A Vodka Worthy Day

Somehow my aunt just knew that I was struggling today. She randomly sent me this adorable video from FB:

So a little insight into my day:

My kids are driving me crazy!

All they have done today is argue with me, whine at me, and ignore me when I ask them to do things.

Every time I told Cash ‘no’ he would either meltdown, whine and scream or he would growl and pout. I was seriously ready to smack him at the end of the day. Thankfully Tyson came home and let me put my headphones in and work on my homework while he entertained Cash.

As for Tate, he just cried and wanted to be held since I got home from class, at 11! I couldn’t get him to nap unless I laid down and he got to snuggle on my chest. Which is cute and so adorable but today I was hungry and I had so much homework/studying to do. I didn’t eat much or get any homework done.

I was counting down the minutes until Tyson text me telling me he was on his way home. While I was trying to tell myself I didn’t need a drink yet and it could wait until at least 5 pm. 😦

My aunt gave me some great advice tonight and made me feel so much better about the whole day. Here’s how the conversation went:

ME: ❤ Thank you. I needed to see this today. ❤

AUNT: I totally saw you and the boys when I watched it. 💛💛💛

ME: I hope they love me that much and have good days ..Today was not one of those days. I yelled a lot.

AUNT: Those days happen, I think they remember the good days. Just always end the day with I love you….even if they are asleep before you can actually calm down enough to say it. 💜

 

I don’t know what prompted her to send me that video but it has made my night so much better and easier to deal with mentally. I am so incredibly lucky to have such a great role model in my life who loves me as unconditionally as she does.

I love you, Karen. ❤

 

Dear 17-Year-Old-Me

I’m so excited to introduce Victoria. We “met” via Instagram and I’ve truly enjoyed getting to know her! We have quite a bit in common, which is always a fun thing to find out about someone new. 🙂 I hope you enjoy her post. And go check out her blog and IG account. ❤

 

Let me introduce myself – I’m Victoria from Life In The Ginger Lane  and Ashley has very kindly allowed me to Guest Blog for her.  I’m from just outside Glasgow in Scotland, wife of 4 years to David and Mummy to my gorgeous 2.5 year old boy Connor.  I started my blog last year as a means to try and get back into writing which is something I’ve always loved.  I have had my own struggles with depression and anxiety and as a result, my confidence has taken quite a hit so I’m slowly but surely trying to gain some of that back.  Please pop over to my blog and give it a read, it’s a work in progress so any hints or tips are greatly appreciated!  I’m also on instagram @lifeinthegingerlane so do come and say hi!

I’m turning 27 this year – how the hell did that happen?  So for this post, I thought I’d have a look back over the past 10 years and write a letter to me when I was 17.

Dear 17-year-old Victoria,

I know you think you know it all but University at 17 is not such a great idea for you – you’re just not ready yet.  The last year of school is a complete skive for a reason.  I know you have the brains to pull it off and you would have graduated no problem had other things not gotten in your way, but you’re just not as mature as you think you are.  You’re not old enough to drink alcohol so there is very little point in going to Freshers week; I don’t think you realize quite how much of Uni life is made up by the socializing outside of lectures, usually in a pub/bar.  You will tough it out for 2 years and then you have no other choice but to pack it in, let’s be honest, it was never what you wanted to do anyway.  Psychology is far too full of research methods and statistics for you, you have always been more of a language lover.  Writing is where you should be focusing your time.

It’ll take you a long time to realize that though, and even sitting here now I can’t say 100% that you are living your dream.  You are gradually finding your way back to writing but confidence is an issue; you will get there though, I can feel it!

Mum is right, he is an absolute waste of space but it will take you another year and a half before you realize it for yourself and by then the damage will already have been done.  Never mind, you will manage to pick yourself up and in the long run you will come out of it a stronger, better person.  And believe it or not, you have already met the man you are going to marry, I’m not going to tell you who, you’ll just have to wait another 2 years to find out for yourself.  But I will say that you will be married by the time you’re 22.  Your husband is an amazing man; it’s not going to be an easy road but you will get there, all your struggles will just make you stronger in the end.

Please know that Mum and Dad aren’t trying to be the bad guys, although they do give a good impression of it at times I’ll admit.  They really do just want what’s best for you.   And your little sister; she may be an absolute nightmare right now but trust me she is a blessing in disguise.  She is so incredibly protective of you and will back you to the hilt regardless of whether you are in the wrong or not.  She will surprise you time and again – blossoming into a fantastic Auntie before your very eyes, I bet you didn’t see that coming!  You come from a remarkably close knit and loving family, something which you have taken for granted over the years – that isn’t a bad thing, but please be aware that not every family is like yours.  Family is not always everyone elses top priority but it will always be yours.

You will have your struggles with depression and are probably in the beginning stages of that now, you just don’t know the signs.  Luckily for you, Mum does recognize them and together you will work to get you out of that darkness.  It will be a long road to recovery with a few relapses along the way, you are very anti medication – this trait will never leave you but you will eventually realize that taking medication is not a sign of weakness.  Taking medication does not mean that you can’t fight your own battles.  Taking medication is not lying down to depression and accepting that this will be your life.  What it means is that you are accepting that suffering from depression is not your fault, there is a chemical imbalance in your brain which is out with your control.  This will be a very difficult thing for you to do, you hate to be out of control, but you will realize that sometimes you need a little extra help – and that’s okay!

Don’t worry though, once you get yourself back on an even keel you do eventually manage to come off the anti depressants.  You do have the occasional blip but accepting that everyone has down days and they don’t always mean that you need to get to the doctors is a key coping mechanism for you.

Please know that the next 10 years of your life, although they are difficult and filled with times where you can’t always see the light at the end of the tunnel, they are also filled with so much love, laughter, and fun.  You will welcome a beautiful baby boy and in true Victoria fashion that will not go to plan either but you quickly realize that what’s meant to be will be and there is nothing you can do about it.  So please don’t worry, you will be absolutely fine and you should be proud of the woman you have turned into, I know I am.

V x

To my younger self;

As a teenager, I was insecure and so body conscious. I did anything to make friends and keep friends; I just wanted people to like me. As a teenager I was afraid. I was afraid of rejection, failure, and loneliness. Now that I’m in my mid 20’s (UGH! As of next Saturday I will officially be in my late 20’s 😦 ) I can look back on my teenage years with some wisdom; not a lot, but some.

“I have not failed, I’ve just found 10,000 ways that don’t work.” – Thomas Edison

To my younger self;

Girl, stand tall; be confident in yourself. You are worthy of friends and love. You do not have to just go along with what your ‘friends’ want or what boys want just to get attention and ‘love’.

You are smart.

You are funny.

You will make true friends who love you for who you are.

Stop being so afraid. You will be rejected, but it’s okay. It’s the not the end of the world, but I know it seems that way. I know you want to lay in bed for days and cry but don’t.

Get up.

Go out and enjoy your life. You will move past this hard time.

You will fail at times, but it makes your success much more enjoyable. These failings will give you the strength and determination to do better with the next adventure.

Never give up because of one failure. Everyone has missteps; everyone fails at some point in their life. You will learn from these mistakes and be a stronger woman for them.

You will be lonely. It’s inevitable; it’s a part of life. However, there will be a day when you enjoy your alone time. I know it seems like you could never imagine spending 4 hours alone, but trust me, you will really enjoy it. Practice going to the movies by yourself, go get dinner alone, go for a walk without your phone. Just spend some time discovering yourself.

At the end of the day, all of these fears are only holding you back from truly enjoying life. Don’t be afraid to be yourself. People will love the real you.

Take a chance.

Go and make friends outside of your ‘group’.

Ask him out to dinner, you never know he may just become your husband. 😉

And spend more time with your dad, he’s not scary at all. He just loves you and wants the best for you. Better yet, spend more time with all of your family. They love you and will really lift you up when you need it the most. Try and be patient with your more difficult family members, they do have the best intentions.

And through it, all remember, “Think like a queen. A queen is not afraid to fail. Failure is another stepping stone to greatness.” – Oprah

 

Do your part!

You’re probably tired of hearing this, but it needs to be said. We need to be reminded. We need to do our part.

If you are outraged by the new administration and their choices do something about it! Quit bitching on social media and fighting with your conservative family/friends.

Go to the website 10 Actions 100 Days. You can print WomensMarch postcards as well as put in your zip code and get the names and addresses of your Senators. It takes maybe 10 minutes.

Fuck, invite some friends over, let the vodka flow, and make a party out of it.

Big Black Dog

I typed most of this last night and then finished it this morning but couldn’t decide if I was going to post it or not. I am still very on the fence about it this afternoon. But I keep going back to the fact that I wanted this blog to be honest. And how honest would I be if I’m not sharing the difficult times right along with the wonderful, fun, and amazing times? I promise, the majority of this blog will be happy and fun. 🙂

I know I have opened up about my struggle with postpartum before, but I’m having a hard day today with my “big black dog.” I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety since I was a teenager. I’ve gone through spurts where I’m on medication and I talk to someone but I always quit for one reason or another. I feel it’s time to get back to that. And because I don’t have anyone to talk to yet I’m talking to the cyber world. I also want to put this out there because I told myself, and all of you, I was going to be honest. I was going to lay it all out there, no matter how ugly. So here it is; I have a black dog, his name is depression.

big black dog.jpeg

I love this video appropriately named I had a black dog, his name was depression because it really explains how depression feels. It explains it in a way that someone who’s never suffered from depression can understand; which I know is an issue in my life. Simply put, my husband does not understand because he has never struggled with depression. My big black dog causes arguments. It causes hurt feelings. It causes problems. It’s hard on both Tyson and I. Tyson tries to be helpful and he tries to be supportive, but sometimes he just doesn’t know how. Sometimes I don’t even know how he can be supportive. All of which I’m sure is incredibly frustrating. I’m sure it’s not easy to live with someone like me. I don’t blame him for getting frustrated or upset. Sometimes these moods just come out of the blue, for no reason at all.

Tyson tries to be helpful and he tries to be supportive, but sometimes he just doesn’t know how. But that’s my fault because sometimes I don’t even know how he can be supportive. All of which I’m sure is incredibly frustrating. I know it’s not easy to live with someone like me. I don’t blame him for getting frustrated or upset. Sometimes these moods just come out of the blue, for no reason at all.

There are days when I wake up and just want to lay in bed all day. Days when I get in the shower simply so I can cry and my kids and/or Tyson won’t see or hear me. Tyson will ask me what’s wrong and I tell him “I don’t know” because I truly don’t. I just woke up feeling so low it is almost crippling.

Just the other day I told him I was having a hard day, broke down, and started crying in front of him. We went about our usual daily activities and I tried to get over it, or at least hide it better. I thought I had done a pretty damn good job, but later that night he told me how my bad moods (or depression) put him in a bad mood. How I’m miserable to live with and be around when I’m like this. It’s gut wrenching to hear those things from someone you love. It’s such a reality check of how hard I’m making everyone’s lives. He’s told me this before a number of times, and every single time I make a promise to myself that I need to do a better job at hiding it. I need to do a better job at getting over what ever the fuck is wrong with my head. I need to do a better job with my life in general. I feel like I do good for a little while and then I have a hard few days and it happens all over again.

It happened again last night. I was told I’m miserable to be around, again. I felt like shit, again. I felt completely worthless, again. I went to bed to cry, again. I made promises to myself I knew I couldn’t keep, again.

I’m tired of fighting this.

I don’t want to be a miserable person to be around.

I don’t want to push my husband away.

I don’t want my children to see me like this.

It’s frustrating too because it doesn’t happen because something bad has happened, sometimes it just happens for no reason at all. It ramps up all of my anxieties and insecurities. It makes me cranky. It leaves me with little to no patience for anyone or anything. It stresses me out. It causes me to have anxiety.

It’s embarrassing. I hope people that meet me would never guess I struggle with anxiety and depression. I hope I’ve become good at hiding it. I hope I’ve become good at masking my problems.

Then there’s the issue of my anxiety. My anxiety can just hit me out of the blue. It can show itself when I least expect it. Or something can remind me of a bad time in my life or make me uncomfortable and I start to lose control. When either of these things happens I can’t catch my breath. My chest hurts. It feels like I can’t breathe. I try and hide it by yawning. I try and go into the other room to take a few deep breaths. I try to disappear. My brain just literally won’t shut down. I will lay in bed for hours. I can be exhausted but I can’t sleep because I’m just going over and over things in my head.

I’ve learned that my anxiety and depression go hand in hand. One does not come without the other.

I’m tired of being this way.

I promise myself all the time how I will change. How I will be in a better mood from now on. How I won’t let this get to me anymore. But it never works. I can never keep those promises to myself or my family.

I hate my big black dog.

Enough bitching, time to try and find a new psychologist or psychiatrist.  I am going to make a change for myself. I’ve been calling doctors this morning trying to find one taking new patients with an opening that fits in our schedule. Keep your fingers crossed I can find someone I like.

It’s time for a change.

My husband deserves better.

My children deserve better.

I deserve better.

 

 

 

I also like the video What causes anxiety and depression – Inside Out 

My Daughter is My Driving Force

I have another special guest post for Truthful Tuesday. This is Molly Ryujin. Molly and I were acquaintances back when I was in junior high/high school. We went to shows at Boom Va; holy fuck that makes me feel so old (and dumb).

***Any of my old friends from Utah will read this and reminisce/cringe while they think of their times spent on 27th street at good ol’ Boom Va. Straight Edge kids (sXe, sellouts, XXX etc) and hardcore shows like To No Avail, Clifton, Kitty, Job for a Cowboy, They Came in Swarms were a weekly social event. Embarrassing, I know.***

Anyway, I got to know her better after she started dating, and got engaged to, my best friend from back home. She is such a great woman for him. He needed a strong woman who would set him on the right path but who would also let him take care of her. I don’t see them anymore and we hardly talk but I will always have a special place in my heart for both of them and their family. ❤

I hope her story helps anyone reading this see they can accomplish truly remarkable things, no matter the circumstances.
My name is Molly. I am a mother and a recovering heroin and methamphetamine addict.

I had, for the most part, an amazing childhood. I had a loving mother and father and three older sisters. In therapy, they help you to identify points in your life that led you to that dark direction you took and as a child I was sexually assaulted.

Confused and small, I didn’t tell anyone for nearly a decade but I came to realize the trauma I endured at an early age would shape me into a person I never knew I could be. Like most teenagers, I loved escaping my reality and found relief in using drugs at parties, loving that feeling of being able to forget. Like most people who are victims of sexual assault, I had no boundaries with people and found myself in co-dependent, unhealthy, abusive relationships most of the time and the men who didn’t use couldn’t save me.

I was clean for a short period of time when I was 20, but then began snorting lines of oxy and smoking meth once in a while. Occasionally turned into every day and pain pills turned into heroin. I was still managing to go to school and maintain decent grades. My family knew something was wrong but I was insist I was fine. Just tired.

The truth came out when my apartment was hit by Ogden Strike Force and although they didn’t find drugs, they found tin foil with residue and lots of paraphernalia. I was arrested for possession of heroin but still lying about it to my family. With the help of an attorney, I fought the charge and was pled down to attempting to possess and controlled substance. By that time I was in a new relationship and put on private probation.

On June 18th 2012, I found out I was pregnant. I knew that this would be my reason to get clean. I knew girls who used while they were pregnant and will admit, I judged them. I couldn’t imagine harming a baby you were carrying and not giving them a choice. I decided to try to wean myself off because at that time, I was using heavily and I feared I couldn’t quit cold turkey. I was in a very unhealthy relationship and in a place where everyone used around me. As much as I wanted to get clean for the baby, my addiction wouldn’t allow it. As time went on, I became more and more depressed with myself and what I was doing to my baby. I felt so guilty and ashamed but could not stop for the life of me. I was still being dishonest with everyone outside of my inner circle that used with me, but I knew even they judged me.

It was Valentines day, 2013 and I knew my water broke. I was so scared and had spent most of my pregnancy in fear and anxiety because I didn’t want my baby taken from me. I was tempted to try to deliver the baby in my apartment because I couldn’t stand the thought of the state taking her but because I didn’t want to put her at risk further, I went to the hospital. Before I was given an epidural, they had advised me that my urine tested positive for amphetamines and opiates and I tried to lie and say I had been around meth users and had taken a pain pill. That entire 8 1/2 months of my pregnancy had been the darkest time of my life so far. I wasn’t able to experience the joys of it because of my addiction and guilt. When confronted by the hospital, I just wanted to disappear. I don’t remember too much of being in labor. I remember sleeping through most of my contractions and waking up ten minutes before I gave birth.

On February 15th I gave birth to Chloe Lillian, 6 lbs 11 oz, 19 inches long. She was perfect and so beautiful and I felt I didn’t deserve this perfect human. She was healthy but she cried a lot. Babies cry, of course, but Chloe was born addicted. Child Protective Services came into my hospital room and advised me I wouldn’t be taking my baby home. This forced me to be honest with my family and admit what they had already suspected.

My mother had my daughter for the first month and a month later, temporary custody was granted to my sister. Things only got worse from there. I was in and out of jail, seeing my daughter for just hours at a time.

Every time I left a visit, I felt like I was saying goodbye. I used more and more and as if things couldn’t get worse, July 5th, I made the choice to shoot heroin. Until that moment, I had feared the needle, knowing its power and so many people it killed. I had lost all hope. As I waited for a bed at a treatment facility to open up for me, I got lower and lower. I got into rehab, only to relapse 12 days later. I was given opportunity after opportunity and continued to sabotage every one of them. I was desperate to get clean and get my daughter back but wasn’t showing much promise.

I entered into Family Drug Court and had been sanctioned to jail time for relapses. I was kicked out of rehab twice at that point and knew the next time I had court, I’d be taken to jail again. I didn’t show up at my court date and went on the run. At that point, my addiction was beyond out of control. I had overdosed in motel rooms, taken advantage of my father *who was my best friend and the only one who still had faith in me* and sunk lower than I ever thought possible.

It was September 27th and I fell asleep at my fathers house where I’d been staying when I wasn’t out running the streets. I awoke to police officers standing over me. They advised me that I had warrants for failing to appear in court and they’d be taking me to jail. I remember the look of sadness and relief as my father just stood there, watching his baby be taken away in handcuffs.

That was the last day I used.

I was in jail for 60 days and was released back into rehab for the 3rd time. I knew what I had to do in order to be a mother. It was hard because my daughter didn’t really know me. She was only 9 months old at that time and hadn’t seen me in close to 3 months. I pushed through and knew that she was the answer the entire time to overcoming this affliction.

I jumped through every hoop the state put in front of me and was grateful to have another chance. I was court ordered to be on methadone with Medication Assisted Treatment to help with cravings. I went from being the addict mother that no one believed would succeed and get clean, to a well respected woman who had beat so many odds and over come so much.

In the summer of 2014, I was granted full custody of my daughter and made a choice taper off of methadone after 11 months.

I’m not a perfect person, but what I do know is that the love I have for my daughter surpasses anything I’ve ever known or felt. I know how precious she is and I don’t take the role I have in her life for granted. I know it’s my job to protect her and accept her, to make sure she’s healthy, to give her confidence and teach her how to be a good person. This has taught me to be more understanding, to be less judgemental and love unconditionally.

My father passed away in July of 2015 and our bond was unbreakable. I can only strive to have that same bond with my daughter. To believe, encourage and push her to always know her worth, never lose hope and always have faith in herself. Being a mother has it’s difficulties but I wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.

In the past, I didn’t know who I was or what I was meant to be. But the moment I looked at my daughter through clean and sober eyes, I knew this was it for me. Being Chloes mother is the biggest honor I’ve ever known and I know she’s a huge part of why I choose to stay clean for now 39 months and counting.

Thank you for reading my story.

From Addict to Freedom

I want to introduce you to Delaney Colvell. I have known Delaney since we were very young and going to a small private school in Ogden, UT. We have stayed friends through the years and have recently reconnected through Facebook and texting. She is an incredibly strong woman who has been through hell and back.

I want to thank her for writing this and sharing it with the world. I can’t imagine the courage it took to be so brutally honest and open.

I want to share her story with you today for Truthful Tuesday. ❤

 

Hi, I’m Delaney, I’m an addict/alcoholic and I am addicted to opiates.

I am now in recovery, but I was previously a closet addict for 10 years. If you don’t already know, addiction is a disease.I am new to recovery so I am still learning..Always be teachable. My sobriety date is November 14, 2016 and that day will always be burned into my brain and I would not want it any other way.

Remembering that day helps my sobriety because holy hell, who would ever want to go through detox twice, am I right?

I guess I should start with some background history first. I started using at 14 years old. Young, but there is always kids starting younger and younger unfortunately and I would do anything in the world to change that. It started with one pill, just one. I was sucked into the black abyss of addiction immediately, it doesn’t always work that way but it did with me. I always had self esteem issues and when I took that pill I felt confident, the only thing I ever wanted to be. Plus I got high, why else do you do drugs right? I lied, I cheated, I stole, I sold all my worldly possessions, I manipulated, I almost destroyed my marriage with the man I’ve been in love with for almost 8 years. Addiction takes you down dark alleys of life you never thought you’d go down. I thought I’d never break into a house for drugs but I did… BUT i don’t want to focus on my shitty life choices, I want to focus on my recovery.

So, rewind to approximately 8 months ago. I was having seizures (most likely from detoxing in my sleep) so my husband and I were sleeping in separate beds and 3 o’ clock rolls around and he wakes up to me trying to get in bed with him and he touches me to take me back to bed and I’m wet. He turns on the light on to see me with what looks like me smuggling a basketball under my shirt and covered in puke and puke in a few places all over our bedroom. Off we go to the Emergency Room with me passing out and puking, repeatedly.

After an MRI and CT scan we found out my intestines were about to explode. The oh so lovely hospital process hates me and next came the tube shoved down my nose into my intestines to drain some of the pressure so they could operate. $5,000 later I have a vertical 6 inch scar down the center of my belly. Not fashionable in anyway. I would have died had I not had my husband there. I now 100% trust in my Higher Power, he has given me a guardian angel named Ryan who has saved my life not only once but twice, now here comes the next part of my rewind.

I recover from my intestinal ordeal and that didn’t even scare me straight so of course the addict in me tells, “You’re fine Delaney, you didn’t almost just die so you’re okay to keep using.” and not only did I use but I went hard. I will not talk about how much or all the different drugs I have done because that is irrelevant.

This next part of my story is told from a third party standpoint for I have no recollection of it I was so out of my mind. It was around 7:30 and I was passed out and my husband tried waking me up and I came to about two minutes later and could barely hold myself up. Mind you my husband had no idea I was using, he then ran to get me a glass of water and when he came back I was crawling on the floor incoherent. I was again rushed to the Emergency Room and all the way there I denied, denied, and denied that I had taken anything and blamed it on my seizures. Of course the Dr.’s drug tested me and told my husband about the high amounts of opiates in my system.

I was taken up to a room and strapped down. I came to, hallucinating that the nurses were trying to kill me, and passed out again for a good while. I came to with my husband trying to calm me down and me as angry as could be calling him every cruel thing in the book trying to deflect from my own problems. Like I said, drugs make you do and say crazy things. Insert corny 80’s commercial egg sizzling on skillet, “This is your brain on drugs!” I was kept for a day or two with a constant babysitter without talking to my husband. Not known to me at the time was that he knew of the opiate use.

I was blue sheeted which means they think you tried to kill yourself, off to the Psych Ward I went for four days and I played every trick in the book and told them everything they wanted to hear so I could get home and use. My mind was on using and only using. Ryan picked me up four days later and I could feel his aura, he was happy to see me but there was something eating at him. We had a nice walk to the car, and he waited to bring up one of the hardest conversations anyone can have with their loved one. We got home and, boom, the talks of rehab came up. I, of course, said no many times strictly because I was afraid… deathly afraid of treatment. I had been using drugs for 10 years to keep my body functioning. I eventually smartened up and said yes to rehab. I think I was subconsciously using so blatantly so that someone would ask me to get help, I was surprisingly so excited to get help and go to treatment. Unbeknownst to me was that my husband and mother had been calling detox centers and rehabs trying to get me a bed for two days while I was in the psych ward.

A day later I was admitted to a detox hospital. We were told they had a bed for me and to be there at 3:45, we were there at 3:30. My dad always taught me to be 15 minutes early for everything, always be prepared scouts. We were taken into an admitting office room and they of course were not as prepared, they still had to get my medical records faxed over from the hospital and get an OK from the Dr. in order to admit me. This took from 3:45 to 7:30 at night sitting in an office with my husband trying to keep my composure while slowly starting to detox and having the deepest darkest pit in my stomach of fear. The darkness started to swallow me whole knowing what I was about to endure. 7:30 came and the on call Dr. approved me to be admitted and all I wanted was some drugs to stop how I was feeling and that was now possible, so I thought, and their computer system crashed HA! I took it as a sign that I needed to sit and detox without any substances to help me so I could feel that fear and pain.

Finally 11 PM rolled around and I was able to get some meds to help, I was prescribed Subutex, which helps wean you off opiates, but of course I had to wait 12 hours after my last which was 4 hours away. I laid in bed thinking, thinking of all the bad things I’ve done, thinking of all the people I’ve hurt and I cried. A cry that hurt through my whole body and I got a sense of motivation.

My time in detox was not pleasant to say the least, the toilet and repeat episodes of Roseanne were my best friends. Puke, Roseanne, puke, Roseanne, and more puke. The second night rolled around and I guesstimate it was around 2:30 AM and it was time for vitals and I was passed out, finally, and I wake up to a nurse shaking the living shit out of me and her calling other nurses into the room and them saying, “I don’t know what to do!”. Apparently my heart couldn’t handle the strain of detoxing and I was going into heart failure… I’ve never prayed so hard in my life. The usual prayer when you haven’t spoken with whoever you consider your Higher Power yet ask for life. I tried to panic so I could give my heart a kickstart but there was just this sense of calm washing over me as a nurse is ripping the 7 blankets I’d acquired off me and ripping my pants off. They needed to put Ted hose stocking on both my legs to try and get the blood pumping from my legs to my heart. Next was trying to get me out of bed to run, I could barely walk and I sure as shit laughed when they told me it was time to run. I had to have help to run and it was the saddest run in the history of runs, and I run like Forest Gump on a good day! My heart started to recover slowly but I did not sleep one minute that night, I prayed consistently promising to live my life right for helping me through that little rough patch.

Although my heart almost failed I still knew there was still a mountain the size of Everest still out there to climb.

Finally I got the good news call from my mom telling me they had found me a rehab, the only part I did not like was that it was two hours from home. Later though, that came to be a benefit, I will explain later. I finished my time in detox and was sent on my merry way with my taper prescription of Subutex and Nicotine gum, I should mention I’m a smoker so not being able to have my other vice was hell. Little did I know was that I was going to a non smoking facility! Fuck me, right? A man from the rehab drove the two hours to the hospital to pick me up. Before he got there my brother, mother, father, husband, and beloved furry child came to see me off and it was the pick me up I needed to get in that car. We said our goodbyes and off I went to rehab. I’m tearing up just writing this being so grateful they supported me as much as they did throughout this ordeal even after all I’ve put them through.

Walking into rehab weighing 95 pounds at the height of 5’ 6” looking like a skeleton and broken down knowing not one soul was one of the other scariest moments in life. AND, of course, I had to be admitted on family night of all nights. Just my luck, and on family night they order pizza, and I was so malnourished and starving I grabbed 3 pieces of pizza and 3 breadsticks. Luckily there was this sweet girl who saw me standing there like a deer in headlights reverting back to middle school as the ugly and awkward duckling I was trying to figure out who to sit with and she called me over and asked if I would like to join them. I sat there in silence scarfing down pizza like it was my last meal before execution, later that night I puked my guts out not knowing that when you’re that malnourished your stomach can only handle so much food. Slow and steady wins the race in that aspect.

The next day I saw the Dr. and he reviewed all my test results from the detox hospital and told me I was so malnourished that my organs were feeding on themselves for energy, boom, another hit of how serious this situation was.

I had been numbing my feelings with drugs for 10 years and the first time I saw my therapist I had a complete breakdown… To help with this piece of this story it is relevant that I was born in California and it is 100% considered my home and my husband tried night and day trying to get me into a California rehab hoping it might be a little bit of a boost but my health insurance wouldn’t cover out of state rehabilitation centers. The other tidbit is that at the rehab I went to is that you are on blackout which is no phone privileges or visitors. You are expected to as they called it “sit in your shit” for a week. So, getting back to the story, I see my therapist and start bawling within the first five minutes. I should tell you I am not a cryer, I used to consider crying one of the most disgusting things. Crying that quickly like a blubbering fool was such a humbling experience, it reminded me that I am a human being and just as weak as any human being on Earth and that I am no more special that anyone else there. Thankfully he let me call my husband and it was just what the Dr. ordered. My husband reminded me that this was for the best, that I am strong and could overcome this demon holding onto me, and he is my biggest supporter. I was only able to talk to him for five minutes but that five minutes will always be the best call that ever happened to me and I consider that one of the biggest things that picked me up, brushed me off, and got me through the whole rehab trial of hell. The next little thing that picked me up was that my therapist happened to have a pen from a California rehab he asked me if I would like. I used that pen to work on every step work or homework I received. It was as if my Higher Power was working through that measly pen, I still have that pen and I will forever hold it extremely close to my heart.

The first week I was there I had a meltdown, screaming and cussing trying to leave. I called my husband and used every drug addict manipulation in the book to try and get him to come get me and he told me he would call me when he was on his way. He hung up with me and called my therapist to tell him he was not coming to get me and I applaud him for being so strong and not caving to come get me because that was a huge sign that I needed serious help.

I don’t want to dwell too much on my time in rehab but I stayed 33 days, I detoxed from opiates, detoxed from Subutex, horrible using dreams, and Post Acute Withdrawals. It was not a vacation, it was 33 days of hard work. When I returned my husbands call on day 33 at around 8 PM and he asked if I would like to come home I cried and asked him if he was joking. I could not believe that day had finally came that I could go home and be home for Christmas was the most liberating feeling I have ever felt. He asked if I would like to be picked up the next day and I immediately said YES! I got off the phone with him and informed the techs that I was going to be picked up tomorrow and they tried getting ahold of the on call therapist and started getting my discharge paperwork in order and my husband called the tech I had been working on my discharge with and said, “screw it, I’m picking her up tonight”. The tech told me this and I literally stood up on a dining room chair and yelled informing all the residents I was going the fuck home. I got my hugs and said a few goodbyes and have never packed so fast in my life. A fire was lit under my ass!

I was told he would be there at 11:30. Well lights out is at around 10:30 so I waited in my room dressed and lying on top of my made bed with the blinds open and rolling over and looking out the window at every car that drove past. After all that looking for our car I actually missed him pulling up. I had a tech come into my room telling my ride was here and I snuck out trying not to wake up my roommate and our room neighbor sleeping on the floor because her new roommate was detoxing and she could not handle the smell. I saw my husband and ran and jumped into his arms like a dramatic scene out of the movies. I had a huge suitcase, a clothes hamper full of three bags, and two more bags overflowing with clothes and shoes I rushed to pack in the car thinking maybe it wasn’t real and the smart ass my husband is said, “Actually this is just a test, you’re really staying” I punched him in the arm and said, “I’ll kill you”.

I got in the car and started crying again with that freeing feeling with the largest sense of accomplishment. I’ve never felt proud of myself until that moment in a car outside a rehab at midnight and it was the most wonderful sensation in the strangest place.

I am writing this at 48 days sober with the feeling of freedom, freedom I hadn’t felt in 10 years. I am new to sobriety but it really works if you truly want to break free of the chains of alcohol and drugs. Once I finally had the freedom of sobriety I feel a sense of happiness I thought I could only find in a bottle or drugs, who knew natural happiness is a real thing! I will be honest in that I still crave drugs everyday, but I always remember how happy and stress free I am without using or drinking and I bring myself back to a sense of sober concentration.

My greatest sobriety tools are meditation and yoga everyday. You must find your center and learn to be in tune with your body. I hope this helps anyone struggling with addiction. I want you to know that you can be helped, there is no such thing as a lost cause. I kept using because I figured I was too far gone to be helped but I did it and I have the biggest addictive personality. If you have doubts of your strength just know the body and mind can truly surprise you on how much they can handle. Please, I’m begging you, seek help if you believe you need it. I may have hated my therapist because he broke down my walls but while I was sitting in rehab he gave me the best quote that really motivated me..”Your best choices landed you here.” Us addicts may make a lot of poor choices but you can always be saved once you learn about self acceptance and forgiveness and learn that the only forgiveness you need is your own. “I may not be there yet, but I am closer than I was yesterday.”

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Me weighing 95 pounds looking like a walking skeleton.

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Me with a tube shoved down my nose and into my intestines with shit coming out of it before surgery… disgusting and pathetic.

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My stomach a week after intestinal surgery, which the scar has been nicknamed Snape.

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My two reasons for staying sober.

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Me hanging out with my husband in rehab happy as can be weighing 25 pounds heavier.

 

The feature picture is Delaney almost 20 days after rehab looking healthy as ever with a glow of happy.

 

 

If you need help overcoming addiction check out this website.

Here is the link to the National Helpline if you are interested. ❤