I am angry at myself and I am sad that I thought so little of myself that I had the need to inject so much poison into my body that I could have killed myself. I could have gone insane, developed psychosis and god only knows what else. I am not proud of any of it and I am not proud of having been untruthful to all of you.

It is not a pretty picture to paint of myself which is why it has been so hard for me to come clean about the extend of this.

I now realize that my addiction is a disease for which there is no cure other than to live each day one minute to the next. And with each minute and each day that I stay sober, I walk one step further away from the lie that once was me.

I apologize for having lied to you for so long about so much.

I am deeply sorry.

My name is Sven.