Tweak: Growing Up On Methamphetamines

by Nic Sheff

a list of symptoms of what they call major depressive disorder. Mostly it’s just feelings of extreme hopelessness or lack of interest in normal activities. They describe...

“From what you’ve described,” she says, in her most professional-sounding voice, “you have a form of mania, or bipolar disorder, that is classified as ‘rapid cycling.’ In other words, you cycle from elation to desperation throughout the day so fast that you yourself don’t know which feeling to follow. In these cases, I have known drugs like lithium and Depakote to be extremely effective. I’d also like to start you on a simple antidepressant. Maybe something like Prozac would be beneficial. I’m not sure. I would even like to start you on a mild antipsychotic, like Zyprexa, just to make sure your moods don’t overtake your strong desire to be sober—if that is genuine.”

“you have a form of mania, or bipolar disorder, that is classified as ‘rapid cycling.’ In other words, you cycle from elation to desperation throughout the day so fast that you yourself don’t know which feeling to follow. In these cases,

I have known drugs like lithium and Depakote to be ex...

I would even like to start you on a mild antipsychotic, like Zyprexa, just to make sure your moods don’t overtake your strong desire to be sober—if that is genuine.”

“I’m going to write you a prescription for Depakote and Prozac. Hopefully with these two drugs we’ll be able to calm down your mood swings enough to let you focus on your day and not be so overwhelmed all the time.”

fit. “Overwhelmed” is the perfect way to describe my general state of being.

On that simple piece of paper is a promise of some normalcy.

If she is full of terror, she will grow up terrified. If she is made

to feel safe and accepted, she will grow up trusting herself—confident and self-assured.

I want so badly to be a part of her growing up strong and comfortable with who she is—something...

We’re like a family sitting in here, having come through this whole ordeal together. We’re like veterans after a war. Laughter has never felt so effortless.

night. The hair stands up all over my body as I watch the needle puncture the skin—as she registers and then pushes the blood/drug mixture up into his arm. I almost feel like throwing up. Sometimes, still, I long just to stick a needle in—just to feel it hit a vein. Sometimes I crave that almost as much as the drugs. I watch Spencer’s eyes roll back in his head for a second as he thanks the nurse.

“Let’s just say”—he smiles—“I’m very aware of the time and when the next shot is due. Now some of that is the pain—but some of it is just my addict getting a taste of being high again and I’ve missed that. You may not think you miss it—but guaranteed, somewhere in you, your addict is there—still alive—biding his time until he can get you where he wants you again. He will never be gone completely and he’ll

use any opportunity to bring you back.”

“I’m gonna need your help, Nic. I need you to walk with me through this. I don’t know where else to turn.”

“Yeah, I’ll sleep in a minute. Just remember, Nic, the only thing that ever really gives us any genuine satisfaction is caring for other people. It doesn’t matter how popular we are or anything. The only thing that actually makes life more fulfilling is our love for others. When I help you, I’m really helping myself—saying yes to humanity and to the connection that exists among all people. And the results speak for themselves. Like, how have you felt this last week?”

thing that ever really gives us any genuine satisfaction is caring for other people. It doesn’t matter how popular we are or anything. The only thing that actually makes life more fulfilling is our love for others. When I help you, I’m really helping myself—saying yes to humanity and to the connection that exists among all people. And the results speak for themselves. Like, how have you felt this last week?”

“That is the crux of the whole twelve-step program. This is—what you’re experiencing now. We are two people helping each other through life. The satisfaction of being there for someone else is unparalleled. This has

We are two people helping each other through life. The satisfaction of being there for someone else is unparalleled. This has been a fucked-up way to learn that lesson, but in my mind, it’s been worth it. And you also get to see now, without a doubt, that the more you give to others the more gifts you receive. That is a universal truth. It will never fail you. Now I’m going to pass out, if you don’t mind.”

been a fucked-up way to learn that lesson, but in my mind, it’s been worth it. And you also get to see now, without a doubt, that the more you give to others the more gifts you receive. That is a universal truth. It will ne...

I’ve always been amazed at how selflessly he took me in and helped me want to live again. Never once did I think that he might be doing it in order to help himself at the same time. As a using drug addict, all I ever really cared about was getting high myself. There were a few people around—Gack, Bullet, Lauren—but at the end of the day, all that really mattered to me was that I had whatever drugs I needed not to get sick, or come down, or whatever.

Now that Spencer has pointed it out, I realize that the times I have known some sort of inner peace in my life, those have always been times when I focused on helping others more than myself.

Those have been the moments when I get to stop obsessing about myself and really feel a sense of liberation. “Freedom from the bondage of self,” that’s what they call it in twelve-step language. I never really understood that before, but now I do.

“Freedom from the bondage of self,” that’s what they call it in twelve-step language. I never really understood that before, but now I do.

I breathe out, not wanting to be anywhere but exactly where I am. As I hang up and take

the elevator up to my floor, I feel like the impossible has become possible, I feel a sense of completeness and satisfaction just being in my own skin. I am comfortable being me—at least, for the moment.

I feel like the impossible has become possible, I feel a sense of completeness and satisfaction just being in my own skin. I am comforta...

There hasn’t been more than a moment of calm, but I seem to thrive on that, reveling in the chaos. On my lunch break today I grabbed a copy

the only escape I had was watching movies. It was the one thing that could take me out of myself—let me forget the world I lived in.

After relapsing I just find it impossible to be as close to my old friends as I used to be. Mostly I just pretend I don’t notice it—but I always do.

admire his commitment, though it’s kind of scary that after fifteen years sober, Spencer still has to be so cautious.

“As long as you look for someone else to validate who you are by seeking their approval, you are setting yourself up for disaster. You have to be whole and complete in yourself. No one can give you that. You have to know who you are—what others say is irrelevant.”

Sure, when I’m loaded I’m able to disconnect from caring about them all, but sober, well, I want so badly to be accepted by them. I guess things might be easier if I really didn’t give a fuck, but that’s

I’ve always been sort of terrified by my stepmom.

My dad was trying so hard to leave his old life behind, and I can see now that I felt like it was a rejection of me. I felt like I was a mistake and that my dad wanted to correct me along with everything else.

I also wanted so badly to be loved by her.

But she has become very concerned about protecting her children from me now. Sometimes I think she would just prefer it if I was gone completely, so she wouldn’t have to deal with me and so her children would be safe. It hurts my feelings, but I don’t blame her. I know what I’ve done.

Jasper and Daisy seem very naive, but also comfortable

with themselves. I’m still not comfortable with my goddamn self. I don’t know if I’ll ever be.

I’ve worked so hard on this twelve-step thing I’m in, but

still, I am the same. I am still just trying to fit in. I feel like a visitor—a guest. It hurts me. I want to be a part of their lives. I want to be accepted as one of them.

I never want to have to return to my own life, which will always be separate from theirs. I never want to go back to living by myself, struggling to make a living and forever fighting the endless brigades of depression and melancholy that attack me from my own insides. I don’t want to have to face reality.

Maybe, I think to myself, underneath it all, I am not this awful person, but a caring, loving little boy. Maybe that has never left me, even after everything. So why do I want to blot that out? Why do I want to kill off the person that I am? Why do I always want to become this unfeeling monster, fueled by whatever chemicals I can find to put in my body?

I guess I’m just selfish. My needs always come first—that need I have to escape or something.

I guess mostly it has to do with that same old desire I have to be a part of this wonderful family my dad has created with Karen.

There are all these feelings surging like breaking waves inside me. I can’t help but to distance myself.

gradually, I realize that all those feelings of dreading leaving are being replaced with just wanting to get the hell out of there. Suddenly

I can’t wait to leave—get back on my own—not have to deal with this cutesy, overprotected, sugarcoated world of my dad’s family.

Strange, I think, in the past there’s no way I would have been able to pull myself out of that spiral of negativity, anger, and hopelessness. I mean, at least not that fast. Something has changed. And then it hits me—maybe it’s the medication. It’s been two weeks since I started that new antidepressant and the bipolar medication. I’d forgotten about that.