Life Before, During and After Substance Abuse
My parents divorced when I was young and it changed my whole world. I had to become an adult quick (I now realize I chose to..I didn’t have to). My dad was a hard working single parent that had to work with second shirt. I had to live in a depressed household whom were still grieving the loss of my grandmother and brother at the time. We had fun when we could, but my father and Aunt (expanded family situation) had to work to make ends meet We were close in our own way. The expectations of being perfect, being liked, and being a people pleaser had me depressed, exhausted, stressed and alone.
To this day I still feel that agonized feeling of why am I not good enough. However, nobody pressured me to be perfect. Nobody up my first drink at 17. I was at a party, everyone else was doing it, I thought I could to. This is when the monster was released. This was the first bit of freedom; I wasn’t expected to do anything. This continued throughout college. Most people thought it was the college phase, the college life. what they didn’t know was I was asking people over 21 almost every other day to get gallon bottles for me that I drank by myself. I would hide them under my bed in my closet, or in suitcases.
Around 24, the partying went away and I isolated myself. I started to drink my pain away more and more. I couldn’t figure out why people never wanted to be around me. Why I had no friends. Why the world hated me. Why did I feel so alone. Why did everything just hurt. Why did everyone bother me and why was I so angry. I hated asking these questions, it made my head spin and I would go in major panic attacks constantly. So I started drinking in isolation. And amount of drinking increased tremendously. I would drink 5 gallons of straight Takka Vodka straight roughly in 4 days; morning noon and night.
In 2011-2012 I lost my aunt and one of my best friends. In 2013-2014 I was hospitalized 3 times and had to receive 3 blood transfusions and each time I was hospitalized for at least a week. When I came out of the hospital I would have enough money to take my medicine because I would rather buy alcohol and doubled my drinking because I would (in my head) “Lost a week of that feel good drunk”.
Last my depression and loneliness became worse and more apparent, especially after October 23rd when my mother passed due to Liver failure and Alcohol Cirrhosis. I hated life. I was disconnected from the world and I disappeared for a long time. The only time I was seen or heard from was on Facebook, or on Thanksgiving and Christmas. But those times, I was drunk, crying and passed out. I hated God. I hated everyone and everything. I did not want to leave my couch or my bed, and did not unless I needed to go to the liquor store.
A family friend finally came to my house on February 7th and found me on my couch passed out. I was rushed to the hospital and was taken to ICU. The next day, February 8th, my Dad was talking to me when I had a heart attack and died. We were in front of the nurse station and a Chaplin ran to my dad and asked him if we believed in God. My Dad, of course in total shock, was screaming but replied yes and all of a sudden I was resuscitated and I didn’t know what happened to me for a month. From there, I stayed in two different hospitals for a month and a half. I was restrained for a week due to the DT’s and withdrawals I was going through. I was anemic, malnourished, and was suffering from severe alcohol neuropathy. I also weighed 90 pounds and I couldn’t walk, write, barley talk, shower, or use the bathroom. I suffer from depression..again..or it got worse, if it could. And went to an outpatient psychiatric facility for a month and a half.
I was dual diagnosed with manic depression, panic disorder, anxiety, agoraphobia, bipolar, dissociative disorder, split personality, PTSD, and alcoholism. I have brain damage that with continued therapy will just be temporary. Right now I have short term memory loss, verbal expression disorder, coordination, and other cognitive skills. With all that, I wanted to give up, and you would think I would. But I didn’t. I got help.
I go to AA’s, therapies, lots of doctor appointments, support groups, church, and prayer. All the help of educational websites and literature, the time I now have to volunteer and developing a relationship with my higher power that I call God, I am at an all time high on life. I somewhat see the beauty of it, and I try versus not even looking. While writing this, it seems so long ago, and like I just went through this yesterday.
But, I am 95 days in recovery and I am volunteering and helping out with my community which brings a smile to my face. Promoting awareness about mental illness has helped me realize that I am not alone. Hitting rock bottom had to happen for me unfortunately, and it was the best thing that happened to me. If it didn’t, I wouldn’t be here writing this and reading your stories. Reading these stories and seeing other pictures makes me feel a connection and I haven’t been able to feel…anything…in..forever or at all..ever. I am so grateful that I am alive and to finally feel.! #stigmafree
On September 9rd 2003, my doctor diagnosed me with Bipolar Disorder I . (Bipolar II is mostly depression with some manic episodes. Bipolar I is full blown mania with little depression.