I just hit one month sober. It is hard coming to terms with everything that has happened to me in my entire life. At 5 years old I locked myself in the bathroom and puffed my inhaler until my family smelled it, broke the door down and called poison control. I experienced hallucinations and nearly passed out, this is where I believe my love for intoxication began to spore. At 12 years old I was introduced to moonshine, my family produced it for our own consumption; I also found out how wonderful opiates felt during this period of my life. I tried to commit suicide during this year as well, I ended up in a mental institution and was diagnosed with manic depression. It was not until I hit 13 that I began smoking Marijuana. At age 15 I discovered my two "bestest" of (drug)friends ever. One, an 18 year old with a terrible cocaine and speed addiction; the other, a best friend from middle school who also had an eating disorder. Our older male friend began providing us with any drug we wanted, and this is when I began skipping school. By the end of my freshman year I had spent 6 months tweaking out and losing weight, in a downward spiral of drug and alcohol abuse. At the end of my freshman year, my older male friend and I went and bought some cocaine, we then went and bought needles...this was the first time anyone had ever asked me to shoot up with them.
After losing massive amounts of weight, my girl-friend and I realized how wonderful drug binges really are. I dropped out during the first semester of my sophomore year. I'd found a way around the system and skipped school every day; by the time it was time for court intervention, my parents decided to pull me from school for "home schooling". I stopped going to school for good on the day of my 16th birthday. Now, my parents had somewhat given up on me at this point. We fought all the time over my drug and alcohol abuse, as I had been using at this point, every day, for around two years. My parents were distraught and could not agree on how to raise me, so they split into two different homes. My entire childhood was traumatic, so when they finally gave up on me, I was so happy. I was able to get away from the people who had mentally and emotionally tortured me my entire life. I spent every night partying with friends or alone, and rarely ever spent time at home. At 16 I also found my soul-mate, we were both into drugs, but he hated speed; unless it was cut into rolls. Heroin and morphine scared him, so he wasn't into getting into that stuff with me. Again, I was using every day, anything I could get my hands on. At 17 I quit the speed but continued the morphine, xanax, and alcohol most of the week. I had tapered off a bit, and the amounts I was doing weren't anything in comparison to what I had before. Unfortunately, it was at 17 that I really began abusing my body in the worst way possible. I found out what it was like to trade my body out for whatever material item my heart desired, so I began cheating on my soulmate. We went on and off another 5 years, in that amount of time I cheated more times than I can recall, and it eats away at his soul and mine every day. During the last three years I have been in the worst downward spiral of my life. I began using every single day, broke up with my soulmate three times, to spend 4-5 months each time escorting my life into the pits of hell. He put up with so much, watching me kill myself slowly, watching me hurt him in the worst ways possible, and yet he always told me he would be there. All I can say is that I knew I was killing myself slowly, and the haze left me like the walking dead. I felt as though I had no soul, I took pleasure in dragging others into my horrendous life. About a year and a half ago, I began dating this british dude who was still married but amidst divorce. I stayed at his house every night, we did cocaine together and partied. He provided me with some of the most life altering experiences I'd ever had. We would regularly get so drunk I'd fall asleep on top of him and honestly he treated me better at that point than anyone I had been with. We had a drug and alcohol routine that allowed us to continue working just fine, and we didn't necessarily binge....One night I took some acid, went downtown, and couldn't get ahold of him. So, I called my soul-mate to come get me, as I was stuck at my friends apartment downtown without my car and she was passed out. So, he came and got me, because he has always been there for me when I really needed it. We got back together that night, and I stopped using hard drugs(meth, heroin, cocaine, ecstasy) for another 6 months. About a week later the guy I had been dating shot himself in the head at a university campus. I was distraught but had no one to speak to about it. By this time I had secured a new rental duplex at the road that nearly killed me. This neighborhood contained a liquor store less than a block away, a chinese restaurant, a gas station, a mexican restaurant, a gas station, a club, and a brothel right down the way. It was everything I had dreamed of my entire life of using. The best part of all in my opinion, was that my next door neighbor, across the driveway from me, dealt every drug you could think of. My soul-mate lived with me and kept me away from this guy as much as possible, in the 4 months we lived there together. My soul-mate and I had a terrible relationship, we loved each other but loathed each other. We had a sort of brother sister relationship, yet I had harmed him and myself in so many ways over the years, that there was just no way we could stay together. So I kicked him out of the house. The next day I went across the street and grabbed a sack of bud from the neighbor whose house had been forbidden. He offered me pills for free, as he "didn't want to make me pay for them"; when he saw how I handled my pills and alcohol, he broke out the meth pipe....We binged on meth, heroin, and prescription pills for the next 3 months. I lost the job I had maintained for 7 years, lost 35 pounds, ended up in the hospital from for assault and suspected drug use. As I had been asphyxiated I had to go to the hospital. At this time I was coming down from methamphetamine and heroin, yet firmly denied to police, ems, and hospital staff that I was not on any drugs. I was in a state of psychosis, and grimy. At this point both my feet had become so riddled with badly infected sores, that one had swollen to nearly double its size aand in my foot. My ankle
nd seared in mass amounts of pain. The days proceeding the assault I missed a shot into the back of my knee, hit an artery on my ankle, and another in my wrist. Body parts were swollen, infected, my arms and legs were covered in bruising and sores. I looked like a royal wreck. I hallucinated that my junkie drug dealer friend was being interrogated inside the hospital. My sister and mother were able to calm me down enough to return home the following morning. I did not press charges for the assault.
From here everything got worse, I had no job so I began "free lancing", y'all get what I mean....All I wanted were drugs, which were provided for free, and money to blow on ridiculous outfits and such. I had wrecked my car for good at this point, so was basically living with the neighbor across the street. I couldn't afford to keep my duplex, so I became desperate and did everything I could to get my hands on some cash. All the while, exploitation. There are many things I can't really talk about yet...I'm scared to and every time I try, the panic attacks arrive in the devils charriot.
I've been sober a month and a half now, left my duplex and had other people move my stuff out so I would never have to go back to that area. That one street offered me everything I needed to ruin the life I had made for myself thus far. I chose not to go to rehab. Went to a psychiatrist, who gave me a prescription for clonidine (which doesnt really work too well for anything other than knocking me out) I am bipolar and have been on Lamictal and Prozac for 5 years, it's a good combo and the only one that has helped me a lick.
Anyway, I'm still dopesick. The first two weeks I was extraordinarily sick, it was agonizing and felt as though I was dying. I literally thought I had an abscess in my tonsil from the pain, so went to an emergency clinic where they sent me home with antibiotics and basically said they didnt know what was wrong with me. Funny thing was, the tonsil that had it the worst, is on my snorting side. My septum is deviated severely and everytime people check it out they have a comment to make, I'm wondering if surgery would help with my breathing issues. My mouth had been rotting away from eating and snorting the meth, so of course, I knew exactly why I had such a nasty infection in my throat. Either way, after the first two weeks I wasn't so sickly, I could actually get out of bed and walk around with the living. After those two weeks it has just been agonizing mentally and physically. I am sitting here and every bone in my body aches, and its winter too! I have injury related arthritis in my knee and shoulder....I can only imagine what being on the depo-provera shot for 7 years and doing drugs for ten has done to my body.
I have tons more in depth stories to tell....But, I'll save them for later.
I am using mary j, take my bi-polar meds, and am *trying* to quit drinking alcohol but its so hard....I know I'll need to climb up the latter out of that hole soon....at least I am not drinking every day in excess, though my soul-mate just mentioned how the alcohol is probably not best for me during detox.
Will post more later on how it's going.