No tags yet.
I like to say that my story starts in 2011, but in all honesty, it starts much before then. It starts with the chronic depression I so often felt as a child that morphed into bulimia as I got older. It starts with the Xanax I was prescribed for my anxiety disorder and the sleeping pills for sleep. I guess you could even say my story started at birth, when a mix of genetics came together to predispose me to mental illness, specifically addiction. However, for the purposes of this tale, I will start in October 2011 right after the death of my father.
My dad's death was sudden, unexpected. I had also lost a dog and my grandma within a few months of each other, so losing my dad filled me with overwhelming grief. For a while I dealt with the depression and grief that I was drowning in by throwing myself into school. I wanted to make my dad proud by doing well in university. But after a few months I felt myself getting burnt out, exhausted.
At the time I was dating someone who although was the love of my life, was also someone who was dangerous. We were both involved in something we shouldn't have been. Due to this fact, I had easy access to drugs on a regular basis. I'm not too sure why I decided to take that first pill, to do that first line. Maybe I thought I could beat the system. Maybe I didn't care what happened to me. Either way, I threw myself into using and my life spiralled out of control from there.
Within four years I was homeless with nothing left of myself. I had lost all sense of esteem, worth, and dignity. I was unrecognizable. I didn't know who I was anymore. Losing everything made me want to die. I continued using hoping that maybe one day I wouldn't wake up. I thought nobody would care either way. It wasn't until I started waking up with this horrible feeling in my stomach knowing that I wanted my old life back that things started to change. I was so endlessly tired from chasing drugs all day and lying awake at night worried about being robbed.
Finally after being assaulted by those I considered friends, I decided to seek help from my mom. I was so lucky that she took me back in and helped me get into rehab. Being in treatment totally saved my life. They taught me the tools and skills to cope with my emotions so that I was no longer overwhelmed. Now that I am back at home and in recovery, I attend Women for Sobriety meetings weekly and also have sought treatment for my bulimia. My life is finally what I want it to be. I am in no way perfect, but I am finally learning who I truly am inside without the help of drugs or an eating disorder. I think my dad would be proud.