23 Nov 2012
The weeks soon blurred together. I'm not sure when filming ended, and my use of the pills seemed to increase. Hartson always seemed to know just when I needed a pick-me-up. At first it was once a day, slowly increasing to two, three, four times a day, until I just couldn't function without them anymore. Of course, it didn't help that my supply was unlimited. Being in this business meant you could always get your hands on whatever you desired. When you desired. No questions asked.
I stopped visiting family and friends after they started commenting that I had lost weight, and seemed withdrawn, and always on edge. I wasn't myself. Everyone noticed it, even I knew it, deep down., in that part where you buried everything you couldn't, didn't want to face, There were only so many times that I could fool them with “Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired. All those long hours filming must be finally catching up with me.”
Of course I knew that I was addicted, I just didn't know how to stop. I was pushing away those closest to me, for no reason but my own selfishness. I couldn't stop, not that I had tried.
I didn't want to face the disappointment on everyone's faces when they found out what I was. Especially Mum and Dad. How could I tell them that their only Son was an addict? How could I let them down like this? I could just see Mum now, sitting on the sofa with her head in her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks while Dad shouted and yelled at me for being stupid and throwing away everything I had worked so hard to achieve. I just couldn't do it.
I holed myself up in my apartment for the next few months, my addiction spiralling out of control. I tried anything, and everything, but nothing gave me the same “buzz”. I barely recognised the person that stared back every time I looked in the mirror now, what with his dark eye-bags, hollow cheeks and rough facial hair. He had become a total stranger.
I hardly ate or drank anything, my clothes were literally hanging off my emaciated frame. I didn't want to eat, I mean, what was left? My family would hate me if they knew what I had become, I would be better off dead.
A few days ago while taking one of my few baths, there was loud knock on the front door. I quickly jumped out, not bothering to dry myself, and pulled on my jogging bottoms and an old, torn, ragged t-shirt over my head and went to answer it. Standing there with a worried expression on her face was... Mum. Uh oh!
“Oh, Jasper.” She exclaimed as she broke down in tears at the sight before her. “I've been so worried. You haven't been answering the phone or returning my messages. I thought something awful had happened to you.”
I could only watch helplessly as the tears poured down her face.
“Come on, Mum. Look at me, I'm fine. No need for you to worry about me at all.”
“No need to worry!? How can you say that!? Just look at you!” From the hurt in her eyes I could tell that she knew I was hiding something.
I licked my lips, tasting the saltiness of my tears. I hadn't noticed, until now, that I was crying too.
“I'm so sorry Mum... I don't know how to stop.”
She took my face in her hands and gently turned my head to look at her, “Stop what, baby?”
“I've tried. Believe me, I have!”
“Jasper, what's happened? Tell me. Please.”
“The drugs, Mum. I can't even get out of bed without taking something. I want to stop, but I just can't. I don't know how. ”
As the realisation of my words hit her, I felt more ashamed and broken than I thought I ever could feel. She had been through so much. And she did it all for me. How could I repay her like this?!
“I'm sorry, Mum. So sorry!” I was hysterical, tears were streaming down my face, I couldn’t, didn't want them to stop.
***Six months later***
Looking back, I knew that was the moment I realised just how badly I needed help. I couldn't stand that disappointing and heartbroken look on Mum's face. That night was the night I promised her I'd go to the best rehab centre I could find, and get better.
I checked myself into the Clinique les Franciscaines six months ago today, the view of the Eiffel Tower was fantastic. I would often sit here at night, when I couldn’t sleep, just staring at it. I still had the odd craving for the drugs, but I was slowly starting to feel more and more like the Jasper I, and everyone else knew.
I had started working out, to build my muscles back up, and was slowly starting to gain all the weight I had lost. It was taking time, but with the fantastic therapists and friends I had met here, I was slowly getting back to the person I knew I wanted to be.
I had finally got to the point in the rehabilitation programme where I was now allowed to venture outside of the buildings grounds alone. I now went for a morning stroll everyday and always found myself outside the local book store in the town's centre. It was a quiet store, with very few visitors.
I would normally just sit on the bench opposite for a while, and just watch the locals go about their day. But today, I decided would be a good day to change my routine a little, and ventured inside.
There was a light jingle as the door opened, alerting the owner of my presence. A dainty, dark-haired lady turned in my direction, “Hello dear, welcome to The Circle Of Knowledge book store. Please take a look around and don't hesitate to ask if there is anything you need help with.”
The inside was small and quaint, decorated in beautiful, dark wood. There was shelf upon shelf, each as full as the other with books, and a comfy looking reading nook by the window. I gazed upon the first bookcase, there was every genre of book you could imagine, in both English and French. I only knew a few basic words in French, so I picked up an English copy of “The Curator's Lost Museum” and went to sit in the armchair closest to the window.
I had only read a few pages when I heard small footsteps and a gentle voice say,
“Grand-mère avez-vous vu... Oh excusez-moi Monsieur.”
I looked up to respond, and my breath caught in my throat...
I just want to thank you guys for sticking by me, and being extremely patient. I've had the update partially written for months now, but with looking after little Noah, it's been hard to find the time to get it finished. I don't know yet how often updates will be, but both me and The Stone's are back, and here to stay. :)
Posted by strelitzia19 at 16:56
Welcome To The Stone Family Blog.
I would like to introduce you to my founder, Jenna Stone and her husband Claude Stone.
Jenna's traits are:
Her favourite's include:
Jenna is an artistic person, and can always be found painting her worries away. She wants a big family, she say's a home filled with laughter is the place to be. When she isn't painting she can be found either out in the garden or at the library reading. Being Eco-friendly she likes to recycle, take quick showers and just generally take care of the planet. She still remembers the first day she met Claude like it was yesterday. He was walking past as she left the library, and her being the bookworm that she is had her head stuck in her favourite book and bumped into him. Claude caught her and as their eyes met they instantly felt the attraction towards one another, and from that day they never left each others side.
Claude's traits are:
His favourites include:
Claude is very athletic, most days he can be found working out at the gym or with his family.He is also very charismatic and loves to make friends and meet new people. He is very career orientated and because he is a schmoozer he makes friends with colleagues very quickly. He is very family orientated and would love 4 or 5 children. He has always wanted a large family and never thought it would be possible until he met Jenna. He and Jenna were engaged within 6 months of meeting, they had a whirlwind romance and neither could imagine life without the other.
What will the future hold for the Stone's.