addict-diary

[addict-diary]

Well. I went to Al anon tonight. And I’m sobbing. I don’t know what I was expecting but I guess i wasn’t ready for it to be so sad. For my own sadness to feel so amplified and echoed on each face in that room. I guess I wasn’t prepared to feel heard. Bottom line, I just wasn’t prepared. There’s another meeting Friday I want to go to, geared more towards my situation. Which I guess it’s good I didn’t run out screaming to my car which is how I felt after NA. I need to remember to not compare stories to my own. There was something beautiful in the united. We all had a common goal, a common pain. I got minor cult vibes but like I have a sick sick love for true crime, cults, basically anything macabre so my feelers always go up. Anyways, I’d call that mission a success. I really just be looking rough though because the lady at Dunkin gave me a free donut while I waited for my latte. So there’s that. Guess I’m off to read this Al anon book and cry over tacos. Hopefully I won’t need to update this tonight and I can get my shit together and actually sleep.

[addict-diary]

S, on the other hand, was not. He was drinking all day, even at work. I knew he was drunk. I’ve been with this man for years, with the family I have, with everything I dealt with my ex, with BEING A FUCKING BARTENDER FOR A HOT MINUTE, I know when someone is drunk. He would try to lie - which all addicts do. At a certain point he finally sought therapy but it wasn’t doing much to help, which is what he told me himself. It’s not me just summarizing what I think therapy is about. I have a therapist myself. One night he’s at a session. It goes for way longer then normal. I’m calling - he doesn’t pick up. Eventually about 8 minutes later which feels like 3 hours in my anxiety riddled garbage brain, he calls or answers. I don’t even remember. And he tells me he needs rehab. And that’s just about when my world fell apart. With all his faults and especially mine - he loved me. Even when I knew I was being hard to love. But I loved him more then I ever thought possible. I was terrified to have to live in our space without him. My day to day that I took for granted regardless of what was going on, gone. I abused so many drugs myself in my what feels like a lifetime, lifetime. Just because I’m not actively using doesn’t make me any less of an addict. I know that this is the best thing for him. My own feelings aside (there are many and I’m overwhelmed in a bad way) - I know how you need to have balls to make a decision like that. Balls I never had. It’s not really that brave to move and lock yourself away from those people, that life. I’m stubborn. Supernatural self control. I’m just fucking neurotic. It’s like day 9 of crying which is one thing I can’t fucking control but it would definitely be nice to stop walking around like I rubbed something I’m allergic to all over my face. My eyes are swollen shut. My skin is just - blotchy. I look like I’m having a rough time. Even though on a level that is incredibly selfish to sit and cry over something that is immensely great in the long run, I’m a sensitive crybaby. I care about things that are important, but aren’t realllllly important. Thinking of sitting here alone on our anniversary makes me bawl. Don’t even get my started about my birthday. I hate feeling like I’m completely out of control with a situation, and he was always the one I turned to, no matter what. I stopped smoking weed which I’ve never done for anyone let alone for the greater good of my own well-being over all, but also to aid and support his recovery. I never thought I’d be saying the words again but I’m going to a meeting tonight. Al anon but still. I think it counts. Don’t come for my neck I’m taking some baby steps in the right direction here. I never actually wanted to you know, help someone with something like that before. Don’t get me wrong I was happy and cheered on for others in their recovery but I wasn’t quite so invested. Clearly. I had my own run with NA that I would rather eat glass then ever do again and yet here I am walking pretty close to that flame. I saw a picture of him for the first time since he left. Jesus Christ is it even possible to want, to NEED to fuck someone you’ve been fucking for years, like that? And of course I look like ass except for the depression diet (oooooops) It felt like he was water and I’m d e h y d r a t e d. He looks so much like the man that pulled me in, in all the right ways. I miss being able to roll over to him in the bed. I miss him making the bed almost intolerably warm every night. I miss being cold when we’d shower together because he’s a water hog. I cried over grilled cheese and tomato soup like I think we get it babe you’re sad. Sometimes even I find myself insufferable. I just want him home. Sigh.

[addict-diary]

When I say days I mean like 2-3. I mention things to him, I started picking fights. I was nagging the shit out of him about his drinking. I should’ve known better, he just started to hide it. I can no longer handle the stress of my field at all, and leave all together. I go back to a place I had once worked, different department. I learned something completely new in about a week. And I made a bit more an hour then my last job. Turns out my favorite boss was an alcoholic and drinking at work (go fucking figure, right?) and is replaced with an asshole. By now, I was not only doing my original position but I took on another department as well. At the same time. Don’t I ever learn? My anxiety is at the point that I feel like I’m dying on the daily. Convincing myself of shit that wasn’t real. I was so convinced S was drinking or doing something at work I dreaded going home because I didn’t know what I was walking in to. He’d stopped or just forgotten to do things we discussed. He could barely remember plans. I think deep down I knew and it was easier to ignore. Things get so bad I go to my dr, who I admit I originally had found him years ago bc he’d give me Xanax. Where all my psychs would do at most is put me on too many anti depressants, mood stabilizers, anti psychotics, and other non narcotic anxiety medication that made me suicidal and have panic attacks. So I go and I tell him the last 3-5 years of my life have not been kind. And they haven’t. I lost friends, family, people I’d never imagine I’d be living without. Personal issues I’m having coming to terms with a family members health, my other best friend who we’ll call H is an alcoholic. I said everything about covid and the shit I saw being in that field. Which were things I shouldn’t have seen or been doing but the pandemic pushed all to take on multiple rolls. Never in a million years did I think I’d have to teach scribes (they do the patient charts for the doctors) how to draw blood. There were too many people dying in front of me. And he knew exactly what I meant so when I started sobbing about a second later he let me just cry and said how about we put you on something. Which I said please do not give me Xanax. It doesn’t agree with me, because I can’t ever just admit I’m addict who isn’t even actively using - I still feel the shame. I don’t want that label in my medical files. I switch to a low low low dose of klonopins. And finally I can breathe. I felt the anxiety melt away. It didn’t last long. I was good for 3 months before it wasn’t working anymore. So he double the dose. Not the dosage. And things were okay. Until they weren’t. My job was getting at me again and money was being stolen from me. I had eventually gotten covid - was even hospitalized with medical records for proof and videos because I was locked in a private room for hours which was not the norm for emergency rooms during the pandemic but I have a compromised immune system and I’m asthmatic so I guess that meant the deluxe covid treatment. I ended up being out for over a month because my lungs got a lot of damage from the rona, and previous cases of pneumonia as a dumb teenager with a mom who did not like to pay copays. They made it extremely difficult for me to stay there - going so far as to cut off my medical coverage “by accident” and having to fight with the 3rd party they use for benefits and shit. I was defeated and called an old friend in the same field, asking if he could help me out. Within 3 days I was working somewhere else. Again remember the pastures always seem greener at first. New environments always trigger my anxiety and now I was positively useless. I shook, I cried, I had multiple anxiety attacks a day. I could barely drive. I figure let me try one of these apps to see what I could do since I lost my medical coverage and I needed my medication to even think about getting out of bed. I use one, get my appt and eventually I’m given my original Rx and some new ones. Which are the first ones that have ever helped. For my entire life. Which was big for me. I was feeling good

[addict-diary]

But those things aren’t the point other then I have a lot of fucking people in my corner when I didn’t deserve it. S was different this time. Hopeful I guess. Maybe we were just so in lust - things got crazy. He changed something in me. I was fully clean by this time, feel confident about moving back to where I had most of my friends and enrolled in school in the medical field. He was my fucking rock the entire time. But somehow in it, I missed him start drinking. And then we had talked about smoking and I guess in my mind - that wasn’t the worst thing you could do.. but like they say. It does open a fucking door. We drank together, and while I didn’t like drinking, I can DRINK. Like kill a 24 rack by myself in 2 hours. Wake up at 9am drinking Jameson and bud light platinum all day at a baseball game, taking a nap in the car when we got to the bar and then continued to drink til 3 am. Like I said I come from alcoholics. I just don’t see the same appeal. Eventually we start letting bigger things slip. Coke for New Years, getting Xanax. And when you’re a drug addict you lie. You’ll lie beg borrow steal whatever the fuck you have to when your doing drugs. Even if that means lying to the person you primarily do drugs with. S had gotten Xanax a bunch of times behind my back and one night I came home and was able to confront him with proof. Passed out from too many with the bottle still in his fucking hand. I grab his pills, and his phone. I check his texts for the dealer I think it is, and put it back. I never snooped through his shit. At S’s credit (not really credit but you know I dated a real piece of work back in the day) he never cheated. When he did wake up he experienced what we drug addicts like to call “xanny rage”. Which meant he was fucking mad I took his pills and hid them before he woke up and wouldn’t give them back (I couldn’t; I took them lmao, so not funny but I have to laugh or I’ll cry) so he had me by the throat at the door. Instinctively I was afraid by the look in his eyes but this wasn’t new to me. I gathered what balls one can have in such a situation I said either take your hand off or fucking kill me. That’s your only 2 choices. And he let me go. Probably not ready for that shit to come out of my mouth but bitch I’ve been through it and I wasn’t afraid of men like that anymore. He backed up and somewhat calmed down sheerly because I think he scared himself. Perspective can be a bitch when you’re fucked up. I said no more or you’re gone. We were living together by now and I was working an extremely stressful position in the medical field. And for a while we were good. But his drinking was picking up. And so was my fucking anxiety. I was literally shaking which is not good for someone that uses needles on people 5 days a week. The stress of the job was getting to me. Covid had hit and I wasn’t ready for my 75 patients a day to become over 400. My 12 hour shifts were becoming 15 hour shifts. So I left. I was breaking down on the daily. Multiple times a day. S convinced me there were greener pastures in my field and like magic. I was offered a position for a completely different part of my field, with more money. How couldn’t I go? No more then 30 patients a day?! This seemed like a dream. And it somewhat was for a while. We had crazy good covid policies. I hadn’t been sick at all which was a blessing on its own. And like clock work my anxiety was bad. I was smoking all. The. Fucking. Time. Like wake up, smoke, eat, shower, smoke, etc. before work, before holidays, before fucking anything I was smoking. I had always carried that stoner chick label all through out high school and college and most of my life if I’m honest. And that’s the whole point of this shit sooooo yeah I was “that” girl. Me and S smoked a fucking lot. Both my parents still smoke to this day. Weed is legal now though so jokes on fucking me. Things were really getting bad for me mentally and bad for S with drinking. He was killing bottles of whiskey in days.

[addict-diary]

The years go on with F. I’m not sure if it was all the mdma and ecstasy plus coke and Xanax we were doing and slightly selling, but eventually I realize one day when we’re on the off side on again off again. At this point I’m well into MY twenties, living away from all drugs and people I know. He’s gone back to the state he went to college in. I believe he is now married with 2 children from the girl he was cheating on me with there. Good for them lol. I hope he’s changed because that man beat the fuck out of me for quite a long time. Maybe it was us just being toxic. Who knows. But I faired one too many beatings, too much abuse. And I stopped seeing/speaking to him all together. It wasn’t easy at first. There were a lot of nights I were with other men high as a kite just to not have to think. This started me on a dangerous path. I was on dating apps, and regular social media. My friends called me tinderella. It was, very fucking dangerous. I recall letting some guy I do not know, drive me 2 hours upstate, to smoke/do drugs, you know. Things got somewhat weird and I asked to go home and his fucking car wouldn’t start. I’d have said this was some ploy to assault me if I didn’t actually watch him call AAA with my own two eyes. It’s amazing the positions I’ve put myself in and somehow lived to tell the tale. Waking up in a strange apartment with some dude telling you to wake up and hide in the bathroom bc his fucking girlfriend was home. Yeah that was the last time I drank on benzodiazepines. I lost 3 whole days. People spoke to me said I sounded fine and that fucking terrified me. I still don’t fully remember that weekend. At one point or another I finally was back to somewhat normalcy, meaning I did no hard drugs only drank and smoke. Took the occasional low dose Xanax for actual anxiety. Things had gotten bad. I was taking my brothers adhd meds, taking pain pills like candy. My dad gave me ultimatums about drugs and rehab. Would you believe I had the balls to say no? I did some meetings, tried outpatient literally once and left. Being back to myself I went to my best friends cousins baptism or something and we were at the reception. I’m drunk and decide to buy a tinder gold subscription (LOL) and see someone who I briefly dated when F and I were off and then somehow ended up seeing both at the same time. That was not fun. But I decide to message this guy anyway who we’ll call S. And I say some dumb shit and that was it. We were texting all day every day. Similarly to how it was last time we dated but we weren’t fucked up out of our skulls. During my time with F, S had gone to rehab for drinking and drugs. I knew drinking was really a problem for him where I could actually take it or leave it despite my likelihood of me becoming an alcoholic. My heritage alone set me on that path and yet it did the exact opposite. I really preferred to not drink, it usually upset my stomach. Which says a lot because you know what else upsets your stomach? MDMA, ecstasy, cocaine, opiates, narcotics and the list goes on. I’d rather spend my money on drugs then alcohol. I never understood the fascination. It tastes terrible, you make shit decisions (didn’t need any help there) and sometimes you end up face down on a lawn in your puke with alcohol poisoning. Maybe that’s why I don’t care for it now. So for backstory, like I said, S had gone to rehab. But he also had a kid with someone else. (Now said kid is my best fucking friend, we have BFF bracelets we made together a few weeks ago) in the past that was a hard limit for me. I NEVER dated guys with kids. I did in high school on another F break (told youuuuu I’m a mess) and it got weird. I was 17 and not ready to be playing mom. I could barely make it to class on time. I was very selfish, I couldn’t not be the number 1 priority. And I still am but I’m working on it, it’s MUCH better then it was. What can I say, I was an only child for 10 years until my dad remarried. I have a half sibling I love to death and would do anything for. My stepmom is literally a fucking angel.

[addict-diary]

K was pretty, but she was noticeably bigger then pretty much anyone else in our class and she got treated kind of weird for it. Which was not okay. So she didn’t get much male attention at all. Rather I’ve been throwing bottles at landscaping trucks cat calling me for a solid year at this point. Even then I was angry. But we get back to my house, I get permission to sleep at K’s house where her single mom worked the night shift. My mom and grandma did not know this fact to well on into high school. We do our makeup, which consisted of bright, unblended eyeshadow, clumpy mascara and way, way too much eyeliner. Couple of dabs of concealer on those pesky pimples, spray my Paris Hilton perfume and put enough gel in my hair to “scrunch” it that it was actually crunchy. Bam, your girl is ready for the night. Complete with fishnets under my ripped jeans and a black tank top. We end up at the bay/pool which is clearly closed for the night if the gates are any indicator. But somehow one of them had keys. Pretty sure it was F as a friend worked there and gave him keys. We all end up on the dirty sand drinking bud light. K&B go off and me and F end up on the lifeguard chair awkwardly I might add. Making small talk, lightly flirting, it begins to DOWN POUR. Like scary can’t see in front of you rain. Me and K run around like crazy people in the rain. I don’t know if was the weed and slightly warm beer or the male attention but we were high on something. Eventually we start to get cold and run to the outdoor shower area to rinse in hot water - I was such a genius. F & B had ran for cover and watched us run and yell. F gives me his sweatshirt to walk back to the block F and K lived on. F kisses me goodnight and I’m done for. Apparently K and B fooled around but I got 2 different stories of what actually happened, erroneous detail. We run back to her house to put on dry clothes and recount every single detail as if it was a fairytale. To us it was. If only I knew what was in store for me with this guy. I would’ve stayed the fuck home. In the end we were together for 10 years. We are not any longer. Me and F spend the summer dating, knowing he has to go to college in the fall. Me only going into 9th grade - this was not a problem for me. I was never gunna love this guy, right? (Bitch you are dead wrong, even though you later found out F only wanted to lose his virginity before college and apparently I was perfect for that task). F and I spend so much time together, I end up meeting and becoming friends with the females of the group. A 23 year old we’ll call D and a 19/20 year old we’ll call J. K moves on to a different crush come fall and I’m still dealing with F. Despite my family telling me to stop talking to this 18 year old guy, I don’t. I’m now 15 (ayyyy summer birthday queens) and hanging out with 20 year olds with a boyfriend in college. At this point, I’m drinking every single weekend, smoking every single day and I’ve done pills and coke fairly frequently. I get in consistent trouble at home for coming back fucked up, late, etc. Fact I left out I guess is that F sold weed. I didn’t pay all summer and his friend who took over his sales, was instructed to serve me whatever I wanted and I was not to pay. I didn’t pay for weed for probably 3 years lol. I’m infatuated with F. He cheats on me at college, we break up. I take him back. Rinse and fucking repeat. For a decade. But let me not get ahead of myself here. It’s now become normal for me to drink, my family drank, I saw it all the time when I was with my mom at work. Coke, pills meaning pain pills and benzodiazepines were not scary to me. My dad took pills, he was fine. But dumb little me gets too drunk one night and gets alcohol poisoning, weed in my bag, newports, eyeliner and 20 bucks were all I had to my name plus my cell phone. I guess I can thank whoever robbed my basically dead body for the weed, $, phone and cigarettes bc I got in significantly less trouble then just you know, almost dying and ending up in the ER. I’m still somehow allowed to date F…

[addict-diary]

I guess for all this to make sense I’d have to start at the beginning, as if 1) anyone gave a shit and 2) the far out chance anyone actually reads it. I grew up with an addict for a father and alcoholic/addict of a mother. Which is shocking to actually write considering I had a fairly good childhood - better then most. My parents were functioning addicts. They always had jobs, I was never homeless. I had clothes, and food and all the things you think prevents someone from ending up where I am. Mental illness also definitely comes into play here as well but that’s later on. My parents did divorce when I was young though after a very tumultuous marriage. I’m sure you could find a million other stories like mine, especially where I live. And the funny part? I never picked up a needle, I never smoked crack, meth, nothing. Neither did my parents. So I guess your wondering what the fuck I’m bitching about then, right? And believe me, I know how this sounds having one parent addicted to opiate pills and another being an alcoholic with an affinity for narcotics. Drinking was “okay” because it was legal. The prescriptions were legal. I remember everyone drinking at every single family function as far back as my memory goes. I have quite a few photos of me as a toddler holding a can of Budweiser, obviously as a joke. But I feel like that little tidbit just gives you an idea of what I was working with here. My mom was a bartender, good places, mostly pubs. My dad did a manual labor type position with a union. Coveted position in this day and age if I might add. God I sound old. I turn 30 this year for context. (I know, what in the fuck am I doing on here of all apps? I have my therapist trying to figure this shit out that I have going on mentally so writing is a task I must do for my own sanity, as I’m told.) Mom had full custody, dad got me on the weekends for visitation I suppose you’d call it. Neither of them are perfect and I really only have a good relationship with my dad. I’m fairly certain the first drug I ever did was a pain pill. It was either that or coke. What a fucking cliché. Growing up I wouldn’t say I was neglected more - not really allowed to act like a child. I learned how to cook on the stove/oven when I was like 7. I had younger cousins and siblings I ended up being responsible for in terms of babysitting when I was super young. But I’ll still say it wasn’t necessarily bad until I got older and started diverting from what they thought I should be doing and started doing what all teenage girls do - fight/bitch/rebel. But I had the added bonus of my brain being fucked with a whole bunch of abandonment issues. Junior high rolls around and I meet 2/3 of my best friends for the duration of jr and sr high school. We all drank a little on the weekends, smoked a little weed. Nothing too wild. Got caught, grounded, rinse and repeat. So my one best friend well call K, had a HUGE crush on her older neighbors friend. We were in 8th grade going into 9th over the summer and they were in the class of recently graduated seniors in our school. Well only her neighbor, who will now be referred to as F, her crush was living in a way further town. Which actually pretty fucking gross in hindsight. 18 year old dudes entertaining 14 year olds. But for sake of story telling let’s call K’s crush, B. So K calls me one day and asks to hang out, I forget where we met but we end up walking down my street. And guess who pops out of my neighbors (never met) house. F & B pop out of my neighbors house who we will refer to as R. Turns out F, B, and R are all best friends. Well they give us attention and we’re crazy over it. F asks for my number, rather my AIM screen name - holy fuck I am old. So we make tentative plans to meet up that night with F and B. R had a girlfriend and was busy that night so it would just be us 4. We run back to my house freaking out that older guys paid us attention, and while this was not new to my overly developed early tits, it was to my friend who at that point was overweight for our age…