Adjusting to Life Sober

It's been an unbelievable three months or so. Today I have 87 days clean. I'm still going strong and things are getting much better around here. There is so much that I do today that I wasn't able to do before. I didn't realize how much I neglected the people and things in my life until I was about 2 months into recovery.
My daughter is two and a half years old now and I missed a lot of those years. I have always loved her with all my heart but at one point you wouldn't have been able to notice. I spent a lot of my time sleeping ... 12-14 hours at a time. Many times I wouldn't wake up until about 2 or 3 in the afternoon after staying up until about 4 am. Nina (my daughter) would wake up around 12pm and I wouldn't wake up for another 2 hours or so. (God I hate saying these things... I feel horrible). I would turn on the cartoons in our bedroom and she would sit next to me on the bed until I woke up. Finally I would get up and finally I would change her diaper and feed her. At the time, it didn't seem so bad, you know? After all, I was just getting some sleep, right? I was simply relaxing and everyone knew I needed more sleep than the average person! That's what I told everyone anyway.
I would then spend the entire day in the bedroom... doing nothing... eating, gaining weight, being sad and depressed and I still thought I was a busy, productive, responsible individual and mom. It's amazing how warped my thought process had become. I stopped cooking for my man. I would do the laundry every month or so, rather than every week. I never went anywhere so what the hell did I need clothes for? I stopped cleaning my house and for months on end I would tell visitors that we were spring cleaning ... it was the end of summer... the beginning of winter...
I found a job in January of 2008. I would be working from home for a phone sex company. I was happy about getting this job because I knew I could do it well and I didn't want to leave my house. It was a very stressful job and I was online or on the phone for about 14-16 hours of the day. I stopped paying attention to my boyfriend, my daughter, mother and father... No one interfered with my drugs or my job. Now, while I was happy that I was one of the best employees my boss had and I was making good money, I didn't realize that the fire under my ass and my motivation was my addiction. Every penny I made went towards my pills. I bought them illegally from a family friend who worked in a pharmacy. Just in case people do not know, that is a felony. However, never did I EVER think about my purchases being a crime. It was never a crime to me. I now had a $400-500 a week habit.
Being honest with myself about these issues kills me. It kills me to know that I have always been a special person. A driven person. A good and caring woman. I am a very intelligent person and I let addiction drag me down so far... Now I'll struggle for the rest of my life, learning to live again, learning to have fun again, learning to love again and learning to be a productive human being. Many people do not understand how hard it is to come out of an addiction and have to live a sober life. This is what I told my boyfriend: I said, just imagine someone being in jail for 30 years. Imagine having to hide your food, socks, toothbrush, snacks, underwear, and anything else of "value" from inmates all day, every day. Imagine showering with other inmates and having to watch your back all day, every day. Imagine having to fight anyone who crosses or disrespects you in order to protect yourself from the predators of prison all day, every day. Imagine being told what to do all day, every day for 30 years. How can that prisoner handle being tossed out into the real world again? That person will have to learn to walk down the street again, learn how to shower alone without paranoia, learn how to eat a meal like a civilized person, learn to get up and work,be social and affectionate, learn to Live and change the behaviors they've come to know so well... That is an addicts real struggle.
Anyone, anywhere can stop using drugs. Anyone can go to a detox and clean out their system. What we struggle with is staying clean. Not picking up our drug when we cannot handle what life is throwing at us, that's the struggle. Letting go and learning to forgive ourselves for the things we did while using... It's our struggle. Forgiving the people who have hurt us and betrayed us in our lives... That's our struggle. It's my struggle to deal with what I've become, to leave the people that are unhealthy for me, to let go of the resentment I hold toward people in my life, to forgive... to have some faith that pain ends and happiness begins somewhere down the line.
Today, I spend the entire day with my daughter. She has become attached to me in such a way, (and you might think this is silly), she makes me want to cry. Sometimes I want to cry because I couldn't enjoy her before and i regret that. But most of the time, I want to cry because I'm so amazingly in love with her. She really is something special. I didn't feel that motherly connection for a long time. As ashamed as I am of that fact, I know that from here on, things will always be different. As far as my boyfriend goes, we are much more affectionate and happy together. We understand each other so much better now. He's not the only one putting into this relationship. He's not the only one understanding, loving, supporting and giving... I'm doing it too. We spend every evening together and we finally feel like best friends again. We do so much more together and as a family, it's amazing. Every day I think to myself How the Hell was I missing out on this? As far as the phone sex job goes, I quit. I couldn't deal with those people anymore and I'm sure sobriety has something to do with it!
Overall, Life is really, really good. Soooo I can't find a job, I'm working on a degree and I have a few thousand dollars in debt ... I have my life back and that's what is most important. I can't live a life that I do not have. Addiction is not a life. It's a death. And I don't plan to go there again. ;)

I'm Stephanie and I'm an Addict.

The Dread Disease ...

"If some new and terrible disease were suddenly to strike us here in America - a disease of unknown cause, possible due to noxious gas or poison in our soil, air, or water, it would be treated as a national emergency, with our whole citizenry uniting as a man to fight it.
Let us suppose the disease to have so harmful an effect on the nervous system that [millions of] people in our country would go insane for periods lasting from a few hours to weeks or months and recurring repetitively ...
Let us further suppose that during these spells of insanity, acts of so destructive a nature would be committed that the material and spiritual lives of whole families would be in jeopardy ... Work in business, industry, professions and factories would be crippled, sabotaged or left undone ...
Finally, let us imagine this poison or disease to have the peculiar property of so altering a persons judgment, so brainwashing him, that he would be unable to see that he had become ill at all; actually so perverting and so distorting his view of life that he would wish with all his might to go on being ill.

The dread disease envisioned above is actually here. It is addiction.

- Dr. Drew Pinsky

Childhood Trauma ...

I wanted to write about childhood and some of my tough memories as well as the more serious trauma's of my childhood. I'll start with the bad memories and save the trauma for last? Ok...
I love my mother but I resent her so much. I resent her for ever giving me that first pill. How could she be so careless with her own daughter? If your child couldn't sleep, would you give them a shot of heroine? Hell no, right? My mother should have known better because she was already addicted to the stuff. Why make me a victim as well?
It wasn't clear to me why I resented her until today. And after all the anger, I'm still worried sick about her. She IS my mother and she IS an addict.
A couple of weeks ago, I asked mom about her reasons for staying on the prescription meds and she had no answer. I asked her if she had any pleasant memories over the past five years ... she did'nt know. I asked her what she wanted to do with herself in the next ten years ... she didn't know. I asked her what she liked about herself (No, that's not a dumb question) ... and she snapped back and said "I like myself!". She didn't have any answers for me other than she "didn't know". It hurt me to see that someone I loved has absolutely no joy in their life. As far back as I can remember, my mother has been depressed and isolated.
As a child, I was lucky to have both of my parents married and living in the same home with me. Many people say that's enough to be greatful for. I beg to differ. Some households are better off broken than in tact. I don't remember my parents hugging except for one on Christmas. I have never seen my parents kiss or hold hands. Never. We did things as a broken family when I was a kid. We stopped doing "family" things by the time I was about 11 or 12 years old.
I was now older and I began to take notice of the behaviors around the house. I am not exaggerating at all. My parents spoke only to ask what was for dinner or to complain about something having been done wrong. They slept in seperate rooms. My mother was on the couch. She liked it there. She liked being alone and she even told me that she didn't like having friends nor did she want any friends. She trusted no one ... not even family. She didn't like herself at all. She would cover her mouth when smiling because she didn't like her smile. She would walk and talk with her head down, unable to make eye contact. She was always sucking in her stomach even though she was skinny. The list goes on and on. It took a lot of analyizing to get an idea of where my deep insecurity came from. I'm taking a luck guess: My mother. When my father lost his temper (which would be often if not every day), mom would put her head down and take it. She would not stand up for herself but she might answer back about once every few months. I love her but she was and is a doormat.
When I first heard that children, teens and even adults learn their behaviors from their parents, I thought it was ridiculous. I would say to myself that I knew exactly what I was doing and I'm old enough to make my own decisions. There is nothing worse than lying to yourself. I wasn't honest about how deeply things affected me. And it wasn't just mom. I picked up my anger and violent traits from dad. He would slam, break and bang things every time he was pissed and almost anything would piss him off. If he asked me to do something and I made any noise hinting that I was annoyed or unhappy about it, he was pissed. Yelling, banging, denial about the severity of his actions ... Yep, all handed down to me. So I came out of my mothers womb destined to be a depressed, angry, violent, insecure Addict.
Since we're talking about childhood and childhood "trauma", I'm going to write about something only four people in my life know about. Two of whom are my parents and one of which is the ... Wow ... I can't believe I still cannot say or write the word. The other person is the "predator". I guess saying that word makes it too much of a reality. It's almost as if saying that word means I have to deal with it. So here goes ...
I was sexually abused as a child. I was about 4 years old and, at the time, had no idea what was happening. The sickest part of my situation was that the "predator" was my very close family member. (Someone is going to kill me for writing this). I still can't go into details but it went somethng like this ... He would tell me we were playing house. He would have me close my eyes and he would pretend to feed me fake food that he made in the pretend kitchen. I would close my eyes and open my mouth. I knew something was wrong. I know I did. Otherwise, why would I remember that this happened? My worst fears came true when I confronted my mother about my suspicions (on some level I didn't want to believe my memory was serving me right) and mom said that I had told her what happened as soon as it happened. At the time, this family member was living with us. Mom said that she confronted my father about what HE did and my father basically said that wasn't possible. He pulled that classic "children make things up all the time". Mom kicked them both out of the house but in a couple of days, she let my father back in. The family member packed up and left shortly after. He had no choice. Now this is the story my mom tells me. Do I believe it all? Nope.
So resentment is haunting. It's something most people do not know how to deal with. Sure, most can forgive but can you ever truly forget? Can I ever stop feeling the what if's? Why didn't my father believe his 4 year old daughter? How could my mother not take further action against HIM for what he did to me? How could they overlook something so terrible? What's really hard to grasp is that my mother was also abused ... far worse than me and by someone much closer to her. So why would she allow HIM to get away with sexually abusing me? No one even thought about sending me to a counselor. No one ever spoke to me about it again until I confronted the situation a couple of years ago.
It's hard to think that HE knew what he was doing. He's about 7-10 years older than me ... my numbers could be off. So at the time of the abuse, he was a teen ... a pre-teen at the least. Didn't he know that sexual behavior of that kind is inappropriate? For years I convinced myself not to say anything because I didn't want to ruin his life. And what I had to say could potentially ruin his life. BUT, was he ever thinking about ruining my life? During or after the acts? No he wasn't. He may not realize the impact his actions had on me but hey, I guess he will now huh?
I'm sure I'll want to get some more things off my chest about my childhood but I think I'm going to stop while I'm ahead. I just took a huge, scary step toward recovery. I never would have imagined that I'd be sharing so freely ... my childhood was damaging. It wasn't nearly as bad as the many others who are abused. But abuse in any form is traumatizing. If anyone ever hurts or touches you the wrong way, you have to tell someone. Resentment is not something anyone should live with so deal with the things that have a negative impact on you and the things that are just not right. Face them head on. That's something I never did and I have to now. It sucks. But that's life right? I'll tell you what it is ... "It's a recipe for addiction."
I'm Stephanie and I'm an addict.

Burning Desire

I am 65 days clean. Just when I think I have this recoery thing in the bag, that miserable feeling creeps up on me. I was psyched that I wasn't feeling so sick anymore and because of that joy I paid less and less attention to the internal recovery I would struggle with. I'm beginning to believe what they say ... this IS something I will struggle with for the rest of my life.
For the longest time, (almost all my life), my mind has been plagued by self hatred, depression, anxiety and anger. I have always attacked myself about my appearance. I don't think there was a day in my teen or adult life that I didn't criticize myself. Downing myself caused me to be depressed and reclusive. My depression and low self-esteem caused me to have anxiety. I would have minor anxiety attacks when I had nothing to wear because I "didn't fit into anything". I would have anxiety attacks when I was around to many people. I would have anxiety when people were disrespectful ... All of these issues combined caused my toughest issue to become unmanageable.
I have always been an angry and violent person. At one point, I was even proud of the fact that I wasn't scared of anyone. I was proud that I had no fear of confronting and provoking someone with aggression or violence. I took pride in the idea that people saw me as harmless when, in fact, that was far from the truth. Now, I'm not saying that I could kick anyone's ass. But I am saying that I would argue or fight whoever was becoming a bother to me. At this point of my life, I am far from proud of my actions.
I became much more careless when I was using. It's amazing how much you realize about yourself when you get clean. Nearly every day, I would throw myself into a harmful situation. But I didn't care. I'm guessing that is why I was so self- destructive. So what if someone cut me? So what if someone found me and jumped me? I didn't give a damn. In fact, I was so angry and depressed that I had a suicide attempt when I was just 18 years old. As far as I remember, I wasn't trying to kill myself, but I was trying to get as much attention as possible. I wanted people around me to understand the severity of my situation. No one really took my anger and depression seriously. I'm sure everyone thought I was just being a rebellious teenager. No one had any idea things would ever get so bad for me.
About four weeks into my recovery, I wasn't feeling so sick anymore. I still had some shakes, anxiety, aching, insomnia, and much more BUT it was manageable. I felt better and better every day. Now I am 65 days into my recovery and I feel like I'm slipping. For the first time in over two months, I can actually relax on my couch and watch a movie without completely jumping out of my skin. I am finally sleeping more. I can finally take naps. But now that I'm healing physically, inside I continue to struggle. Without my beloved pills, I can't seem to manage my emotions most of the time. I can't get myself out of this rut. I want to start working again, going to school again, exercising again, living life again ... but there is always something in the way. I have no motivation to go back to the gym. My motivation should be that I want to be healthy and look better but somehow, that's not enough. That's a strange thing because my biggest issue is that I do not like myself. I want to go back to school but I have to pay them over two thousand dollars to go back. I don't have that money because I have no job right now. And for the first time in my life, I am having a hard time finding a job. So it's a never ending cycle. I have no idea what to do first.
Without something to do, I am getting restless and anxious again. I'm coming down on myself HARD. I don't feel accomplished. I have nothing to show for the time I spent on this earth. The sad part about my feelings is that I have a daughter and husband who love me very much and I still feel as though I have done nothing good with myself. I love my family but I don't feel as though I am good enough to have them.
So all I have been doing is kicking myself in the ass about what I am not doing and then doing absolutely nothing about it. Why is this disease so tricky? It's almost as if Addiction has played a cruel joke on me. Addiction let me go for about a month and then came back to laugh in my face. It still has me. I'm locked into this disease and I still do not have the tools to hack my way out. Where do I start the change? It's so overwhelming. My mind is spinning. I want to use to take away the pain. My craving doesn't go far enough for me to pick up but it's definitely stirring things up inside. How can I feel good sober? Does anyone know where to go from here? I sure don't.

I'm Stephanie and I'm an addict.

My First Pill

I'm 24 years old and I'm a recovering addict. Today I am 46 days clean. Sometimes I can't believe what I allowed myself to get sucked into.
I took my first Morphine pill when I was 17 years old. I didn't know much about addiction. Was addiction really that bad? How could a substance run your life? Disable you? Make you sick? Kill you? Hell, I had no idea what all of that was about. All I knew was, as soon as I popped that half of a Morphine pill ALL of my pain went away and it didn't hurt that I felt a little loopy. I remember going to my mother, who gave me the pill, and saying "Damn ma, I'm freakin' high!" and laughing hysterically. My mother was also laughing at me. Now, I didn't look like a fool, really. I was high but it wasn't like a drunken high. It was more of a floaty, happy, giggly high. No Pain! It was a wonderful first experience. I had no idea that I had just opened the door to years pain and suffering.
On September 8th of 2008, I took my last pills. It wasn't planned for that day to be my last day using. During that course of my drug use I had found ways to get my boyfriend (Radhames, but we'll call him Rad) to pick up my pills. I had to pay for my pills because I would finish my prescriptions in one day. I would lie to Rad and tell him I was just trying to help my mother out with her need for the same medications. He would give me hundreds of dollars all the while thinking that he was helping my mother. I truly thought he had no idea what was going on. But he did. He knew about my problem nearly the entire time. I'm guessing that he just hoped it would go away. He truly believed he was helping me. Ill never forgive myself for taking advantage of him the way I did.
After a while, I came to terms with the fact that Rad knew about my addiction but I never told him how much I used until I went into Detox. I was taking 25 Tylenol Codeine #4 (highest dose per pill) and 25 two milligram Klonopin a day. I also went out drinking once in a while and I was later told that mixing those drugs with alcohol could have killed me. I was working full time from home and I had absolutely no money and was almost $10,000 in debt. Rad didn't really know about my debt either.
On September 8th of 2008, Rad said he would not go pick up my pills. He refused to contribute or enable my disease any further. I was angry, panicking and instantly became sick. I knew this time was serious but I didn't want to believe it. How could he WANT me to be sick? Did he want me to kill myself? Does he want to see me in pain? He hates me! Everything in the book crossed my mind. I cried and stood up all night. The next day, September 9th, was my 24th birthday.
On my 24th birthday, I went into Detox at a local hospital. I spent the night there and the next day I was told that they couldn't care for an addict of my caliber and they referred me to Arms Acres in the Bronx, New York which was my neighborhood.
I was anxious, restless, angry, sad, violent, suicidal and the list goes on. As far as pain goes I had a headache, stomach pains, severe back and muscle aches and that list can go on forever. All of those symptoms hit me in the first 48 hours. It took roughly 48 hours because I was given a medication that I shouldn't have taken (a narcotic) in the emergency room. So that postponed my symptoms for a while. This journey hasn't been easy at all. As a matter of fact, it's a journey that I would wish on no one. But it is the most eye opening journey of them all and I would be honored to help anyone get through their journey successfully or prevent someone from ever stepping foot on this road.

My name is Stephanie and I'm an addict.