The last time I thought about taking heroin was yesterday.I had received ‘an inconvenient truth’ from a beautiful woman. I put Morrissey on in my car and as I wound my way through the neurotic Hollywood hills my misery burgeoned.
A bathroom floor in Hackney embraced me like a womb, and now whenever I am dislodged from comfort my focus falls there.
It is ten years since I used drugs or drank alcohol and my life has immeasurably improved.
I have a job, a house, a cat, good friendships and generally a bright outlook.
But the price of this is constant vigilance, because the disease of addiction is not rational.
Recently, for the purposes of a documentary on this subject, I reviewed some footage of myself smoking heroin.
I sit wasted and slumped with an unacceptable haircut against a wall in another Hackney flat (Hackney is starting to seem like part of the problem), inhaling fizzy black snakes of smack off a scrap of crumpled foil.When I saw the tape a month or so ago, what was surprising was that my reaction was not one of gratitude for the positive changes I’ve experienced.Instead I felt envious of this earlier version of myself, unencumbered by the burden of abstinence.I sat in a suite at the Savoy hotel, in privilege, resenting the woeful ratbag I once was who, for all his problems, had drugs.That is obviously irrational, but the mentality and behaviour of drug addicts and alcoholics is wholly irrational until you understand that they are completely powerless over their addiction and, unless they have structured help, they have no hope.This is the reason I have started a fund within Comic Relief, ‘Give It Up’.