I just briefly read through some of the posts on this page and I feel like we all to some degree are in the same boat. I had been in therapy for years before but because I was making good grades, stayed out of trouble in school, and well liked by teachers and the community no one suspected I had mood and emotional disorders. I too am bipolar, adhd, and clinically depressed. I wasn't diagnosed with bipolar disorder until a year and a half ago. Only recently have I been on a decent regiment of meds so that I can get through the weeks of darkness without them being too dark and the weeks of little sleep and feelings of being a rock star when I truly am not.
I used a variety of drugs for the better half of my life, self-medicating -- which is very common for people suffering the things we have. It was only in the last four years or so that I started abusing opiates on a level that was headed toward dependency. I was in college when I first tried dope and for the the first two experiences, I snorted it. On the second one I snorted, but my friends slammed, and I knew instantly that we were not feeling the same thing and I had to know what that was like. As soon as I did, no more weed, rarely any trippings, no more anything unless it was free or an occasion other than dope. I was in college studying what I wanted to study at Loyola, on scholarship, good job, great internship, and I worked for an amazing apartment. After I started slamming dope, my life got all turned upside down. My first run, I lasted for about 8 months before becoming suicidal and actually making a failed attempt. Immediately after I asked for help and went to my first AA meeting. It took a good while but for the next few months I was consistently making an effort to get off and eventually went to treatment.
I was initially only going to stay thirty days but felt I needed to stay longer so I tagged on another 60. I even transferred schools for a little while because I was afraid I would have dope in my face to much down here to resist. Well I ended up hating the school I transferred to and moved out to California. I wasn't entirely sober but I wasn't slamming anything at the time. Things were looking up. A friend and I who moved out there together, ran a grow op which was the most gratifying job ever. And it felt so good to just smoke buds and not feel the need for something else. That lasted for a while until my disease got the best of me.
I hadn't yet been diagnosed for bipolar disorder and I stopped taking i stopped taking the anti-depressants because they weren't working for me. This already was a recipe for the impending disaster. Well my partnership was interrupted by my friend who's homesickness and indecisiveness caused me to have to close up shop. I wasn't bringing in enough cash within the 8 months we had been there to cover operational costs and living expenses, not to mention we shared his car, which was now leaving with him. His family had given him an ultimatum to either return home and go back to school or be cut off entirely. Phone, car, medical insurance, the whole nine. I already was having to pay my own bills without owning a car so I knew what it was like to be completely responsible for myself, he was not and under pressure he folded. When he told me, I had a breakdown and the first panic attack I've ever had. I can remember it like it was yesterday. I was in downtown los angeles on spring street when he told me and I hit the ground grasping for air. In a matter of seconds, my dream which I had worked so hard to get that far, was being dismantled by his mother who was in north carolina, on the other side of the country. I was heart broken and my emotions were every where. This meant a few different things for me that I hadn't considered granted something like this happen, because I was convinced that it wouldn't and couldn't. I was wrong.
If I had to return to the gulf coast, I would have to beg my parents to let me crash for a little while which is not only humiliating enough, but I was not even sure they would let me stay, much less welcome me. I had also run from probation because of some bullshit they were going to violate me on and when we headed west, I didn't even think twice about it. Well now I was having to consider how desperate and unfortunate my days ahead were looking. Needless to say, I had a friend down there who was getting loaded and had invited me to join on a number of occasions but I was too happy to want to fuck it up, however, now --- I was down like peter brown. He lived in Santa Ana and had this tar hook up that was coming from a sub-group of the cartel. I only say that because I mean this shit was fucking potent!!!!!!! And fucking cheap too. Bad combination for me on a binge. Grams were 100 and if you actually got that much, it could last you like 5 days of several shots a day. 20 bucks is what I usually spent and I could easily stretch that two days. I had two months of play before we had to fold up shop and move back east. Well every day of those 2 months I was getting LOADED.
When I came back, which was a whole different story, but I'll say this much, we ended up getting arrested at a boarder patrol check and my "best buddy/business partner" and his mother who had to fly down to el paso to get the car out of the impound, left me with what I could carry and 20 dollars in the middle of the desert. So basically he fucked up our business, stole all my shit, and left me in the desert. I never talked to that fucking prick again. It took me a week to get back to NOLA. I arrived physically, mentally, emotionally broken, sweating and feeling dope sick, luckily not unbearable but still not in the least bit pleasant given the circumstances. My parents took me in under the condition I clean up my act, deal with my legal issues, get clean, and go back to meetings. I did, and over a few months things were starting to get better. I had been suspected as bipolar at this point but not yet put on mood stabilizers or back on an anti-depressant. I got a job, I bought a car, and I started being social and establishing a network again, I was looking at going back to schoool and all of a sudden, my parents come to me and tell me they are going on a trip to Europe and then cruising all they way back to New Orleans. The trip would take 5 weeks and 3 of them they would be on the ship. And here's the kicker -- they said I could not stay there while they were away. This is like less than a weeks notice that I need to figure out someplace to go for 5 weeks, in the area, if I wanted to keep my jobs. My jobs gave me free access to a Nautilus gym 24/7 and the ability to play golf for free on either of our 18 hole courses not too mention good pay. I would normally crash with friends, but where my parents live, what friend's I did have, were either no longer in contact with me, or smart enough to move away or were at school far away so I did not have that option.
I quickly made a decision and ended back here for a while couch surfing until I put a little something together. It didn't take me long because I am quite the hustler, however, unstable as I was, feeling lost, abandoned, failed, and without purpose I returned to my best bud leroy brown who felt the same as I remembered just a few months prior. Another 8 months of that go by, and then the cycle repeated itself. I got cleaned up and this time because my family and my therapist were putting a heavy lean on me to get some psychiatric treatment and medication. I checked into a behavioral hospital and did an outpatient program for 2 weeks which set me up with a good regiment of doctors who eventually gave me an official diagnosis and medication. It took a while but eventually it started to work.
I managed to stay moderately clean for some time before I was in a huge car accident. I was on my way into the city, just crossed over the lake on i 10 about a mile past the irish bayou exit behind a flatbed 18wheeler when a stap snapped and cargo fell all over the highway. I was the first of eight to get hit. A forty pound piece of metal cut my car in half. I was all fucked up,. luckily I turned out fine, and not one of the 8 cars that were hit actually collided with another vehicle. I was injured pretty badly, and immediately prescribed painkillers. I had an orthopedic surgeon, 2 months of physical therapy, 2 cervical epidurals, pain management , the whole nine yards. My parents had taken me in after the accident and eventually I started shooting my roxy's and they found a spoon.
They asked me to go back to treatment or get out. I really didn't need it at the time nor did I want to go, but I did. I ended up truly enjoying it there and getting something out of it. I was going to stay another 30 which focused on trama/ abuse/ and shame reduction which i was really looking forward to until i was kicked out 5 days later for jokingly punching another patient which apparently was breaching the 0 tolerance policy of showing aggression to another patient. Since I have moved back to nola, but I still deal with the pain from the accident. I don't have a doctor here so I've been doing that brown because my tolerance had dropped and it wasn't that expensive but its been 2 months now and its getting really frequent and much more expensive. I'm trying to nip it in the bud but I need a legit prescription from a pain doctor. Got any suggestions on who I could go to because I really want to get off the h before its been too long.
Thanks for reading.
Add me as a friend if you're from nola or in the area. We should help each other out.
