Average Autistic In Recovery

Breaking Bad & Reminders of the Past

I recently started rewatching Breaking Bad. I originally watched the series when it came out and it was my fond memories of watching it that led me to revisit. I watched the first series and got into the second before I felt an uneasy and unexpected shift.

I was sitting watching a scene in which one of the main characters, Jesse, is preparing to be injected with heroin for the first time. His partner Jane, in relapse after 18 months clean, is going through the preparation ritual. Jesse asks Jane what it feels like. There is no way to really answer a question like that.

What I found myself doing was internally screaming out at Jesse not to do it. Not to take that first hit. Why? Because you will never get that feeling again. Nothing comes close to that first time taking something. The freedom, the relaxation, the elevation, the sheer whole body and mind relief from everything. Once you’ve experienced that, the chase to get it back is on. And that chase is relentless and all consuming.

As I sat watching Jane inject Jesse and the portrayal of him slipping into that first hit of sheer bliss, I felt immense envy. Despite my conscious full awareness of the damage, heartache and horror that will inevitably follow, I was still envious of that moment.

I continued to watch. In fact, despite the discomfort and longing that had been sparked within me I made it up to the moment the character of Jane dies. The scene depicts an unconscious Jane choking on her own vomit whilst Jesse, also unconscious and unaware, lays next to her.

It unexpectedly took me back to being 20, sleeping on a mattress on the floor. In my case when I began choking on my own vomit, my partner at the time was not unconscious, dragged me up and slapped me awake. The whole thing made little impact on me as I promptly went back to sleep, got up the next day and continued with my usual drinking routine. My routine at that time consisted of lager and cider throughout the daylight hours before switching to vodka later on in the evening. I was consuming in excess of a litre of vodka a day at that time. But I had routine.

Whenever I relate stories from that period in my life to anyone who has known me only over the past decade, they struggle to recognise that person as the me they know. Even when in fierce active addiction throughout the past ten years or so, my outward appearance was controlled in comparison to me in my 20s.

When you are out of control, being around chaos and addictive behaviour all day every day feels boringly normal. Even now, when I think back to that time, I still have the connection to it being routine and normal. It never felt confusing or difficult. I guess that’s part of the reason there are such strong feelings of grief when sobriety kicks in. As a neurodivergent person everything around me is confusing and difficult. And it is fu**ing exhausting.

But, as hard as sobriety is, that chaotic alternative does become harder to sustain. As a functioning alcoholic throughout my 30s and beyond, my outward self did look controlled. Inwardly however, I was living on a knife edge, fighting to stay on the right side of the line. The trouble is as a mentally unwell addict, I love to push at a line or boundary until the once unacceptable becomes acceptable.