Dear Subscribers,
I’m writing this in “letter” format because I want to write from the heart today, and not so much from the head!
For 25 years, not a single day passed—unless I was in treatment, or in a few white-knuckled weeks post-rehab—in which I did not put a pill into my mouth and swallow it down into my body. Thirty minutes later, that pill would kick in, throwing my life, personality, body and brain off-course. The “real me”—unaltered by narcotics—became someone I never got to meet.
Last year at this time, I stayed home from Art Basel Miami to let my pills run out and try a month I was calling “Sober December”. I didn’t know what was going to happen. I was so worried that I’d lose control if I went off amphetamine (and alcohol…and sleeping pills…and everything else I did) after a quarter-century of daily narcotic use.