Finding words is sometimes the hardest thing in the world. I often find that I can’t express things verbally, or if I do I end up making a massive mess of what I was trying to say and people are non-the-wiser. It’s frustrating as hell and leaves me feeling misunderstood and angry with myself for being incapable of communicating.
This time last year I had just finished detoxing from subutex and I was more determined than ever that I was going to make my life a success. I made a new years resolution, something which I am dead against doing as I never keep them beyond a week or two and see it as a pointless exercise unless you want to succeed in failure in which case its ideal. However, last year I decided that I would do something for me, I would build a relationship with my therapist and make a determined effort to go every week regardless of how I was feeling. I had learnt in the few weeks I had been at uni on the new course how important it was for the client/patient to make an effort with the therapist and that without commitment the whole thing is destined to fail. So I had to learn to trust her, I had to make myself go even when I wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and hide from the world. I had to see this counselling process as a partnership and the therapist as my ally.
A year on, this resolution I made to myself is the only one in my life that I have ever kept. I have attended every week aside from when there has been a holiday. I have never attended anything in my life as religiously as I have done with this and I have surprised myself at the change and strength in the relationship I have now formed with my therapist. What has surprised me the most has been the attachment that I have created and how important she has has become to my existence. I literally live from one session to another, which apparently is normal and how the process is meant to work. To me this is fucking crazy and absolutely terrifying. I don’t do attachment well, I become paranoid and scared that I am going to be rejected and abanonded because that is what I have learnt to expect.
This process hasn’t been straightforward by any stretches of the imagination. At the start of the year, although I was clean, I was mentally unstable as I made huge chemical changes and adjusted to not having any opiates in my system. It was excrutiatingly painful emotionally and mentally, my sanity wavered constantly and the cravings for anything containing codeine were at times unbearable. I started cutting again, my arms looked a mess for awhile and I struggled with the negative thoughts which threatened to undo all the hard work of the previous year. However, I prevailed and not only did I stay clean, I stoppped cutting and I got through the first year of uni. Counselling helped me get through those dark times and I know I was deeply thankful. I am not sure that I was attached at this point in time, but I had definitley built a relationship where I trusted my therapist and knew that one day I would open up to her about things which I have never said out loud or even written about.
August arrived, summer breaks happened and before I knew it September had arrived. I would start my second year at uni and my relationship with my therapist was in a good place.
BUT nothing in my life is ever this simple.
I am not entirely sure when it started to all unravel, but agoraphobia made an appearance the first week back at uni and has settled into my head with authority. Not long after, sleeping became difficult, not as extreme as it had been in the past, but enough to begin to make life a little harder and for my mind to start going to those dark places I had been fighting.
I had also reached a point in therapy where I felt ready to share some of the past. It was hard to do, but it felt like an important step to take if I was to begin to heal. However, what I did share was like opening pandora’s proverbial box. Insomnia made itself at home, my emotions went all over the place, I couldn’t focus, I couldn’t go out, my mind went to dark places constantly and cutting and pill popping became strong urges.
A few days ago I found 3 co-codamol tablets plus a fortnights worth of quetiapine. Happy fucking Christmas to me! I couldn’t believe it and the excitement that corsed through my veins was a high all of its own. I felt relief – huge and beautiful. That night I took co-codamol, just one 30/500. It was more blissful and calming than I can even begin to explain.
I have been asked many times over, why do I take co-codamol. The simple answer is that I never intended to take it in the way that I did, nor did I really understand why I took it other than the fact that it made me feel better. Well, I can now answer that better. Having not touched one for more than 18 months, the one I took a few weeks prior to this new finding, just didn’t really do much. This time around, I felt the effects completely. I had the high where my head felt buzzed, but what really struck me was the calm, relaxed feeling that took over me. It was like a release from all the tension that has built up and my mind just stopped screaming. It was like magic and I loved it.
The following day I took the final two, split over the course of 3/4 hours. It was just as blissful and I felt so calm and chilled. It was a great feeling.
Yesterday however was a shitty day. I felt trapped, my head was spinning constantly with thoughts and emotions, I couldn’t focus and felt restless and irritible. I am like this most days, but it seemed more extreme than normal.
Today, I would like nothing more than to get off my face. I am fed up of having to stay away from anything containing codeine. I am fed up of feeling like shit and I am fed up of being too fucking scared to go out my front door and live my life. Sharing what I did has unsettled everything and now it all sits just under the surface like it’s going to explode out of me at any time, but I don’t want it to because I am not ready to go to all those places. I feel trapped in a thousand different ways and it’s hard to know which way to turn. My counsellor remains supportive and probably concerned, although I think that I have a problem in understanding concern and mistaking it instead for anger or frustration. I am not entirely sure if this is accurate, I will have to ask my therapist when I see her on Thursday.
For the first time ever, I am actually afraid of not having to go to counselling for two weeks because of the Christmas holidays. It worries me how I am going to manage all my thoughts and emotions and fight off the self-harming and pill popping urges.
I have been trying to come up with a plan to cope and manage – I am not sure if it will work, but I am willing to give it a chance. I was reading some information on a website called One in Four which is aimed at survivors of childhood sexual abuse. I really struggle with what happened and so much of it is confused and blurry and my thoughts and emotions are all over the place. Anyway, this website has a list of some self-help ideas which I had a look through. One caught my eye. I am not creative or artistic in any sense and whenever I see it mentioned I mentally run a billion miles away. However, this time I read through what it was saying and something called out to me – scrapbook….
I don’t really know how it will work, but I have decided to give scrapbooking a go. I have ordered from amazon some items to help me create said scrapbook and have decided that it’s purpose is to express my experience of CSA and bpd/depression/anxiety etc. I don’t have to draw, I can print of pictures or write the odd word etc. But i figure that this exercise might help me manage over the holiday and might help me to get through the tough things when I am in therapy.
Accepting that I am a junkie is hard, I don’t want to go back to the place I was in 18 months ago, but I confess that I miss it more than ever and the temptation to buy anything containing codeine is at times overwhelming. Maybe the scrapbook will help decrease the urge to take pills.
I am terrified of letting my best friend down, of letting my therapist down and failing my family. I don’t want to, but honestly, I am not sure that it’s a promise I can keep. Sometimes it gets so lonely and with my head spinning, the thoughts and voices at their loudest, it becomes near impossible not to listen and give in. I may have strength at times, but being strong all the time and fighting and winning every battle is exhasuting and I am not sure that I can be that strong. I am not sure that I have the will power or the desire to be strong all the time or fight these urges. I feel like a bad person for admitting that. I have come to dislike the feeling of drinking alcohol and prefere the feeling I get from codeine. I feel like the shittiest person for feeling that way – that I would rather get high than get drunk. How do you fight that feeling?