Holy shit. Last night was one of the worst nights of my life. Let me tell you why. It all started after upping my daily dose of an antidepressant I've been taking for a few years. Because last week, I met with a physiatrist to work through some of my mental health issues. Like a lot of people with depression, I take two different antidepressants. Specifically, 150 XL milligrams of Wellbutrin (the starting dose) and 50 milligrams of Generic Zoloft. More recently though, I've been feeling like they're not working as well as they should. That right there is why I made that appointment to see if adjusting any of these meds would do the trick. My main complaints were lack of focus, fatigue and an overall feeling of sadness. Perhaps I have a reason but sometimes I don't. That doesn't change how I've been feeling though. Because besides having depression, I also deal with anxiety, OCD, PTSD, and a bunch of other shit. It's like I'm uninspired to motivate myself to do the things I want to do; used to do —would like to do. TBH, I've been doing the same shit over and over again expecting different results. And because I know that's the definition of insanity, I decided it was time to do something about it. So after telling that physiatrist, he said we'd start by increasing my Wellbutrin from 150 XL to 300. And go from there. He did preface that if I became extremely anxious from the increase, to let him know right away. I didn't think anything of it. But I was in for a rude awakening. Because two days later, at around 4:00 pm, I started freaking the fuck out. It felt like I was about to have a heart attack or a seizure. I couldn't shake this feeling of impending doom. Maybe because I was experiencing heart palpitations, body spasms, brain spasms, dizziness, racing thoughts, hyperactivity and some other really intense shit. There was a point where I didn't think I'd make it. And it starts a little something like this.
Opioid withdrawal is perhaps the hardest part of addiction recovery. It consumes you. Both physically and mentally. In fact, I'm not sure which one is worse. I do, however, know that you’re sick. Really sick and in pain. A lot of pain. Your joints ache. Hell, everything aches. All you want to do is sleep. So you lie down, but you can't get comfortable. Restless. So you get up, but you're too weak to do anything. So you get back in bed. And it's the same thing all over again. Here's what you need to know.
If I can be honest, at first it wasn't that bad. But that was the point. It was supposed to suck me in. It was supposed to appear as if the glitz and the glam were always going to be there. I mean, we started off at South Beach. But when it all ended, I was clearly in hell. I mean, for a while, I didn't leave at all. Bruce was the only person I saw. In short, I was on my way to a treatment center that never existed. Don't get it twisted, I didn't want to be enlisted. But back then, I had no other choice. Those damn drugs stole my voice. So if you're wondering what rock bottom number three looked like to me, here's how it all came to be.
Home —what was that? I hadn’t had one in what felt like forever. The only thing I had was fear. Except, today, I was an official resident at my very first drug treatment center. I made it through the intervention, the detox —both which I never thought would happen, and now this. I remember arriving in the druggy buggy (our way of saying a white van) directly from the county ran detox that I didn't want to admit, saved my life. I remember them searching me. For once, I had nothing to hide. I remember them finishing up the in-take process and taking me to my new home away from home. I was ready.
As my addiction grew stronger, so did my efforts to remain high. Eventually, I had to do things I never wanted to do. I knew they were wrong even then but that didn't stop me. It hurts like hell to think what chaos I caused —especially to the ones I love the most. These are the people who loved me when I couldn't even love myself. But when it's all said and done, it really does start and end with family. Here's how addiction affected mine.
In my latest blog post, I discussed how my life basically exploded as my lies went up in flames. Everything I was running from was staring at me straight in the face. I was attending an intervention I never thought would be for me. But there I was. My sister, Michaela, and Dr. Eddy finally made me crack. But in a good way —the best. I finally broke down. I finally wanted the help I desperately needed —help that happened to be right in front of me. And so, to detox, I went. I was freaked out, fucked up and alone. I had never been to anything like this before so I didn't know what to expect. And wouldn't you say, fear of the unknown is the worst kind? Because I would. Here goes nothing.
I sit here with a clear head excited about what's to come. I've worked hard these past few weeks and I'm actually hopeful. But when I'm all alone in my bedroom, I can't help but think, what now? I know I have the tools to succeed in my recovery, yet, I still feel stuck (sometimes). It's like when there's nothing to do and I'm a little bored, I find myself asking, what if I got high? I can't. I know I can't. And the truth is, I won't. But seriously, what am I supposed to do now? Well, I can think of seven things.
There are some days when I can't muscle enough energy to leave the house. There are weeks when it hurts to simply get out of bed. As the months go by, I don't understand why my insides hate me. Then I found CBD oil. That's when everything changed. I say this because lately, I have more energy. I'm worrying less and socializing more. My illnesses no longer define me —despite the obstacles staring at me in the face. When it's all said and done, CBD helps me every day. Here are nine ways CBD can help you too.
College graduation is upon me along with my sensible attempts to get the good girl back. Except this chick was severely addicted to opioids. I was literally doing about 31 pills a day. But I thought if I could simply leave, then I could get better. I was living my life through the saying, out of sight, out of mind. So I pack my bags, give my apartment key back to my landlord, and try to start over, again. Destination —sunny Florida. Things started off great but I was about to learn; wherever you go, there you are. And eventually, I find myself addicted all over again. So I'll ask you one more time, who's ready to battle for some sanity? I hope you say yes.
In my last blog post, I discussed how I’m trying to swim through life with multiple mental illnesses but I can’t even float. It feels like I’m sinking with nothing to stop me but me. And so, I pretend everything is okay. And if you're like me, you want to feel normal but maybe you just don't know how. Well, here are three mental health treatment options that can bring you back to the person you were always meant to be.
I don’t remember when, but at some point, I realized what I was feeling and going through was not normal nor healthy. It was hard to admit that I was drowning. But, if I was going to get help, if I was going to feel happy again and be able to stay afloat, I needed to admit that something was wrong. I was not okay.
This disease is not solely based on the pursuit to “look beautiful" —for those who have some type of eating disorder, it's so much more than that. Honestly, it’s as if you're in an abusive relationship. One minute it’s spewing hateful thoughts about you and the next it’s apologetically, promising that if you listen to what it says you will achieve happiness. One thing I always wish people knew about living with this type of mental illness is that it casts a shadow on everything in your life, no matter how small it may seem from the outside world. So, this is what it's really like to live with an eating disorder —at least from my perception.
I figured other diabetics may be fighting to carry on with their day-to-day world while managing this life-changing illness. So, if you're wondering how to run errands or basically do anything outside of the house, I'm here to give you five suggestions. Because you're more of a boss than you give yourself credit for.
I never thought this would be me. I never pictured a Jewish American Princess selling pills to support her addiction. But there I was. My once innocent fun becomes too fast, too furious for me to even realize what was happening. Parties and frat boys turn into painkillers and larceny. I was simply trying to feel good. But before I knew what these pills could do, I was already addicted. I recall one night in particular. I remember getting robbed at gunpoint with my drug dealing ex-boyfriend and junkie best friend. We were sitting in my apartment minding our own damn business. But that didn’t matter. Nothing did. And so, we sat in on this lonely summer night —with a knife under the pillow and our stash in the wall.
I think I stayed on painkillers for as long as I did because I was afraid of experiencing withdrawal. I think that's why most people stay stuck. Detoxing off opioids was in fact, the hardest thing I ever had to do (and the greatest). I remember counting my stash the night before just to make sure I had enough to not get sick the next day. It really is a vicious cycle. You know you shouldn't but how can you not? So whether you're a loved one of an addict, currently addicted, or in recovery, these seven therapeutic remedies can connect the dots so that you can battle opioid withdrawal and actually win.