Drugs, Abuse, You know, the Norm
I'm just going to dive right in with this one. I was addicted to drugs for 3 years. There. I said it. People in my hometown either knew since I turned 16 that I was into drugs, or they thought I was such a nice girl that I would never (and they're probably freaking out right now reading this, sorry mom).
2 weeks before I turned 16, I met a tall, 24 year old, dangerous guy and fell very hard, very quickly. Granted, I was freshly 16 and thought I had the world figured out. I knew Z was doing some kind of substance, he'd go into the bathroom with his friends and not explain why. Or he'd always be sniffling his nose but not sick. I eventually called him out on it. And 3 months after meeting Z, I finally forced him to give me some Vicodin to try. Since he liked it so much, why couldn't I try it? And wow, what a calming effect it had. Instantly, just this wave of relief and numbness came over me. I was hooked. Just like that. Originally, I only wanted to do it whenever I was with Z or our friends, not when I was alone or at home. But, soon it turned into sneaking one pill with me to my mom's house, then it turned into him giving me 3 for the night and me trying to find ways to sneak to him to get more, until finally it was me buying my own and carrying them with me everywhere. I needed to know my pills were with me, otherwise I would get irritable and work badly and be pissed off at the world. I mean, I even had a whole "drug kit" that was always in my pocket. That first year of my addiction was...simple. It was fun and felt innocent. And that's how it got dangerous.
When the second year came along, things were spiraling out of control. I moved out of my mom's house at 17 years old, to live in Z's mom's garage with him. I told myself it was because my family sucked, but really, it's because I sucked. I just wanted to do things when I wanted, and have no rules (like most 17 year olds). During that second year of my addiction and intense relationship, we tried everything. Xanax, cocaine, oxycontin, heroin, literally every kind of pill or drug went into my body. Oh, except mushrooms and acid because those 2 scare me (but meth doesn't, what?).
When Z and I got our own house, our relationship turned into a dangerous game. We would fight. Constantly. He'd throw me into the walls and choke me out, and I would kick and rip his skin open until he stopped. I cheated on him, and he did the same to me. But we couldn't leave eachother. I tried many times but he'd threaten me to stay. Or he would apologize and say he'd change because he loved me so much. And we'd be happy for 3 days or so and then do it over again.
One night, Z and I decided we wanted to have some drinks at home. He left to go to the bar with his friends, and when he got home, he tried to force me to have sex with him. I was mad at him for going out, so I kept pushing him away over and over. Well, of course, if you keep pushing eachother's buttons, someone is bound to snap. All I remember is trying to run out of my pitch black room, him pulling me back and my TV falling to the floor, and broken glass shards from my picture frames making the carpet sparkle. He kept trying and trying, but I could tell he was so drunk he was starting to get weak. So, I relaxed near the bed to make him think I was giving in, and when he was calmed down, I wrapped a sheet around his neck and held on until he stopped moving so that I could escape. I still don't know if he passed out from the alcohol or the lack of air, all I care about is that he never took advantage of me...that night anyways. That was the moment I realized that this wasn't healthy. I still had no idea how to leave, and when things were good, they were great. If he could handle my mood swings and cheating, I could handle the emotional and physical hardships. It wasn't an abusive relationship, I deserved all of the bad shit that he did to me. After all, it was just "tough love". Not to mention he was my lifeline for my drug hookups. If I lost him, I lost everyone and everything important to me. Was I ready for that next step? Not quite.
So I decided I would continue existing in my numb body for another 6 months or so. I graduated from high school in May 2014, and in June, I was finally ready to start my life over. What was I living for? A shitty job with a shitty boyfriend in a town I didn't want to be in? Time to move on.
I texted my mom on Tuesday letting her know he would be home from work Thursday and I couldn't be in Michigan if I wanted to move on with life. I had 2 days to figure out what I was going to do. The next morning, I was on a flight to Oregon without telling anyone but my family. I can never thank my mom enough for that. She didn't really ask why, she just did it for me because she knew I was hurting. When my aunt got me to her house after my long trip, I laid on the bed, took a deep breath and cried, knowing I've distanced myself from these people for so long, and they still care about me. I stayed in Oregon for 2 weeks to detox and just learn how to live life without Z. To this day, certain smells will bring me back to those 2 weeks in Oregon. And I relive it for a moment and say thanks to all of those who helped get me healthy and where I am today.
I had to learn that no matter how many times he told me I wasn't worth anything, I was worth everything. We all are worth something. I just never believed it because he drilled it in my head that I was worthless, my dad was looking down on me disappointed, and my family hated me. It's easy to beat yourself up over bad choices you've made but it's in the past. You've got to accept what was, and live for what's now.
Z has had a great girl now for over 2 years (the beauty in a small town, everyone knows everything), and I hope she's being treated every way that I wasn't. I learned so much from him and from those 3 years. If I were to ask him to repay me for what he did, all i would say is: Learn to love. Not just say the words, but prove it. Don't throw someone around like a rag doll and turn around and say they are everything to you. The bruises heal quickly, but the emotional issues take longer. And here I am. I'm not just existing in my body, I'm actually living life. I'm not numb from drugs, not scared of anyone, and I'm doing well. Facing my issues head on, and learning how to heal. So thank you, Z, for teaching me what I don't want from life, and teaching me how you have to hit rock bottom before you can truly reach your highest (pun fully intended).
2 weeks before I turned 16, I met a tall, 24 year old, dangerous guy and fell very hard, very quickly. Granted, I was freshly 16 and thought I had the world figured out. I knew Z was doing some kind of substance, he'd go into the bathroom with his friends and not explain why. Or he'd always be sniffling his nose but not sick. I eventually called him out on it. And 3 months after meeting Z, I finally forced him to give me some Vicodin to try. Since he liked it so much, why couldn't I try it? And wow, what a calming effect it had. Instantly, just this wave of relief and numbness came over me. I was hooked. Just like that. Originally, I only wanted to do it whenever I was with Z or our friends, not when I was alone or at home. But, soon it turned into sneaking one pill with me to my mom's house, then it turned into him giving me 3 for the night and me trying to find ways to sneak to him to get more, until finally it was me buying my own and carrying them with me everywhere. I needed to know my pills were with me, otherwise I would get irritable and work badly and be pissed off at the world. I mean, I even had a whole "drug kit" that was always in my pocket. That first year of my addiction was...simple. It was fun and felt innocent. And that's how it got dangerous.
When the second year came along, things were spiraling out of control. I moved out of my mom's house at 17 years old, to live in Z's mom's garage with him. I told myself it was because my family sucked, but really, it's because I sucked. I just wanted to do things when I wanted, and have no rules (like most 17 year olds). During that second year of my addiction and intense relationship, we tried everything. Xanax, cocaine, oxycontin, heroin, literally every kind of pill or drug went into my body. Oh, except mushrooms and acid because those 2 scare me (but meth doesn't, what?).
When Z and I got our own house, our relationship turned into a dangerous game. We would fight. Constantly. He'd throw me into the walls and choke me out, and I would kick and rip his skin open until he stopped. I cheated on him, and he did the same to me. But we couldn't leave eachother. I tried many times but he'd threaten me to stay. Or he would apologize and say he'd change because he loved me so much. And we'd be happy for 3 days or so and then do it over again.
One night, Z and I decided we wanted to have some drinks at home. He left to go to the bar with his friends, and when he got home, he tried to force me to have sex with him. I was mad at him for going out, so I kept pushing him away over and over. Well, of course, if you keep pushing eachother's buttons, someone is bound to snap. All I remember is trying to run out of my pitch black room, him pulling me back and my TV falling to the floor, and broken glass shards from my picture frames making the carpet sparkle. He kept trying and trying, but I could tell he was so drunk he was starting to get weak. So, I relaxed near the bed to make him think I was giving in, and when he was calmed down, I wrapped a sheet around his neck and held on until he stopped moving so that I could escape. I still don't know if he passed out from the alcohol or the lack of air, all I care about is that he never took advantage of me...that night anyways. That was the moment I realized that this wasn't healthy. I still had no idea how to leave, and when things were good, they were great. If he could handle my mood swings and cheating, I could handle the emotional and physical hardships. It wasn't an abusive relationship, I deserved all of the bad shit that he did to me. After all, it was just "tough love". Not to mention he was my lifeline for my drug hookups. If I lost him, I lost everyone and everything important to me. Was I ready for that next step? Not quite.
So I decided I would continue existing in my numb body for another 6 months or so. I graduated from high school in May 2014, and in June, I was finally ready to start my life over. What was I living for? A shitty job with a shitty boyfriend in a town I didn't want to be in? Time to move on.
I texted my mom on Tuesday letting her know he would be home from work Thursday and I couldn't be in Michigan if I wanted to move on with life. I had 2 days to figure out what I was going to do. The next morning, I was on a flight to Oregon without telling anyone but my family. I can never thank my mom enough for that. She didn't really ask why, she just did it for me because she knew I was hurting. When my aunt got me to her house after my long trip, I laid on the bed, took a deep breath and cried, knowing I've distanced myself from these people for so long, and they still care about me. I stayed in Oregon for 2 weeks to detox and just learn how to live life without Z. To this day, certain smells will bring me back to those 2 weeks in Oregon. And I relive it for a moment and say thanks to all of those who helped get me healthy and where I am today.
I had to learn that no matter how many times he told me I wasn't worth anything, I was worth everything. We all are worth something. I just never believed it because he drilled it in my head that I was worthless, my dad was looking down on me disappointed, and my family hated me. It's easy to beat yourself up over bad choices you've made but it's in the past. You've got to accept what was, and live for what's now.
Z has had a great girl now for over 2 years (the beauty in a small town, everyone knows everything), and I hope she's being treated every way that I wasn't. I learned so much from him and from those 3 years. If I were to ask him to repay me for what he did, all i would say is: Learn to love. Not just say the words, but prove it. Don't throw someone around like a rag doll and turn around and say they are everything to you. The bruises heal quickly, but the emotional issues take longer. And here I am. I'm not just existing in my body, I'm actually living life. I'm not numb from drugs, not scared of anyone, and I'm doing well. Facing my issues head on, and learning how to heal. So thank you, Z, for teaching me what I don't want from life, and teaching me how you have to hit rock bottom before you can truly reach your highest (pun fully intended).
Side note: I could've rambled on even more, but that's probably all you need to know about that part of my life for now. Like I said, deep shit.
Amazing story and I am so proud of you for everything you have done!
ReplyDeleteThis was me btw. Don't know why it's Unknown
Delete