Chapter 2: Reflection

February 17, 2018. It’s a typical sunny Saturday morning, but nothing about this morning is typical. I am not the same person I was a month ago. I am not the same person a week ago. I feel completely different and that scares me. Why? Because a week ago I came face to face with my illness and my demons and they merged into one, and a new side of me was born; one that could have taken me out of the world. I was confused, scared, high, and in my own personal hell. It is not like they had not merged before in the past. But this was different. Every facet of my life was affected, and it was now engulfing my personality and turning me into someone I didn’t recognize. I didn’t trust anyone anymore. It didn’t matter if it was family or friends. You were now my enemy. The only persons I trusted was my therapist and my sponsor and I had no problem walking away from them for days or weeks at a time. The only thing that mattered was the madness and fear that now ruled my life. I was incapable of showing emotion even though I was very emotional. I stayed angry. The only thing was changed that was the prick of the needle full of crystal meth as it entered my veins. For just a little while I was happy in my own world. Was that a good thing? Hell no! It only would make things worse. Did I care? No! For the next seven days, all that mattered was crystal, G, pipes, syringes, and dick. If you could not offer that, we really had nothing to talk about. I dragged friends into my madness without thinking about how it affected them. When they got upset with me, I responded with anger. I was desperate to keep the small circle of “friends” I created, not knowing how to make them happy because I could not even make myself happy.

When I wasn’t using, the depression got worse. Nothing hardly made me laugh. The things that made me happy no longer was a source of joy for me. I stayed sad and gravitated toward television shows that made me shed tears. It was the only way I could show emotion. As I laid in bed watching Nathan’s funeral on General Hospital, it was the closest I came to finally cry and letting go of the pain I was feeling. But the show was only 42 minutes long, and by now I knew how to pull back my emotions and keep the pain in. My room was a junkyard, with wrappers, bottles, dirty clothes, smelly socks, and me, laying in the middle of it. It had gotten so bad that to avoid seeing people, I filled 7 2-liter bottles with urine to keep from walking out of my door. When I finally threw them out, the bag was so heavy it was a miracle it didn’t break. When I finally decided to clean my room, I had to get high because I knew it was the only way it would get done, for tomorrow promised to have me back in the grips of my depression and I would retreat to my bed again.

My mother has been calling me for 2 1/2 months until she finally gave up. She knows I will call her when I am ready. I recall the last conversation with when I told her that my depression was bad. I had no idea it would take me down such a dark road until it would threaten my very existence. If I didn’t understand what depression, I got a front seat education on it now. It took a 7-day run on 6 hours of sleep, 6 days of shooting up, being strung out on G, the huge amount of crystal in my system, the countless men, the taking advantage of friends also in trouble, and on the road of losing my room and maybe everything else to finally say, “I need help. My depression is strangling me. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I can’t stop.” I entered the psych ward of the hospital nervous, but also relieved. After sleeping on an off for a little more than a day before getting back on my meds before my head started to clear; and when it did, the guilt and realization of my actions started to take over. Whereas the depression is getting under control, now I am faced with fear and anxiety. I woke this morning and nearly had a panic attack. I know I need to pace myself right now, but I cannot help feeling that nothing will be the same ever again and I am not the same person I was when I went to Florida. I feel like I have lost a piece of myself and don’t know if I can reclaim that part of me again. I am fearful of all the people in my life. I can’t help but ask myself, what the fuck have I done? Can I ever face these people again and will they forgive me? Will they understand that depression is real and can take you down the darkest roads if you let it? Will they understand I was not myself and had no control of myself? The question I guess I should be asking is can I forgive myself and understand that even though I am responsible for my actions, I was sick and unable to make the right decisions? I expect consequences and I have already seen one that hurt me, but will I let it take me back out there and eventually take me out? Can I come to terms of how serious my depression is, and I must stay medicated for this not to happen again? Can I come to terms that need to stay off drugs to be the person I want to be? Or will I let my guilt and shame kill me? `

I get it. I know I am overwhelmed right now. This is the closest I have been to being myself in 3 months. I have things to fix and it will not be fixed in a day. I didn’t get to this point in one night and I cannot expect everything to be okay in one day. I have a lot of therapy to do. I must understand how I let one Facebook post send me into a tailspin. I still need to understand why my family is such a trigger for me. I need to understand more about depression. It is a lot to grasp. I guess anyone could get overwhelmed if they in my shoes right now. All I know is the old me is gone, maybe forever, and a new me has emerged; a more vulnerable and cautious me. That self-cockiness and confidence are gone for now. Will it return? I don’t know. Either way, I need to accept this new me and move on from there.

If you suffer from depression or know someone who is battling depression, please get help as soon as possible. You can call the National Hopeline Network, 1-800-SUICIDE (784-2433); the National Suicide Prevention Hotline, 1-800-273-TALK (8255); the National Youth Crisis Hotline, 1-800-448-4663. 

If you are battling addiction, or know someone who is battling addiction, please call the National Addiction Hotline, 1-888-352-6072.

You don’t have to go through this alone. There are people who can help you.