ShadowOfAShadow
Greenlighter
- Joined
- Jul 5, 2019
- Messages
- 1
Firstly, I want to say I know that forums have a place for everything - and at a glance this seems like the appropriate place for this, but I of course welcome redirection if it should be elsewhere.
FOREWARD: I didn't intend to write down such a detailed overview of my life in relation to my current addiction issues - but as I wrote it just began to pour out - and I do feel alot of it is relevant. So if you do stick with it to the end, thank you from the bottom of my heart. And better still if you feel you have some helpful words to help me back on the ladder to recovery. I am currently struggling with deep set impulse control issues and I'm always doing the wrong thing against my better judgement (taking my buprenorphine from tomorrow's dose, just to feel better today etc...). So read on if you will, and again, thank you. I should also mention I am currently seeing a private/paid-for counsellor, and to make it clear, I am enrolled with the local drugs recovery program who I see regularly and I'm on a 'script of 14mg Espranor a day (pick up 3 times a week).
I'm competely lost - I have been for a while. I didn't open up about my depression until I was about 14 year olds (27 at the time of writing this). I had been crying profusely for 3 straight days, after meeting my now fiancé for the first time in person. I think I realized what happiness and love felt like. After 3 days I couldn't take anymore. My parents were away out of the country, and my late great Aunt (who I had a very close relationship with) was looking after me & my elder half-sibling. I came downstairs, tears streaming down my face, and told her "I think I have depression". From there I eventually saw a psychotherapist, got my blanket diagnosis, and started my up-and-down treatment on the free healthcare in this country.
I've had issues with mood swings (extreme happiness / silliness, then straight to the depths of apathy or misery), stress, and anxiety for as long as I can remember really. I would lay in bed for hours as a child fearing every little sound - an intruder? Someone trying to break in and harm us all? I believe my mother had anxiety - and my father always seemed quite stressed - so I suppose it brushed off on me while I was young. To make matters worse, I was the subject of physical & verbal abuse from my elder half-sibling nearly every day. Always unprovoked, always filled with venom & anger. I had recurring dreams to this day (we're out of contact entirely) where the abuse continues. I often get asked how my parents adressed it - and I suppose they didn't really. I suppose they thought it was just normal / usual sibling rivarly. It's only now I'm old enough & see other families that I realise there was nothing normal about it.
At the age of 15/16 I started drinking, cider usually, but in high quantities for my age - and soon after I'd begin raiding my dads whiskey stash - which I couldn't get enough of. I'd steal a few swigs - put the bottle back, and retreat to my bedroom to get away from everyone - but as they slinked upstairs to bed, I'd be more brazen and just sit there swigging the bottle. In the end it became difficult to hide where it had gone - but I'd been such a quiet, trouble-free child that my elder half-sibling was pretty much the subject of the blame (and I guess that felt good considering over a decade of things being the other way around). It was also at this time that I think I started medication for my depression... Citalapram most likely.
The drinking continued, and I went away to college, then university (UK citizen) where I began to try other things. The hardest thing I ever really triedd "off the streets" was cannabis - but I had finally found something that not only staved away the stress and anxiety attacks - but also the depression. It just sort of, evened me out - stopped me having those extreme happy days that always resulted in extreme bad days.
In my first week at University I had a really bad "panic attack" that lasted for days. I couldn't sleep. I didn't feel like I could breath, and everything felt 2-3x bigger than... I felt like I was in a great big open space and it was extremely uncomfortable. I went to the drop-in emergency doctors clinic, and was put on diazapam for a week. This really helped my extreme/temporary symptoms, but also my long-term ones. And as you can probably imagine - I just felt fucking brilliant. The best I'd felt in a long, long time. But of course, this was just a temporary fix.
I didn't use drugs often, difficult to get hold of when you're a bit reclusive like I am. I don't think anybody I know can guess I have these problems. I've gotten very good at my bubbley-charamisatic front, but I know it's all there beneath the surface, as does my fiancé.
But here is where the addiction issues really started... you see, I was also diagnosed with Crohn's Disease at about 7/8 years old (fun fact, GP had me on Caline & MORPHINE for a year or two to address my symptoms as simple tummy aches before compotent doctors diagnosed me. It wasn't until a pharmacy saw how long I'd been on morphine for & pointed out I was probably addicted - which I believe I was). Anyway, about 2013, my early twenties, I had no choice but to go in for surgery to remove part of my effect bowel. I was given 60mg Codeine Phosphate tablets to take home for the pain, but didn't use them due to constipation issues. Towards the end of my 4th/Masters year at university, I came across them in my cupboad. I was very stressed, as I mentioned I have real trouble coping with stress... so I took the Codiene recreationaly - up to 4 tablets at a time - eventually two or three times a day (from memory). These of course, ran out.
As it so happened, my partner (now fiancé, we've been together 12~ years now) was on Codeine Phosphate for ongoing issues, from the Pain Clinic where she was a patient of the clinic... so I began to siphon these. Just a few at a time - but as you can guess my consumption of these grew. Eventually I had to explain things. I abused this. To cut back on details, this eventually had to stop. No matter where they were I'd find them. It started as a stress reponse. Something would happen at work, or we'd just have a normal couples tiff, or a bill would be forgotten. Any old reason - I don't deal with stress well - and I'd just reach for them to calm me down... but eventually I started to take them systematically - keeping myself dosed twice a day at least. The tablets had to leave the picture - and as it so happens, I came across a thread on this very website... Cold Water Extraction
I worked in a BIG city, but lived far out. This particular city gave me access to NUMEROUS pharmacies... so I rota'd them, buying "Cocodamol" packets 8/500mg codiene/paracetomol. It started just as a weekend thing, but within a few months I was doing two packets a day (64 tablets total). I like to think I was doing a very good job of extraction. I'm still here, and now being involved in a recovery program I have Liver Checks in my blood tests, which are "OK". I kept myself constantly dosed. It ruled my life. Twice a day I would go through the hour-long routine of crushing, freezing, and filtering - and if I'm quite honest with you, in some ways I miss it very much.
Trying to move this on a bit now as I've really gone into a lot more detail than I intended (story of my life), I am now 2-years on a recovery program, in which I have been taking a subotex like substance for the majority of the time. At the time of writing I am on Espranor Lyophilisate SF (another form of Buprenorphine). I am prescribed at 14mg a day (a big 8mg, and 3x 2mg ON-THE-TONGUE, not under). My intention for a very long time has been to taper off - but due to a number of life factors, the time was never right and too many external factors were stressing me - issues at work (until recently I worked full-time as a Software Engineer for a very well known corporation in a big city, often commuting in close to 2 hours one way).
With the lack of work right now - drifting along on savings - I am in the best position I ever will be to focus on myself, and wishfully, fix myself... but I'm failing miserably.
I have a severe lack of impulse control when it comes to... anything. Food. My 'script. Time spent doing stuff I shouldn't (like playing on my 3DS instead of job hunting). I did attend a number of interviews but it's all knocked my confidence. My previous employer decimated my confidence and self belief. I picked up my tablets 3 times a week, and find myself taking extra from the next days, and it's gotten really bad. I picked up recently (3 days worth), and I have probably 2mg for each remaining day now. This strong stern voice in my head says "No, don't do that - you'll end up feeling awful and withdrawn again, you've got to 'come down' now off the initial high of taking them. But that's okay because you won't feel withdrawn and you can feel this again tomorrow morning. And if you do take extra, you're just going to feel like shit tomorrow". And while I'm thinking this, I'm just watching my hand reach out, and I'm almost screaming it at myself. It sounds pathetic. It feels pathetic to write it, it feels pathetic to read it back. But that's me.
I've put so much weight on over the last year - I've lost so much self-control. And I was reluctant to mention this. But I have a 2 year old. He's my whole world. All I ever wanted was a son. I love him dearly. I take him out often, he's my whole world. And I know I should be in my best shape for him. I should look after my body for him. To be here for him for as long as I can. But even with him sat in the little seat of the trolley in front of me, as I looked at him wrestling in my mind "don't go and buy another tub of Ben & Jerry's TOPPED Salted Caramel Brownie ice cream - you've had half-a-tub every night this week so far. If you want to make it past 50 years old - if you want to be there for him - if you love him - don't buy it". And still I buy it. It's like how people describe being drunk for the first time. Like watching yourself be an idiot. But not being able to do anything about it. But I'm an adult, aren't I? I'm a matured human being - why can't I stop myself? Why do I not deny myself these stupid over-indulgences?
A big part of my stress issues at the moment is that my son has struggled with respiratory issues since he was born (admitted to paediatrics on birth) but overall the doctors are scratching their heads. He has woken up 5-7 times a night up until only very recently due to sleep apnea styled symptoms, and only recently dropped down to 1-2 times. He is almost always unwell with a cold or infection (he's on his 6th course of anti-biotics since the last 18~months) and it's all been really tough. My fiancé struggles with CFS/ME and has done since before I met her 12 years ago and has pretty much waved goodbye to her life - having dropped out of several attempts at studying. We're in the midst of several referals right now to rheumotology & neurology at the hospital, the first real traction we've ever had as doctors are reluctant to take her seriously because a psychiatrist diagnosed her at her parents behest a long time ago - well before any of the frameworks came in for EXLUSION DIAGNOSING CFS/ME (making sure it's not A,B,C,D, or E before labelling her - so there's a small glimmer of hope of us getting a different answer soon & her getting better. But I won't hold my breath... I love her, but I definetely made my life more difficult when I decided to settle down with her & have a child a few years ago.
And I can't even understand why I can't stop the overeating, because of all my ridiculous over the top anxieties and stress responses, my biggest, most irrational, scene-inducing fear is DYING. Because to me, it's like playing a video game with no memory card in the slot. KNOWING that afterwards, you're just going to lose all your progress and FORGET THE EXPERIENCE ENTIRELY. I often feel "what's the point to all of this if I have to say goodbye? If I have to give up everything and... what? Not exist? Exist in nothingness? Experience nothing but blackness around me - or worse, not experience at all - these are my memories. My son. I don't want to give those up EVER."
My outlook on death is that we either just, CEASE TO BE ENTIRELY, or come back as something/someone else with no recollection of our past. And either way it terrifies me to no end and I cannot... I can't lose them all
and if I'm going to then all of this is just utterly fucking pointless.
Anyhow, I'm going to feel like trash tomorrow. I don't want to be a slave to this anymore. I just want some control back in my life... I want to stop having these urges. I want to feel like my time is my time to use as I wish, and stop being in this constant cycle of repitition. I'm scared. I'm lost. I want to get better, but I feel like I'm stopping myself and can't work out why. I've written out so much here. I don't really expect anyone to read through it. I don't really expect anyone to have the answer. But I suppose some small part of me is hoping that this resonates with one individual who just "gets it" and says - you know what, I had exactly the same problem as you and I found this really helpful...
FOREWARD: I didn't intend to write down such a detailed overview of my life in relation to my current addiction issues - but as I wrote it just began to pour out - and I do feel alot of it is relevant. So if you do stick with it to the end, thank you from the bottom of my heart. And better still if you feel you have some helpful words to help me back on the ladder to recovery. I am currently struggling with deep set impulse control issues and I'm always doing the wrong thing against my better judgement (taking my buprenorphine from tomorrow's dose, just to feel better today etc...). So read on if you will, and again, thank you. I should also mention I am currently seeing a private/paid-for counsellor, and to make it clear, I am enrolled with the local drugs recovery program who I see regularly and I'm on a 'script of 14mg Espranor a day (pick up 3 times a week).
I'm competely lost - I have been for a while. I didn't open up about my depression until I was about 14 year olds (27 at the time of writing this). I had been crying profusely for 3 straight days, after meeting my now fiancé for the first time in person. I think I realized what happiness and love felt like. After 3 days I couldn't take anymore. My parents were away out of the country, and my late great Aunt (who I had a very close relationship with) was looking after me & my elder half-sibling. I came downstairs, tears streaming down my face, and told her "I think I have depression". From there I eventually saw a psychotherapist, got my blanket diagnosis, and started my up-and-down treatment on the free healthcare in this country.
I've had issues with mood swings (extreme happiness / silliness, then straight to the depths of apathy or misery), stress, and anxiety for as long as I can remember really. I would lay in bed for hours as a child fearing every little sound - an intruder? Someone trying to break in and harm us all? I believe my mother had anxiety - and my father always seemed quite stressed - so I suppose it brushed off on me while I was young. To make matters worse, I was the subject of physical & verbal abuse from my elder half-sibling nearly every day. Always unprovoked, always filled with venom & anger. I had recurring dreams to this day (we're out of contact entirely) where the abuse continues. I often get asked how my parents adressed it - and I suppose they didn't really. I suppose they thought it was just normal / usual sibling rivarly. It's only now I'm old enough & see other families that I realise there was nothing normal about it.
At the age of 15/16 I started drinking, cider usually, but in high quantities for my age - and soon after I'd begin raiding my dads whiskey stash - which I couldn't get enough of. I'd steal a few swigs - put the bottle back, and retreat to my bedroom to get away from everyone - but as they slinked upstairs to bed, I'd be more brazen and just sit there swigging the bottle. In the end it became difficult to hide where it had gone - but I'd been such a quiet, trouble-free child that my elder half-sibling was pretty much the subject of the blame (and I guess that felt good considering over a decade of things being the other way around). It was also at this time that I think I started medication for my depression... Citalapram most likely.
The drinking continued, and I went away to college, then university (UK citizen) where I began to try other things. The hardest thing I ever really triedd "off the streets" was cannabis - but I had finally found something that not only staved away the stress and anxiety attacks - but also the depression. It just sort of, evened me out - stopped me having those extreme happy days that always resulted in extreme bad days.
In my first week at University I had a really bad "panic attack" that lasted for days. I couldn't sleep. I didn't feel like I could breath, and everything felt 2-3x bigger than... I felt like I was in a great big open space and it was extremely uncomfortable. I went to the drop-in emergency doctors clinic, and was put on diazapam for a week. This really helped my extreme/temporary symptoms, but also my long-term ones. And as you can probably imagine - I just felt fucking brilliant. The best I'd felt in a long, long time. But of course, this was just a temporary fix.
I didn't use drugs often, difficult to get hold of when you're a bit reclusive like I am. I don't think anybody I know can guess I have these problems. I've gotten very good at my bubbley-charamisatic front, but I know it's all there beneath the surface, as does my fiancé.
But here is where the addiction issues really started... you see, I was also diagnosed with Crohn's Disease at about 7/8 years old (fun fact, GP had me on Caline & MORPHINE for a year or two to address my symptoms as simple tummy aches before compotent doctors diagnosed me. It wasn't until a pharmacy saw how long I'd been on morphine for & pointed out I was probably addicted - which I believe I was). Anyway, about 2013, my early twenties, I had no choice but to go in for surgery to remove part of my effect bowel. I was given 60mg Codeine Phosphate tablets to take home for the pain, but didn't use them due to constipation issues. Towards the end of my 4th/Masters year at university, I came across them in my cupboad. I was very stressed, as I mentioned I have real trouble coping with stress... so I took the Codiene recreationaly - up to 4 tablets at a time - eventually two or three times a day (from memory). These of course, ran out.
As it so happened, my partner (now fiancé, we've been together 12~ years now) was on Codeine Phosphate for ongoing issues, from the Pain Clinic where she was a patient of the clinic... so I began to siphon these. Just a few at a time - but as you can guess my consumption of these grew. Eventually I had to explain things. I abused this. To cut back on details, this eventually had to stop. No matter where they were I'd find them. It started as a stress reponse. Something would happen at work, or we'd just have a normal couples tiff, or a bill would be forgotten. Any old reason - I don't deal with stress well - and I'd just reach for them to calm me down... but eventually I started to take them systematically - keeping myself dosed twice a day at least. The tablets had to leave the picture - and as it so happens, I came across a thread on this very website... Cold Water Extraction
I worked in a BIG city, but lived far out. This particular city gave me access to NUMEROUS pharmacies... so I rota'd them, buying "Cocodamol" packets 8/500mg codiene/paracetomol. It started just as a weekend thing, but within a few months I was doing two packets a day (64 tablets total). I like to think I was doing a very good job of extraction. I'm still here, and now being involved in a recovery program I have Liver Checks in my blood tests, which are "OK". I kept myself constantly dosed. It ruled my life. Twice a day I would go through the hour-long routine of crushing, freezing, and filtering - and if I'm quite honest with you, in some ways I miss it very much.
Trying to move this on a bit now as I've really gone into a lot more detail than I intended (story of my life), I am now 2-years on a recovery program, in which I have been taking a subotex like substance for the majority of the time. At the time of writing I am on Espranor Lyophilisate SF (another form of Buprenorphine). I am prescribed at 14mg a day (a big 8mg, and 3x 2mg ON-THE-TONGUE, not under). My intention for a very long time has been to taper off - but due to a number of life factors, the time was never right and too many external factors were stressing me - issues at work (until recently I worked full-time as a Software Engineer for a very well known corporation in a big city, often commuting in close to 2 hours one way).
With the lack of work right now - drifting along on savings - I am in the best position I ever will be to focus on myself, and wishfully, fix myself... but I'm failing miserably.
I have a severe lack of impulse control when it comes to... anything. Food. My 'script. Time spent doing stuff I shouldn't (like playing on my 3DS instead of job hunting). I did attend a number of interviews but it's all knocked my confidence. My previous employer decimated my confidence and self belief. I picked up my tablets 3 times a week, and find myself taking extra from the next days, and it's gotten really bad. I picked up recently (3 days worth), and I have probably 2mg for each remaining day now. This strong stern voice in my head says "No, don't do that - you'll end up feeling awful and withdrawn again, you've got to 'come down' now off the initial high of taking them. But that's okay because you won't feel withdrawn and you can feel this again tomorrow morning. And if you do take extra, you're just going to feel like shit tomorrow". And while I'm thinking this, I'm just watching my hand reach out, and I'm almost screaming it at myself. It sounds pathetic. It feels pathetic to write it, it feels pathetic to read it back. But that's me.
I've put so much weight on over the last year - I've lost so much self-control. And I was reluctant to mention this. But I have a 2 year old. He's my whole world. All I ever wanted was a son. I love him dearly. I take him out often, he's my whole world. And I know I should be in my best shape for him. I should look after my body for him. To be here for him for as long as I can. But even with him sat in the little seat of the trolley in front of me, as I looked at him wrestling in my mind "don't go and buy another tub of Ben & Jerry's TOPPED Salted Caramel Brownie ice cream - you've had half-a-tub every night this week so far. If you want to make it past 50 years old - if you want to be there for him - if you love him - don't buy it". And still I buy it. It's like how people describe being drunk for the first time. Like watching yourself be an idiot. But not being able to do anything about it. But I'm an adult, aren't I? I'm a matured human being - why can't I stop myself? Why do I not deny myself these stupid over-indulgences?
A big part of my stress issues at the moment is that my son has struggled with respiratory issues since he was born (admitted to paediatrics on birth) but overall the doctors are scratching their heads. He has woken up 5-7 times a night up until only very recently due to sleep apnea styled symptoms, and only recently dropped down to 1-2 times. He is almost always unwell with a cold or infection (he's on his 6th course of anti-biotics since the last 18~months) and it's all been really tough. My fiancé struggles with CFS/ME and has done since before I met her 12 years ago and has pretty much waved goodbye to her life - having dropped out of several attempts at studying. We're in the midst of several referals right now to rheumotology & neurology at the hospital, the first real traction we've ever had as doctors are reluctant to take her seriously because a psychiatrist diagnosed her at her parents behest a long time ago - well before any of the frameworks came in for EXLUSION DIAGNOSING CFS/ME (making sure it's not A,B,C,D, or E before labelling her - so there's a small glimmer of hope of us getting a different answer soon & her getting better. But I won't hold my breath... I love her, but I definetely made my life more difficult when I decided to settle down with her & have a child a few years ago.
And I can't even understand why I can't stop the overeating, because of all my ridiculous over the top anxieties and stress responses, my biggest, most irrational, scene-inducing fear is DYING. Because to me, it's like playing a video game with no memory card in the slot. KNOWING that afterwards, you're just going to lose all your progress and FORGET THE EXPERIENCE ENTIRELY. I often feel "what's the point to all of this if I have to say goodbye? If I have to give up everything and... what? Not exist? Exist in nothingness? Experience nothing but blackness around me - or worse, not experience at all - these are my memories. My son. I don't want to give those up EVER."
My outlook on death is that we either just, CEASE TO BE ENTIRELY, or come back as something/someone else with no recollection of our past. And either way it terrifies me to no end and I cannot... I can't lose them all
and if I'm going to then all of this is just utterly fucking pointless.Anyhow, I'm going to feel like trash tomorrow. I don't want to be a slave to this anymore. I just want some control back in my life... I want to stop having these urges. I want to feel like my time is my time to use as I wish, and stop being in this constant cycle of repitition. I'm scared. I'm lost. I want to get better, but I feel like I'm stopping myself and can't work out why. I've written out so much here. I don't really expect anyone to read through it. I don't really expect anyone to have the answer. But I suppose some small part of me is hoping that this resonates with one individual who just "gets it" and says - you know what, I had exactly the same problem as you and I found this really helpful...