A non-addict who needs help (long post)
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A non-addict who needs help (long post)
I hope that this method of posting works. I can’t type online because the online computer is in the livingroom. I’ll save this to my portable drive and then try to paste it quickly. I’m not even sure that I should be posting anything. I’ve never been addicted to anything stronger than Newports 
but I’m afraid that was only for lack of opportunity. I liked getting high as a teenager and now, as an adult, I can remember how much I liked it. There’s my “dark side” (what I call my desire because the rest of my life is – or looks – so stinkin’ squared-away) that misses it and would get high in a heartbeat if I didn’t have to be so responsible or worry about scandalizing people. (I have an image to maintain. I always have and always will. Actually, it’s an image that I want to be.) So, I don’t think that I would ever actively seek to get high again. But, there are times that I sit back and try to imagine the rush – and, you know, I almost can. Still, it’s like an itch that can’t be found. You scratch somewhere else but it really doesn’t satisfy what you want. To all of you who have had your lives turned upside down by addiction, I apologize for the following comment: I don’t hate drugs, except when it comes to my kids (please don’t ask me to explain that one – I can’t even explain it to myself). I never had a real reason to hate them, I guess. I only enjoyed them. They had little consequence in my life, unlike alcohol. Although I’m not alcoholic, I have alcoholism throughout my family tree, and I know that I don’t control it well – dead giveaway should have been when I lost my virginity to a guy whom I didn’t know. He thought that, although I wasn’t sober enough to walk to the car, I was sober enough to give consent. Call me dense. That lesson took me a couple years to figure out. But, I haven’t had a drink in twenty years. So, here I am, all grown up, a woman who loves God, has a family and a job. Still, I know that if someone were to restrain me and were to force a needle in my arm, although I would scream indignantly for all the world to hear, I would be silently thanking them for the opportunity. (I can’t believe that I actually admitted that.) Am I simply crazy? Maybe I should be posting in the mental health section. Not for awhile though, because it took me over an hour to get up the courage to post this one.
but I’m afraid that was only for lack of opportunity. I liked getting high as a teenager and now, as an adult, I can remember how much I liked it. There’s my “dark side” (what I call my desire because the rest of my life is – or looks – so stinkin’ squared-away) that misses it and would get high in a heartbeat if I didn’t have to be so responsible or worry about scandalizing people. (I have an image to maintain. I always have and always will. Actually, it’s an image that I want to be.) So, I don’t think that I would ever actively seek to get high again. But, there are times that I sit back and try to imagine the rush – and, you know, I almost can. Still, it’s like an itch that can’t be found. You scratch somewhere else but it really doesn’t satisfy what you want. To all of you who have had your lives turned upside down by addiction, I apologize for the following comment: I don’t hate drugs, except when it comes to my kids (please don’t ask me to explain that one – I can’t even explain it to myself). I never had a real reason to hate them, I guess. I only enjoyed them. They had little consequence in my life, unlike alcohol. Although I’m not alcoholic, I have alcoholism throughout my family tree, and I know that I don’t control it well – dead giveaway should have been when I lost my virginity to a guy whom I didn’t know. He thought that, although I wasn’t sober enough to walk to the car, I was sober enough to give consent. Call me dense. That lesson took me a couple years to figure out. But, I haven’t had a drink in twenty years. So, here I am, all grown up, a woman who loves God, has a family and a job. Still, I know that if someone were to restrain me and were to force a needle in my arm, although I would scream indignantly for all the world to hear, I would be silently thanking them for the opportunity. (I can’t believe that I actually admitted that.) Am I simply crazy? Maybe I should be posting in the mental health section. Not for awhile though, because it took me over an hour to get up the courage to post this one.
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Join Date: Sep 2008
Location: England
Posts: 572
I really don't know what to say about this one, really am in early recovery myself. Only that one thing has struck me is that the variety of stories I've read and heard in AA seem to hold no boundaries. Each day somebody has something more peculiar or unexpected to smash any preconceived stereotype I may once have held. This makes me feel ashamed of myself now.
Only thing I suppose I could say is please don't say you are going crazy, it seems everybody has a story way off the norm (whatever that is) and the other thing is you ought to congratulate yourself for finding the courage to post.
Hang around here a while. Nothing to lose, don't ya think?
Only thing I suppose I could say is please don't say you are going crazy, it seems everybody has a story way off the norm (whatever that is) and the other thing is you ought to congratulate yourself for finding the courage to post.
Hang around here a while. Nothing to lose, don't ya think?
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Location: Upstate New York
Posts: 1,401
thanks
timzup,
Thanks for the encouragement. In between thanksgiving preps, I've been sneaking into the livingroom to see if someone would at least say hi. I had checked out some of the forums at work today and everyone seemed so supportive. I just don't know where I belong because I don't understand why I feel the way that I do and why I always return to having these feelings. The only thing that comes close to the way that I feel is how a little kid, who is verbally abused, wishes that someone would hurt her on the outside, just so that someone else could see how much it hurts.
Thanks for the encouragement. In between thanksgiving preps, I've been sneaking into the livingroom to see if someone would at least say hi. I had checked out some of the forums at work today and everyone seemed so supportive. I just don't know where I belong because I don't understand why I feel the way that I do and why I always return to having these feelings. The only thing that comes close to the way that I feel is how a little kid, who is verbally abused, wishes that someone would hurt her on the outside, just so that someone else could see how much it hurts.
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Join Date: Sep 2008
Location: England
Posts: 572
No problem, blimey I wish someone a bit more clued up would help out here. If it comes to not understanding oneself then please remember I'm a dumb alcoholic who can't even work out why I cannot stop picking up drink. Think I've accepted it but explaining? sheesh, it's more messed up than Stevey Wonder's Rubik Cube.
This site, somehow, and I don't know why, has helped me deal with my mess immensely even if it's just a silly joke here and there. Whatever happens, plod on and I'm sure you'll find a path. I'd go on futher but I don't want to be responsible for a burnt turkey.
Good luck.
This site, somehow, and I don't know why, has helped me deal with my mess immensely even if it's just a silly joke here and there. Whatever happens, plod on and I'm sure you'll find a path. I'd go on futher but I don't want to be responsible for a burnt turkey.
Good luck.
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Join Date: May 2008
Location: NY
Posts: 6,608
I can't help either, but I wanted you to know you are as welcomed as anyone else here and your post is valid. I am not sure exactly what you are seeking as far as advice though. You don't drink or use, but you have fantasies about both. I would say keep that way since the addiction runs so prevalent in your family. We all fantasize about something and fantasies are for the most part, harmless unless acted upon. Good luck and know we are here.
mle-sober
Join Date: Feb 2008
Location: Golden, CO
Posts: 1,243
Christin1225,
I agree that it's important not to say that you're crazy. If you're crazy we all are. (And for those of us with Bipolar or Severe Depression, that word feels itchy.) Just because you've been sober and clean for 20 years doesn't mean you're not an alcoholic or an addict. Just because you have a civilized demeanor, doesn't mean you can't have unruly thoughts that get strange and formidable. And just because your story is unusual doesn't mean you don't belong. If you think you belong, you belong.
Your post makes perfect sense to me. I don't know if I'm just making it fit my own story or if it really does. I'll try my ideas on you.
I'm married, live in the suburbs, have 4 kids. I have Bipolar that has been well controlled with medication for 6 months. I don't think this has to do with my Bipolar disorder but to be fair, I thought I should mention it. I feel so grateful to be lifted up out of the mess that was my life before I got sober and treated for Bipolar. I genuinely feel disbelief when I look at my life now. Compared to where I came from (psychiatric hospitalizations one after another, cops, manic episodes, terrible fights with my husband, blackouts, etc.) I feel like a completely different person. And I am really grateful.
Yet... but...
I feel stressed out a lot of the time. I work really hard all the time to do the right thing. To do a better job. To get it right this time. I am constantly outside myself watching myself perform the acrobatic performance that is my life. Do I look okay? Did I say something stupid? Do those people think I'm fat? Does my husband regret marrying me? Are my children in pain because of me? (And forget about all the tiny little stupid things like do the bathrooms have enough toilet paper, who'se going to pick up my youngest from school today, what can I cook for dinner, why is my hair dry, who the heck is ringing the doorbell, does my breath smell.....)
My mind is a constant jumble of critique and attempting to fix things and then more critique.
And I find myself praying that I'll get an aggressive, swift cancer. Or someone will swerve suddenly on the freeway.
I won't ever take any action that could put my life in danger. I have too much to live for and I love my children and family too much. I want to live.
But I can completely relate to the idea that if someone held me down and stuck a needle in my vein and I make a valient effort to fight them off and they still got the needle in..... well, thank God. Finally. Finally, someone took away my choice. And I could let go of all the work it takes to live and to be me. I could (even just temporarily) justify drifting away into a numbing fog of bliss. And no one could ever blame me. Because I'd been forced.
I get that thought. It totally resonates.
I don't know if it is the same thing for you. I imagine that there are many ways those kinds of thoughts could come into your consciousness. But I wouldn't call you crazy. Not by a long shot.
- MLE
I agree that it's important not to say that you're crazy. If you're crazy we all are. (And for those of us with Bipolar or Severe Depression, that word feels itchy.) Just because you've been sober and clean for 20 years doesn't mean you're not an alcoholic or an addict. Just because you have a civilized demeanor, doesn't mean you can't have unruly thoughts that get strange and formidable. And just because your story is unusual doesn't mean you don't belong. If you think you belong, you belong.
Your post makes perfect sense to me. I don't know if I'm just making it fit my own story or if it really does. I'll try my ideas on you.
I'm married, live in the suburbs, have 4 kids. I have Bipolar that has been well controlled with medication for 6 months. I don't think this has to do with my Bipolar disorder but to be fair, I thought I should mention it. I feel so grateful to be lifted up out of the mess that was my life before I got sober and treated for Bipolar. I genuinely feel disbelief when I look at my life now. Compared to where I came from (psychiatric hospitalizations one after another, cops, manic episodes, terrible fights with my husband, blackouts, etc.) I feel like a completely different person. And I am really grateful.
Yet... but...
I feel stressed out a lot of the time. I work really hard all the time to do the right thing. To do a better job. To get it right this time. I am constantly outside myself watching myself perform the acrobatic performance that is my life. Do I look okay? Did I say something stupid? Do those people think I'm fat? Does my husband regret marrying me? Are my children in pain because of me? (And forget about all the tiny little stupid things like do the bathrooms have enough toilet paper, who'se going to pick up my youngest from school today, what can I cook for dinner, why is my hair dry, who the heck is ringing the doorbell, does my breath smell.....)
My mind is a constant jumble of critique and attempting to fix things and then more critique.
And I find myself praying that I'll get an aggressive, swift cancer. Or someone will swerve suddenly on the freeway.
I won't ever take any action that could put my life in danger. I have too much to live for and I love my children and family too much. I want to live.
But I can completely relate to the idea that if someone held me down and stuck a needle in my vein and I make a valient effort to fight them off and they still got the needle in..... well, thank God. Finally. Finally, someone took away my choice. And I could let go of all the work it takes to live and to be me. I could (even just temporarily) justify drifting away into a numbing fog of bliss. And no one could ever blame me. Because I'd been forced.
I get that thought. It totally resonates.
I don't know if it is the same thing for you. I imagine that there are many ways those kinds of thoughts could come into your consciousness. But I wouldn't call you crazy. Not by a long shot.
- MLE
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Originally Posted by mle-sober 
Christin1225,
But I can completely relate to the idea that if someone held me down and stuck a needle in my vein and I make a valient effort to fight them off and they still got the needle in..... well, thank God. Finally. Finally, someone took away my choice. And I could let go of all the work it takes to live and to be me. I could (even just temporarily) justify drifting away into a numbing fog of bliss. And no one could ever blame me. Because I'd been forced.
I get that thought. It totally resonates.
- MLE
But I can completely relate to the idea that if someone held me down and stuck a needle in my vein and I make a valient effort to fight them off and they still got the needle in..... well, thank God. Finally. Finally, someone took away my choice. And I could let go of all the work it takes to live and to be me. I could (even just temporarily) justify drifting away into a numbing fog of bliss. And no one could ever blame me. Because I'd been forced.
I get that thought. It totally resonates.
- MLE
Member
Join Date: Nov 2008
Location: London UK
Posts: 242
Although I'm not technically addicted, as it's feelings, not substances, what I'm learning more and more is how addiction is a state of mind - a protection from a state of being that feels unbearable. The thing is, it's a 'protection' that makes things worse, and is a dark and twisty way that only masks what we're struggling with.
I would encourage you to look below the surface of these fantasies, and consider ways through your feelings. Counselling or therapy can really help.
The thing about life is you can't ever really run from yourself.
I would encourage you to look below the surface of these fantasies, and consider ways through your feelings. Counselling or therapy can really help.
The thing about life is you can't ever really run from yourself.
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