Each line of cocaine is a lightning bolt in my brain, electricity that buzzes through my veins and for a few glorious moments I am funny, sharper, more self -assured, my heart pumps harder, faster, my smile louder, my eyes sparkle.
I feel invincible, inviolable, powerful.
Then a little later the feeling has disappeared, the excavation that I desperately pursue, ebbs away.
So I go to the toilets, dice on the white powder on the creepy reservoir, place a rolled up tones of ten dollars in my nose … Then feel the bitter drop in my throat, the chemical burn remained in my nostrils. Then another rule, and another …
You know how this story ends. Or maybe not. Allow me to explain it.
What comes afterwards is going to bed in the early hours, alone, with regret, shame and fear, staring at the ceiling feeling as if I am going to die. Would that be such a bad idea? After all, with death comes peace and a way out from my private hell that I have created.
I was a 35-year-old woman who was addicted to cocaine. To make matters worse I was famous (Stock Image)
In the coming days I am recovering, my eyes yellow, my skin faded, my appetite disappeared, until day three, when my spark returns and the trek to go outside again. “Only one drink?” Friends SMS. “Of course,” I shoot back, know deep down that never means one drink, it means a bottle of champagne, and someone will always take off a bag and the cycle will repeat.
I was a 35-year-old woman and addicted to cocaine. To make matters worse, I was famous.
I don't tell you my name; You would recognize my face and you would definitely know my story; But nobody wants to be famous as a tragic cola, right?
Behind my happy -filtered -Instagram -messages, bikini recordings, the walks with my dogs, my media -I hid a deadly secret for my hundreds of thousands of followers: my secret cocaine addiction was my body, my appearance and my emotional well -being.
My privacy is important for my family and me. But I will tell you my story because I want you to hear my message: to those of you who think that a wine and a line in the weekend are harmless, my weekend cocaine habit has almost killed me.
After all, I had an image to maintain. I was supposed to be glamorous, sexy, successful. An annoying cocaine addiction would crush the illusion. But I died on the inside. And remove the social media filters, I also looked dead on the outside.
I was what you call a well -functioning addict. I was not on the street, I had never been in rehabilitation and while I fell apart on the inside, I kept it together on the outside. A smooth lip gloss, the fresh highlights in my hair, I went to the gym, ate well and I had a successful, high -profile company. Nobody had any idea that I was fighting a secret war against cocaine.
I started experimenting with drugs when I was 15, first for fun, I thought, then I realized that getting high was the greatest form of escapism there is. Everything is numb when you take cocaine, especially emotional pain. But my addiction really started in the 1930s at a time when my career started and I was determined on the front pages.
With fame, money and success, cocaine comes – and much of it, and as a celebrity I should know (stock image)
Because cocaine came with fame, money and success. And much of it.
I partyed with sports stars, Hollywood actors, fitness influencers and school mothers.
I now read interviews from certain celebrities who talk about their love for fitness, or their children, or their latest cookbook or fashionable. I know they also hide their addictions.
Cocaine is everywhere, and it becomes socially acceptable, especially in the houses of the rich, the trendsetters and the celebrities.
And not only under the elite: I know many mothers and fathers who use school functions as an excuse to also become high. And popping up for a cup of tea after picking up school often also meant a wine and a line.
I became obsessive during my next hit, unable to enjoy nights with friends, unless I had cocaine, even felt restless at night without a small pick-up.
So I started buying, not every week, sometimes not every fourteen days, but regularly enough to have the names and numbers of a few dealers in my contact list. I took a huge risk, was caught in the car of a dealer with a media profile to maintain, but I didn't care. Addiction robes you of your Smarts.
And before I knew it, I did lines to do the household work, or to give me energy to work on my company, or for a night out.
Cocaine is everywhere, and it becomes socially acceptable, especially in the houses of the rich, the trendsetters and the famous (stock image)
Cocaine addiction slowly crawls on you. You think you are in control – after all, everyone likes a pair of line or two, right? (I found out later that they didn't actually, they don't do that).
One night out with friends I felt my heart pumping faster than normal. I had to lie down, I didn't feel well.
The next thing I remember, I woke up in a hospital, with a doctor who stood over me. I had what they call a mini stroke, or a TIA (transient ischemic attack), caused by a short blockage of blood flow to the brain, and got blood thinners I needed to take in the long term.
Although doctors could not confirm what caused my stroke, drugs were undoubtedly a factor. “You were lucky this time,” the doctor warned. “But you can never use drugs again.”
Did that stop me? For a few weeks, yes, but the addiction was greater than my willpower.
I can't remember what my rock bottom was. Losing my company, being unable to maintain an intimate relationship, to die … Possibly all three.
I decided to get sober and clean, and I knew I couldn't do it alone. Austerity is something personal, there are many ways to do it. I went to the rehabilitation of an outpatient clinic in Sydney and heard that addiction is our way of masking trauma and pain.
I realized that I craved a dopamine hit and found a way to numb my feelings of low self-esteem and self-hate and to get me out of myself.
I started to have therapy twice a week, removed the number of dealers and stopped seeing friends who like to party. My circle became small but healthy. My relationships improved, I recovered my company and the light in my eyes came back.
Recovery is not easy, but once you know you can lead a happy sober life, you can't know. I became sober of forty – stops cocaine and drink – and I have never felt better.
Another thing I have changed is my celebrity status. I have taken a step back from the spotlights and removed all my social media after I realized that the pressure made me sick. And I have never felt in peace again.
I see all these social media influencers and reality stars that are desperately known, and it worries me. I know what can be accompanied by it.
My message is this: Take my story as a warning.
There is a reason why half of Hollywood is sober. The high that you feel of cocaine is the biggest fraud there is.
Stay with coffee instead.
