D
Deleted member 1860
I didn't quite know what to call this thread. Yes, I abuse my meds. There, I said it. I've been crying all day, off and on, because it's finally hit home, or rock bottom rather, just how bad things are. Denial is such a powerful thing.
I know I've been a downright b!tch here on the forum. I hate to say it, but much of it I don't remember because I was under the influence of something or another. No, I'm not making excuses. Nothing I say in this post is an excuse for anything. I don't subscribe to the AA/NA/etc way of thinking that I'm powerless over my "addiction" or whatever you want to call it. I have the power to pop those pills. I also have the power to throw them away. Obviously I chose the former over the latter, time and time again.
Denial is powerful. My SSDI income is monitored because I've had so many Rx ODs. I was told that any sort of drug abuse is a flag for the SS people to entrust your disability income to someone else, even though I've never purchased drugs, my credit is stellar, and my criminal record is non-existent. Its the only thing that would have flagged such an action on their part.
I've been abusing my meds since I was 19. I'm 33 now. My first bad OD should have killed me, but it didn't even land me in the ER, to the shock of my doctors to whom I'd admitted what I'd done. A few days in an outpatient day program and I was "ok". Then there was the alcohol poisoning which did land me in the ER a year or so later. Yeah, it was pretty much swept under the rug. Then there were a series of OD's a few years ago, the first landed me in the ER for an evening, four days later, rinse and repeat, only this time I landed in the ICU. This one sent me to the psych hospital for a month, but even there the doctors and therapists failed to acknowledge I had a drug issue. Everything was attributed to my PTSD, and my PTSD alone. I remember being in the hospital and wanting to scream at everyone that I needed help for my impulsive pill popping behavior. Their solution? My meds were taken out of my control. I was handed them dose by dose. Funny how denial is so powerful. Last year when my mom started drinking again, I screamed at my dad to pour all the alcohol down the drain. He told me that you can't just take the alcohol away, because the addict always finds a way around it. Funny, because that's exactly what my parents did to me. They took my pills away thinking that would solve everything, but really it just glossed over the issue for a bit.
No excuses. I have a psychiatrist who knows I've been horribly dependent on benzos, not once, not twice, but three times, but he still prescribes them to me like they're candy. And oh yeah, he knows that one of my OD's was on klonopin. I have a GP who gave me a Rx to SOMA, and she, too knows my history. She was my attending when I was in the ICU. Again, I'm not blaming them, or saying it's their fault, but for bloody sakes, where the he!! are those doctors that are stringent with the Rx's because I haven't come across them in my 33 years.
You would have thought that all those OD's were my rock bottom. No, I still needed to go a little lower. He!!, I don't even know if I'm there yet. All I know is that right now I'm terrified. I've lost almost everyone in my life. My last, very last friend kicked me out of his life a few days ago, saying our friendship was over. He's kicked me out of his life a few dozen times before, but somehow, this time I feel that it really is the end. I can't even bring myself to apologize to him because it'll just sound like "mwa mwa mwa mwa mwa" to him. You know, in that voice that the adults in the peanuts cartoons speak in. At this point, "I'm sorry" would be meaningless.
Everyone thinks my psychotic-ness is pure PTSD. Hell, nobody in my life knows anybody else with PTSD. Aside from my doctors that is. So why wouldn't they think its PTSD? They don't know that I'm popping pills like mad. Its just "oh, she's having a rough time with flashbacks" or something like that. I just never correct their assumptions.
And no, I don't self-medicate. I downright abuse those pills. My mom was a self medicator, in a pass-the-buck sort of way which absolved her of any responsibility. Eff that. I know what I'm doing and the first step is admitting that yes, I have a problem, and yes, I have the power to change.
The attitude towards drugs has been so blase. Grandma was an alcoholic; dad was swimming in booze in the womb. Mom was also an alcoholic, but we don't dare say the "A" word, she was merely self-medicating. Then there were my aunts who had those crazy drug stories straight out of the 60's. I knew my aunt had PTSD, too, but I never imagined how horrible her story was. So horrific you know that she didn't make it up. And yes, drugs were at the root of it. Its funny, my dad had been telling me for a few years now that my aunt went through some horrible sh!t, but I never expected her to tell me, and I never expected it to be as bad as what she said. But now I think that I needed to know. Well, it some crazy messed up sort of way.
My mind is swimming right now, and I'm shaking. Always a sign that things are going to get bad. But I'm going to fight it. I'm not going to drown it out with pills tonight. I'm going to throw out that damn SOMA. Last time I took it I was up for three days straight and the crash was horrific. It just sucks when you don't know what to do when the other two meds you abuse you actually need. My benzo has kept me out of the psych ward, and don't laugh, but I abuse my allergy meds. That one keeps me out of the ER, too, as my allergies are getting pretty bad. Maybe it would actually be easier if I just had a drinking problem. Nobody needs alcohol to survive. But now I'm rambling. Enough for the time being. Thanks for listening.
And oh yeah, I really did consider posting this in the anon forum. But wouldn't that have given my problem more power than it deserves? Out with it, I say. The truth shall set you free. Or something like that.
I know I have more to say, as I haven't said it all...but this is all I can muster for now.
I know I've been a downright b!tch here on the forum. I hate to say it, but much of it I don't remember because I was under the influence of something or another. No, I'm not making excuses. Nothing I say in this post is an excuse for anything. I don't subscribe to the AA/NA/etc way of thinking that I'm powerless over my "addiction" or whatever you want to call it. I have the power to pop those pills. I also have the power to throw them away. Obviously I chose the former over the latter, time and time again.
Denial is powerful. My SSDI income is monitored because I've had so many Rx ODs. I was told that any sort of drug abuse is a flag for the SS people to entrust your disability income to someone else, even though I've never purchased drugs, my credit is stellar, and my criminal record is non-existent. Its the only thing that would have flagged such an action on their part.
I've been abusing my meds since I was 19. I'm 33 now. My first bad OD should have killed me, but it didn't even land me in the ER, to the shock of my doctors to whom I'd admitted what I'd done. A few days in an outpatient day program and I was "ok". Then there was the alcohol poisoning which did land me in the ER a year or so later. Yeah, it was pretty much swept under the rug. Then there were a series of OD's a few years ago, the first landed me in the ER for an evening, four days later, rinse and repeat, only this time I landed in the ICU. This one sent me to the psych hospital for a month, but even there the doctors and therapists failed to acknowledge I had a drug issue. Everything was attributed to my PTSD, and my PTSD alone. I remember being in the hospital and wanting to scream at everyone that I needed help for my impulsive pill popping behavior. Their solution? My meds were taken out of my control. I was handed them dose by dose. Funny how denial is so powerful. Last year when my mom started drinking again, I screamed at my dad to pour all the alcohol down the drain. He told me that you can't just take the alcohol away, because the addict always finds a way around it. Funny, because that's exactly what my parents did to me. They took my pills away thinking that would solve everything, but really it just glossed over the issue for a bit.
No excuses. I have a psychiatrist who knows I've been horribly dependent on benzos, not once, not twice, but three times, but he still prescribes them to me like they're candy. And oh yeah, he knows that one of my OD's was on klonopin. I have a GP who gave me a Rx to SOMA, and she, too knows my history. She was my attending when I was in the ICU. Again, I'm not blaming them, or saying it's their fault, but for bloody sakes, where the he!! are those doctors that are stringent with the Rx's because I haven't come across them in my 33 years.
You would have thought that all those OD's were my rock bottom. No, I still needed to go a little lower. He!!, I don't even know if I'm there yet. All I know is that right now I'm terrified. I've lost almost everyone in my life. My last, very last friend kicked me out of his life a few days ago, saying our friendship was over. He's kicked me out of his life a few dozen times before, but somehow, this time I feel that it really is the end. I can't even bring myself to apologize to him because it'll just sound like "mwa mwa mwa mwa mwa" to him. You know, in that voice that the adults in the peanuts cartoons speak in. At this point, "I'm sorry" would be meaningless.
Everyone thinks my psychotic-ness is pure PTSD. Hell, nobody in my life knows anybody else with PTSD. Aside from my doctors that is. So why wouldn't they think its PTSD? They don't know that I'm popping pills like mad. Its just "oh, she's having a rough time with flashbacks" or something like that. I just never correct their assumptions.
And no, I don't self-medicate. I downright abuse those pills. My mom was a self medicator, in a pass-the-buck sort of way which absolved her of any responsibility. Eff that. I know what I'm doing and the first step is admitting that yes, I have a problem, and yes, I have the power to change.
The attitude towards drugs has been so blase. Grandma was an alcoholic; dad was swimming in booze in the womb. Mom was also an alcoholic, but we don't dare say the "A" word, she was merely self-medicating. Then there were my aunts who had those crazy drug stories straight out of the 60's. I knew my aunt had PTSD, too, but I never imagined how horrible her story was. So horrific you know that she didn't make it up. And yes, drugs were at the root of it. Its funny, my dad had been telling me for a few years now that my aunt went through some horrible sh!t, but I never expected her to tell me, and I never expected it to be as bad as what she said. But now I think that I needed to know. Well, it some crazy messed up sort of way.
My mind is swimming right now, and I'm shaking. Always a sign that things are going to get bad. But I'm going to fight it. I'm not going to drown it out with pills tonight. I'm going to throw out that damn SOMA. Last time I took it I was up for three days straight and the crash was horrific. It just sucks when you don't know what to do when the other two meds you abuse you actually need. My benzo has kept me out of the psych ward, and don't laugh, but I abuse my allergy meds. That one keeps me out of the ER, too, as my allergies are getting pretty bad. Maybe it would actually be easier if I just had a drinking problem. Nobody needs alcohol to survive. But now I'm rambling. Enough for the time being. Thanks for listening.
And oh yeah, I really did consider posting this in the anon forum. But wouldn't that have given my problem more power than it deserves? Out with it, I say. The truth shall set you free. Or something like that.
I know I have more to say, as I haven't said it all...but this is all I can muster for now.
