- Drugs
- Friends & Family
- Mental Health
My addiction really began in seventh grade when I was smoking pot and drinking while cutting classes, I think. Throughout the “disco era”, I continued by dancing the nights away using alcohol and cocaine, all the while never realizing that what I was doing had anything to do with addiction. I wasn’t hooked, yet I was. I used whatever caused an altered state in my psyche.
I worked, served in the military, got married (to a heroin addict), but stopped using all substances when I became pregnant. I didn’t even realize early on that my husband WAS an addict! I started to use heroin with my husband after my son was born. I was able to hide it for quite some time, but everyone around me, including my parents, finally found me out.
I was a lucky one, I became sickened by what I saw in myself and my husband, who was very deeply entrenched in his own addiction.
(I will add that we separated some 30 years ago and he is now 61 and still addicted. But I digress.)
I sought help from a local methadone clinic where I got comprehensive care. However, I still used. I met another addict with whom I had a second child– a methadone addicted baby. (Thank God today she is a happy, healthy 30-year-old. She is clean, with a child of her own.)
I ran away with that man and continued at another clinic in a distant state. I got sick of it all and decided to go cold turkey, as did he, and lived a somewhat normal family life and even had three more children (total of five). He became violent due to alcohol use and I eventually ran from him, too.
I landed back in my home state after ten years away, but this time I was clean and sober with five kids to begin again.
I started a new job that led to a lucrative career where I worked selling insurance for eleven years. It wasn’t a party. Life was hard, raising all those kids alone without child support from either dad, but we made it and I was still clean. I was clean until I started drinking again, which led to smoking crack. I lost my job, got evicted twice, and even took my kids to live in a shelter.
I was then diagnosed with bipolar disorder while in an intensive care outpatient program. I received treatment and was finally able to get clean again. But not before losing two of my youngest children to the system and foster homes.
My two youngest graduated high school out of my custody. They had even refused visitations from me at first, because they were so hurt and angry. Eventually they did come around and with treatment for my underlying mental health condition, I got clean once more. By then I was 48 years old.
Today, most of my children are doing well. My baby just graduated college and actually lives with me– I support her. My oldest boy is in recovery, and my middle girl is not addicted, but uses recreationally and is a dealer of crack.
I am on Social Security, being disabled and unable to hold a job due to two mental disorders, which I’ve been told probably existed most of my life, from teens to present.
I’ve been clean and sober now nine years now. I went through varying periods of sobriety over my 58 years and enjoyed that time immensely. I’m now happy, and very fortunately healthy, considering all the using I did. I must always admit to my health care providers about my history for fear they might give me a narcotic and set me off again.
It seems like my whole life had been a battle against drugs and alcohol and mental disease. I still struggle. I follow many websites to share my story and maybe give at least one person hope. There IS hope for a normal life. I am living proof. I take my meds, don’t drink or smoke or use illicit drugs…but I will NEVER stop my fight to stay clean.
Here’s to praying I win this fight until the end of my days. I’ve lost so much time just using and struggling.
Get clean for you, for all your hopes and dreams. If it works for you, get clean for those you love. You cannot do it alone. Chances are, you may have underlying factors that drive you to use. Get treatment. It’s really much easier than you think, I had nine inpatient treatments! Being locked in isn’t as bad as selling yourself, your soul, or possibly killing yourself through overdose and disease. You may carry the “addictive gene”.
Whatever your story, I send my prayers that you find what works for you. Peace and love!