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[justanothergrl]

Recovery\ Chapter 1.

Jan. 15, 2020 2 years, 1 month, 5 days clean.

It has literally taken me months and MONTHS to write another post here. To write what comes next. I’ve had so many drafts. I ask myself “why was it so easy to spill everything out before, but not now?” 

Maybe it’s because I feel like no one wants to hear about “what comes next.” But now I don’t care. If one person reads this and learns something new, then hopefully that can be a tiny spark to the change we so desperately need as a community.  A common misconception (which I think I mentioned before) is that a lot of people think once you’re clean, that’s it. But it isn’t. It will continue to be with you until the day you are no longer here. What I didn’t realize in the beginning, or even BEFORE my addiction started, is that every day I have to choose not to sink back down into the scummy pond of addiction. Imagine addiction as your shadow- wherever you go, it’s constantly behind you. We all know in the dark you can no longer see it, but if you were to suddenly walk into light.. bam! it’s still there. I’m no pro at metaphors, so let’s move on.

From where we last left off... (shortened)  -I entered and completed the outpatient program. -I was in a TON of NA meetings for about 4-5 months. The good thing with both of those was that I learned a lot. I also met some people that could 100% relate to my experiences, which helped more than you know. Yes I had outside friends and family that I could speak freely with, but to know that the person on the other side of the conversation could really GET certain things.. just take my word for it.

Howeverrr.. there’s usually negatives to everything though, right? So.. -Getting a sponsor was a really hard thing for me (they had to be female (for obvious reasons) and they needed to not have their hands full with other sponsees already.) Thankfully I had a good support system of my own, so I hurdled past that  -A lot, and I mean a LOT, of people relapsed and some even passed away. I mean, it’s going to happen, right? But when you get close to people and see/speak with them often, well, no one can really prepare for the right way to “move on.” How do you put up an emotional barrier to not let any of that affect you? Even just a little.  -In the beginning, when you’re new into NA, everyone is SUPER nice and supportive. The longer I attended the meetings, the less they really did anything for me. EXAMPLE#1: there was a lot of repetitiveness from the same people sharing over and over, whichhh I’m not trying to be mean, BUT you can only hear one story so many times, before, well, i’m sure you get it. EXAMPLE#2: Too many people were in there looking to hook up. PSA: NA is not where you go looking for a hookup or your soulmate. Ok thanks. So. My final point on this (there’s others but I feel like I’ve already rattled on too much in this post) was that once you left NA, almost everyone’s mood changed towards you. It went from nice and supportive to unfriendly and cold in a split second. No one could understand WHY you stopped coming - unless you were losing you’re way and / or relapsing. Which, neither was the case for me. Some people need to learn that everyone heals differently. What works for some, might not work for others. That’s true for a lot of things. Anyways, try to keep an open mind. NA does work for a lot of people, and everyone has different experiences, those were just mine.

Well, that’s all for now folks (lol) xoxo

[justanothergrl]

Soooo because I’m having some MAJOR writers block with this next post, I decided I’d make a fun one instead. Life doesn’t have to be all gloom & doom, ya know?

FUN FACTS (you may or may not already know):

#1: I’m terrified of butterflies.

#2: I always say “photos” instead of “pictures,” with a few exceptions of course.

#3: I won’t begin eating my cereal until it’s halfway soggy (softened by the milk is how I think of it).

#4: I won’t eat crust on bread. I tear it off. Every. Time.

#5: I’m obsessed with penguins.

#6: Animal & nature documentaries are my go to.

#7: I tend to have OCD tendencies. For ex. checking if somethings turned off, I’ll check 3 times. Don’t ask me why, but it’s always 3x.

#8: One of the worst feelings to me is sand sticking to my feet at the beach (you know like after you come out of the water).

#9: Speaking of water, I didn’t learn to swim until I was 21. Self taught, ayyyy.

#10: I’ve never been on an airplane.

#11: I passed my EMT licensing test of my first try. Same with my real estate license test!

#12: Horror is my favorite movie genre hands down.

#13: I used to love virgin strawberry daiquiris from Applebees. I MEAN LOVEEE. When I turned 21, I ordered my first one with alcohol & thought it was disgusting. I’ve never ordered another one in my life.

#14: I’ve never even had stitches in my life. I’m very cautious, what can I say?!

#15: My number one celebrity crush will & always will be: Leonardo DiCaprio.

#16: For probably the first 6 months after I got my drivers license- I refused to make a left turn and would literally go ridiculous amounts out of the way just to avoid them.

#17: I tried out for cheerleading when I was young. The reason I didn’t make the team was because I was too quiet😂

#18: I’m also obsessed with anything Paris. Including the Eiffel Tower.

#19: I was supposed to be named after an older family member. After some time, my parents discovered that persons name DID include an H, and her middle name was completely different.

#20: I have extreme Trypophobia.

[justanothergrl]

mission: recovery; part 1

I feel like I always have a lot to say, but this topic I believe is about to be extra long, so thanks for continuing to read haha.

Before I begin, there are two things that I want to stress on. No system is perfect but maybe raising awareness can bring about changes. One can only hope.

#1: I told you guys this already - it was impossible for me to get into a rehab or a detox facility. They say all over the news about how it’s an epidemic, yet resources are scarce. That whole situation was ridiculous and I’d like to put this into perspective for you- IF I had still been in my hometown in MI, things could’ve very easily gone a different route. After being turned away I could’ve very easily said “screw it” and went back to using. So you see how that’s an issue right? Someone trying to get help and being turned away? After all I’ve told you so far, I shouldn’t have to explain any further. I told you all it takes is one time. One time and I could’ve overdosed. One time and I might not of been here writing this to you. I told you I’m not sugarcoating. I’m grateful to be here, but we all know not everyone’s that lucky.

#2: What do you do after you detox? There’s no manual for this. If you’re able to get into a rehab, well they do meetings and stuff, or so I’m told. There are a lot of resources to help people, it’s just not common knowledge. I told you I didn’t associate with others while using, so it’s not like I could turn to them with my questions. There’s got to be a way to fix that, so that others can know what options they have available. And more importantly, that they’re not alone.

So let’s, again, rewind to right after I finished detoxing in December. I agreed with my Dad that I would find an outpatient program- something I could hopefully afford. Fortunately I was able to find a place about 20 minutes from us that worked with you if you didn’t have insurance. Making that phone call still wasn’t easy. I had to force out every word. I’ve only been clean for a couple of weeks. I need help. Each word took effort as if I was learning to say it for the first time. My shame was still there. I felt as if I was the lowest person on earth. The woman on the other end of the phone was sweet. Do I deserve to be treated so nice? She told me I would need to come in for an assessment and we’d go from there. Easy enough?

The morning of my appointment it snowed. I was anxious. The entire ride there I gave myself a pep talk. You can do this Sara. You need to do this. Things can only get better from here. I parked the car and stared at the clock. I was almost 40 mins early. Maybe they’ll see me sooner? I forced myself to open the car door. Before I knew it, I was making my way through the parking lot. I wanted to turn around, start the car, and drive home, yet my body wasn’t listening. I entered through the automatic sliding doors and was blasted with heat from a fan above. I stood in the doorway, wobbly, and made eye contact with an older woman behind the desk. She smiled up at me and then looked down. I stood there awkwardly brushing my hair out of my eyes. There was a glass wall surrounding the desk. I took a step forward and we made eye contact once again. I swallowed the lump in my throat and was able to squeak out: “Um, where’s addiction services?”

“Up the elevator, left, and left again- you’ll see the signs. Sorry dear, I thought you worked here!”

I looked around. No one else. Good. I walked over to the open doors, stepped into the empty elevator, and pushed button 3. I watched the doors close as I stepped back against the wall. I hate elevators. Please, please, please don’t let me get stuck in here all by myself. 1... 2... 3. Thankfully the doors opened almost as fast as they had closed and I rushed out into the hallway, almost knocking over an older gentleman with a cane. Oops. “I’m so sorry!” I could feel my face turn red. He just smiled and continued into the elevator. Relax, Sara.

I was in that waiting room for what seemed like forever. I signed my name on the clipboard and chose a seat close to the counter. I looked around. The room was empty. Finally, I was called over and given a stack of paperwork to fill out. This time I chose a different seat, closer to the door. Included on the clipboard was a test, you know the ones that give you statements and you circle which fits you- the “I often feel this way” vs “I never feel this way” and all of the options in between. What’s the point in this? I told them I have an addiction, what’s that have to do with how I feel? I filled everything out and handed it to the lady behind the counter. Then I sat some more. A guy around my age entered, signed in at the desk, and sat down in a chair across the room. We make eye contact and he smiles. I stare down at my boots. Did I really expect to not see another living soul here? I’ll probably never see him again. Why am I embarrassed? I looked over at the door. There’s still time to run, Sara. Then, as if somehow they could hear my thoughts, I hear “I’ll do her assessment” and the door opens. An older gentleman (maybe mid 60’s) steps out and smiles in my direction “follow me.” We sit down in his office as he explains to me that he’s the person in charge here. As he rattles on all I can focus on is the annoying jazz music blasting from the boom box thats sitting on top of the filing cabinet across from me. Is he going to turn that down? The door is cracked open & I watch a woman walk by. Okay maybe the music is so people can’t hear what we’re saying? I relax back in the chair. This shouldn’t be too bad. “Tell me how you got here.” I notice his right arm is in a sling. “Does addiction run in your family?” Typing with one hand has to take forever to get anything done. “Have you ever been raped or abused?” I shuffle in my seat, what does that have to do with anything? I answer each question, avoiding eye contact, even though the words were spilling out of my mouth like I was talking with an old friend. In a sense it felt freeing, to say everything out loud. As I talked, he typed. “Have you ever thought about suicide?” “No.” I yank down on the sleeve of my coat and look at the floor. Hmm, nice briefcase. “Good.” He then begins saying out loud what he’s typing as if we’re in the doctors office “patient seems to have good hygiene” tap, tap, tap. He looks over at me. “She is casually dressed” tap, tap, tap. I looked down, I was wearing jeans and a hoodie. Should I of dressed up for this? I must of had a look of confusion on my face because he immediately reassured me it’s all part of the process and not to worry. Okay. At the end of what seemed like an eternity of questions, he lifted some papers off of his desk and turned in his chair to face me “So looking over your results on the test we had you take, your results are literally off the paper.” That’s good right? He held the papers up for me to see, and I looked at the chart in the middle of the page. “You are very depressed. Are you aware of this?” I shook my head no. Guess that wasn’t good. We make eye contact. “Well, maybe a little.” No more lies, Sara. I stared down at my boots. He went on to tell me that he had high hopes for me. He told me he was going to put me in IOP- intensive outpatient program. It was going to be Monday, Tuesday’s, & Thursday’s 9-12 for 12 weeks straight, starting after New Years...

And so it began... the beginning of my recovery. I want you to live through this with me, so hopefully my writing doesn’t fail me now. Ready?

[justanothergrl]

Lessons I’ve learned: #2

SO. for some reason Tumblr kept telling me I exceeded my allowed text amount in the last post, resulting me to split this into two entries. Ahh well. Maybe it won’t seem like I’m blabbering so much if it’s split up😂

So here we go.

#2: Not taking others for granted

Cliche. Obvious. Common sense.

Is it though?

I’m going to jump back a minute. Remember when I said if I could go back in time and do things differently, that I wouldn’t? This isn’t about to be some inspirational post, so calm down. I’m going to elaborate on just one of the reasons I’d do it all over again. I’m going to get REAL. I took (& sometimes still take) the people in my life for granted. Yup, I admit that. I’m guilty of assuming everyone in my life would & will be around forever unless I say otherwise. I assume that there’s always going to be a tomorrow. Nah, that’s false, and I had to learn that the hard way. I’m sure you’re thinking that I’m talking about death. Yes, that’s important, please cherish your loved ones because they MAY NOT be here tomorrow. That, however, is a whole other topic that I’m sure Tumblr won’t give me space for (ha) & that I won’t subject you listening to. (You’re welcome.) SO. What am I referring to? I am talking about the times when I have been mad and unhappy about the most minimal crap. I have ruined entire days by just wallowing in my own “misery.” I am talking about being mad about stupid stuff like someone leaving their clothes on the floor. Despite everything that happened, “J” and I did have some good memories. We did have fun. We used to laugh, a lot. We really never argued. I, however, am guilty of not appreciating those times. Remember back when I told you the Friday at the end of that last week in December that “J” was himself for that single day? We had such a good day. I had missed him. I had missed his stories and his effortless ability to make me smile. Then it was a slap in the face the next day when he was gone again. That was the last time I got to enjoy his company. That’s it. There was no going back in time. There was never going to be another 24 hours I could get with him again. Obviously I didn’t realize it until I did a whole lot of self reflection this year. I regretted not living in those moments. I regretted all the time I wasted being unhappy for nothing. I regretted taking all of those small moments for granted. I *try* to no longer take people and moments for granted. I *try* to live in the present and let small things go. I’m only human of course, but this was a huge change I made for myself during my healing process and continue to work on. I bring it up now because I caught myself doing that again this past weekend. I know it’s cheesy, cliche, and whatever else you’d like to call it when you hear me say all these things. The cold hard truth though, is that we all do it. We all take things and people and moments for granted. What I’m trying to tell you is: don’t overlook the small things. I’m talking about the not-so-mind-blowing experiences you have with another person. Whether it’s car karaoke on a road trip or goofing around in the grocery store or walking the dog- it all adds up. Each individual moment builds our past. Regrets are hard to overcome and if you’re able to avoid them- then do it. It isn’t easy. Try to live in the present. In the moment. Put down your phone, push aside the worries that are out of your control, and just live. Appreciate that person in front of you. Notice the people in your life and hold on tight, even if it’s just for today. People change, things happen, and you may never get another chance. I beg you to just open your eyes and see what’s in front of you. See what you have. See the good. Be happy, because seriously, life’s too short for anything else and tomorrow isn’t promised. It isn’t easy, but it’ll be worth it. Trust me.

[justanothergrl]

Lessons I’ve learned: #1

So before I go any further, I would like to take a minute & touch on 2 things...

#1: Helping Others

Personally, I have always strived for this: helping others. I am referring to this in all aspects of my life including my career goals and what college courses/programs I have pursued. When I went through applying for EMT jobs awhile back, each interviewer asked why I wanted to work in this field. My reply every time? So I can help others. All of my school credits? So I can help others. When I went through addiction recovery coach training? You guessed it- so I can help others.

Excluding my addiction, I’d like to say I’m a pretty selfless person. I’ve always taken the time to listen to others. I’ve been through some things, so I don’t stand on a pedestal. Andddd I know what it’s like to feel like you have no one. Can you believe that there are over 7 BILLION people on this planet & yet your mind has the ability to convince you that you’re all alone? Crazy right? On top of that- everyone is so judgmental these days. Fear of being looked at in a different light by our peers causes everyone to just want to keep things bottled up. A lot of people are close minded. Yes, a LOT of people. {You may think your bff is a great person buttt- Have you discussed how they feel about gay marriage? How their religious beliefs are different from yours? How they feel towards people with mental illness? (Do they think that anxiety & depression are just made up?) Or how do they look at others who have addictions? (Disease vs Choice) Perhaps one of those topics YOU feel strongly towards? That’s okay.} EVERYONE IS ENTITLED TO THEIR OWN OPINIONS. I’m not telling anyone to erase their beliefs. I’m asking you to simply educate yourselves. No sympathy (no one wants that, believe me), just empathy. Just because someone may deal with different issues than yours, doesn’t make them any less than. We have to be more accepting if we’re ever going to grow as a society. If we’re ever going to try to lower suicide rates.

So if, by the rare occasion, others are open to listening to you, we face them often trying to convince you that their problems definitely outrank yours. PLEASE STOP DOING THIS. Everyone fights their own battles, it is not a competition. IF YOU REALLY CARE about about these people that are opening up to you- you aren’t helping.

Andddd for my all time favorite: men aren’t supposed to talk about their own problems because it makes them look “weak,” “less manly,” or about a hundred other BS reasons I have heard. OOOOH THAT INFURIATES ME. Look. We are all human. Just because you’re a different gender doesn’t make you exempt from experiencing stress, mental illness, etc. CRAZY RIGHT?! —- sorry to burst your bubbles. It is 2018. I get that women can be the breadwinners. I get that partnerships can be equal. I get that things have changed with gender roles. However, the reality is that men still bare a lot of pressures (whether you realize it or not ladies). So guys, talking about your feelings isn’t going to change how your woman looks at you. If it does, then you’re with the wrong person- sorry, not sorry. In order for you to be a provider or stick to your “alpha male” ideology— you have to be good yourself FIRST. So pleaseeee for the love of God, quit bottling everything up. It’s okay to talk about things. Okay? Okay.😘 I tend to go on tangents- my bad.

ANYWAYS... I had an epiphany the other night and I’d like to share it with you. I always thought to help someone else I needed to have a certain degree or profession. Well guess what? I don’t. And you don’t either. I have recently realized how many people have told me that I’ve helped them in one way or another. A wise man once told me “you never know when you may be the lighthouse in someone’s storm.” This is the truth. The people I have thanked for helping me were convinced they did nothing. Helping others does not have to be some extravagant gesture. The smallest thing can pull someone off that ledge. So if you ever need to talk, ever just need someone to listen, please stop convincing yourself that you are alone. I’m here (as much or as little as that may mean)❤️

[justanothergrl]

I say your name, but you’re not around

((Sorry it’s taken me so long to post this one...shockingly this one has been the hardest to write so far... heartbreak’s a real b!*ch))

I’m still on the cliff but I’m not alone. My Dad is standing next to me. I wasn’t in as much danger now, but I was still on the ledge. I could still jump.

Classic story: boy breaks girls heart. We’ve heard it all about a million times, blah blah blah.

I can’t skip this part of my story though. This wasn’t a “traditional” breakup. The person I loved was gone, but not REALLY gone. How do you mourn the death of someone who isn’t dead? Do you know how much that screws with someone’s head? (a rhyme is what you just read, look at me- the next Dr. Seuss! JK, I just like to break up seriousness with laughter- I know you’re probably shaking your head right now buttt at least I made you smile... & well... do you really expect any less from me? 🤦🏼‍♀️😬) I would’ve gave anything to just hate him though. To just erase him from my memory. But it wasn’t that simple.

After I left that Sunday, “J’s” family had taken him to the hospital which ended up with him being committed to their psych ward for a week. I was worried but I was at least able to rest a bit knowing he was in a safe place. I started bugging his family for constant updates as soon as I was past the worst of my detox. I needed to be focusing on myself. I needed to heal. I couldn’t care about myself though if he wasn’t okay. Why did I still care? He had done so much damage. He had ripped my heart out of my chest and left me there alone. Why was I still putting him ahead of ME? Why couldn’t I just be angry?!

I want to say it was Friday of that week... I remember standing in the den talking to my Dad when my phone vibrated. I shakily lifted it up. You know that feeling when you’ve cut circulation off to your legs with the way you’ve been sitting and you don’t quite realize it until you stand up and all of a sudden that static-y feeling hits you and you can’t move your legs and the only solution is to sit until you return to normal? -that was the feeling I got. I wanted, no I needed, to sit down. I was telling my feet to move but they weren’t listening to me. I unlocked my phone. How?

**Besides “J’s” family I had only really talked to 2 others after moving here. I didn’t want to lie to anyone and I certainly wasn’t up for answering a bunch of questions. No one else had any idea that something had happened- let alone that I had packed up and moved out of state. I had isolated myself from everyone awhile back. It’s hard to hide something when you’re face to face with people. I hated lying (more than I already was). There are only so many excuses you can make before you raise suspicion, so isolation just became easier. It’s a LOT of work to keep up relationships while someone’s in active addiction. So the two people I really felt comfortable keeping in regular contact with both lived states away. One was way west (“A”), and the other one was east (“S”). With them I was able to shield myself behind a phone screen and continue my charade of all being “well” with the world. They wouldn’t ask why I was losing weight. They wouldn’t wonder why I wasn’t able to make eye contact. I never had to make up excuses as to why I couldn’t see them or why I was in long sleeves on an 80 degree day. I didn’t have to hide. I could keep them close but at a safe distance. I was in “control.” The best way to explain my relationship with them in a visual sense while I was using: I’m falling slowly deeper & deeper into a well. I can’t speak or signal to them. They think I’m climbing up. It’s dark and we can’t see each other. I know they’re there with no intentions of leaving. And there was some sort of comfort in that. No matter how far I seemed to fall deeper into my dark hole, they didn’t leave. Just waited. So patient. This is not to make anyone else feel bad. I am trying to show you that no matter how many people you have in your life, addiction can push you so far away. Had either of these people lived nearby, I’m not sure I would’ve kept them close. At the same time, however, they were both ridiculously persistent people. They wouldn’t just let me drop off the face of the planet. These were my angels. {Thank you both from the bottom of my heart. No matter how much I pushed back during that time, you didn’t let go. Neither of you owed me that type of loyalty, yet there you were and here you still are. Even after everything came out your friendships didn’t waiver. You didn’t turn and run. It means more to me than you know.}

I’m still standing on the cliff. My Dad is still beside me and you two are now standing in front of me. We were still on the ledge. I could still try to jump.

I looked down to see a Facebook message from “J.” This was the longest we had went without contact in 6 years. He was talking like his normal self and relief poured over me. He was back. The man I loved was back. The conversation was short as they only allotted him so much time on the computer. He told me he was sorry. That he missed and loved me. That he didn’t mean for things to happen like they did. He told me he was getting out of there in the next few days and that he was going to go into a rehab. It was good news. He was going to be okay. Someone had answered my prayers. Right?

You have to understand that feelings are not controlled like a light switch. I still loved him, I didn’t (& couldn’t) wish bad things on him, and honestly part of me still believed we might one day get back together. (Rolling your eyes? Sighing in disbelief? “WTF Sara?!” - please just listen.) Do you know what it’s like to love someone? To care for someone so deeply that just because they have done something hurtful, you tell yourself you can forgive them? That any bad can be overshadowed with the good? It’s exhausting to look back at, but that’s love.

A day or two later, my phone rang. It was midnight. It was a MI number. I didn’t recognize it so I let it go to voicemail. I had just fallen asleep. No voicemail. I closed my eyes again. Wrong number? Not even 2 minutes later my phone rang again, same number. Who would be calling me this late? I answered. It was “J” and he was upset. He told me he had been admitted into this rehab and that he didn’t want to stay there. He begged me to come pick him up. He was UPSET. I had never seen, let alone heard him this upset before. I was half awake and trying to comprehend what was wrong. A lump formed in my throat. I told him I couldn’t come pick him up, that I was 4 hours away. Maybe I could drive up in the morning? He pleaded that he needed to leave NOW. I’m in no shape to drive anywhere. Besides, what would I do if I did go there? Where would he go? That was the best place for him. “You need to stay there”, I told him. I felt helpless. I tried to remain calm. I could tell through the phone he was crying. The call disconnected. My heart sank. I didn’t even get a chance to tell him I loved him. I called his mom, I figured I needed to tell someone, in case he was trying to really leave. I didn’t really sleep that night. I was over 200 miles away and there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t help him. I couldn’t save him from himself any longer. I wasn’t in control. I never was. That realization hurt.

Over the next couple of months he was in and out of 3 different psych places and it was torture. I received calls from him every so often. They had him on such strong medication, and then they took him off cold turkey(big mistake), and then put him back on medication. It was like a yo-yo. He would be regular “J” one day and other days I wouldn’t even recognize him. I would feel hope, and then despair. I cried myself to sleep so many nights. I begged God, the devil, WHOEVER was listening to just please let him return to normal. Even if that meant I couldn’t be with him. I just wanted him to be okay. I bargained that I would give him up if he was just able to be himself again. I pleaded every day to any higher power that could hear me. If I couldn’t help him and the doctors weren’t helping him, then there had to be something else. There. Had. To. Be. Every time I answered his call it felt as though a knife was ripping through me. Looking back I just shouldn’t of answered those calls at all. I still loved him though. I was still holding onto the idea that maybe it didn’t have to be over. I didn’t want to give up. I didn’t want to just let go of the past 6 years. It was all I had to hold onto. I remember sitting on my bedroom floor just bawling my eyes out. There were many days I just wanted to quit. I just wanted to give up. I felt so alone. So broken. I felt like if I didn’t have him then I had nothing. I couldn’t see a light at the end of the tunnel. I felt like there was no “me” without him. I remember a few times calling “A” and just bawling my eyes out over the phone. Telling him there was nothing left. That I couldn’t do it anymore. That I didn’t want to do this anymore. Each & every time he lifted me back up. He reassured me that I would get through this. That I had been through the worst and that things WOULD be okay again. (thank you, thank you, thank you) 

As far as I know “J’ is okay today- as okay as you can be from going through all of that. Once he returned to “himself” he said some hurtful things. It was really just time, distance, and a lot of self love that helped me to move on though. Helped me to become myself again. To become an even better “me.” To recognize my self-worth which I had lost along the way. To realize that I deserved better and that that relationship was not good for me. Love can be such a powerful drug. I’m telling you this because I realize how wrapped into someone I got. It is not healthy. You have to be an individual first. You can not save someone. You may have all the best intentions, but you are not God. Do not give up your morals for someone you love. IF that person loves you, they won’t ever ask you to. You can survive on your own, don’t accept less than you deserve. I don’t and cannot hate “J.” Holding onto hate and resentment towards him would only keep me stuck. I no longer want any emotions tied to him. If I could go back in time & do things differently? To just turn and run when I first met him? Well, I wouldn’t. All of this has made me who I am today. I am a better person now than I ever was before. I no longer take anything or anyone for granted. I am much more appreciative and awake. I am strong. I felt closer to death from my heartbreak than I ever did with drugs, so please hear this loud and clear! You need to always put yourself first. YOU have to be good if you ever want to give your all to anyone else. No relationship is perfect, no one is perfect. Life does go on after heartbreak. Things do get better. BELIEVE ME. I hope if you’re reading this that you never have had to or have to feel that pain. If you do though- just know that you can make it through. You are stronger than you think. And you are not alone.

Thank you “A.” Thank you “S.” And of course, thank you Dad. Thanks to all 3 of you for not letting me fall. Not letting me jump. Thanks for putting me first. Thanks for listening. Thanks for all of the advice. Thanks for not giving up on me. Thanks for not letting me give up on myself. Thanks for being my strength when I couldn’t find my own. Thanks for sticking with me through all the tears. Thanks for making me smile. Thanks for letting me know - over and over - that I was not alone. I will be forever grateful❤️❤️

[justanothergrl]

Don’t let me down: continued

I didn’t pack my coat.  It was about a 20 minute drive to the hospital from my Dads. It’s strange but I was feeling okay on my way there. It was as if I was holding my breath the entire way there and only let it out once we put the car in park. As we made our way to the check-in desk of the ER I felt all the blood rush out of my face. How am I going to tell a complete stranger? “Hi, my name is Sara and I’m withdrawing from opiates, please help!” I can’t say that. I should just turn around. I should just leave. I wanted to turn & run but my feet stayed planted. I stared at the floor. Stop Sara. You need help. You’ve made it this far. You can do this. You aren’t alone. I think my Dad spoke first. It’s a bit fuzzy but I don’t remember answering more than 1 or 2 questions before they put me into a wheel chair. That lady was so nice. She didn’t look at me in disgust as I had imagined. She didn’t turn me away. They led us to a room immediately. (I’m pretty sure this mainly had something to do with the fact that I was complaining of chest pain, but hey it worked in my favor.) The room was small and only blocked off by a curtain that didn’t even reach the ground. It was cold. My dad sat in a chair. I sat on the bed and stared down at my boots. I brought my boots but no coat? I didn’t want to look up. I couldn’t face the thought of looking my Dad in the eyes. Not yet. A male nurse about my age came in, sat down across from me, and started asking questions. “When was the last time you used?” 5am. “Did you ever share needles?” No. “How are you feeling?” Not good, I’ve been through the beginning of this before, I know it’s only going to get worse. I was trying to remain level-headed. He was nice. He wasn’t treating me bad either. He was patient. He seemed genuinely concerned. I stared at my boots as I answered question after question. I stared at his name tag. I stared at the wall. I looked anywhere that didn’t involve eye contact. I was too ashamed. An older female nurse came in and did an ECG (electrocardiogram).  I was laying on the table half naked as she placed the electrodes all over me. She was so nice. I couldn’t look at her either. I stared at the ceiling. At the wall. Why was everyone being so nice? I looked down and for the first time I noticed that I could clearly see my ribs. Oops, I guess I really had been losing weight. That’s not good. I closed my eyes. It’s cold. After that was over & it was determined that I was in no immediate danger, they put us into a real room further down the hall. "Here, change into this.”  They handed me a gown. (You know, one of those paper thin, scratchy, one- size- fits- all hospital gowns. Whichhh- can I just take a moment to say- f those! I might as well be naked. They don’t stay closed. They don’t stay up. Just wrap me in a sheet & call it a day. End rant.) I changed and climbed into the bed. The blanket was as thin as paper. I finally managed to look over at my Dad. He didn’t look angry. He didn’t look disgusted. He just looked concerned. I wasn’t alone. I asked my Dad to text my boss that I wouldn’t be starting my new job the next day. I know we talked more, but I can’t remember. The doctor came in. She was so nice. My heart sank as she explained that there was nothing they could do for me. (The doctor has to be licensed in order to give a patient suboxone or other such medications. They are few & far between FYI.) They hooked me up to an IV. They looked down at my left wrist. I noticed the scratches. They noticed the scratches. Oh, yeah. That left marks, really? Oops. “Are you having any suicidal thoughts?” I shook my head “no.” They hesitantly continued. (IF I would’ve hinted at anything suicidal, IF I would’ve answered yes, or IF my Dad would’ve answered yes- I would’ve been forced to stay. They take that VERY seriously, which I didn’t realize up until this point. Good job whoever put those rules in place!) She gave me nausea medication. She gave me anxiety medication. I laid down. I wasn’t alone. I was okay. This isn’t too bad. I was going to be okay. I tried to relax. I tried to process the idea that I was about to dive head first into hell with no end in sight. How long would this last? Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as I thought. Wait.. I won’t be getting any help. There’s nothing they can do. I’m actually going to have to go through this? I don’t think I can do this. This was a mistake. I can’t do this. Panic. I couldn’t regulate my temperature. I was hot and cold and back to hot again. My chest squeezed tighter. I felt like I was dying. I couldn’t lay still. I wanted out of my body. I can’t do this. Pull the blanket up. Push it off. This blanket feels like sandpaper against my skin. Lay flat on my back. Switch to my side. Omg, I’m dying. There’s no way I can do this. Please God let this stop. I was in such agony that my Dad got a nurse and they called for the doctor again. (My Dad later told me I was thrashing around so much he thought I was going to rip my IVs straight out of my arm, I don’t remember that though.) She gave me more anxiety medicine and made them take me for chest x--rays. Just to make sure they didn’t miss anything. Just to make sure I wasn’t ACTUALLY dying. (You’re (usually) not risking death from withdrawal of opiates. Everyone's different and if you have seizures, well then yes it can bad. But for the most part, it’s just a reallll awful experience, especially without any assistance.) X-rays were fine. The doctor told my Dad that if I was still really bad tomorrow to bring me back because she would be on shift. [5 hours in the hospital = $3,000.] I was so delirious from the anxiety medication (thank you to that doctor, though) that I don’t remember coming back from the x-rays. I don’t remember getting dressed. I don’t remember walking out of the hospital. I don’t remember getting into my Dads car, the drive home, or going into the house. I am forever grateful that everyone was so nice, especially after everything I have heard AND read. (thank you universe for letting me catch a small break, even when I didn’t deserve it) Looking back I’m happy I detoxed in the comfort of my Dads house opposed to a hospital or other facility. The first (3?) nights were torture. Especially the first. I tossed and turned SO much in my sleep that I got really bad rug rash on both of my knees (who knew that was possible?). I remember I kept waking up my Dad. I didn’t want to be alone. I couldn’t stay asleep. It was agonizing. On (I believe) the second day I begged my Dad that we needed to find a doctor that could get me suboxone. Anything to help. I didn’t have insurance.. or money. I knew it wasn’t an option but I was so desperate to not feel like I was inches from death that I was trying to grasp at anything. I remember sitting on the floor asking him to just kill me at one point. I couldn’t go on any longer. Anyone who has detoxed, especially without the help of medications, knows this feeling. For those of you that don’t, there’s no way to TRULY explain it. If there was nothing else as a motivation to keep myself clean, it’d be that. I will NEVER go through that again. I’ve heard it explained as the flu x10.. everyone experiences different symptoms. I was nauseous, but didn’t throw up (probably with the help of the medication the doctor had prescribed). I was hot & cold & hot & cold. The pressure on my chest. The restlessness, ohhh the restlessness. I. Could. Not. Stop. Moving. I couldn’t ever get comfortable. Runny nose. And finally- just weak. I was so weak for at least a month after.. I felt as though I was a heart patient. I couldn’t even get up the strength to blow dry my hair or even put on just mascara for I don’t know how long. I remember walking around Kohl's once with my Dad, just to get out of the house for a bit and I had to tell him we needed to leave so I could sit. As for getting my temperature back to normal.. it took a good couple months to finally feel warm again (but it has never got back to all the way normal again). The only time during those months that I wasn’t freezing to death was when I was in the shower. This is why I said earlier on that if I had any idea of what was about to come when I left MI.. I may of hesitated. But hey, I did this all on my own and not many people can say that- sooo I’m pretty proud. It wasn’t easy but at least I wasn’t alone.

**Thanks Dad, I couldn’t of did this without you. Thank you for staying by my side. Thank you for being patient and not angry. Thank you for not looking at me any differently. Thank you for being there. Thank you for allowing me to breath once again, knowing that I was not all alone.**

Sooo now that we’re through the worst of it, we’re about to finally see the light at the end of the tunnel!  Thanks for still listening, however recovery is a BIG deal. A very common misconception is that “now that you’re not using you’re good!” False. It is an ongoing battle. Yes it gets easier over time, but all it takes is once. O N E time to undo all of the work you put into getting and staying clean. O N E time and that could be your last day. Did you know that most overdoses happen with those that have got some clean time under their belts? So don’t bail just yet, I’ve got some more stuff to say & you’re going to want to hear this.

What did I do next?  The pros & cons of NA- for ME. The emotional roller-coaster I had no idea I was boarding, with “J”

Enjoy this snow!

[justanothergrl]

Don’t let me down

Not sure why I laughed so hard at this GIF, but it doesn’t take too much to amuse me. Figured I would break the ice before I continued (hahaha... ice + penguins.... Okay I’m done.) 

(I want to make a quick comment before I begin this one... Okay, so sometimes when I write, things seem clear in my head but they may not be to you. SO. If you backtrack to my post about my mom, when I said my ex had compared me to her- that was not “J”- it was my bf before him. That would’ve been really ironic though, right? Ha. Anywayyyys)

We’re almost through the really bad stuff, I promise. Thanks for sticking with me this far. My last post was almost as hard to write as I’m sure it was for most of you to read.

12/10/2017 was easily one of the worst days of my life. I was numb. I couldn’t think or I wouldn’t of made it. When I was about 15 minutes from my Dads I had received a phone call from “J’s” sister. She had asked me what was wrong with him (his odd behavior) but I really was no help. Guilt. I had failed him once again. I couldn’t answer because I didn’t know. I couldn’t answer because right now I couldn’t worry about anyone except myself.  Immediately after I hung up I received a text message from a friend wishing me luck and that they hoped I got the help I needed. REALLY? I had JUST crossed the state line and my ex’s brother had thought it was his place to tell others. I thought at that moment that I would never be more angry in my life (silly me, you’ll see later). That was exactly the LAST thing I needed to worry about at that moment. You’ve read my prior posts. You read why I didn’t tell anyone myself. Just hours before that I had been teetering off the edge of the cliff and the slightest bit of wind could’ve knocked me off. We’re just going to chalk it up to the fact that people don’t K N O W or T H I N K. This is what I’m trying to get at. YOU don’t know what state of mind anyone is in at any given moment, whether it has to do with addiction or not. Please, please, pleaseee stop and think of how your words and actions can effect others. WORD OF ADVICE: If someone is going through active addiction or is in recovery - IT IS NOT YOUR PLACE TO TELL OTHERS!!!!!!! You are NOT helping. Remember how I emphasized my loneliness because I felt like I couldn’t turn to anyone else? The only person now that I could go to with this, the only person now that I wanted to tell, was my Dad. I had my reasons for not telling him through the phone the night before. However, I had bigger fish to worry about. By the time I reached my Dads the first symptoms of withdrawal had already started. I remember when I first got there I couldn’t seem to get my legs to move to get out of the car. Panic had set in. How do I tell someone this? How do I tell my Dad this? I was so ashamed and so scared that when he opened my car door I opened my mouth ready to tell him but all I could do is cry. He brought me inside and we sat down. How quickly would it be before I REALLY started feeling the withdrawal? What was he going to think? What if he gets mad. I’ve let him down. I had to get it out. I had to tell him. But I couldn’t. The words that would come out of my mouth were just beating around the bush. How do you look into the eyes of the person who means the most to you and tell them what an awful thing you had done and that you needed help? I couldn’t look at him. Bless my Dad, because if I was ever in his position I feel like I may not of handled anywhere near as well as he did. Finally, the words came out. This is not how I wanted it to go. I wanted to be able to explain. Really though, there’s no good way to admit to your Dad that for the past two years you’ve been addicted to heroin and that your body was going into withdrawal and that you needed him to help you SOMEHOW, NOW. 

I was finally going to get help. I was finally able to tell someone. I was finally not all alone. Remember how hard it was for me just to get to THIS point? My Dad & I both immediately got on our phones. Looking for a rehab or detox facility. I remember laying on the floor while my Dad called place after place.  Problem #1 : I had chosen to do this on a Sunday (I know silly me, what was I thinking) So all of those 24/7 things you hear about alllllll the time- are BS. Monday- Friday or Monday- Saturday at most. A lot of places were closed. How? Beats me. Shouldn’t this be a 24/7 thing? Hmmm.  Problem #2: I had no insurance. I had no money.  Problem #3: I was not a resident of IN. So, every place we were able to actually reach someone at would turn me away for either both or one or the other. Two places I could’ve went to: 1) They required $3,000 up front. My total stay would’ve been somewhere around $25,000. No, no typos you read that right. Cool, cross that one off. 2) They stuck you in a room for 3 days, and on the third day they made you get up, do chores, and go look for a job. My dad hung up on that place. (Thanks Dad, really)

I was out of options. I didn’t know what to do. Did I make the right choice? I was beginning to feel so awful. I should’ve stayed there. No, that wasn’t possible. Why did “J” say I was going to be okay when I wasn’t? He lied. I couldn’t go into withdrawal. I was in full panic but I managed to hold on. The idea arose to go to the hospital. Maybe they could help me? You see the thing with me is when I was in withdrawal I would get really bad chest pains. It literally felt like someone was squeezing the life out of me. That was my worst symptom (it’s different for everyone). (I had only experienced these chest pains a few times before but it was never for long and it was one reason that held me back from wanting to stop using) I was desperate for it to stop and I knew it would only get worse. (When I said before that people would rather D I E than detox, especially with no medical help, it’s no lie. People who have went through detox them self that are reading this will understand. It is the worst feeling in the world. So bad that yes, death can seem like a better alternative.) So the hospital it is. I had googled if hospitals would help in such a case prior to leaving and I read a lot of negative comments about how they’ll just turn you away and won’t do a thing - but I could only hope for the best. What other choice did I have? I was sinking again but thankfully I had someone willing to help me. That would lighten this load just a little bit for me. That was willing to help pull me up out of this hole and ask questions later. I was no longer alone. 

to be continued.

[justanothergrl]

Winter is coming: continued

All that week I was a basically a zombie. Sure I was walking & talking but I wasn’t even really there myself. I had retreated so far back in my own mind, that I don’t know if it was just my way of coping or if I was using this retreat as a blanket to shield my eyes from seeing the person I had become and continued to be. How did I get here? How could I of let this happen? Why didn’t I stop it? How did I let myself get so deep that I was willing to play Russian roulette with my life every day? How could I let myself get so wrapped up into another individual that I had myself convinced I couldn’t breathe without him? If I really loved & cared about this person like I say, I would not of allowed things to get this far. I would’ve told s o m e o n e. I blamed myself. I tormented myself. I was stuck inside my own mind & there is no more dangerous of a place I could have been. Breaking the silence would have meant losing him. In my mind I literally had myself convinced I wouldn’t survive. I felt like if that were to happen I would just shatter into tiny little pieces. My mind was clouded. Addiction is a vicious thing. You don’t think straight, or reasonably, and you go against everything that you are. I was holding on by a thread and HE cut it. 

---As soon as he walked out of the room, everything seemed to switch from slow-motion to full on fast forward. I stood up. I did not shatter into a million pieces. My heart did not spontaneously combust. I was still alive. I was still breathing. All contrary to what I had believed would happen if this day ever came. It was as if someone reached inside my mind, pulled me out from underneath the bed I had been hiding under, splashed water in my face, and shoved me forward. I was awake. For the first time in SO long I was thinking rationally. I grabbed my phone and texted my Dad. I told him I had to leave MI right now and move in with them. I was vague. I ignored his questions. I couldn’t tell him why. Not yet. Not through a text message or even a phone call. I started throwing everything into garbage bags. My ex’s Dad had came upstairs to see what the commotion was. I told him his son had ruined my life & then left me. The words had came out of my mouth before I even realized what I was saying. I stood there for a moment and then told him I had to leave. I told him I didn’t know how but I had to get to my Dads. That man gave me all of the cash in his wallet and without hesitation, told me to go. He helped me carry my stuff to my car. I had everything that I could fit packed into my Jeep in a little over an hour. I told my ex I was taking our dog & I didn’t even allow him a chance to respond. I was ready to leave. I felt nothing. I wanted as far away as possible, as quickly as possible, from this person I had been clinging to as my life raft for the past 6 years. I was in the drivers seat of my car, key in the ignition, when I was asked to please wait until the morning. My plan of freedom came to a screeching halt. Both my Dad and “J’s” dad & brother voiced it wasn’t a good idea. It was after 8pm at that point, I had a 4 hour drive ahead of me- alone, and the roads were icy/snow covered. But I wanted out. How could this person, who told me we were in this together, throw me to the curb? I no longer felt nothing. I was angry. I was sad. I was scared. I was SO hysterical that my ex’s dad offered to follow me down to my dads if I REALLY wanted to leave that night. For that man, I am forever appreciative. He didn’t owe me anything. He was more concerned for me in that moment than his own son, and I did nothing to deserve that kindness. I refused. I couldn’t ask him to do that and I agreed to stay. I don’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing that I didn’t leave right then. I went upstairs to go to sleep. “J” was supposed to sleep in the other room, however, he ended up in mine. Time seemed to be moving at normal speed now. I did not sleep that night. Instead, I cried. This was it, this was goodbye. I was scared that I now had to face what was to come, alone. Even though I had felt alone, even though he had left me mentally, up until that point I still had him there physically. He literally just watched me cry all night. He showed no emotion. (In retrospect if he had shown emotion it wouldn’t of made things any easier. Especially not easier to leave- so thanks, “J”) That night was waves of him being out of it and him acting himself. (You have to realize how hard this was for me to see him come and go over and over. Torture if I’m being honest. I hope no one ever has to experience that with a person they love. I would not wish it on my worst enemy.) He told me I would be fine, that I could get into a rehab, that everything would be okay- just to trust him. My main concern was that I didn’t have insurance and I didn’t know what was going to happen. (He had been through this before, he knew what to expect, I was going in blind.) However, I DO want to thank him for convincing me that everything was going to be okay, because if I had any idea of what was about to happen when I got to my Dads, I don’t know if I would’ve been so willing to leave. So up until this point, my thought process has been pretty sane, right? Take a deep breath because I’m about to tell you something I haven’t told a soul up until this very moment. Most of this night had just consisted of me crying and us talking (when he was there). However, when it got into the early hours of the morning something clicked back inside of me. I went from thinking that I was going to be okay to I couldn’t do this. I was being pulled back down faster than I could blink. I didn’t want to be alone. I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to face whatever I had to face, on my own. I couldn’t do it. Really. Have you ever been so wrapped into your own mind that any voice of reason is 100% gone? It’s a very dangerous place to be. I don’t remember how- but at that point I looked down and saw that I had ended up with scissors in my hand. I told “J” I couldn’t go on without him. That this wasn’t going to work. That I needed him to come back to me. One last final plea. As if that was going to undo everything. As if it wasn’t already too late. But he just stood there, staring at me blankly. He wasn’t there. I took the scissors, while desperately begging, and begin to scratch my left wrist, repeatedly. (No I did not draw blood and no I’ve never self harmed before or since then) I’m not quite sure what I was trying to accomplish. I think a part of me was hoping he had just been playing some twisted mind game this whole time and that THIS would be what snapped him out if it. I was hoping that more than a blank expression would once more return to his face, he would pop up, and say “surprise! I’m still here.” Nope. Just more blank stares. This hurt me worse than anything else. More than him telling me it was over without a reason. More than him bringing something into our lives that could’ve killed either of us at any moment. That was it. That was my breaking point. I was on the edge of the cliff looking down. He was gone, and I wanted to be too. Right? Yes. No. Back and forth on a loop for what seemed like forever. Wait. Did I really want to die? Did I truly not want to be apart of this world anymore? OR MAYBE I could just do too much this last time and go out peacefully. That way I wouldn’t have to feel this pain any longer. I wouldn’t have to feel this loneliness any longer. I didn’t have to hurt any longer. I wouldn’t have to face the unknown. No. That wasn’t ME talking. That was my addiction. Even then, in my lowest point, knowing that there was no chance of going backwards in time, no chance of repairing the damage done, no chance that I still had even a sliver of him left, I put the scissors down. I didn’t want to die. I don’t want to die. What the hell was I doing? What the hell was I thinking? This wasn’t me. That wasn’t ME. I once again found the strength to pull myself up and out of this dark hole. I took a shower, got in my car, and drove. No looking back. It was time to put myself first again. I could not save him. I had took his demons & made them my own. I was no knight in shining armor. I was not God. I was only human. I could only save myself. I mean, after all, the person you trusted with your life, the person who told you time & time again that they loved you, the person who promised to never abandon you, should want you to be good once more ...right?

[justanothergrl]

Winter is coming

I’d like to take a second and thank you if you’re still reading- no matter your opinion(s). I DO have points I want to make, but like I said I need you to walk through all of this with me before we get there. The purpose of this blog is not to just come out & state that I’m a recovering addict. That would be easy & help no one. Who would (really) care right? There’s millions of recovering addicts, that’s old news. The purpose is to help others understand. To help open peoples minds. To let other addicts and loved ones of addicts know they are not alone. To let YOU step into the how’s, why’s, and chaotic thought process inside the mind of one addict. The fact of the matter is, it’s not just something that can be summarized into one statement. Close minded thinking is someone thinking a person is an addict or they aren’t and that’s that. The problem with this is it’s not that simple. When you hear on the news that this is an epidemic, they are not exaggerating! It’s very real, people are D Y I N G, and something needs to change. All I’m asking of you, is to just listen. I can’t open your mind for you, but I’m going to try. Just listen. Easy enough, right? 

So I don’t really feel it’s necessary to go into anymore detail about my active addiction right now. I am always open to answer any questions/go into further detail on topics (you know how to reach me), but for the sake of time and keeping your attention- we’re going to fast forward to December of 2017. This part of the story is going to be long, but it’s important, so stick with me (please).

Now, I said I kept my same full time job up until (?). What most people don’t know is that I did lose my job 1 week before I moved here. I will not explain why. Sorry but I do have to bring this detail into the story because I believe my ex really blamed himself for that (you’ll see where I’m going with this momentarily). Nothing prior to 12/1/17 was as bad as this was about to get. Up until now if you have decided to “side” with me, think of me as the victim (which I told you not to for good reason), or feel the need to sympathize- you may want to think twice. Here is my first reason of why I felt/feel guilt. 12/1/17 was a Friday. That morning I got the call that I no longer had a job. The following day, Saturday, everything was normal (if you could call it that). However, that Sunday 12/3/17-- something snapped in “J’s” mind. He was there physically, but not mentally. I don’t (and still do not) know what happened. I have done hours of online research along with consulting a few professionals and have no clear answer. The closest I could get is that it was a drug-induced psychosis, but who knows for sure. That Sunday 12/3 - up until the following Sunday (12/10) when I left, he was gone (mentally). Remember in my prior post how I stated I felt all alone? Remember how I stated that I had relied on him so heavily? At least HE was in this with me? Not anymore, now I was truly all alone. I emphasize this because of how big of a role it can affect a person mentally. I say I feel strong guilt, because looking back I should’ve got help. I shouldn’t of let it go on for a WEEK. I was selfish, I was scared, and for whatever reason I was still convinced I was in control.  Remember how I said I would’ve rather died than lose him? I know I sound crazy but when you’re so far gone, when you’re closer to the bottom than the top, when you’re exhausted, you tend to just choose to sink rather than swim up for air. (With that being said, I’m sorry “J” & “J’s” family.) For that next week I can’t even explain what I felt. I was hoping he would snap out of it. He wasn’t sleeping. He would just say odd things. For the most part though, he was just really quiet. Like I said, I’m not sure if it was because he blamed himself for me losing my job that just sent him into an even darker hole or what the trigger was. Whatever I did, I couldn’t pull him out. I can’t begin to explain how unnerving it is to look into the eyes of the person you love and they aren’t there anymore. I felt so helpless. I pleaded, no begged, for him to SNAP out of it. I was calm, I was angry, I cried. Nothing worked. I begged God or whatever higher power there is out there, to please just bring him back. I couldn’t do this alone. I was lost. I didn’t know what to do. At this point if I opened up to someone, this was going to be it. What would that mean? Was I ready? I wasn’t sleeping because he wasn’t sleeping. Any part of me that was still there, was slipping. I have to admit it was the scariest thing I have been through in my life. I knew that my life was about to be turned upside down and that I was only delaying the inevitable. That week is really just a blur. All I can really remember is that feeling, of being all alone. With nowhere and no one to turn to. (I know, I had people I could’ve turned to, but that was how I felt) My addiction had me convinced there was no way out. That Friday before I left (12/8)-- my ex was completely himself. I was so happy. It was like a light switch. I had him back, right? Wrong. The following day, Saturday (12/9) I woke up to him gone again. This time worse than before. He was really talking crazy. To give you an idea: he was convinced that someone had poisoned the cereal in the house. (I want to take a second to explain that opiates do not cause delusions like this. I’m sure the fact that he wasn’t sleeping played a giant role in that, nevertheless, it is not a fun thing to hear come out of someones mouth.) That evening, out of nowhere, he told me he was done with me. HE was done with ME. He gave me no reason, just that. Then he left the room. --Stay with me, I need to explain my thoughts for the remainder of this day. Addiction really is a mental disease. I had/have no history of mental illness. I want to show you though, how my brain worked through this.--  

to be continued...

[justanothergrl]

[Currently: happy dancing. Today marks 11 months clean. One more month & I’ll have a Y E A R clean. WOW!]

I wanted to start this post out with something happy, seeing as the remainder of it is about to be very dark. It unfortunately can’t be helped, you’re going to have to travel with me through the storm before we get to clear skies.

So, as I stated before nobody else actually knew. That’s good though, right? Wrong. SO wrong. The fact that I was so deep into my addiction and all alone goes to show that I’m either: A. lucky AF and/or B. had someone watching out for me. Whichever way you want to see it--- the cold hard truth is--- I shouldn’t even be here. Before I dive into explaining why, I will list the very few positives that my solitude allowed me: 1) I was never in any legal trouble. 2) I kept my job. 3) I kept my friends & family (even though it was at a distance).  Truthfully, those are all subjective to being seen as “positive.” Legal trouble would be better than death. Losing a job would be better than death. Losing some people in my life would be better than death. My point being--- THERE IS NOTHING GOOD ABOUT BEING IN ADDICTION AND BEING ISOLATED. I refuse to let anyone get the wrong idea. I will not sugarcoat this. For two years I was on a slippery slope. Any day during those two years could’ve been my last. All it takes is O N E time. That’s it. O N C E. I felt like I had nowhere to turn for help. If I told anyone, I risked negative backlash. I couldn’t just talk to someone about this, unless I was going to take action. (But was I ready? Yes. Wait no. Maybe. Remember- unless the addict wants to get clean them self, you’re SOL pal) I felt like I would be a burden. How could I drag anyone else into this never-ending rain cloud with me? I felt no one would understand. I also was aware that I would be told I needed help. Here’s the thing- my delusional mind was 110% convinced that *I* was in control. I was convinced that I didn’t need help and I didn’t want to hear it. I thought I could do this on my own. From the very beginning I had myself convinced that *I* could stop at any time. That *I* was in control of any and all outcomes. The other half of why I remained quiet was because if I opened up about myself, that would mean I would have to expose “J.” I know most of you are thinking “screw him, you needed to put yourself first.” Believe me when I say I know that NOW. During that time I had made it so that he was the only person I had. I relied so heavily on him that I couldn’t jeopardize losing him. HE was the only one that understood. HE was in this with me, right? In my eyes [during that time] death would have been a better alternative than losing him. This is why addiction is such a scary thing. Any sane, reasonable, human would see that that way of thinking is in no way healthy. Any voice of reason, any morals, any self-respect had left me in the beginning and only returned once I was clean. Your way of thinking completely changes and that’s a very real and frightening thing. YOU are not in control.

There were many times during those two years that I wanted to get clean. I did not want my life to revolve around getting high, how I was going to get high, and going to get stuff to get high 24/7. I did not want to feel all alone anymore. I did not want to worry about the fact that this could be my last day. I did not want to worry about the idea that this could be ���J’s” last day. I did not want to be throwing away all my money. I did not want to be throwing away everything I had, both morally and physically. At the same time, I was scared. It was all I had began to know and anything other than the familiar drew me further and further down.

So why didn’t I try to get clean then, since *I* was in control? Well I did successfully once in the spring/summer of 2017 during a long weekend. It was not easy, but I did have the help of subs (suboxone). I was good, until, “J” suggested that we could get something that would help us not feel so crappy as we got clean. (Anyone that has detoxed knows it is probably the worst feeling in the world, next to death (I will tell you my experience soon). I actually read somewhere that a lot of (opiate) addicts admitted they would rather D I E than have to go through detox. Yes, that is how bad it is and unless you’ve been through it yourself, there is no way to properly explain the type of hell you go through.) Anyways, I stupidly agreed. Long story short, someone lied about what they had and we ended up with the same stuff we were trying to get away from--- downward spiraling once again. For the record, you do not replace one opiate with another in hopes of getting clean. It is like an alcoholic switching from vodka to beer. Like I said though, I wasn’t in the right state of mind. I had no one else. HE was only trying to help. HE was in this with me.

...Right?

[justanothergrl]

You can call me the bad guy

I want to make one thing clear, before I continue --  I DO NOT WANT SYMPATHY. I AM NOT A VICTIM. I am not a fragile, helpless girl. Nobody tied me down and forced drugs into my body. Please keep this in the back of your mind and channel your emotions accordingly. I ask that you just listen. I have decided to explain, in the best detail I possibly can, how I became an addict. Ease your wondering minds because I’m about to answer one question I’m sure is on the tip of everyone's tongues - How did it all begin?

Lets travel together through the fuzzy memory lane of mine, shall we?

I need to start off by bringing into this story a very important character: my ex. (some of you know who he is/was & know his real name. HOWEVER, being the person I am I will not put his name into this--- soo lets just call him “J”) “J” was a recovering addict. I can’t remember exactly how much clean time he had when I met him, but it wasn’t a whole lot. When I first started seeing him my dad voiced concern. I shrugged it off. *I* knew all about addiction, right? *I* could be his “good influence”. *I* could save him. (Remember a few posts ago when I said YOU can’t save anybody?) I like to see the good in everyone, it’s just in my nature. We clicked instantly. I was so blinded by my feelings. Literally, someone might as well of had a blindfold on me. Or maybe I was just arrogant? Naive? Whatever the reason, I started swimming out to sea with no compass, no life raft, and could only doggy paddle at best. For about the first 3 1/2 years, everything was good (I think anyways. There are times I’ve questioned but it’s not worth replaying those memories. Besides, it wouldn’t do me any good now) It’s no secret that I suffer from migraines. I also get really bad cramps in my lower back once a month, every month. Both of these are so debilitating that I’ve had to leave school/work and spend the day (or days) in bed. Over the years when I’ve had insurance I DID go to the doctor. Multiple, actually. I was on a variety of birth controls, which never seemed to help or would cause equally horrible side effects. I eventually just gave up. So, one day “J” mentioned that he knew of something that would help with the pain. Perhaps it was the overwhelming helplessness he felt. Perhaps it was for his own selfish reasons. I will never know. What I do know is that I was desperate and I agreed to give it a shot. So it began. In the beginning I truly only took them for migraines & cramps. It was great. I had never had experienced any sort of pain relief like THAT before. I was no longer curled in a ball, in tears, pleading for the pain to be gone. I could enjoy my days off. I could go to work. I could be a productive member of society. “J” had shoulder surgery that he said never healed quite right and would justify popping those for relief as well. Lies? Truth? (don’t let it drive you crazy like it did me) Eventually I began to notice that he was taking them more & more often and before I knew it I would take them more & more too. Unless you have taken such things yourself, you would not understand the feeling. For me, it let me shed my stress. My worries were gone. I was at peace. 

So lets *pause*--- I didn’t really explain how I went from legitimate (to a degree) use to abusing. That’s because there was no dramatic transition. It just happened. One day I woke up and needed them. It takes over your life, literally (yes that fast. and yes with no warning). 

“But what about your cousin?” I wasn’t doing anything THAT bad. I was in control.  “But what about your mom?” Alcohol is worse. You can’t function being drunk like she was. I could still function. 

And that, my friends, was my justification. I had things so twisted & contorted in my mind. I also have a bad habit of repressing. In my eyes, I was still the same person and all was well with the world. Hey, I’m only human so don’t point fingers just yet.

Ok *unpause*. It’s pretty common knowledge that your body builds up a tolerance to a medication after time and in order to feel anything more (or even anything) you need something different. Something stronger. So different came. And went. Imagine walking uphill in the snow. You start barefoot- it’s okay for a tiny bit and then it becomes a problem. You upgrade to sandals. Then to shoes. Then your ex brings home boots. Boots would be your best option here, right? One Friday night “J” came home stating that our usual person didn’t have our “shoes” but did have “boots”. My jaw dropped. I would never do that. EVER. Remember? My cousin! THAT was crossing a line. “J’s” ex had died from those same exact “boots”. Most people would think that if they had lost someone they loved, they would never want to touch that again. Right? Or at the VERY least, never let someone you now loved touch it. It was too late. Addiction had me swallowed up whole. I was trapped. I was desperate. I had felt withdrawal symptoms from those “shoes” once or twice before, and didn’t want to deal with that (little did I know at that time, tossing those “shoes” & never looking back would’ve been a walk in the park. See what I did there? haha. OKAY) “J” assured me that it really wasn’t much different. But my cousin. After hours of debating I finally broke down. My thoughts: *I* was in control.  *I*  could stop anytime. After all, the person you trusted with your L I F E wouldn’t hurt you. Wouldn’t deceive you. Right?

[justanothergrl]

A World Alone: continued

 Oh good, I haven’t lost you! (yet)

History lesson #2 As most know, my mom is an alcoholic. Subconsciously and consciously, this put a lot of pressure on me. I vowed from a very young age I would never become like her. Which brings me to another reason of why I felt/feel shame. I knew and know first hand how damaging that can be to loved ones. I knew and know just how much you put yourself, your family, and even strangers in danger directly AND indirectly when you are under the influence. After my cousin passed I went through a slight phase of drinking, a little too much, a little too often. Hey, we’re all young once, yolo? Anyways, that came to a screeching halt when my newly ex compared me to my mom. Yes, it was eye opening. I was hurt. (Was it right of him? Good question. He didn’t know half of what my mom did. He didn’t have any idea about what addiction actually is/ or looks like. And, I certainly wasn’t anywhere near how bad she was (still is?)) However, I stopped. Something clicked. Again, I didn’t want to be like her.  I didn’t want to become that. How could I let myself get anywhere NEAR the same path I vowed as a little girl I would always avoid?! I had let myself down. I had let that innocent, blonde hair, blue eyed girl d o w n. Sure disappointing others is a hard enough hit, but have you ever let yourself down? And for that, I’m sorry me.

So, where am I going with this? For you to try to follow how my mind works, I needed you to have some background. My walls tend to be higher than the Great Wall of China at times & I’m breaking them all down for you. Or me. Maybe both of us? So how could I do what I did? How could I put the same stuff into my veins that K I L L E D my cousin? How could I wade in the water with anything addictive FULLY AWARE of those consequences? I’m a terrible person, right? I’m a selfish person, right? I knew what addiction did to families. I knew what addiction did to an individual. ...Right?

[justanothergrl]

A World Alone

Now that we got the initial shock out of the way, let me make something very clear: no one except my ex R E A L L Y knew. I know I tend to exaggerate (I meannn, wait! me? exaggerate?! Never!) I’m being serious though. My dad & grandma only found out the DAY I moved down here last December. Surprise! (I’ll come back to that day, later)

Lets rewind a little though--- History lesson #1 Addiction runs in my family. Primarily on my moms side. To give you some background (which yes, it IS important- & I know my psychology, psychiatry, therapist friends are shaking their heads in agreement): I had a cousin pass away from an overdose in 2010. I had no idea he was even into drugs (granted we didn’t see each other much at that point). I was in shock. Denial. Then heavy grief. I cried. I cried SO much, I had so much regret when he passed. I regretted that I wasn’t in his life more. I was supposed to go to the fair with him that weekend. I often tossed around the idea that MAYBE if I seen him prior, the outcome could of been different. Today though I know that the ADDICT is the one that has to want to get clean and no one else and no amount of love ranks greater than that. Your love, support, money, time, *insert everything else* will not get an addict clean if THEY do not want to be clean. YOU can not save A N Y B O D Y who does not want to be saved. Read that again, because it’s important. If there’s anything to take away from my ramblings- please please PLEASE don’t put the blame on yourself. We all make our own decisions. As to why I brought this up? This is one major reason for my shame. The nagging feeling that I had let him down. That I pushed aside the lesson(s) I was meant to take away from that tragedy. That I disrespected his life, his death, and everything in between. And for that, I’m sorry Mikey.

to be continued.

[justanothergrl]

Secrets

Disclaimer: This may be long, but this is necessary in order to get my point across, everything here needs to be said & therefore READ. So close this window now if you’re too busy, close minded, and/or prefer to remain in denial of real world issues. I’m not being mean, just honest. Now, let me begin for the rest of you-

The problem (yes P R O B L E M) was that I was going to keep this buried. Deep. Forever. However, tossing this back & forth in my head 100x a day for the past several months, I have come to the realization that buried secrets help no one, least of all ME. After the recent death of ANOTHER friend, I figured it was time to bring awareness. Or maybe at the very LEAST let someone else know they’re not alone. Ready?

💣💣💣

I am a recovering addict.

10 months & 29 days clean to be exact.

Surprised? Let’s see: I don’t look like “the type” I never looked like it in any photos I posted I came from a good family I lived in a good area I had (and kept) a full time job I had my own apartment I had expensive cars, belongings, etc

(🔮No, I’m not a mind reader, I’ve just heard it all before.)

Perhaps my all time favorite following up all of those lovely statements was “well you obviously weren’t REALLY addicted, there’s no way you could *fill in the blank* + have an addiction!”

Really? You do see how ignorant that sounds (I hope). Let me just add, that I received these comments from fellow addicts as well, so don’t feel (too) bad. My hope is that you’ll open your minds (even if it’s an itty bitty bit😘)

Let’s pause to stereotype for a moment though: all addicts are homeless, unemployed, unpresentable, blah blah blah

Oh, but that’s not what you said?

You see the issue is that most people stereotype without even realizing they’re doing it. All those prior statements aren’t ANY better. I shouldn’t have to explain the damaging effects of stereotyping a person, so we’ll continue---

Let me take a moment to say that if those [common stereotypes] are the only signs you think you need to look for in your loved ones to recognize if they have an addiction, it’s time to get E D U C A T E D. Hey, I’m not perfect by any means, just stay with me.

Half of you will say things like: “why didn’t you tell me?” “you can always talk to me” “I would never judge you” The other half of you, well, I hope & pray that you or someone you love will never experience addiction. 

Reasons WHY *I* didn’t want to ever publicly come forward as an addict:

I felt (and STILL feel at times) SO much guilt, shame, and embarrassment. Which is why nothing anyone else says could ever top how horrible I’VE managed to make myself feel.