Today I was listening to P!nk's song Fuckin' Perfect and I felt like I wanted to talk about what shit was like a year and a bit ago. I need to talk about it, to get it out there. Someone has to see my bleeding wounds for them to heal.
I was going through Hell. Literally. I was so fucked up I didn't know what was happening. I was too terrified to leave the house and angry with myself for being that way. I knew that I had to get over my fear and nothing was working, not perscriptions, not talking, not illegal drugs.... So I swallowed my fear and took a step out the door, and then another, then another. Finally I was walking out the doors of my apartment building and I didn't it more than a block before I puked and ran back home. Every day I did a little more and a little more. It took a month of facing my deepest fear until I was able to walk around enough to get a job.
As for my job is was a meaningless job at a call center but to me being able to attain that when a month before I was trapped as a prisoner inside my home.... it felt amazing. I had to take drugs to stay calm and fought through panic attacks all week, all while trying not to let my new friends and co-workers see. I looked around and saw how happy everyone was. How easy it was for them to get up in the morning and walk outside. They took it forgranted, everyday. They had it so good, so easy... I hoped no one would ever feel the way I did every morning.
Once I finally got through training I felt like I was dying every morning and I couldn't make it through a day without crying. So I did the only thing I knew how to do to be happy. I took drugs. At first it was pot and dexies, but soon it moved to coke with a coworker, meth a few times, then prescription painkillers and I finally settled into my "usual" ... E, my artificial smile. There has never been another chemical that has made me feel as good. Before long the headaches that go hand in hand with Ecstasy addiction started and I began getting sick. I eventually needed to take a pill to get through a day. I started selling on the side, enough to make back what I was spending on it. I was good at it too, I never once got caught on drugs or with them, My boyfriend was also blinded to my problem, he couldn't see past the smile and the happy demeanor to were I was screaming for help and I eventually got mad at him. Why couldn't he see the pain and why wasn't he helping me? I began to let my anger show more and more, trying to push him into seeing what I was becoming. Helpless.
By a year into my job at the call center I was miserable and angry with myself for needing the drugs. My life had become a blur of partying and any drugs I could get my hands on that would serve as an "upper" My family had given up at that point, they couldn't stand my boyfriend and wanted me to leave, but like an ass, I was much to proud and stubborn. I never imagined my life would go down that path, and I didn't want it too. I didn't want to die alone in a gutter so I tried to kill myself before I got there. I took pill and another pill, and kept taking them until I thought it was enough. I ended up taking 12 Oxy's that night, Rob found me nearly passed out on the floor. In my semi conscious haze I remember his making me puke and then it fades out. After that Rob was different, and we started falling apart even faster than before. He ended up moving his best friend onto my couch and needless to say I wasn't pleased.
His best friend being there actually turned out to be the best thing that could have happened. Chad and I had known each other before and eventually while Rob was out at a biker party, I turned to Chad's arms for comfort and the comfort turned into more. Soon after we were spending all the free time we could muster together and thoroughly enjoyed each other's company. I still couldn't bring myself to fully leave Rob though. Not until that August. I finally summoned all the courage in my little heart and pulled the words out of my drug addled brain. He begged and pleaded but I stood firm, leaning on Chad the whole time. Everyday I tried to muster the courage to leave the house were Rob was staying with me and find a new place but I never could and after months of trying, Chad gave up too. I don't blame him, you can only wait so long for a person to make up there mind, unfortunately I wasn't strong enough to leave yet.
After many months of fighting I took Rob back, we never said the words but we both knew I was back with him. He began to make an effort to be better for me when all hell broke loose on our world. it turns out that Rob had been hiding eviction notices and when the knock on the door finally came I had no idea what was happening. I cried for the 3 days that I was homeless. We lived out of a motel and I took the bus to work from there every day... I felt like I was going to die. Finally I did the only thing that I could think of. In tears, I called my mother and told her what had happened. She came up and got me that night and we all went home. The first night I was home was spent wallowing in my self pity and crying over a bottle of booze. It was the next morning I remembered it had been days since my fix... I went into withdrawal and all I can remember is feeling the worst I have ever felt in my life for days. I took time off work and went and packed up my old apartment whenever I could. I remember think that I was going to die or commit suicide. I have never felt so horrible in my life. Everything ( Literally, everything.) hurt, I was sweating and had a migraine, not to mention the dizzy feeling and nausea.... Rob called repeatedly and I talked to him, we tried to work it out, even with my anger at him at a flash point high.
Finally when the physical withdrawal subsided and I was able to actually function again I went back to work and started making plans and trying to re-enter the world as a "drug free" individual. I had the occasional slip up but it wasn't as bad as I thought. I thought Rob and I might have a chance until he asked me out for dinner with the promise of a ride home to my house afterwards.
Like a fool, I accepted his offer and even though it was February I threw on some nice clothes and a winter jacket. We had a pleasant meal and talked. Afterward, he asked me for money to pay for my ride home. Money that I didn't have. I have never felt as murderous as I did that night standing in the winter snow outside of that restaurant. I could have killed him. Needless to say he offered to let me use the phone to call my mother but when we got to the house I was not allowed, by his family, to use the phone. To this day I count my lucky stars that Grandma was home that night, otherwise I would have had to walk the 4 hours back to my home town in leggings and high heels.
It was over after that. Even with all his attempts and crying, I wasn't taking him back. A couple months later I started going to bars and using an age old technique to rid my memory of him. Booze and random hook ups. It worked out well, and I am now with an amazing man, and though we fight, he has helped me process and get through shit...
1 year clean.