I have butterflies in my stomach as I type this. I'm about to share something so very personal in the hopes of it helping someone else.
I am a drug addict. I am an alcoholic. I spent 79 days in treatment getting sober and learning (and continuously learning) how to live life on life's terms. It was hard. It was messy. I was ungrateful, entitled, spoiled and humbled. COPAC saved my life. This is how...
In 2014 I began taking some medication to help ease the stress of wedding planning. Once my marriage fell apart, so did my sanity. The alcohol increased and so did the medication. They were "legally and lawfully" mine (as I liked to say), so how could I have a problem if my name was on them? *I had a problem*
In 2015 my mom got sick. I fell apart. I pretended I wasn't crumbling, but I was. So quickly. I began taking my medication, my mom's medication and anyone else's medication I could scramble.
In 2016 my mom died. My whole world shattered. I didn't care if I lived or died. I had no husband. I had no mother. I thought I had no purpose. I wanted to die. I tried to do that several times, but each time I'd wake up and think "damn it... still here."
By 2017 you'd think after over dosing alone in my apartment a few times would scare me enough into reaching out for help. It didn't. I would have days or weeks I just blacked out on. I didn't remember conversations with my friends and family and soon it caught up to me. I lost my job because of my addiction. Keep in mind, I didn't think I had a problem. I didn't even realize I was blacking out. The holes in my memory were forgotten as soon as I remembered they were there.
I fell into such a deep depression I didn't leave my house. I had food delivered. I made up excuses as to why I couldn't see people or do things with anyone. I had become physically dependent on the drugs and was taking them in such large amounts that when I did not take anything, I became sick.
On July 11th I had a job interview... an important job interview. One I really wanted. So, I did not take any Xanax that day. Unfortunately, my body was so used to it, I had a seizure in the middle of my job interview, because I was going through withdrawals. It's safe to say I didn't get the job.
I can remember being in the ER at Baptist Hospital and my dad just so angry with me. He's been angry with my in the past, but he was ANGRY. He made several phone calls, said I was coming home with him and to go get my dogs. I was too scared to talk back and too selfish to see how scared he was.
I woke up the next morning and my dad was just getting back home from driving out to COPAC in Brandon. He gently, ever so cautiously, asked if I would consider going to treatment for 30 days. I had nothing left to lose. I agreed.
For the first 21 days I was at COPAC I was on detox meds. Usually you detox for a few days or a week. I had so much Xanax in my system it took me a little longer...
At first I didn't mind being there... I was also high on detox meds so that helped. When my 30 day mark was coming up, I had not made enough progress to get to go home. As much as I talk, I keep anything and everything serious inside my own head. I cried. I sobbed. I yelled. I pitched a fit only an entitled brat could. I embarrassed myself and later apologized to my counselor for doing so.
When I got to the 60 day mark, I had made more progress, but not enough. I realized I resented my mom for dying. I was angry at my dad for not making her go to the doctor sooner. I was jealous of my sister for having her life more together than me. This is when it got really good. I realized I didn't want to die. I understood that my dad already buried my mom and he didn't want to bury me too.
I was getting close to 80 days and my counselor- Bobbie Love-Johnson- said we would talk on Monday about my discharge plans. I prayed all day Sunday about what it was God wanted me to do. What he wanted my next step to be. I had a peace with whatever Mrs. Bobbie said I needed to do, I was going to do.
The next day, Mrs. Bobbie came in and said "how about Austin, TX?" I said yes. My dad came and picked me up 3 days later and drove me straight here.
I'm alive not because I wanted to be, but because I have a family that loves me and a counselor who didn't give up on me. Mrs. Bobbie told me she would be my life jacket until I realized I could swim. She helped save me when I didn't even know if I wanted to be saved.
I share this in the hopes of helping someone else struggling. I've been SO embarrassed. (I mean, I disappeared for almost 3 months. Did anyone miss me??) But today, I had a nudging feeling to write a quick recap of the last few months and years. I don't wish the pain I went through on anyone. But, if you happen to find yourself feeling that pain, I can relate. I understand. I am forever changed because of it.
Life is precious, life is sweet. I am 146 days clean. My family is PROUD of me again. I have a job. I have friends who love and support me. I have Oliver at the foot of my bed snoring and a God who gave his only Son for me. He didn't allow me to die, when I so badly wanted to and tried to. I'm not sure what His purpose is for my life, but I plan on to continue seeking Him to find it.
