Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Guest Post Anonymous from PA

The pride I had once held on to in my early-mid twenties is now gone. Vanished over the last year. I watched my brother become slave to it and end up in jail for 26 months. I always said that it would never, ever be me. I'm too happy with my life. I have a good head on my shoulders. Why would I ever turn to drugs to forget the good life I was living?
Then the unthinkable happened. I never saw it coming. It ripped me from end to end for over a year and I still am dealing with the torment of finding another woman in bed with the man I loved. The man I changed my entire life for. A man I begged to understand so that I could be 110% supportive of all of his choices. He was the center of my world at a time when I should have been the center of my world. He sucked the life right out of me and when I had nothing left, he moved on to easier prey. A younger, more naive woman who would sympathize with his situation. She enveloped herself with him and his life/transformation. It was like it was almost an obsession for her.
I fought her. Not physically, although, I wished I could have thrown a few left hooks her way. No, we fought over HIM. Someone who dangled love and promises of life-long affection and happiness to us BOTH. She won. I began using opiates almost everyday to forget it all.

I'm a nurse. I'm a good nurse. I don't just take care of my patient's physiological needs, I am always pulling up a chair to listen to their woes or give advice whether it be medical or not. I look at my patients as a whole being. Not just as a disease that must be cured by numbly following doctors orders. I care for them all individually. It can be thankless at times but I keep going back for that small percentage of people who genuinely are grateful for your care, love, and support. I am a nurse.
I am a nurse that has access to an array of drugs, at any given time. This has supported and prolonged my addiction. I can't get into the gory details yet, but the career I am so in love with is also the career that is slowly killing me. Ever so slowly.

My usage is small. I don't have a high tolerance by any means. I don't go through physical withdrawal. My withdrawal mainly consists of my brain screaming "MORE, MORE, MORE!!" I have tried heroin and immediately knew it would be the most incredible thing I have ever put into my body. The next morning after trying this magical drug, I flushed the 5 other stamp bags down the toilet. I was still in school, my habit wasn't that high and I was so terrified of this amazing drug that I knew I could never pick it up again. And I haven't. Instead, I have myself wrapped up in a world of prescription opiates and benzos. I took one too many tramadol and had a grand mal seizure at work one day. I took them knowing full well that I could seize - having had two prior seizures that week in my sleep. That's when I knew I was in the grips of something so much bigger than me. I stopped for awhile but soon, I was back to it. Using to forget my own insanity.
The truth is, I have SO much to live for. An amazing career that I want to advance, a man who loves the hell out of me, a dog that is a large part of my world, family, friends. I have it pretty good. So, why do I keep using? I ask you this, because I just don't know. The sensation is one thing, but I don't have anything to cover up anymore. Or do I? Is it something I can't see or maybe don't want to see? One day without them and I'm scheming and plotting and nine times out of ten, I win. I know that prolonged use of some drugs will change the brain. It's like I am now hard wired to use and if I can't, my brain goes bat shit crazy on me and I start to fiend.

I never thought I would be here NEVER. My mother commited suicide when I was young. She couldn't get away from the dark horse. She ended her life knowing that she had struggled too long and too hard and would never regain what she had lost.

My father was a 15 bag a day heroin addict who finally kicked on the streets after being homeless and eating raw bags of potatoes for months and selling his plasma for a fix. I know my brain is wired differently because of my parents. I'm genetically predisposed. I almost got through my twenties without picking up. Will I get through my thirties without picking up? I know I need to seek help. I'm just terrified to do so. I'm stuck. I'm stuck in a box where I can see everyone else walk through life without knowing where I truly stand with myself. It's exhausting hiding my addiction. Track marks aren't easy to hide in the summer time. I'm getting weaker at hiding myself, year-round. I need a push. A hard shove, really. A shove back into reality of what damaging effects this will have on the rest of my life.


  1. Replies
    1. I agree. This was sent to me as an email and I asked them if I could publish it

  2. thanks for this reminder of the reality of active addiction. for the longest time i thought i was hopeless but it turns out i just didn't have any hope. i got that hope when i washed up on the shores of a 12 step meeting…u never kno where yr gonna walk right into HOPE. whoever out there feels hopeless i can tell u that u r NOT hopeless…just let someone else believe in u if u can't believe in yrself and u will realize that HOPE u had all along, that hope the drugs try to convince us we do not have…thanks for this post, i was there once and now I'm not, jenji powa

  3. I think we all want to hide from reality sometimes. Alas, you don't need to have any problems to get addicted to drugs...you said it yourself, the feeling from heroin is just too good to resist for some folk.

    1. I certainly couldn't resist it

    2. Good post. Some of her issues were mine too. Hey, my habit wasn't so bad. I had a high tolerance! Tramadol was easy!

      Then one by one demons started entering my head. Vicodin. Adderall. Klonopin. Xanax. Soma. Every night, more and more of them. Even alcohol had no effect on me. Not me, I could drink a bottle of sparkling wine a night with no hangover along with all my other drugs. Then this week I poured 15 Klonopin in my hand and said, "I can handle this shit." And I woke up in the emergency room not even having an idea who found me or how long I was out. I still talk with a whisper due to the nasogastric intubation the ER staff had to do to bring me back to life. The backs of my hands look like hamburger from the IV'S they inserted. I absolutely knew then like I never had before that I could die from my habit. it was not fun anymore. I had no control of it. It ran my life from the moment I got up to when I passed out at night. I still can't believe I'm alive. I lost a year to this drug addiction, falling down the rabbit hole.

      I wanted to know what it would be like to be so high that I could die. And it was not a beautiful dream, it was nothingness. I can't get my life back the way it was before I used, but maybe I can trade it in for a better one. Thanks for giving me space Tracey.