Health

Different But The Same

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In that moment I was never sorry. I didn’t give a fuck about you. My priorities; what I wanted, was so much more than you. It was never about you. Don’t you see? You could have given me the world, you could have given me your blood, and it wouldn’t have mattered. There was a force within me that you couldn’t bend, break, or steal. Not even I had control over it. Powerless is what we were, that was the one and only thing we had in common; feeling powerless, feeling defeated, feeling as if the world owed us something. We resented each other for the same reasons in different situations; we lived in different worlds with the same worries and fears. Imagine that; a sense of common ground in unfamiliar territory. I couldn’t begin to understand you and what you were going through, and you couldn’t begin to understand me and what I was going through. We were too consumed within our minds to realize the depth of our similarities; emotionally blind to say the least; fragile. Trying to explain, trying to understand was delusional at the time. It was beyond us. Compromising was a word that offered us no explanation. You kept asking who I was and what was I thinking. I kept thinking how could you do this to me and since when did you even care. Sometimes emotions don’t have filters. We wanted the same things all along but we didn’t even know it.

Things are better now but I am not 13 years old anymore. It has been 10 years and it is not easy to make up for lost time but we are trying. We are making an effort everyday and that has to count for something. We are learning about each other, forgiving each other, and making amends. At the end of the day, we want what is best; not only for ourselves but for each other.

The Waiting List

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My dealer, my ‘friend’, my friend with benefits, the guy who I used, the guy who used me; he got arrested. I wasn’t in any immediate panic as I had just bought a bottle of fifty 80mg Oxys. I knew I had time. But nothing lasts forever. It was December 29th 2010 and I was running low, it had been about a month since the arrest. I figured this was my time to quit, I could get clean. I started researching methadone clinics close by. I found a government methadone clinic that wasn’t too far and I decided to take a drive and get it sorted out. When I arrived I felt like all eyes were on me, everyone in that plaza, in that parking lot knew who I was and what I was doing. They looked down at me, like I was an animal. I didn’t deserve respect because I was a low life. As I entered the glass door I noticed the place was empty for the exception of a few nurses and receptionists. Immediately I wanted to run but before I could I was approached by a kind nurse asking if I needed help. Of course I needed help! The withdrawals were coming with a vengeance and they could see it. I filled out a stack of paperwork and had to have a medical evaluation. I thought great! I will walk out of here with a prescription that could potentially save my life, I thought I would have a good new year, and I would be fine to go out for my brother’s  birthday. Everything was falling into place and I had a sense of relief. After a 45 minute medical evaluation I was told to go have a seat in the waiting room. Eventually I was called up to the reception desk which was behind a glass window; like a prison. I was told they would put me on a waiting list and I would be called when they had the space for me. I turned white, I started to cry, I was embarrassed, and I was scared. A waiting list, I asked how long? They told me that they didn’t know, it could be a month, a year.

I walked out of that office shaking, crying, cold, hot, and empty. I felt defeated. If they couldn’t help me, who could? I could barely help myself. My options were slim, I desperately called every dealer I knew, I asked anyone and everyone; frantically. I didn’t want my parents to find out that I was using again. I knew the withdrawals were going to be bad. I had used every single day all day for almost 9 months; I hadn’t gone an hour without. Now I had nothing.

I was sitting at the dinner table on January 2nd 2011; it was my brother’s birthday. My parents asked me if I was feeling okay. I said I thought I was getting the flu. Within an hour my face was turning grey, my arm was turning blue and I couldn’t breathe properly. It was time, I had to tell them. We left for the hospital; my heart had stopped pumping blood to the rest of my body. I felt nothing but guilt and shame, it was my brother’s birthday and I had managed to ruin it. I took everything from him, everything was always about me, and my parents were always focused on me. He already resented me enough, and I couldn’t apologize. I had managed to ruin everything, again and it wouldn’t be the last time.

A vicious cycle; I couldn’t get methadone, I was on a waiting list. So what was I supposed to do? I had to get drugs. Luckily after a while I found a private clinic which happens to be my family doctor who runs an addiction clinic. I was lucky, others aren’t.

You Did What You Could

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“Has she tried getting clean before?”

– “I think so. But she has never lasted.”

“Well for the most part if she does try to give it up, she is going to feel awful, dreadful, and fearful to say the least. I mean really, really awful. She will think she is going to die, she will think she is losing her mind. She will be depressed, anxious, irritable, sleepless, and sick. She will hurt everywhere; mentally and physically. She will scream and shout at you. She will hate you. She will lie to you and manipulate you. She will probably get very aggressive with you.”

“Do you think you can handle that?”

– “I don’t know.”

“Don’t forget, this is important. Whatever feelings she has for you, they won’t be as strong as the feelings she has for the needle and the spoon. If you want to help her, you might have to lose her.”

Fear & Anxiety

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It’s hard to lead and live a fulfilling life when you’re constantly worrying. Worrying, anxiety, panic, fear; they are more than capable of consuming your life, making you feel weak and insecure. There is something that is paralyzing when you are invaded with worry; stuck in a battle within your mind, trying to find reason and understanding.

I never had to worry, I didn’t even have to think let alone fear. It was all manageable with drugs; it was easy to put thoughts away never to be heard again. The longer I am sober the worse my anxiety gets, it is a constant intrusion with no end in sight. It’s difficult to pinpoint the root of my anxiety and where it begins, or how it begins, why it begins. This is all new to me. Worrying is natural, we do it everyday. I have suffered from anxiety since I was a child, with drugs I was able to have it diminished.

I have been trying to figure out strategies to ease my fear and anxiety, it’s hard when I can’t identify my feelings and emotions well. I have been trying to pay more attention to myself mentally and emotionally. I realized I have comfort zones; places where I feel safe, people I feel safe with. Outside of this I seem to be in constant fear; of what? The only thing I am afraid of is myself.

I don’t want fear and anxiety to limit me from my recovery. It might sound weird but I feel as if I am mentally trying to ‘prepare to live’. I believe it is natural that I want to find a better way to live, but my fear is keeping me stuck. I am still vulnerable and with vulnerability come emotions; clearly I am not good with emotions. Everything is real, it’s too real. I mentally disassociate from reality without even realizing until I am in a dreamlike state, I have done that since I was very, very young. I need to learn how to process my feelings and emotions internally. I am tired of living in fear everyday; it is overwhelming and very discouraging. I still don’t trust myself.

I want to feel safe from within; at peace with who I am, at peace with my life. It’s not so much about my surroundings; it is more about me and what’s going on in my mind. A looming darkness still exists and it’s hard to see in the dark.

It’s just one day at a time.

It Won’t Be Easy

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Just when you think you’re ready to move on, ready to start over, ready to make things happen, it all comes crashing down to test your limits, test what you’re made of and whether or not you’re able to handle it. So that’s it, one step forward, two back? I don’t think so.

Let’s be real, you’re tested at your weakest moments. Or at least it seems that way. Maybe it’s just me, or maybe it’s just more noticeable when you feel weak. It can be extremely discouraging to feel positive and ready, and within a blink of an eye you’re down and out; again, a vicious cycle that seems to have no escape. Memories and triggers ignite without warning sometimes bringing you to your knees asking why, and reasonably so; to feel defeated and maybe even broken.

[because it’s one missed step, you’ll slip before you know it…]

Somewhere within, possibly deep within; it’s there, that thing that brought you this far, when you didn’t think it was remotely possible. It’s there patiently waiting to be found, to be reunited with the depths of your soul.

Change

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I’m sure by this point we are all aware that our minds are extremely powerful. The mind has a way of taking over and consuming in ways that are sometimes uncontrollable. You can go from one hundred to zero in the matter of a millisecond. You’re programmed and manipulated at such a young age to behave and react a certain way; what’s acceptable and what is unacceptable. But you are also shaped and formed by the actions of those surrounding you since day one. Every little thing that happens or doesn’t happen somehow someway has an effect. Well, developing an addiction when you’re a pre-teen takes a shift on your development mentally, emotionally, physically, and physiologically. It can cause countless damages in different shapes and forms from learning to motivation to pleasure. You generally become accustomed to the way you have looked at things and the way you have reacted to things; these habits are hard to break. If you have been nothing but negative for 10 years, to wake up one day and be positive isn’t easy. The mind has a funny way of playing tricks on you, of justifying, telling you one thing when you know different.

Personally; I’ve had countless arguments with myself in my head. When you are able to justify the unjustifiable, to make sense of the senseless, knowing full well right from wrong but you convince yourself anyway; that is something that was deeply and carelessly developed over years of drug abuse. It’s a trait (or whatever you want to call it) that a lot of us addicts have. It was easy to manipulate everyone and anyone, including myself. If I could convince others, I could convince myself too.

Breaking these habits has proven difficult, but like everything else; it’s a learning process, yet another stepping stone. So many factors I hadn’t considered have come out to play at random times in no specific order. I am learning and renewing daily, improving who I am and what I want. We all know that voice inside our heads, that voice that tells us, we aren’t good enough; but do we deserve our share of basic human happiness, are we good enough to be happy with who and what we are? I say yes. But it doesn’t matter what I say, it’s your voice; which means you’re the only one who hears it and you’re the only one who can fight it. I am no expert but it seems self-hatred and guilt accomplish nothing. It just stands in the way of true change.

From Existing To Living

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When he shot me up for the first time, because I was too afraid to do it on my own; the needle and I began a love affair. Up until that point, IV drug use was a line I had vowed never to cross. I watched him mix up a concoction of Dilauded and water into a spoon and draw it up in a syringe. He then took his belt and tied it tightly around my arm. I was afraid to watch; but I did anyway. He inserted the needle, drew back and blood shot into the syringe; I watched frightened but fascinated. My heart was pounding heavily anxious and excited. Then the release, he untied the belt and I was hooked immediately.

For the first while, he had to shoot me up because I was too afraid but that didn’t last long. I didn’t want to wait for him to finish first, I was impatient. I wanted it as soon as it was in my hands; whether it was from my prescription that I just picked up or the dealer in the city. At this point I didn’t think twice, I knew always to use a clean syringe and I felt that’s all I needed to know. Like I have said in previous posts; you don’t only become addicted to the drug but to the whole ritual of shooting up. It absolutely sucked when I couldn’t find a vein; I would sit for however long it took; with blood everywhere, just a bloody mess. It wasn’t an option to just give up on finding one, without it I would be sick. Most of the time I just needed it to be normal, to go to the store, to wake up in the morning, to get dressed, simple things in my life depended on one thing; opiates.

This was just a regular part of my day like many other days; I did what I had to do. I did not think of anything but staying high. I was going through life just existing.

To an addict, there is nothing more difficult than managing a habit, and nothing more impossible than controlling its chaotic nature. I became delusional and afraid, I was thrown into a constant realization that I had to make the right choices, and feared that everyone was waiting and watching. For the first while every night I tried to fall asleep I was woken up by nightmares, some scary because they felt terrifying, some scary because I was high in my dream. For a while it was hard to find natural joy, it was difficult to sit or be still. I had to constantly try to distract myself but it was so hard to focus on the simplest things. It was hard to make small insignificant decisions. I was and still am learning how to live again; slowly but surely. After 10 years of constant abuse, it’s hard to ‘be normal’. It’s hard to find a job, hard to maintain it, hard to wake up in the morning, hard to know what to do next. It’s been roughly 7 and a half months that I have been sober and I am only beginning to get my life in order. I know it isn’t going to happen over night, and I also know that it will be a life long process to succeed and maintain my sobriety. It’s nice to finally have a sense of normality; whatever that may be.

I now wake up in the morning with a purpose, I can smile because I am finally living.

A Day At The Methadone Clinic

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I’ve been seeing the same faces every week for 3 years at the methadone clinic. But it seems new faces have been appearing more and more; so many people who can relate to each other and don’t even know it. Few of us have gotten to know each other better, and we are able to talk and somewhat help each other out; it’s almost like having a group therapy session. People from all walks of life go weekly to maintain their sobriety, if you consider methadone patients clean. I do, because I am one of them. If it wasn’t for my daily dose of methadone I don’t know where I’d be. I am however aware that I will have to come off of it at some point, I just have to make sure I’m ready this time.

I’ve heard and seen heartbreaking stories of people’s struggles with addiction. Everything from domestic disputes, to deaths, to amputations. Sometimes these stories are sad, sometimes scary, sometimes inspiring, but always unique. It is a place full of sadness, despair, hurt, anger, but it also has happiness, strength, empathy, and most of all it is a place that has hope. Although some may not agree with methadone or suboxone; it’s a fact that these medications have saved lives. It has given people an opportunity at a new life, a job, a career, a family; again it has given people hope. Hope is priceless; hope is something that can change a person’s life. Hope is a possibility, and sometimes that remote possibility becomes a reality.

I used to want to hide my face while walking into the methadone clinic. I didn’t want people to know anything about me; I didn’t want people to judge me. Thing’s have changed and I now walk in there proudly. I am proud that I have made it this far, proud that I am still breathing, proud that I have a future, and happy that I have hope. I have found a place where I am not judged, a place where everyone can relate one way or another. All I can do is make the best out of the situation, and that’s what I have done. At the end of the day, like it or not; we all look up at the same set of stars.

Co-Dependency & Enabling

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For both the loved ones of addicts and the addicts themselves, co-dependency and enabling can be two very destructive behaviours.

I’m not an expert on either of these subjects but I’ll try my best to tell my own experience with them.  For the first time in the 10 years that I’ve been in and out of recovery my mom and I are finally starting to address our issues with co-dependency and enabling. This is good because it’s well overdue. I am slowly learning to take charge of my life instead of having to rely on her to take care of everything for me.

Co-dependency – The idea of being overly involved in another person’s life.  Worrying about the other person’s behaviour and feeling unnecessary guilt when not taking care of the other person’s needs.

Enabling – To make possible or easy, to make able, to authorize, to give power

For the last 10 years my mom has been my enabler.  She would do anything for me because she loved me so much.  What she didn’t understand until recently is that what she was doing was actually hurting me instead of helping me. But this is something I knew all along, and I was a professional liar and manipulator. I used her weaknesses to my benefit. I took full advantage of the power she gave me. I never had consequences for my actions.

My mom was in denial about how bad my addiction was.  She thought she was helping me by not forcing me to deal with my problems but she was actually making things worse for the both of us.

What I didn’t realize was that I was hurting her just as much as she was hurting me.  I was making her completely co-dependent with me.  Once she realized the severity of my drug problem her whole life revolved around one thing – me.  I was all she thought about 24/7.  The constant worrying about what I was doing and if I was ok.  I was selfish and incapable and I was so blind to even think about how I was affecting her life.  Her love for me made her feel like every time I made a mistake it was her fault because I am her daughter, she raised me.

My mom tried everything to fix my addiction for me but she never succeeded.  Her love and support just wasn’t enough, I needed to turn my life around on my own. Unfortunately even when I was kicked out, even when she would refuse to give me money; I always found a way. But in some sick way when these moment arise; I would resent her. I would resent her because I was selfish and I always expected her to pick up the pieces.

I now understand why she acted this way.  I’m her daughter and all she wants is to see me succeed in life.  Since I’ve been clean the co-dependency and enabling has pretty much diminished.  Obviously she still worries about me but not nearly as much as before.  Now she is focused on her own life instead of obsessing about mine.

I don’t know if I will ever be able to forgive myself for what I did to her.  She says she forgives me and wants to leave the past in the past but it is so difficult for me to forget about how horrible my behaviour used to be.  I just want my mom to feel appreciated and realize that I do not take her for granted.  I don’t know what I would do without her.

I can only imagine how hard it is to watch your child suffer, knowing that you can’t really do much to help them.

A lot of addicts are so wrapped up in their own problems that they don’t try to understand how it affects the other people who love them.

I think the parents can go through even more pain than us addicts do. And Mom, if you read this; I love you more than you will ever know, and I am deeply sorry for all the pain I have caused.

Our Feeling Of Self-Worth

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Our feeling of self-worth from the core of our personality. Nothing is more important to our psychological well-being. The level of our self-esteem affects virtually every aspect of our lives. It affects how we perceive ourselves, and how they subsequently treat us. It affects our choices in life, from our careers to whom we befriend or get involved with romantically. It influences how we get along with others and how productive we are, as well as how much we make of our abilities. It affects our ability to take action when things need to change and our ability to be creative. It affects our stability, and even affects whether we tend to be followers or leaders. It only stands to reason that the level of our self-esteem, the way we feel about ourselves in general, would also affect our ability to form intimate relationships’.

Many people use the words self-esteem and self-concept interchangeably, but these terms actually have different meanings. Our self-concept, or self-image, is the set of beliefs or images we have about ourselves. Our self-esteem is the measure of how much we like and approve of our self-concept. Many of the ideas we have about ourselves were acquired in childhood from two sources: how others treated us and what others told us about ourselves. How others defined us has becomes how we perceive ourselves. Your self-image — who you think you are— is a package that you have put together from how others have seen and treated you, and from the conclusions you drew in comparing yourself to others.
(Self Esteem Third Edition- Matthew McKay, PH.D./ Patrick Fanning)

I have become so accustomed to putting myself down in my head, it’s something I’ve done most of my life. It’s an immediate reaction. I have always failed myself before anyone else could fail me. Anything I was actually good at or I was told I was good at, I would quit shortly after hearing “you should keep it up, you’re very talented.” For example, I have been told I am an amazing artist when it comes to drawing. I stopped drawing a while ago, and anytime I do I keep it to myself. I played soccer for almost 12 years and towards the end, I was told to go provincial because I would be an asset to the team. So I quit and I haven’t played since.  Not a very productive thing to do. But I haven’t yet figured out why I did this, of why I still do this. But I know it’s something I need to figure out so I can correct it, I have missed a lot of opportunities because I am so afraid to mess up. It’s a little ironic that I am so afraid to fail in this aspect, but when I look back I’ve fucked up so many things as a result of my addictions. I think some of it has to do with my dad, and I feel awful saying this, I know he would lose his mind if he read this but I always go back to him and the way he did/ does things. His dad; my grandpa was physically abusive. My dad believes because he’s not physically abusing his kids that the emotional abuse is okay. My dad has been emotionally abusive my whole life. To me, to my brother, to my mom. He has a way of belittling you until you feel so small and worthless. Don’t get me wrong, I love my dad to pieces; he’s one of my favourite people. My dad and I are very close and I can tell him anything and everything. But that does not mean I agree with the way he handles things. My mom has become so accustomed to being put down she doesn’t even cry anymore. Actually I don’t either, I am use to it. But I think it still affects me. My brother isn’t use to it yet. My dad has a switch, I am always careful about what I say and how I say it. And I know if he is drinking, then not to argue, to just keep quiet.

As I am writing this, I feel a wave of guiltiness rushing through me. I feel awful for saying those things’ about my dad. But it’s true. I am very defensive when it comes to my dad even if what is being said isn’t negative. Its weird, I don’t fully understand it. I think I grew up thinking dad was always right and I was always wrong because of his attitude and belittlement. Anything that changes my childhood views scares me so I criticize them. Confusing? I know. Sorry I have rambled here, I’ve lost track of where I was going with this. But I think it’s all intertwined here, missing puzzle pieces are finding their spot.

I am working towards improving my self-esteem. I can honestly say I don’t care what many people think of me. But I do care what my parents think of me. Seeking their approval after everything I’ve done proves difficult. I have come to realize that I need to approve myself first; I need to believe in myself. I need to stop failing myself. I have to love and accept who I am.