“I can hear them talking in the real world,
but they don’t understand
that I’m losing myself in a white trash hell.”
Everclear, Heroin Girl
I have never had a good sense of self. I was repeatedly told I was a worthless piece of shit as a child, and it stuck and prevented me from being able to value myself as a person. Years of my life were spent trying find scraps of love and live under other people’s rules. I never aware that I was my own entity and could live by myself under my rules. There are so many people out there that will shape you and break you to make you into what they think they want, and guess what? You’ll never be good enough for them.
So, my “true” self disappeared into addictions, people-pleasing, co-dependency, and a thousand other broken coping mechanisms. Talking about my past and throwing the whole thing into perspective helps me gain insight into myself with my sponsor last night, but I’ve been straight up exhausted. I kinda want to figure this out, for my own sake.
Here’s a brief introduction to the different people I’ve been in my 20’s:
18: Honor student. Drinks, does vicodin and adderol. Takes year off school to “get head together” and go to New Hampshire.Drinking and pill use intensifies.
21: At college for Political Science, convinced she’s going to make leftist anarchist theories a thing in American political discourse. Been in lesbian relationship for 3 years, engaged, but unable to legally marry; heavy drinker, heavy use of klonopin, on occasion secretly gets high and has mutual “bitch about my girlfriend” fest with neighbor guy. Smokes crack once, panics, takes cold shower and swears to never do it again.
23: College dropout, Suicide attempt, klonopin and whiskey. Diagnosed as bipolar 1, psych refuses to believe amount of whiskey being consumed by 23 year old girl.
24: Leaves fiance, moves into “Roadstar Inn” – cheap hotel, tries to get sober and switches to large amounts of marijuana, cough syrup, and ends up in non-sexual but strangely sexually frustrating with man who’s car she lives out of. “Do you sleep with everyone who isn’t me?” Man is on probation and has to rescue her from bars and other dubious situations.
Other memorable moment: Accidentally goes home with cop from a bar, quotes Scarface “Do you know what a chaza is?” (ANS: A pig who don’t fly straight); has sex, cop finds weed; says something about giving her a break; she blacks out for several hours, comes to watching cop in boxers frying eggs and telling her she’s circling the drain.
First time at Narcotics Anonymous.
Age 26: Mostly homeless, starting to experiment with meth in beginning of year, pretty much lets random men feed her random drugs and has a different boyfriend every 2-5 weeks. By end of year, starting to get hooked on opiates, snorting meth/ In rehab for 4 months. Strangely popular with the homeless community. (For real, dude, I’ve always been a shy loner, with like three friends, but for some reason I was like, one of the popular homeless “kids”. If you’re wondering, it’s a lot like being popular in high school, but with more smells and death.) Diagnosis switched to bipolar type 2.
Age 27: Moves from rehab to women’s transitional shelter, steady job as front desk attendant at hotel; everything fine and peaceful for six month stretch of sobriety until she instantly falls in love with a guy with a lot of health problems and on/off addictions to alcohol, meth, and heroin. Verbal abuse and possessiveness start; Moves into hotel with guy anyway, gets hit, goes on the lam and has brief junkie whore period before begging women’s transitional shelter for uh, shelter. On/off relationship with guy, generally ends up going off the drug deep end every few weeks.
Smokes crack second time; doesn’t get high, subjects room to speech about the obvious superiority of meth.
Age 28: Spends time at women’s half-way house (Oxford House), cleans up, works on a regular basis again, volunteers, does well until leg breaks in Nov; moves to friend’s apartment and her program starts to slide.
Age 29: Enrolls in tech school. Moves back to hometown. Starts to get dry drunk syndrome, reunites with the guy who’s car she used to live out of and other dudes from her past, relapses for about a week (I think?), sobers back up, lives in perpetual state of panic until she finally finds a sponsor.
Can be generally described as worn-out and cynical.
Diagnosis: Depression with substance abuse problems or type 2 bipolar, psychiatrist and the world are confused.
I’ve been 29 for under two months now, so like…that’s it, folks.
No wonder I have psychological whiplash.