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This Is What Heroin Withdrawal Feels Like
An experiential account from an addict turned neuroscientist
Like something out of an IRA film, they picked me up at a petrol station on the outskirts of Dublin and drove me to the detox facility about twenty kilometres away. They hid the location for security reasons.
As I sat in the front seat of a beat-up minivan, I reflected on my predicament. I was entering the unknown, in more ways than one, but having just experienced the most painful month of my life, not to mention fifteen years of chronic heroin addiction, I felt like I could handle anything.
The detox centre was a little farm in the countryside. The long tree-lined driveway led up to an old house which sat in the middle of eight acres of land — four football pitches to you and me. Huge blackberry bushes lined the entire perimeter, and a tranquil little stream cut across the far right corner. Under different circumstances, it might have been a lovely little retreat, but it didn’t feel that way. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was something about the place, something haunting, that seemed to hang in the air.
I was introduced to seven other addicts on my arrival, and over the next few weeks, we’d cook, clean, talk, cry, and look after the farm together. We grew our own vegetables and went…
