Sadiq's POV

The disease of addiction is strong and deadly. It compels you to chase drugs that no longer feel good just so you could avoid the pain of quitting.

The drugs no longer served their purpose until a day came were I wanted my recovery to affect everyone as my addiction did.

I gave up one thing: addiction, for everything.

The first year of my sobriety journey was coiled with pure grief, pain, and relapse.

The opposite voices in my head grew louder and crueler, each fighting for my addiction and my recovery, respectively.

I had lost interest in myself, in what I do, numbing and pushing away the emotions with drugs. But like it is numbing a fever with drugs when it is your blood pressure pushing, you let it accumulate until it breaks the scale and pushes you into a stroke, paralyzing you.

So I sit with it, no matter how hard it is. I sit with it, even though I want to run. I sit with it, even though I am not sure the way through it.

It is one of my biggest realizations that healing begins with feeling, the good and the bad. You feel the old wounds open, take a trip to destinations you do not desire to go but need to go. In the end, you emerge stronger on your route to freedom.

My journey is still on a scale capable of escalating and diminishing at any given time. But I know the version of me a year ago is proud of this version of me.

My heart is at ease in this setting, with people who are growing and changing, giving up addictions of all kinds. We elevate ourselves, like-minded people like me have made me feel less alone.

It could be worse, but it is not.

Wounds I believe have healed prove me wrong again as I meet the person I threw myself into my own doom for.

Amani.

My chest tenses, tightens, and locks at my last memory of her. It loosens at my memory of her from the bridge. I did not fake it when I said I wished her the best and hoped she found what she was looking for.

For the most part, I think she did.

I meet her again but as a stranger, someone I have not been in contact with for years. Broken and traumatized, I revoke my compassion for her. In a world without a mother and a father, a new country, new people, the hell she would go through.

It is soothing to see her in shape and calm so I dismiss the fact that she almost got into a fistfight with a guy; I know the facts, and I was proud she put him in his place.

I see the switch the scene had on her on time, offering her this place where I believe will help but like the stubborn person she is, she does not show up.

My journey has compelled me into welcoming the fact that it is not my responsibility to make or change anyone into who I want or think they should be. It tugs my heart to know Amani is like some of us, losing it at slight triggers. It showers back memories of her mother, one of the best people I knew.

It is in my instincts to want to help her. After all, I do not feel anything less for her no matter how much I try to. I've made peace with it.

I cannot and will not force her to stop. Stopping, and changing occur on an individual level.

I was not fazed when she did not show up for the meeting. I made it clear it was a once-in-a-week meeting. Depending on how deep your addiction is, you could attend once a month. Mine is twice a month, I have business here in Abuja but the rest dominate in Kano.

The times I am here, I go to my meetings.

By some miracle, two meetings after I had offered her a sit beside me, fishes began to fly and she appeared minutes before the meeting began.

I was engrossed in my phone, but a new scent engulfed me and I recognized it from the one I sensed on her at the cafeteria; she had changed her scent and I must admit, this is even better. I put my phone into my jacket pocket but I don't get much time to speak, my small smile mirrors hers as a voice began.

"Welcome to the eight o'clock meeting." The man searched the room and his scrutiny lands on Amani who was wiggling her fisted hands in her hoodie pockets above her cargo pants. "Anybody new who would like to start and introduce themselves today?"

Amani's eyes widen to me and the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest escalates. I follow the motion of her lap to her feet to find her tapping.

I nod and wordlessly seek her to follow my lead. My fingers clasp at the edge and I slow them down, breathing deep and closing my eyes.

Once I am sure she is calm, I give her the go-ahead, you got this nod and she slowly rises.

It is the first step, and I am proud.

"Hello everyone, My name is Amani and I am an addict."