Hi all,
I wanted to introduce myself and tell a bit of my story. I am in therapy for PTSD and social anxiety. I come from a very dysfunctional family with lots of emotional and physical abuse. My dad has untreated bipolar disorder and was very controlling and abusive when I was growing up.
As a kid, I was bullied for being overweight and developed anorexia to cope. The thing that "cured" my anorexia was an addiction to methamphetamine. When I was 19, I got into a very abusive marriage with a man who beat me and threatened to kill. I was so scared- I thought he was going to do it.
The worst was still yet to come. At 21, my brother got angry and stabbed me 8 times, severing the median nerve in my arm and collapsing my right lung. In that moment, my life changed forever. An accomplished pianist, I lost all function and feeling in my arm and could no longer play- or write, or feed or dress myself. I was lucky to be alive, the drs said. I didn't feel lucky. Every day for nearly six years, I wanted to die and attempted to do so regularly. The month I was in the hospital, I was hooked up to an IV that supplied me with a constant flow of dilaudid. I fell in love. Opiates, muscle relaxants, and benzos were my only friends. I was now disabled and unable to work. I was forced to move back in with my abusive dad, who defended my brother and told me I brought the stabbing on myself.
Eighteen months after the stabbing, I woke up with a large amount of swelling in my right breast. Concerned, I went to the dr, who told me not to worry- "22 year olds don't get breast cancer." I was told it was a cyst and to go home and not worry about it. It took about two months and multiple trips to that same dr before I saw a different dr, who finally sent me for an ultrasound.
In the meanwhile, I was scheduled for another surgery on my arm. The very day of that surgery, I was pulled away from the operating room. "Your biopsy results are in," was all they would tell until the oncologist got there. I was such in denial, I wasn't scared- just angry that I wouldn't be having surgery that day.
I end up losing my right breast and underwent radiation. This was when I started to feel completely numb. I couldn't believe all this had happened. It didn't seem real.
Fast-forwarding a bit. I went through a dozen surgeries over the years. Some of them were not successful in repairing the damage to my arm, and I would need another surgery- after another, after another. It seemed unending. At 26, I finally decided to address my addiction and went to rehab. I detoxed from oxycontin and klonopin and stayed clean for 72 days before I gave up. I couldn't deal with the utter terror of my PTSD. I was introduced to heroin by someone in treatment, and was hooked.
I started methadone maintenance and really tried to get clean, until 2012. That year, I celebrated five years cancer-free. It seemed like life had finally smiled upon me. One month later, the dr determined that the bump on my head wasn't just a bump- the cancer had returned. At this point, I decided I wanted to do as much heroin as possible until I died.
I don't know what made me want to live. I had this hope that life could get better, somehow. Two years ago, I finally got clean with the help of Narcotics Anonymous. I moved out of my parents house and cut all ties with my dad. I am happy, for the first time in my life. I have an amazing job and an amazing boyfriend and things keep getting better.
So what's going on for me today? I'm still plagued by fear. A week ago, I finally detoxed totally from klonopin after a year of weaning off 1 my a day. I feel so socially awkward and anxious since then. I feel like those childhood insecurities are what is affecting me most. I was feeling confident before I went off the klonopin. Now I am wonder if I will ever feel "normal" again.
This is a very condensed version of my story. There has been so much pain that, some days, I sob for all that I have lost. I am almost 31 and I feel like my life has been wasted. I look in the mirror and see the beginnings of laugh lines (cry lines, maybe, in my case?) and crows' feet. I just want the pain to end. I want to have friends and relate to people without being terrified they will hurt me. I have such a hard time opening up. This is the first time I've ever written my story, in full, and it feels good.
Thanks for listening.
Sami
I wanted to introduce myself and tell a bit of my story. I am in therapy for PTSD and social anxiety. I come from a very dysfunctional family with lots of emotional and physical abuse. My dad has untreated bipolar disorder and was very controlling and abusive when I was growing up.
As a kid, I was bullied for being overweight and developed anorexia to cope. The thing that "cured" my anorexia was an addiction to methamphetamine. When I was 19, I got into a very abusive marriage with a man who beat me and threatened to kill. I was so scared- I thought he was going to do it.
The worst was still yet to come. At 21, my brother got angry and stabbed me 8 times, severing the median nerve in my arm and collapsing my right lung. In that moment, my life changed forever. An accomplished pianist, I lost all function and feeling in my arm and could no longer play- or write, or feed or dress myself. I was lucky to be alive, the drs said. I didn't feel lucky. Every day for nearly six years, I wanted to die and attempted to do so regularly. The month I was in the hospital, I was hooked up to an IV that supplied me with a constant flow of dilaudid. I fell in love. Opiates, muscle relaxants, and benzos were my only friends. I was now disabled and unable to work. I was forced to move back in with my abusive dad, who defended my brother and told me I brought the stabbing on myself.
Eighteen months after the stabbing, I woke up with a large amount of swelling in my right breast. Concerned, I went to the dr, who told me not to worry- "22 year olds don't get breast cancer." I was told it was a cyst and to go home and not worry about it. It took about two months and multiple trips to that same dr before I saw a different dr, who finally sent me for an ultrasound.
In the meanwhile, I was scheduled for another surgery on my arm. The very day of that surgery, I was pulled away from the operating room. "Your biopsy results are in," was all they would tell until the oncologist got there. I was such in denial, I wasn't scared- just angry that I wouldn't be having surgery that day.
I end up losing my right breast and underwent radiation. This was when I started to feel completely numb. I couldn't believe all this had happened. It didn't seem real.
Fast-forwarding a bit. I went through a dozen surgeries over the years. Some of them were not successful in repairing the damage to my arm, and I would need another surgery- after another, after another. It seemed unending. At 26, I finally decided to address my addiction and went to rehab. I detoxed from oxycontin and klonopin and stayed clean for 72 days before I gave up. I couldn't deal with the utter terror of my PTSD. I was introduced to heroin by someone in treatment, and was hooked.
I started methadone maintenance and really tried to get clean, until 2012. That year, I celebrated five years cancer-free. It seemed like life had finally smiled upon me. One month later, the dr determined that the bump on my head wasn't just a bump- the cancer had returned. At this point, I decided I wanted to do as much heroin as possible until I died.
I don't know what made me want to live. I had this hope that life could get better, somehow. Two years ago, I finally got clean with the help of Narcotics Anonymous. I moved out of my parents house and cut all ties with my dad. I am happy, for the first time in my life. I have an amazing job and an amazing boyfriend and things keep getting better.
So what's going on for me today? I'm still plagued by fear. A week ago, I finally detoxed totally from klonopin after a year of weaning off 1 my a day. I feel so socially awkward and anxious since then. I feel like those childhood insecurities are what is affecting me most. I was feeling confident before I went off the klonopin. Now I am wonder if I will ever feel "normal" again.
This is a very condensed version of my story. There has been so much pain that, some days, I sob for all that I have lost. I am almost 31 and I feel like my life has been wasted. I look in the mirror and see the beginnings of laugh lines (cry lines, maybe, in my case?) and crows' feet. I just want the pain to end. I want to have friends and relate to people without being terrified they will hurt me. I have such a hard time opening up. This is the first time I've ever written my story, in full, and it feels good.
Thanks for listening.
Sami
