Four Years of Descent
Member
Thread Starter
Join Date: Feb 2012
Location: PA
Posts: 4
Four Years of Descent
Hello everybody. Today for no particularly reason I am compelled to tell my story. I figure I can try this online anonymously, because I always am afraid of seeming melodramatic or ruining my future by telling the truth. I doubt anybody will read my pathetic ramblings nevertheless.
When I was a kid, my life seemed normal. There were a few peculiarities, but nothing that seemed too drastic. We had enough resources. There were rarely arguments aside from those of the nature of silly sibling rivalry. I loved (and still do love) my parents, even though my dad was away for work a lot and my mom slept too often, or so I thought. My mom since early on had admitted that she had smoked pot for years, and that it was evil. She explained that she quit when my older sister asked about the smell one morning. She then started smoking cigarettes but we helped her successfully quit. I had minor anger issues when I was in elementary school, but a brilliant shrink changed my outlook and made me a pacifist for life. I had some friends, never did any drug or drank, excelled in school, but wasn't terribly happy.
Then in ate September, just a few weeks before my 16th birthday, I woke up on a Sunday morning to find all my family members sitting together in the living room. This was a somewhat rare occurrence and piqued my interest. Out of character, I plopped on the couch next to them. A silence gripped the room so tightly, like a desperate hand clinging for life at the edge of a cliff. I looked over and saw my mom crying. I asked her what was wrong and she had my dad explain that he was leaving her. As my dad transitioned to move to an apartment, I was just at the beginning of a long and painful transition.
Being the confused, very smart, and resourceful kid I was, I was set to determine the truth. The first clues were very subtle. I realized my dad had been going to church in the weeks prior, an act unusual for him despite his generally upheld morality. I set up my wireless packet interceptor that day, and by night I had access to his email. There I found a draft of a love letter addressed to another woman, identified by only her first name. She wasn't familiar to me, so I played detective. I tried several ideas until I found her identity through looking at my dad's employer's new employee list only to find a woman whose name not only matched that of the one in the email, but also lived in the same apartment building my dad moved into. She was 17 years younger than him. Meanwhile my dad repeatedly stated that he was seeing anyone, even though I never accused him. I went on to let and watched him lie to me about that for months.
For about a week, I tried to just pull through and cope. At school, I just tried to act the same, though I did allude to fact of the divorce to a couple people. I didn't want to upset anyone or impose the burden of an unpleasant truth. In the mornings I cried. After tests (which I'd finish long before anyone else as always) I cried. At lunch, I went to the library and "slept" -- a poor but apparently sufficient enough guise for holding my head and crying. In retrospect this might have been a plea for help, but in the end it was a plea that went unnoticed. This was disheartening. Coming home to find my mom sobbing in bed or on the couch was something that destroyed me; nothing I could do could end this misery.
One night, after a week or two, I'd had enough. At about 2am, I sneaked downstairs and held a sharp kitchen knife in one hand, and some hard liquor in the other. I decided I'd drown in blood or alcohol, and eventually picked the latter. I knew it was "bad" and that it'd **** me up, but that was the point. It turns out that it wasn't so bad, and seemed to help me cope.
For months I drank a couple times a week until all the liquor and beer my dad had was gone. (He kept a large stash, but rarely drank.) This went unnoticed -- I was an A student and not a trouble-maker, so I slipped through the cracks. I sincerely didn't need the liquor, I just drank it for the sake of drinking.
For a couple months, I returned to sobriety. It was easy, but my life still wasn't. I tried to remain optimistic but it was impossible. Living between my house and my dad's new apartment, which was far from any of my friends, was intolerable. It killed my friendships and the act of packing my **** to shift living places each week, the act which often was accompanied by my mother's tears, was of significant symbolic detriment.
I heard somewhere that drinking cough syrup with DXM only could not only make you feel sort of drunk but also high. I began drinking only half a bottle of Robitussin (177mg of dextromethorphan I think) to drinking two bottles (YUCK) every 3 days for about a month. This went unnoticed, even though I'd sometimes sneak out and steal bottles from the grocery store. Eventually I realized this lifestyle was just childish and silly, and quit.
In the coming months, I managed to acquire online some designer psychedelic drug, 2,5-dimethoxy-4-iodoamphetamine aka DOI. I overdosed and tripped hard for 40 hours, but I somehow managed to play it off as being sick to my dad (who fully believed me). This experience kept me away from drugs for about 6 months, except alcohol, which I acquired from classmates and drank only occasionally.
I then began experimenting with weed with one of my friends. It made me feel happy, connected, and carefree. We only smoked once or twice a month on the weekends. Over the summer my dad found my pipe and lighters (but not my literally adjacent remaining 2 DOI pills in a Tic-Tac container and water bottle full of vodka). My parents were really mad and threatened to drug test me weekly. I felt guilty for a while, but it only took a month or two to realize they'd never test me and my antics could continue.
My grades were higher than ever, and my PSAT scores basically secured me a spot as a National Merit Scholar. I managed to party almost every weekend, drinking a lot and smoking when weed was present, despite having few close friends. By senior year in high school, I not only partied but procured some more drugs online, name an addictive stimulant MDPV and a psychedelic drug 2C-E. I only used the latter twice, but the former several times a week, sometimes multiple times a day.
As my dad settled in with his soon to be trophy wife and sold the home I had grown up in and loved, I came to realize that my mom was pretty much a drug addict. She suffers from bi-polar disorder, acute anxiety, and borderline personality. I connected some of the dots from my childhood. She never quit smoking weed -- that was a lie. She didn't drink much, but when she did, she drank heavily. She had many medications which she didn't use as directed. Daddy woke up every morning to hide the knives and pills lest mommy kill herself. He wasn't really the bad guy; he was the victim of a spouse with mental illness and drug-using tendencies. My world was shattered again. My dad's marriage to the trophy wife didn't help me either.
But I carried on with my ways, sustaining great grades, working over the summer, feeding and looking after my younger brother, and keeping an eye out for my mom too. My drug use, although hidden, only became more of an issue. I took MDPV basically daily. I drank and usually got high at parties every weekend, but never had any remote romantic or emotional contact with any girls or really anyone. I was lonely but appeared on top of the world to the world. I even joined a gym and lost 30 lbs in a year. I graduated high school *** laude, and got into a good university with a great scholarship.
The summer before college wasn't good. My employer, for whom I had worked 40 hours a week in previous summers, sent me an EMAIL the day before I was scheduled to resume stating there was a mistake and that there was no position for me. I was pissed, and much to my detriment, left with countless hours of boredom. I used MDPV almost daily, drank whenever I could, and smoked weed a couple times. But I was poisoned more by loneliness and constant reinterpretation of my childhood. Since my dad was traveling a lot, I spent most the summer with my mom. Her mental health was in decline and I did all I could to try to help -- except for occasionally taking some of her meds -- her weed, klonopin, ativan, adderall, vicodin, and percocet. It was too easy -- she sent me to pick up her scripts for her, so it was easy to grab a few of each from each batch. I enjoyed them all, especially the percocet, which I used in strict moderation since I knew of its related perils. I justified it as a tax for all that I do to keep her and my brother comfortable.
One night my mom late at night complained of intense pain and had me drive her to the hospital. I sat in the ER for 6 hours and the doctors found nothing and sent her home. A month later, she called me at 3am begging for help. I was a little skeptical after the first time and incidentally on 1.5mg on klonopin. Nevertheless I came to her aid, called 911, and spent 10 hours in the hospital by her side. She had had a medical emergency that required immediate surgery. It turns out that I saved her life -- she would've died within hours had I not answered her call. I temporarily ceased all drug use, and haven't had MDPV since around this time.
My dad and my brother were in another state at the time, and my older sister was working her summer college job hundreds of miles away. For weeks, my life consisted of spending hours in the hospital with my mother, who in her morphine haze would occasionally call me a ****** for saving her life, and telling me that she was meant to die that night. I had to take care of that ****, look after the house, look after pets and plants my dad had at his house which was a 40 minute drive away, and somehow find time to exercise and eat.
Later in the summer, when that shitstorm had mostly passed, and my dad was back, I was scheduled to have Wisdom Teeth extraction. Secretly I was excited for it. Two hours at the dentist in exchange for pain meds and an excuse to relax and be sedentary? What could go wrong?
I was prescribed Vicodin which I mostly just took as directed, except I took it with Benadryl to potentiate and make me sleepy. I drank a lot of punch, ate yogurt, popped pills and watched movies as I comfortably faded in and out of consciousness. It may have just been that I was at last relaxed for once, but I loved it. When I went to my routine follow-up, I subtly talked the doc into refilling my script. He obliged, but only gave me 10 more 5/325 Vics.
At this point, I was no longer in pain, so I decided to have some fun. I performed a cold water extraction on 5 pills (25mg hydrocodone total) and consumed it. At the spur of the moment, I decided to pop the other 5 pills too. I felt so good -- indescribably good even. So much euphoria. I nodded off to sleep and puked my guts out when I woke up.
At college, I made some friends, but not close friends. Still no female friends. Still a virgin. I tried to start a new life for myself, but I failed. I drank occasionally and started smoking weed every day. I then procured some Valium, which helped me relax. Then I scored some oxycodone, which gave me a warmth and terrific feeling that helped me forget about my life for a few hours. I dangerously combined alcohol, valium, and high doses of oxy, apathetic of the risk of death, solely for the euphoria. Over winter break, I kept the drinking and weed smoking up, undetected, amidst another manic episode that my mom had. I still always kept my composure and remained kind and caring. I still and always will perform random acts of kindness.
A little over a month ago, I was awaiting the birth of my half-brother. I resented every aspect of the thought. As he exited my step-mom's body, heroin entered mine. And it continued to do so, daily, for about 3 weeks, until I ran out. To combat the urges I drank more frequently than I usually would (never to a dangerous extent), smoked of all my copious supply of weed, and popped the last of my valium last night. I only have a little alcohol left, which I don't drink except to loosen up a bit on weekends, plus the MDPV, which doesn't appeal to me.
As you can see, I am a meticulously sneaky yet careless drug user. I am tired of this emptiness, tired of having no reason to live. Tired of having a family life that is the source of so much agony, despite my selfless behavior to help. Tired of having no friendships that extend beyond triviality or mutual drug consumption, no sexual relations much less any form of friendship or contact with women. My studies at college are going decently, but who the **** cares? I am not suicidal, but why the **** should I care about anything? What reason, barring one of the financial variety, should stop me from staying ****** up? We all die some day, and in 100 years, who the **** is going to care, much less acknowledge, that I was ever here?
How can I help myself? Please do not suggest religious options. I do not consider myself an addict; I could easily live without drugs. But I fear that one day that might not be the case. I'm not too into recovery programs like NA or AA because they will just make me feel bad about myself and make me more acquainted with other people with easy opioid hookups.
If you have read this, I laud you; this means the world to me.
Any help is read, considered, and appreciated.
Best,
Annonymous
When I was a kid, my life seemed normal. There were a few peculiarities, but nothing that seemed too drastic. We had enough resources. There were rarely arguments aside from those of the nature of silly sibling rivalry. I loved (and still do love) my parents, even though my dad was away for work a lot and my mom slept too often, or so I thought. My mom since early on had admitted that she had smoked pot for years, and that it was evil. She explained that she quit when my older sister asked about the smell one morning. She then started smoking cigarettes but we helped her successfully quit. I had minor anger issues when I was in elementary school, but a brilliant shrink changed my outlook and made me a pacifist for life. I had some friends, never did any drug or drank, excelled in school, but wasn't terribly happy.
Then in ate September, just a few weeks before my 16th birthday, I woke up on a Sunday morning to find all my family members sitting together in the living room. This was a somewhat rare occurrence and piqued my interest. Out of character, I plopped on the couch next to them. A silence gripped the room so tightly, like a desperate hand clinging for life at the edge of a cliff. I looked over and saw my mom crying. I asked her what was wrong and she had my dad explain that he was leaving her. As my dad transitioned to move to an apartment, I was just at the beginning of a long and painful transition.
Being the confused, very smart, and resourceful kid I was, I was set to determine the truth. The first clues were very subtle. I realized my dad had been going to church in the weeks prior, an act unusual for him despite his generally upheld morality. I set up my wireless packet interceptor that day, and by night I had access to his email. There I found a draft of a love letter addressed to another woman, identified by only her first name. She wasn't familiar to me, so I played detective. I tried several ideas until I found her identity through looking at my dad's employer's new employee list only to find a woman whose name not only matched that of the one in the email, but also lived in the same apartment building my dad moved into. She was 17 years younger than him. Meanwhile my dad repeatedly stated that he was seeing anyone, even though I never accused him. I went on to let and watched him lie to me about that for months.
For about a week, I tried to just pull through and cope. At school, I just tried to act the same, though I did allude to fact of the divorce to a couple people. I didn't want to upset anyone or impose the burden of an unpleasant truth. In the mornings I cried. After tests (which I'd finish long before anyone else as always) I cried. At lunch, I went to the library and "slept" -- a poor but apparently sufficient enough guise for holding my head and crying. In retrospect this might have been a plea for help, but in the end it was a plea that went unnoticed. This was disheartening. Coming home to find my mom sobbing in bed or on the couch was something that destroyed me; nothing I could do could end this misery.
One night, after a week or two, I'd had enough. At about 2am, I sneaked downstairs and held a sharp kitchen knife in one hand, and some hard liquor in the other. I decided I'd drown in blood or alcohol, and eventually picked the latter. I knew it was "bad" and that it'd **** me up, but that was the point. It turns out that it wasn't so bad, and seemed to help me cope.
For months I drank a couple times a week until all the liquor and beer my dad had was gone. (He kept a large stash, but rarely drank.) This went unnoticed -- I was an A student and not a trouble-maker, so I slipped through the cracks. I sincerely didn't need the liquor, I just drank it for the sake of drinking.
For a couple months, I returned to sobriety. It was easy, but my life still wasn't. I tried to remain optimistic but it was impossible. Living between my house and my dad's new apartment, which was far from any of my friends, was intolerable. It killed my friendships and the act of packing my **** to shift living places each week, the act which often was accompanied by my mother's tears, was of significant symbolic detriment.
I heard somewhere that drinking cough syrup with DXM only could not only make you feel sort of drunk but also high. I began drinking only half a bottle of Robitussin (177mg of dextromethorphan I think) to drinking two bottles (YUCK) every 3 days for about a month. This went unnoticed, even though I'd sometimes sneak out and steal bottles from the grocery store. Eventually I realized this lifestyle was just childish and silly, and quit.
In the coming months, I managed to acquire online some designer psychedelic drug, 2,5-dimethoxy-4-iodoamphetamine aka DOI. I overdosed and tripped hard for 40 hours, but I somehow managed to play it off as being sick to my dad (who fully believed me). This experience kept me away from drugs for about 6 months, except alcohol, which I acquired from classmates and drank only occasionally.
I then began experimenting with weed with one of my friends. It made me feel happy, connected, and carefree. We only smoked once or twice a month on the weekends. Over the summer my dad found my pipe and lighters (but not my literally adjacent remaining 2 DOI pills in a Tic-Tac container and water bottle full of vodka). My parents were really mad and threatened to drug test me weekly. I felt guilty for a while, but it only took a month or two to realize they'd never test me and my antics could continue.
My grades were higher than ever, and my PSAT scores basically secured me a spot as a National Merit Scholar. I managed to party almost every weekend, drinking a lot and smoking when weed was present, despite having few close friends. By senior year in high school, I not only partied but procured some more drugs online, name an addictive stimulant MDPV and a psychedelic drug 2C-E. I only used the latter twice, but the former several times a week, sometimes multiple times a day.
As my dad settled in with his soon to be trophy wife and sold the home I had grown up in and loved, I came to realize that my mom was pretty much a drug addict. She suffers from bi-polar disorder, acute anxiety, and borderline personality. I connected some of the dots from my childhood. She never quit smoking weed -- that was a lie. She didn't drink much, but when she did, she drank heavily. She had many medications which she didn't use as directed. Daddy woke up every morning to hide the knives and pills lest mommy kill herself. He wasn't really the bad guy; he was the victim of a spouse with mental illness and drug-using tendencies. My world was shattered again. My dad's marriage to the trophy wife didn't help me either.
But I carried on with my ways, sustaining great grades, working over the summer, feeding and looking after my younger brother, and keeping an eye out for my mom too. My drug use, although hidden, only became more of an issue. I took MDPV basically daily. I drank and usually got high at parties every weekend, but never had any remote romantic or emotional contact with any girls or really anyone. I was lonely but appeared on top of the world to the world. I even joined a gym and lost 30 lbs in a year. I graduated high school *** laude, and got into a good university with a great scholarship.
The summer before college wasn't good. My employer, for whom I had worked 40 hours a week in previous summers, sent me an EMAIL the day before I was scheduled to resume stating there was a mistake and that there was no position for me. I was pissed, and much to my detriment, left with countless hours of boredom. I used MDPV almost daily, drank whenever I could, and smoked weed a couple times. But I was poisoned more by loneliness and constant reinterpretation of my childhood. Since my dad was traveling a lot, I spent most the summer with my mom. Her mental health was in decline and I did all I could to try to help -- except for occasionally taking some of her meds -- her weed, klonopin, ativan, adderall, vicodin, and percocet. It was too easy -- she sent me to pick up her scripts for her, so it was easy to grab a few of each from each batch. I enjoyed them all, especially the percocet, which I used in strict moderation since I knew of its related perils. I justified it as a tax for all that I do to keep her and my brother comfortable.
One night my mom late at night complained of intense pain and had me drive her to the hospital. I sat in the ER for 6 hours and the doctors found nothing and sent her home. A month later, she called me at 3am begging for help. I was a little skeptical after the first time and incidentally on 1.5mg on klonopin. Nevertheless I came to her aid, called 911, and spent 10 hours in the hospital by her side. She had had a medical emergency that required immediate surgery. It turns out that I saved her life -- she would've died within hours had I not answered her call. I temporarily ceased all drug use, and haven't had MDPV since around this time.
My dad and my brother were in another state at the time, and my older sister was working her summer college job hundreds of miles away. For weeks, my life consisted of spending hours in the hospital with my mother, who in her morphine haze would occasionally call me a ****** for saving her life, and telling me that she was meant to die that night. I had to take care of that ****, look after the house, look after pets and plants my dad had at his house which was a 40 minute drive away, and somehow find time to exercise and eat.
Later in the summer, when that shitstorm had mostly passed, and my dad was back, I was scheduled to have Wisdom Teeth extraction. Secretly I was excited for it. Two hours at the dentist in exchange for pain meds and an excuse to relax and be sedentary? What could go wrong?
I was prescribed Vicodin which I mostly just took as directed, except I took it with Benadryl to potentiate and make me sleepy. I drank a lot of punch, ate yogurt, popped pills and watched movies as I comfortably faded in and out of consciousness. It may have just been that I was at last relaxed for once, but I loved it. When I went to my routine follow-up, I subtly talked the doc into refilling my script. He obliged, but only gave me 10 more 5/325 Vics.
At this point, I was no longer in pain, so I decided to have some fun. I performed a cold water extraction on 5 pills (25mg hydrocodone total) and consumed it. At the spur of the moment, I decided to pop the other 5 pills too. I felt so good -- indescribably good even. So much euphoria. I nodded off to sleep and puked my guts out when I woke up.
At college, I made some friends, but not close friends. Still no female friends. Still a virgin. I tried to start a new life for myself, but I failed. I drank occasionally and started smoking weed every day. I then procured some Valium, which helped me relax. Then I scored some oxycodone, which gave me a warmth and terrific feeling that helped me forget about my life for a few hours. I dangerously combined alcohol, valium, and high doses of oxy, apathetic of the risk of death, solely for the euphoria. Over winter break, I kept the drinking and weed smoking up, undetected, amidst another manic episode that my mom had. I still always kept my composure and remained kind and caring. I still and always will perform random acts of kindness.
A little over a month ago, I was awaiting the birth of my half-brother. I resented every aspect of the thought. As he exited my step-mom's body, heroin entered mine. And it continued to do so, daily, for about 3 weeks, until I ran out. To combat the urges I drank more frequently than I usually would (never to a dangerous extent), smoked of all my copious supply of weed, and popped the last of my valium last night. I only have a little alcohol left, which I don't drink except to loosen up a bit on weekends, plus the MDPV, which doesn't appeal to me.
As you can see, I am a meticulously sneaky yet careless drug user. I am tired of this emptiness, tired of having no reason to live. Tired of having a family life that is the source of so much agony, despite my selfless behavior to help. Tired of having no friendships that extend beyond triviality or mutual drug consumption, no sexual relations much less any form of friendship or contact with women. My studies at college are going decently, but who the **** cares? I am not suicidal, but why the **** should I care about anything? What reason, barring one of the financial variety, should stop me from staying ****** up? We all die some day, and in 100 years, who the **** is going to care, much less acknowledge, that I was ever here?
How can I help myself? Please do not suggest religious options. I do not consider myself an addict; I could easily live without drugs. But I fear that one day that might not be the case. I'm not too into recovery programs like NA or AA because they will just make me feel bad about myself and make me more acquainted with other people with easy opioid hookups.
If you have read this, I laud you; this means the world to me.
Any help is read, considered, and appreciated.
Best,
Annonymous
Member
Join Date: Nov 2011
Posts: 2,258
Let me begin by saying I am very glad you wrote!! Welcome to SR! While I have only been on here for a few months, I have found this site beyond helpful. I can tell you are hurting And tired of chasing. I feel the same way, desperate to feel something, but that something for so long has been fulfilled by drugs. I do believe there is hope though. Sounds like you have the baggage of family issues just like majority of people these days. I ran far from my family, mom is also an addict, I ran as far as China!! And still here. I do think that as bad as we have it we could be way worse. Read through some of these posts and you will learn quickly. At least you are young, smart and have your life somewhat together. Give it ten more years of abuse and where will you be then?
Grateful to be free
Join Date: May 2009
Location: Arizona
Posts: 3,680
Hi, yes I did read it, and I identify. I didn't have your exact story, but darn close enough. I'm a little like your mom too.
I hope you stick around here, read and see how and if you identify with some of the people here, or at least some of the experiences and stories.
You don't have to be a "typical" alky/druggie to be an addict or to have a serious abuse problem. And I, like you, could stop at any time...but I could never not return when those particular feelings and situations arose again. I didn't need it every day, but there were more and more times when I couldn't go without it. And when I indulge...I indulge big time. I get into the "I don't give a ****" frame of mind and feel like I deserve a break and I take it.
All those years I put into taking care of everyone, everything...and what did it get me? Appreciation? Lasting satisfying friendships? No, I felt more and more alone, alienated and taken advantage of. FU world, F U!
I ended up F'n myself.
I'm working on it.
you don't have to be a stereotype substance abuser before you can recover. You've earned a place here. You have a right to a better life.
I hope you stick around here, read and see how and if you identify with some of the people here, or at least some of the experiences and stories.
You don't have to be a "typical" alky/druggie to be an addict or to have a serious abuse problem. And I, like you, could stop at any time...but I could never not return when those particular feelings and situations arose again. I didn't need it every day, but there were more and more times when I couldn't go without it. And when I indulge...I indulge big time. I get into the "I don't give a ****" frame of mind and feel like I deserve a break and I take it.
All those years I put into taking care of everyone, everything...and what did it get me? Appreciation? Lasting satisfying friendships? No, I felt more and more alone, alienated and taken advantage of. FU world, F U!
I ended up F'n myself.
I'm working on it.
you don't have to be a stereotype substance abuser before you can recover. You've earned a place here. You have a right to a better life.
Your attitude, not your aptitude, will determine your altitude
Join Date: Dec 2006
Location: Oxnard (The Nard), CA, USA.
Posts: 13,954
Thanks for sharing you story.
You write: That's not going to be a problem. There other ways to get your life back in order that are just as effect as AA/NA.
You can continue your participation here at SR, doing the same has helped many other people with issues with drugs/alcohol. Also there are secular life skills and recovery tools that help you live a productive life drug free. Bellow are a few links to resources that interest you.
You write:
Originally Posted by thinice
I'm not too into recovery programs like NA or AA because they will just make me feel bad about myself and make me more acquainted with other people with easy opioid hookups.
You can continue your participation here at SR, doing the same has helped many other people with issues with drugs/alcohol. Also there are secular life skills and recovery tools that help you live a productive life drug free. Bellow are a few links to resources that interest you.
SMART Tools and SMART Articles
Cognitive Behavioral Therapy Recovery Tools Recovery Resources from cbtrecovery.com
DBT Life Skills For Emotional Health
Rational Recovery: The New Cure for Substance Addiction. By Jack Trimpey. (Google book preview including the Addiction Voice Recognition Technique or the AVRT)
You can make all the positive changes that you deem necessary. Diligence and persistence can do wonders in rearranging ones life for the better. I has for me as a once hopeless rock bottom drug addict.
Cognitive Behavioral Therapy Recovery Tools Recovery Resources from cbtrecovery.com
DBT Life Skills For Emotional Health
Rational Recovery: The New Cure for Substance Addiction. By Jack Trimpey. (Google book preview including the Addiction Voice Recognition Technique or the AVRT)
Member
Join Date: Mar 2010
Location: Sanford, Maine
Posts: 75
Thinice,
It's clear to me, and I'm sure many of my fellow addicts in recovery will agree, that you have not even remotely come to grips yet with what it means to be an addict. You sate that you could easily live without drugs with no problem. If that's the case here's some free advice. DO IT TODAY. You will be amazed at home many of your problems will begin resolving themselves once you face them with a clean mind and soul. I wish you nothing but the best but you must be honest with yourself. Get out while you can and begin changing your outlook on life. You are way to young to have such a defeated attitude.
It's clear to me, and I'm sure many of my fellow addicts in recovery will agree, that you have not even remotely come to grips yet with what it means to be an addict. You sate that you could easily live without drugs with no problem. If that's the case here's some free advice. DO IT TODAY. You will be amazed at home many of your problems will begin resolving themselves once you face them with a clean mind and soul. I wish you nothing but the best but you must be honest with yourself. Get out while you can and begin changing your outlook on life. You are way to young to have such a defeated attitude.
Member
Join Date: Oct 2011
Location: NJ
Posts: 594
Welcome Thinice!!!
In my experience with drinking the end, days seemed very hopeless. This was due to the alcohol itself. If you stop using, you'll feel hope again!
You will meet a lot of nice people here. I even consider a few friends! Stick around!!!
In my experience with drinking the end, days seemed very hopeless. This was due to the alcohol itself. If you stop using, you'll feel hope again!
You will meet a lot of nice people here. I even consider a few friends! Stick around!!!
Member
Join Date: Aug 2011
Posts: 213
you wrote"who the **** in going to care"......, who , who.....your first problem, because it should be YOU.....i suggest you look into why you dont care about yourself i think it will lead you to alot of the problems you are going through...just my thoughs , take care
Member
Thread Starter
Join Date: Feb 2012
Location: PA
Posts: 4
Thanks for the replies everyone -- it's refreshing to see all these resources and opinions from people who can relate to at least some extent.
I've done a lot of reading and thinking. I think many of my problems stem from perhaps a mood disorder, but more generally a lack of meaningful friendships with others. I can't deny that I've acted out of control at times, but I'm confident I can stop unhealthy and especially compulsive drug use by trying to sort out some of my problems.
Here's a plan of attack that I'll be trying to follow:
I've done a lot of reading and thinking. I think many of my problems stem from perhaps a mood disorder, but more generally a lack of meaningful friendships with others. I can't deny that I've acted out of control at times, but I'm confident I can stop unhealthy and especially compulsive drug use by trying to sort out some of my problems.
Here's a plan of attack that I'll be trying to follow:
- I must not purchase any drugs
- If I get cravings (rarely I do unless I actually have the drug in my possession) I will console myself through hobbies like playing music
- No alcohol or drug use on weekdays
- On weekends, no drugs besides alcohol or weed. These will need to be used in moderation.
- No drinking or smoking alone (the latter shouldn't be an issue, since I will prevent myself from buying any)
- I'll try to find some sober weekend activities that I can look forward to, such as jamming with friends. I think one reason I abused drugs was that it was something I could look forward to and help me get through the day
- Should I become friends with a hard drug user, I must cut my ties with such a person, lest I be tempted
- I must be honest with myself about my drug use and work toward resolving the inner conflicts that probably provoke said use
Member
Join Date: Feb 2012
Location: Atlanta, GA
Posts: 16
Your just like me... PERFECT kid (in school), bored- getting done in class early.. Doing what was around- (me-was weed and alcohol), parents came close to divorce- but my "drug free" parents worked it out and im just the FAMILY ****** LOSER, the one that shames every1, even though im JUST experimental-- but what you have to see bro is that it turns to ADDICT real quick.. Im 28 years old- you seem with your story that your younger.. And, ive had my PROBLEMS with DRUGS, but in the end YOU HAVE AN ADDICTIVE PERSONALITY LIKE ME.. Whether its drugs, sex, or ROCK and ROLL-- you feel me>?? So we (every1 like that) has it harder.. Im still coping with LOWERING MY DOSAGE, and not stopping, but gettin ready for the PSYCHOLOGICAL BATTLE thats bout to happen.. Been married, DIVORCED, and got a 7 yr old.. Life gets ****** UP, and drugs make it worse.. I had 2 rules entering the drug game at 16, that 1- i would NEVER SMOOKE CRACK, and 2- i WOULD NEVER shoot up, ive hated ****** needles since i was a kid.. BUT, recently, because of what pain pill was going around (Diuladid), being "experimental", its best to shoot it up.. So guess what- one week from then, i was shooting myself up-- 6 months later, here the **** i am.. Thank god for SOBER RECOVERY.. i kno who i used to be, and im NOT that person anymore.. I owe it to my SON to recover, and be able to help him if he ever goes to BATTLE DRUGS, and let him kno, instead of being "drug free", and told pay attention to what they say about drugs at school (D.A.R.E. and ****), so even though im the FAMILY NAME WRECKER, at least i saw the other side of it.. Dont wanna rant, but your story was inspirational, and reminded me of myself, but bottom line....
COME TO GRASP BRO BEFORE ITS TOO LATE, FIND OTHER POSITIVE EXPERIMENTS TO TRY!
COME TO GRASP BRO BEFORE ITS TOO LATE, FIND OTHER POSITIVE EXPERIMENTS TO TRY!
Member
Join Date: Feb 2006
Location: middle earth
Posts: 1,002
Hi Thin
Lots of good advice being given here on this thread.
Personally, I think you are making it so very complicated and making lists of what to do or what not to do are mere distractions from the real matter in hand. No matter your experiences and growing up - life is just life - happens to everyone. And not everyone finds himself using drugs/alcohol................. mood altering substances....
I suspect you seek to escape from your problems by using. And I truly believe that you have to take a long hard look at yourself in the mirror and see yourself for what you really are. Not so easy to do. You may find so many reasons and excuses........ as I think you do in the post above - dont u think? And then - only then - when you get brutally honest with yourself will you find a way to combat your situation.
When you do - you will cease to make "plans" and lists of things you intend to do to - for it will become so obvious that this is a sort of substitutive behaviour. Really fooling yourself........... We've all done it. No more so than myself. And it prolongs the agony and prevents a person from starting to get better.................
Honestly - it really is dead simple. Quit using mind altering substances. Live your life as well as you can. Be positive and take up all the challenges which are offered to you.
You will become fulfilled, happy and contented.
Dont complicate something which is so simple. (not easy - but simple)
I wish you well.
woops
Lots of good advice being given here on this thread.
Personally, I think you are making it so very complicated and making lists of what to do or what not to do are mere distractions from the real matter in hand. No matter your experiences and growing up - life is just life - happens to everyone. And not everyone finds himself using drugs/alcohol................. mood altering substances....
I suspect you seek to escape from your problems by using. And I truly believe that you have to take a long hard look at yourself in the mirror and see yourself for what you really are. Not so easy to do. You may find so many reasons and excuses........ as I think you do in the post above - dont u think? And then - only then - when you get brutally honest with yourself will you find a way to combat your situation.
When you do - you will cease to make "plans" and lists of things you intend to do to - for it will become so obvious that this is a sort of substitutive behaviour. Really fooling yourself........... We've all done it. No more so than myself. And it prolongs the agony and prevents a person from starting to get better.................
Honestly - it really is dead simple. Quit using mind altering substances. Live your life as well as you can. Be positive and take up all the challenges which are offered to you.
You will become fulfilled, happy and contented.
Dont complicate something which is so simple. (not easy - but simple)
I wish you well.
woops
I Am Burning ; I Will Rise
Join Date: Feb 2012
Posts: 286
Thanks for sharing your story. You're really not much different than a lot of people on here, including myself (drug and alcohol laden mom, good in school, helpful towards my family, siblings and a broken home...), and I mean that as I relate, not that it's any easier or harder for either of us or anyone else. But no reason to isolate yourself into "I am this person who no one cares about or understands"....I've only been on here for a few days....but I've spent hours throughout the days reading and posting and reading and posting...and I've never felt so much better about my addiction and recovery. I personally don't have any family or friends (not using) that understand what I'm going through or even near me to offer support, it's just me, and at times it's a horribly lonely and desolate feeling. But the people on here aren't people that just know your story....these are people just like you, some better, some worse, some addicted still, some clean for ages.....but everyone who has gone through the hoops of drugs and/or alcohol have seen or caused any number of tragedies, with and without the help of substances. I think it's really good of you to open up about all that's happened and where you are. Big step. I can definitely say that I've never had such an easy time relating to other people in the same or similar problems as I have on here....and I've blatantly watched people beg and cry and get sick over drugs they wanted/needed while I gave my sympathetic apologies and turned around and dosed myself, not caring what they were going through as long as I was good. But it's so helpful, it's encouraging and promising when you see how much everyone cares and understands. I do have concern for you and heroin....not to be rude, but I've never known a heroin user to NOT be an addict, or be able to easily live without them....that's the complete opposite of heroin. And people don't generally start a heroin habit if it's not a problem. It seems like some of your social problems, as was mentioned I believe, is more associated with the drugs than you might think. I've filled many moons time with a great buzz and not a care in the world I was alone and lonely....my best friend was already coursing through me....and when that happens, you don't give a crap if you get better or worse or have friends or not...nothing matters, and so there's nothing better to strive for, and slowly the drugs stop being the party and become the answer, for everything. I'm typing too much, but I hope you stick around and I hope you choose to get clean now, if you believe it is that easy, and I hope it is. If you don't believe you're an addict now, give yourself a few months or a year, I promise you'll be looking back trying to figure out when you became an addict, I did. *YOU HAVE FRIENDS HERE* Take your life back and pursue all that you think you never had, it's all still here....friends, girls, money, time....it didn't go anywhere, but don't lock yourself away from it bud. Take care and feel better.
Member
Join Date: Jan 2012
Location: In the South
Posts: 228
Thinice, welcome to SR. You did a really good job of outlining your background and sharing your story with us. I commend you for your writing skills, you are very good and in fact seem to have a gift for expressing yourself well in writing. Writing/journaling is a healthy outlet.
I have never been addicted to anything, but I have a 26 year old son who is an addict, who shoots oxys/roxys, and h, and pretty much everything else, takes the k-pins and/or xanax (the peanut butter and jelly combo) with them, and is on methadone. A deadly combo. I think there were times early on, about 6 years ago, when he could have quit before too much change occured in the neuro-receptors of his brian, but that's all changed now. My AS was not a religious person, but he now worships his god morpheus.
I've never smoked cigarettes either. I tried very hard when I was 16, and failed miserably. But I've never met one person who smokes 2 packs a day who looks back and says they sure are glad they started smoking. And of the people I know, or have known (several are now deceased), mostly associates of my AS, who use/sniff/injest/shoot oxys/roxys/heroin, I have never heard one say they are glad they started and kept it up. I say this to you because if it is as you say, and you are not yet an addict, you may still have the choice to walk away.
I may be wrong, but I think that 100 years from now, it does make a difference. I think about that one quite often.
You have found a good place here, among like-kind. Welcome. As we say in the South, "Pull up a chair and stay a while."
I have never been addicted to anything, but I have a 26 year old son who is an addict, who shoots oxys/roxys, and h, and pretty much everything else, takes the k-pins and/or xanax (the peanut butter and jelly combo) with them, and is on methadone. A deadly combo. I think there were times early on, about 6 years ago, when he could have quit before too much change occured in the neuro-receptors of his brian, but that's all changed now. My AS was not a religious person, but he now worships his god morpheus.
I've never smoked cigarettes either. I tried very hard when I was 16, and failed miserably. But I've never met one person who smokes 2 packs a day who looks back and says they sure are glad they started smoking. And of the people I know, or have known (several are now deceased), mostly associates of my AS, who use/sniff/injest/shoot oxys/roxys/heroin, I have never heard one say they are glad they started and kept it up. I say this to you because if it is as you say, and you are not yet an addict, you may still have the choice to walk away.
I may be wrong, but I think that 100 years from now, it does make a difference. I think about that one quite often.
You have found a good place here, among like-kind. Welcome. As we say in the South, "Pull up a chair and stay a while."
Currently Active Users Viewing this Thread: 1 (0 members and 1 guests)
