Quotes About Addiction

I am addicted to love.Love is my beloved drug.

Drugs consumes mind, body and soul but only the weak gets devouerd

I tried to stop smoking cigarettes by telling myself I just didn't want to smoke, but I didn't believe myself

I will smoke crack before I die. I want to see what all the hubbub is about.

I don't drink because I have problems or I want to escape. I just love drinking and being drunk.

You must have a cigarette. A cigarette is the perfect type of a perfect pleasure. It is exquisite, and it leaves one unsatisfied. What more can one want?

I hate people who say, "Oh, I'm addicted to working out". I just want to punch those people in the face.

I'm never gonna try it, because you got to pay a lot for cocaine, and that's not the way I want to spend my money.

In our society, daily experience teaches the individual to want and need a never-ending supply of new toys and drugs.

I should have done it years ago. It's amazing I didn't even want cigarettes anymore.

Instead of expressing deep hurt, the wounded female lives a miserable existence and gripes and complains about everything. She becomes addicted to her misery because it allows her to forget about her anger, or at least postpone dealing with it. Her dependency on misery is just as difficult to break as someone else's dependency on crack cocaine. Both are means to a different reality that allows for pain to be deferred.

We may have already chosen to follow God, letting him define the overall direction of our life. Even so, many of us still try to keep parts of our heart hidden from God. We have devoted these parts of ourself to gratifying our addiction, to doing things that are contrary to the will of God. This sets us up for living a double life, which can fill us with guilt, shame, and instability.

Recognizing our internal weaknesses is the first step toward recovery. When we look beyond ourself, we see that there are others who have struggled with an addiction and recovered. We know that they, too, were unable to heal themselves, yet they now live free of addictive behaviors. We conclude that there must be a greater Power that helped them. Since we can see the similarities between their struggles and our own, we come to believe that our powerful God can restore us to sanity.

For some of us faith comes easily. For others, especially if we have experienced betrayal, it may be more difficult. Sometimes we must exhaust all of our own resources in trying to overcome our addictive "disease" before we will risk believing in a higher Power.

Marion discovered an underlying theme in her clients' dreams. She discovered that her addicted clients lived divided lives—lives split between body and soul, between perfection and imperfection, between light and dark. Healing came about through integrating these "pairs of opposites." She came into an understanding of the way in which longing for our idealized images of life separates us from our true selves and from our true callings.

He backed out, turned around and reversed into the slot, scratching the tires with each gear change, then didn't let himself drink any beer except one, and then another to hide the first, to stop his hands from shaking, and finally just three, to get it over with.

Well, I'm like a drug addict, I'm always saying I'm going to stop, and then I don't, what I've said consistently is that I hope I know when to stop: when it starts to get repetitive.

Being on the inside could be an addiction

Sometimes Pupkin would swear off and keep away from the cursed thing for weeks, and then perhaps he'd see by sheer accident a pile of matches on the table, or a match lying on the floor and it would start the craze in him.

Prisons are about addictions. Most prisoners are casualties of their own habits. They have all created victims, some in cruel and callous ways, but almost to a man they have first practiced that cruelty on themselves. Prison provides the loneliness that fuels addiction. It is the slaughterhouse for addicts, and all are eventually delivered to its gates.

There are now babies being born in our hospitals with crack or heroin habits, come on, fuck, no one would have dreamt such a horrible thing would happen to a newborn babies in Scotland. I didn't think the sons and daughters, mothers and fathers of Scotland would have been messed up in such a nasty circle of misery, depression, violence, suicides and prisons because of drugs.

The boy who initiated me into smack, who I will call Tim, was at that time eighteen years old, and came from Castlemilk. His life was a helter-skelter ride of drug-fuelled binges.

Once the cons were in the cell, they'd pull razors or homemade daggers out and rob the YOs of their trainers, leather jackets or jewellery. You couldn't placate them; it would be akin to expecting not to be bitten from a Rhodesian Ridgeback whilst petting it! Bar L was full of rough, colourful and out-of-control junkies who wouldn't think twice about stabbing you or slashing you just to get what you had on your feet to pay for their next hit of smack.

I started to develop a penchant for the odd hot foil of smack. After all those years of calling junkies 'the scum of the earth', I had now fallen by the wayside and had become a junkie myself!