Cocaine Diaries: “You’ve Got To Stop”

I developed strep throat in late January and was very ill. I went to my doctor and got all of my antibiotics and took them diligently. On the last day of my medication, I went out and did a tiny bit of coke. A day or two later, I noticed a funny taste in my mouth and examined my tonsils. There was a growth on the inside of my mouth!

At first, I was furious and I thought maybe The Ex had given me some kind of STD. I went to the doctor and he told me that it was an abscess that had popped and was leaking fluid into my lungs. I would need to get my tonsils taken out or I could die. This was all because I did a little bit of coke while I still had strep. I got my surgery a couple days later and was out for a week, all hopped up on drugs and texting my friends all kinds of weird shit. I waited for my throat to fully recover before I did it again.

Me and my hydrocodone.

Elsie, C, and I decided to go to New York for NYFW in February. We were out at a club and a certain infamous bad boy, who gained notoriety for calling Lindsay Lohan out, invited me to go do coke in the bathroom. I was sober enough and I wanted my fix. I can’t believe that I wasn’t worried about being raped or anything. I just wanted the drugs.

 

The girls and I at NYFW

He locked the bathroom door behind him and offered me the bag. I didn’t even say a word to him. I used a key and prepared a lovely bump. I threw my head back as I inhaled as hard as I could. That rush!

He didn’t even do any. He put it away in his jacket pocket. His face looked very depressed.

“What’s your name?”

“Megan”

He crossed his hands in front of him. He was feminine in a way and I couldn’t tell if he was gay or not.

“So, Megan, why are you doing these drugs?”

“Uh.. What?”

“Why. Are. You. Doing. Drugs?”, he spoke condescendingly. I wanted to get out of the bathroom but he was in front of the door. I had no idea what was going to happen next.

“I don’t know. I like them.”, I muttered and looked at the floor.

He took a step towards me and clutched my face in his hands. I stared blankly at him. He kissed both of my cheeks.

“You’re too pretty to do this.”

And with that, he left me standing in that bathroom dumbfounded.

It’s funny because I’ve shared this story with others who do know him and they laugh it off.

“That’s so him!”

I didn’t think it was funny at all. It freaked me out. I saw him in LA a couple months later and we locked eyes. He raised one eyebrow and cocked his head before looking away.

I returned home to The Ex and couldn’t have been happier to be back with him. I missed his face and arms around me. We didn’t leave the bed for a full day.

He had completely stopped going out and was focused on his career. I felt my modeling dwindling and I didn’t care anymore. I was just floating around and waiting for nightfall. At night, I could dance and do coke and “play” with my friends. I wanted to sleep all day and live in the night. Daytime was so boring. All I cared about was The Ex and getting high.

extremely hungover laying in bed with The Ex

I began to feel more and more depressed. I hated the way that my life was going. I was nothing. I began to party hard again and stumble home to The Ex. I started picking more and more fights with him. It was a mixture between coming down and lashing out. He knew the reason why because he was older. He had seen this shit before.

One night, I came home and was smashed. I went straight to the toilet and vomited from the alcohol and coke combination. After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I crawled into bed and he sat up.

“You’ve got to stop”

I rolled my eyes.

“I’m fine, babe, really, I’m just so tired and I drank too much. I just need sleep…”

He turned the light on.

“No. This is a never-ending cycle. I can’t live like this, Megan”

I waited for him to say something else.

“It’s me or it’s the coke.”

Wow.

I had finally realized how much I had been affecting him. I was fucking up. I was going down the rabbit hole.

I burst into tears.

“I choose you.”, I said in between sobs.

Just like that, I chose him.

I quit cold turkey. My anxiety levels skyrocketed and I felt like I was so exhausted but at the same time I couldn’t sit still. The Ex helped me through it and the less I did it, the less I wanted it. I just didn’t even need it. I started going out less too.

I won’t lie, I did it a couple more times after that but each time it just wasn’t the same. I didn’t achieve the same high. I think it was a subconscious thing for sure. Everytime I did it, I would think of The Ex and how disappointed he would be. I loved and needed him more than cocaine.

After we broke up, my family feared that I would relapse. I didn’t. I’ve been sober for a little over a year now and I’m so happy.

Cocaine is an evil drug. Like bulimia, it consumes you. Maybe even more so than bulimia because it triggers this thing in your brain where you just keep thinking that you need to get high. It stops being something you just desire, it becomes a necessity. I attribute my cocaine use with the demise of my career for sure.

I hope that you will think twice about abusing hard drugs. It cost me my career, quite a bit of money, and some good friends.

What will it cost you?

Xx,

Megan

Questions:ask.fm/meganemk

Instagram: @meganemkennedy


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