A Painful and Rewarding Journey, abridged.

I started using alcohol, marijuana and then Vicodin in middle school. I was depressed and my parents were getting a divorce and I was lost and afraid. My drug use progressed very steadily, I found people who smoked a lot of weed and they knew people who did cocaine and had ecstasy and acid and mushrooms and I tried everything. I had a big group of friends that had one goal, every day: get high. I stole a little, or lied to my parents to get money, or lied about where I was and who I was with. I had no idea what I was doing, this was mid-highschool. I had gotten in trouble for weed and suspended once before, but I had no perception or frame of reference for the trouble I was really getting into. I thought everyone got high, I really did. I also become obsessed with the idea that I would die before I was 18, and thought it was glamorous to die by way of heroin overdose.  I was very dramatic, and very depressed. 

Eventually I got expelled from high school for being drunk, (and a long line of other offenses) and then I was introduced to Oxycontin, and heroin. My LiveJournal from this time still exists, and it is full of "3 days sober" over and over and over. I didn't even remember it at the time, I didn't even realize I was trying to get sober and failing over and over. I had the same friends and we were all constantly talking about how 'tomorrow I'm quitting' and then you wake up sick and forget you ever said it. Eventually at 17 I was convinced I had a real problem and wasn't succeeding on my own. I went to detox and rehab and it was a very good experience, a few bumps in the road but eventually I got 2 years sober.

And then I dated someone who was emotionally abusive, and pounded into my head that alcoholism and addiction isn't real, and that it is nothing but weakness, a matter of willpower. He was very negative and said horrible things. He literally pushed a drink into my face, and thus began many more years of chemical abuse. Alcohol wasn't ever my favorite though, and I also had surgery (bone graft, holy fucking painful) at one point, and was on some pretty seriously strong opiates (tolerance is a bitch) anyway, went back to Oxycontin. They say in AA that there is nothing worse than a belly full of alcohol and a head full of AA, this is very, very true. This incredible awareness that you are completely fucked up, but stuck in it and drowning in the whirlpool of it all. The knowledge I gained in AA and rehab took away the ability to be in complete denial, and it took way more to feel numb, and I didn't have the group of friends I had before, I was alone and I was a shut in and I pawned everything that I cared about, and stole from my dad to pawn his things as well. I had no real relationships with anyone anymore. I remember very little from this time except walking the 2 miles to the pawn shop and then walking the other direction 3 miles to the dealers house and back to my house to use. Every. Day. I hadn't been kicked out but- only because my dad didn't know what to do. I returned to using heroin because it was cheaper and highly accessible. 

And then the house I spent time at was raided by the police, and I thought that... I thought that they would just let me go home. I was so delusional,  I thought crying and saying I was sorry and that I'll go to rehab was a tactic that would work with police in SWAT gear. It was never really THAT bad, my soul and my relationships and my entire being was broken, but I still had a nice warm bed and people who wanted to help. I have seen a lot of people that looked and did much "worse." Having a gun in your face and being taken to jail and strip searched was something that happened to other people, not me. Being put in the solitary confinement and then on suicide watch with a bunch of crazy people didn't happen to pretty middle-class girls like me. I was not above the law because I wasn’t homeless. This was a serious wake up call, and it felt horrible. I have very vivid memories from that week. I was sick and couldn't sleep and my delusions were being shattered. I remember standing at the glass and looking down at the guards in their huge booth of computers and buttons and phones, and watching one play a game on his iPhone all night long. I had this elaborate fantasy that he would walk up, see me at the glass and say "Oh! you shouldn't be in here!" and open the door and fall in love with me. I called my parents and godparents collect twice a day, and they never answered. It was so deeply and painfully humbling. 

I was let go without an arraignment. When I got home I screamed and yelled at my family for asking  me to go to rehab. I don't know why, my addict brain kicked in and I just... I don't know. I was terrified of starting over, I was sick and insane. They put their foot down and said I had nowhere to live if I didn't go to rehab, and I chose to leave. I used for a few nights in a hotel with someone that I remember nothing about. Eventually he checked out when I was away and I was alone, on a street, with no phone and no other options. I live in a pretty nice area, it was cold but I wasn't in danger. I was hungry, and I sat near a shitty restaurant with "Hungry" written on the back of my bail slip from jail. After a couple hours the manager of the restaurant offered to buy me a meal, and I ate it gratefully. I broke down and my mom picked me up, and I ended up detoxing at my godparents house for a long while. I was so sick. Benzodiazapine and Opiate and Suboxone withdrawals. I was severely underweight, could barely eat, or walk around or have normal bowel movements. I couldn't sleep and I couldn't be awake and I was miserable inside my body and inside my head. I wore this gigantic brown robe and showered only every couple days. My palms were sweaty and I smelled like old cigarettes. I had an appointment for rehab and I went, and it was good. I left after 2 weeks because my insurance ran out. 

I stayed sober, went to AA and was doing okay. Had many court dates but got off pretty well. The judge had been a drug court judge and he was impressed that I had gone straight to rehab and AA, had a sponsor etc. 

I don't know what I was thinking, but I was not recovered and wanted an escape- so I tried 'a geographic.' I took a train a couple states away to meet someone I had known online for 6 years. Without a support group, I relapsed soon after on alcohol, and then weed and Oxycontin as well. I stole and lied to him and manipulated and used him until he hated me. He was not acutely aware of my past and I slipped back into delusion effortlessly. I treated him terribly and have deep regrets about that. I attempted suicide while I lived there, I thought that there was no hope for me, that I had tried to be happy, to be sober, and I had failed. I ended up being kicked out and had to beg my family to buy me a train ticket home. I slept on my dads couch for a month. 

I continued to drink myself numb, because it was legal and accessible and I was broken. Eventually I ran out of excuses- I needed to be sober from all chemicals. I went back to the first AA meeting I ever went to, back when I was 17.  I cried to the room about how much of a mess I was, and how I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I was an alcoholic and an addict and I needed help. Many women came to my aid, and I did what I was told in order to stay sober. It has been three years since I had a drink or drug. More recently I have depended on therapy for my mental health and growth, but AA helped me a lot in the beginning, as I am sure it will in the future.

It feels like my past was a terrible nightmare, a memory of someone I don't even know anymore. I feel like a completely different person, and some days I have no idea who that is. I was 13 or 14 when I used for the first time. I never figured out what I like or what I want or how I feel, not really. My mind was always altered. I am 25 and figuring out who I am. 

Everyday is a lesson on knowing myself better, on relationships, and boundaries and selflessness. It has been an incredible struggle. Only very recently have I felt that I truly am recovering, and becoming a healthy, productive member of society.

It gets better. It gets a lot better. I have no desire to use drugs or alcohol. Sometimes when I walk around at work I can't help but smile and shake my head. How did I get here? Is this a dream? I fall asleep when it is dark, I am reliable and honest. My sister trusts me enough to take me to Europe with her, and it was amazing. I have a relationship with family members that I never even knew before. I am responsible and trusted enough to watch my baby nephew, and I want to. I own a camera again.

There is a ball of fire in my gut that had been extinguished, and every day it grows brighter.