My Story
~Author of My Life~
Thread Starter
Join Date: May 2003
Location: Doing what I thought I couldn't....
Posts: 4,796
My Story
It's hard to believe I have been working on my recovery for over a year. I am not quite clean for one whole year, but I am clean TODAY and have been since Spring of 2004.
My addiction began quite young. I was about ten, I had a prescription for codeine after an ingrown toenail operation that I absolutely fell in love with. My father also always had plenty of scripts around and I learned quite young that if you felt bad, felt anything at all...there was a pill for it. And so take pills for my pain I did, for the emotional pain of having two suicidal parents, for the rejection I experienced at school, I took pills to shut out the screaming and yelling and hitting in my house....I took pills to escape.
It was really no problem getting doctors to prescribe pills as a teen. I had to supplement what I got from my father so each doctor visit I hyped up any pain I was truly feeling to get my fix. Doctors would send me home with sample bottles by the bag full of percodan and codeine, always feeling sorry for that girl with the crazy parents. They were doing me no favors though.
As a teen I suffered several nervous breakdowns, was extremely suicidal and was committed to hospital after hospital..finally I was committed to the State Hospital. I wanted to die....I kept ODing and so they sent me away for 90 day commitments 3 times in the hope I would stop overdosing. The abuse and trauma of the state hospital visits only sent me deeper into the drugs after getting home..I added alcohol and speed, but always the pills. I liked tranquilizers alot..but vicodin was my favorite. I felt so confident and capable on it. I truly believed I needed the pills, the drugs to survive, it was as routine as the air I breathed.It shut out the pain from being raped at 18, from being abused..it made it 'all go away". I thought. I would always run out and suffered worse and worse as the years went on. I got married, had two children..thought I was doing okay...but inside the fear of God was raging....deep fears of insanity, inadequacy, rage, suicidal thoughts, despair...I never thought it was the pills causing this...not at all. I felt a supply was my only problem.
My health continued to get worse both physically and mentally. I started hallucinating, unable to clean my house, started fearing driving, I had had panic atacks for years when driving but finally had to stop altogether, I feared people and leaving my front door. I became a prisoner of my own mind. I attributed all of this to my PTSD, to my agoraphobia, to depression, to the nervous breakdowns I had had.
About 3 years ago everything that could go wrong in my life did..my husband was diagnosed with inoperable brain cancer..was told he had 6 months to live, my best friend and her daughter moved in with us and started insane trouble, my mother ran me over with her car..then denied she ever did, my friend and my mother tried to turn my kids and husband against me, only telling the cops I had broke her car window..never telling them she had hit me is why. My brother moved in, his alcoholism was a raging, he shot a sawed off shotgun one night, narrowly missing a guest in the bedroom, I really took alot of pills for all of this. 50 Vicodins a day some times, when I could get it. Speed to supplement that, alcohol, anything to numb the pain. The betrayal and pain I felt was so severe I just wanted to die..I was trapped in my house, hated by my husband(he had asked me to take the kids and leave after telling me he had 6 months to live) betrayed by my best friend and my mother. My children were treating me meanly, I was alone, more alone than I had ever been. I still didn't think the pills were the problem, but i got out my Bible, and read the book of Job over and over and prayed to my Creator to give me the strength to take back my house, my husband, my children. I ordered my friends to leave, told my husband I was sticking by him and my children that I was their mother, we WERE taking back our home..and that was how it was. Somehow I held it together enough to call some friends up here, find my husband a job, and we left in our old beat up pick up with everything we owned in the back. We sold all our stuff to have the money to move. We arrived in PA. My father told my husband the docs up here didn't give narcotics much...so I would do better. he knew I had a problem with the pills. But he does too. Went to the ER for a migraine and without even asking..was sent home with percocet. I was off again..fentanyl patches, morphine, methadone, codeine, lortabs, anything and everything. Even did cocaine once..didn't work, but felt like crap. The depression hit harder and harder. The pain of living was to great. I decided to buy a gun and end it all. period. I rationalized my children would be much better off and I made up my mind. I felt a sort of relief, a final okay, this is it. Going to end the pain. Somehow though I got online searching for rehabs, knowing I couldn't go..money, kids, all that...but I found this site and I just poured out my heart. The replies I received were so genuine, so real. I had found people who knew what I was going through. I decided in my mind, that by God I was going to learn to LIVE before I died. Was going to live great, I would find a way. Of course this huge endeavor was met with many set backs, many falling downs and getting back up but eventually I strung some clean time together..months at a time!! I never could go more than two weeks before..and that was from running out....not because I wanted to. But after reading so many success stories on here it got into my head that I could have what these people had. I have put together my own little program of recovery. I owe thanks to 12 step members, to non 12 step people, to families of the addicted, to those 'normies' who have never been addicted. I have learned alot from many sources and I use it all. But the key for me was to know it was even possible, to commit to doing whatever it took, and then actually DOING it. I have strugled these past two years, but it has paid off. I leave my house more, I don't crave narcotics. I don't nearly 'have it together' very well, can't drive still, get frustrated and irritated easily, and battle some depresssion..but I still have this hope within me....that I am on a journey, a journey that I don't have to wait to arrive at peace, I don't have to be free of all the storms to be at peace within myself. I can be at peace during the storms if I reach out to my HP, to others for support, be honest with myself and take ACTION. Eating properly, exercising, relaxing, I now do all the things I neglected while actively obsessively using drugs.
My husband found out he was misdiagnosed and would not die, he has some serious health problems still, but not fatal ones, my children are doing well, and we are a family. Two simple rules help govern my every day life.
1. When you fall down, get back up
and
2. When you're up, give a hand to the one that's fallen.
I swore at the beginning of my recovery that I would get clean, but I wasn't happy about it,didn't think clean and happy went together...but it does. And I am forever grateful that I found this site, that I work on my recovery and that I can share my own little 'success' story to hopefullly inspire and encourage another.
My addiction began quite young. I was about ten, I had a prescription for codeine after an ingrown toenail operation that I absolutely fell in love with. My father also always had plenty of scripts around and I learned quite young that if you felt bad, felt anything at all...there was a pill for it. And so take pills for my pain I did, for the emotional pain of having two suicidal parents, for the rejection I experienced at school, I took pills to shut out the screaming and yelling and hitting in my house....I took pills to escape.
It was really no problem getting doctors to prescribe pills as a teen. I had to supplement what I got from my father so each doctor visit I hyped up any pain I was truly feeling to get my fix. Doctors would send me home with sample bottles by the bag full of percodan and codeine, always feeling sorry for that girl with the crazy parents. They were doing me no favors though.
As a teen I suffered several nervous breakdowns, was extremely suicidal and was committed to hospital after hospital..finally I was committed to the State Hospital. I wanted to die....I kept ODing and so they sent me away for 90 day commitments 3 times in the hope I would stop overdosing. The abuse and trauma of the state hospital visits only sent me deeper into the drugs after getting home..I added alcohol and speed, but always the pills. I liked tranquilizers alot..but vicodin was my favorite. I felt so confident and capable on it. I truly believed I needed the pills, the drugs to survive, it was as routine as the air I breathed.It shut out the pain from being raped at 18, from being abused..it made it 'all go away". I thought. I would always run out and suffered worse and worse as the years went on. I got married, had two children..thought I was doing okay...but inside the fear of God was raging....deep fears of insanity, inadequacy, rage, suicidal thoughts, despair...I never thought it was the pills causing this...not at all. I felt a supply was my only problem.
My health continued to get worse both physically and mentally. I started hallucinating, unable to clean my house, started fearing driving, I had had panic atacks for years when driving but finally had to stop altogether, I feared people and leaving my front door. I became a prisoner of my own mind. I attributed all of this to my PTSD, to my agoraphobia, to depression, to the nervous breakdowns I had had.
About 3 years ago everything that could go wrong in my life did..my husband was diagnosed with inoperable brain cancer..was told he had 6 months to live, my best friend and her daughter moved in with us and started insane trouble, my mother ran me over with her car..then denied she ever did, my friend and my mother tried to turn my kids and husband against me, only telling the cops I had broke her car window..never telling them she had hit me is why. My brother moved in, his alcoholism was a raging, he shot a sawed off shotgun one night, narrowly missing a guest in the bedroom, I really took alot of pills for all of this. 50 Vicodins a day some times, when I could get it. Speed to supplement that, alcohol, anything to numb the pain. The betrayal and pain I felt was so severe I just wanted to die..I was trapped in my house, hated by my husband(he had asked me to take the kids and leave after telling me he had 6 months to live) betrayed by my best friend and my mother. My children were treating me meanly, I was alone, more alone than I had ever been. I still didn't think the pills were the problem, but i got out my Bible, and read the book of Job over and over and prayed to my Creator to give me the strength to take back my house, my husband, my children. I ordered my friends to leave, told my husband I was sticking by him and my children that I was their mother, we WERE taking back our home..and that was how it was. Somehow I held it together enough to call some friends up here, find my husband a job, and we left in our old beat up pick up with everything we owned in the back. We sold all our stuff to have the money to move. We arrived in PA. My father told my husband the docs up here didn't give narcotics much...so I would do better. he knew I had a problem with the pills. But he does too. Went to the ER for a migraine and without even asking..was sent home with percocet. I was off again..fentanyl patches, morphine, methadone, codeine, lortabs, anything and everything. Even did cocaine once..didn't work, but felt like crap. The depression hit harder and harder. The pain of living was to great. I decided to buy a gun and end it all. period. I rationalized my children would be much better off and I made up my mind. I felt a sort of relief, a final okay, this is it. Going to end the pain. Somehow though I got online searching for rehabs, knowing I couldn't go..money, kids, all that...but I found this site and I just poured out my heart. The replies I received were so genuine, so real. I had found people who knew what I was going through. I decided in my mind, that by God I was going to learn to LIVE before I died. Was going to live great, I would find a way. Of course this huge endeavor was met with many set backs, many falling downs and getting back up but eventually I strung some clean time together..months at a time!! I never could go more than two weeks before..and that was from running out....not because I wanted to. But after reading so many success stories on here it got into my head that I could have what these people had. I have put together my own little program of recovery. I owe thanks to 12 step members, to non 12 step people, to families of the addicted, to those 'normies' who have never been addicted. I have learned alot from many sources and I use it all. But the key for me was to know it was even possible, to commit to doing whatever it took, and then actually DOING it. I have strugled these past two years, but it has paid off. I leave my house more, I don't crave narcotics. I don't nearly 'have it together' very well, can't drive still, get frustrated and irritated easily, and battle some depresssion..but I still have this hope within me....that I am on a journey, a journey that I don't have to wait to arrive at peace, I don't have to be free of all the storms to be at peace within myself. I can be at peace during the storms if I reach out to my HP, to others for support, be honest with myself and take ACTION. Eating properly, exercising, relaxing, I now do all the things I neglected while actively obsessively using drugs.
My husband found out he was misdiagnosed and would not die, he has some serious health problems still, but not fatal ones, my children are doing well, and we are a family. Two simple rules help govern my every day life.
1. When you fall down, get back up
and
2. When you're up, give a hand to the one that's fallen.
I swore at the beginning of my recovery that I would get clean, but I wasn't happy about it,didn't think clean and happy went together...but it does. And I am forever grateful that I found this site, that I work on my recovery and that I can share my own little 'success' story to hopefullly inspire and encourage another.
Last edited by CarolD; 01-21-2009 at 04:16 AM. Reason: Corrected Title
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