Do not cry for me, do not celebrate my accomplishments, I am not here for that. What I am here for is to share with you my personal experience, my dark clouds, my fight for life, and how I learned to love myself (and still learning). 

Let me take you back to March 3, 2021, I knew this was the day. I had absolutely had enough, I was ending it all. I just got out of my surgical cast from having surgery in February. I had been off work since September 2020, and I was losing it. Nobody could understand where I was coming from, all I got was ” I’d pay to be off.” It’s not that easy when you’ve worked since you were 16.  I had closed off to everyone, there wasn’t a soul that could get through to me and on this day I planned to seal that.

I lost count of the pills I took, between Ativan, Percocet, and muscle relaxers. I chased all these pills with different liquors, I absolutely went ape shit, blacked out, and lost it.  30 hours later, I woke up in the hospital on the psych floor. Eyes swollen, shaking, and sick to my stomach and I was defeated. I was left in a room staring at four walls, 3 meals served with snacks to me daily, and 20-30 min Monday to Friday seeing the doctors. 

They did a toxicology screen, this is where reality set in for me. They found Psilocybin Mushroom ( AKA shrooms), Methenamine/cocaine, Benzodiazepines (Ativan), and Oxycodone (Percocet).  They were only really concerned about one thing, and I hadn’t realized I was doing Meth, I thought it was cocaine. 

I spent the next 3 days in and out of bed, I found myself twitching a lot, body jumping in bed, and no hunger. I was kept under a tight watch for the first few days. I didn’t blame them, I understood, I guess I came in wailing, screaming, and out of control. 

In those few days, I broke myself emotionally, and if anyone knows what that feels like you never forget that feeling. I saw when my addiction to Ativan came in. I saw that 22 year old woman walking into the clinic complaining to be on edge and couldn’t sleep. I was living with a family member at this time. This family member was beyond head deep in crack, it was the craziest thing I’ve ever seen. I kept telling my family, “Look, you guys need to come here.” Nobody believed me. I made another family member come over when I was alone in the house and I showed them, I showed the drugs, the pipes, and everything else. Do you know what some of them said? Even still to this day I still shake my head. Some of my family said I was snooping around! Snooping around excuse me, I’m watching your sibling smoke crack and sell their body but I’m a snoop! Two months later the house was lost to the bank for not paying the mortgage. In the irony of all this, my family was quick to take a crack head in and left me to the streets. 

So now at this point I’m living with friends on their couch with their young children. At this point, I’m now on an antidepressant and the Ativan is as needed, I’m now taking 45-50 pills in a 30-day cycle. So one day while I was at work I met this man, I thought he was nice and good looking. We made plans that night, I went over and he was barbequing for us. While we were eating a bomb was dropped, ” I am on methadone “. Naive me doesn’t ask anything just oh ok at least you’re not on drugs I think so myself. So we began our relationship, things moved fast and I moved in very quickly. Things were ok, he worked afternoons, and by the time he came home I was flying high and enjoying myself on some pills. He never knew, to me, that was my business. I just loved these little white pills and I wasn’t telling anyone. I was functioning just like a normal person, going to work, paying my bills, shopping, etc.  So things were pretty normal for the first two years or so until I got introduced to cocaine. 

When I got introduced it wasn’t about doing it, although I did try it and the first time I tried it I laced a joint.  Wow, just wow that was amazing!  However, I was very aware of myself and my personality, I knew I had an addictive personality. So I maintained myself to make sure it wasn’t on the user end until one day my ex pulled one hell of a trigger under my feet. He didn’t come home one day after work, he never answered his cell. He came home that night loaded in a way I’ve never seen. He told me he got jumped and ripped off for his paycheck as only had a certain amount left. Ok, I’m not dumb, by far my mama didn’t raise any fool. I lifted up his sleeve, and there it was a fresh injection site on his ” track mark” scar. I lost my shit, and mean I lost my shit. I don’t think I have ever been so mad as I was then. 

So here comes the bull shit promises I won’t do it again I’m so sorry. Stupid me, ok as long as you promise. So life goes one we both work but hustle on the side. We got some good money coming in now we’re not looking like big shots but oh yes the money was good. Not only was I dealing cocaine but I was also dealing her cooked little sister.  I’m now having the time of my life popping my pills, the doctor thinks I got some high anxiety and is now releasing me 60 of mommy’s special little white pills every 20-30 days. So this goes back and forth with him relapsing for another two years, until one day he came home looking like he lost his best friend. I said oh what’s the problem now did you relapse again? He replies worse, I’ve got Help C from sharing needles with so and so. That was enough, I went up the stairs to the room and stayed there all night, I made a doctor appointment the next day to check myself out.  When I woke up I was an emotional wreck, I believe in those moments I sat in that room overnight I became someone I didn’t know. He woke up with me standing over him with a frying pan, you’ve got 5 min to get your shit out of my house. If this pan comes down I know I won’t stop. 

For weeks I sat there feeling sorry for myself feeling worthless, I drank and took so many pills I still barely remember that period. I started to see a psychiatrist, now I’m at like 90 pills a month and several different pills. For a year I shut everyone out, fuck you all I hated everyone. Went to work high as fuck, come home and be high as fuck I didn’t care. To this day these words still stay with me. I told my doctor I was worth nothing, I was just a junkie, why should I care? Drugs were more important to me than family, and now to the person I just spent 6 years with, drugs again was more important than me. During this year there were times I can remember there were times I was sitting in a cold bath all fucked up on pills head hanging over the tub vomiting. I truly didn’t give a fuck about anything, I went to work came home got loaded and hustled all night. 

One night I went on POF (plenty of fish dating site), yeah I know what we all think about that but I actually got the hero in the end to my surprise. 

So I set this rule to myself, I know there are perves on here so I will only respond to those I message first. I came across one profile, there’s so much in common. I messaged the person and to my surprise, there was a response the next day. So we talked for a few weeks before we decided to meet. I knew, and so did he. It was love at first sight. I’m not just saying that, I mean we both were just so blindsided by the intense chemistry. 

However, I did live a double life and he was very unaware. I spent the day with him and when I got home it was all about work. One day he and his friend were at my place when I was at work (I gave him a key). His friend went into my spare room and noticed a little hidden piece in the ceiling. I’m not exactly 100% on how it went down because I was at work but I got a text ” WE NEED TO TALK ASAP!!” I call, and what I heard on the other end I will say to this day saved me from a lot of things. He gave me an ultimatum, hustle or him to choose now and choose wisely. I’m now 28, I know I’m all kinds of fucked up but I also know I deserve to be loved. So ok fine done, I washed my hands in a matter of a 30-second call and called my people and told them to grab their shit from my house. I was finally done, I knew I was gonna miss the money but I wasn’t gonna miss that risk.

So ok he called me out and it was a call out I needed. However, I’m now on over 100 Ativan every 20-30 days and he doesn’t know. He sees I got mood swings and whatever but he chalks it up to my anxiety.  But, there’s just one thing I can’t do and that’s to be open, I’m so emotionally scarred from the people I did love, I was thinking about what was gonna happen here. We were together just less than a year before we moved in together. We’re not alone in the house as I understood the family dynamics here and was fine with it. Now I’m like getting all kinds of fucked up thoughts and running with it and just walking around being a bitch for months then blow up and just lose it then shut him out. So this went on for a few years, now keep in mind we spent a lot of time on opposite shifts so I was getting wasted when everyone was asleep. I had this down to a science to the point all I had to do was call the doctor over the phone now and I had between 100-120 a month. 

In our first 6 years together we both lost a parent. My case was slightly different before my dad died; he wanted to see me married. He got to see me in my dress but sadly he didn’t make it. This will forever stay with me, the day before it was decided to take him off life support they slightly took him out of the medical coma he looked at my then fiancè and gave him the thumbs up.  Three months later I was married, I was a married woman who spent 6 years with this man who was very closed off.  To the point, I knew he didn’t know who I was. I didn’t even know who I was. My wedding day to me was a shame, I spent the whole day fucked up, I yelled at my hairdresser, I was such an unruly bitch, I kept my pill bottle in my bra. Looking back now, if I was ever able to grant one wish to my husband it would be to give the wedding he deserves. 

Our wedding, my dad passing, and just not being able to let go of the past just turned me into a raging pill popping person I didn’t know anymore. About a year after our wedding I started to secretly do cocaine, we worked opposite shifts. He was days I was nights, so when I got home we sat together for an hour and he went to bed and it was my party time. Then I got involved with the cannabis community, some of these people had me fooled that they were my friends and I can always come to them and we’re doing this for the greater good. Let me tell you exactly what this community is, anything you want you got it! I got access to anything I wanted and I was too excited.  So here I was mixing cocaine with mushrooms and taking Ativan and I was on one hell of a roll for a good year. I felt so low, so worthless. The fact that our wedding ended up so shitty and not the way I planned it was ruined. It was so hard to live with, for three years my wedding brought nothing but tears to my eyes. I tried to commit suicide, I swallowed a bunch of pills. Apparently, I was texting a person in the middle of this and they woke up my husband. He came and took the bottle and kept me awake all day and night. I took a lot of pills, this is when he realized there was a problem but he didn’t exactly know what was up. He didn’t call 911, he made sure I was good, he kept waking me up and he was doing his best. I know what you’re thinking, yes he should have called and I agree. This man drinks my bathwater and he was so scared I would lose my job. He didn’t want any backlash so he did what he could.

So life went on this wasn’t talked about much, it was pretty much swept under the table. Right at the beginning. In the fall of 2020, I got hurt at work, and I got hurt badly.  I ruptured and tore several ligaments in my ankle. I really struggled with this, I hated being off, it really got to me very badly. Pretty much up until surgery which was booked for Feb 2021 I stayed in bed just so very closed off. My husband couldn’t talk to me, every day it was an argument, every day I just had so much anger. I would honestly tell people I hate you fuck off and leave me alone. I swallowed myself right up, and just ate that dark cloud. I got surgery, I pretty much was bedridden for two weeks because of the medical cast. Once that cast came off, it was like I had no hope I see how long my recovery road was and I was sick and tired of hearing all about work and what my husband’s pay was, I mean it all just ate at me fiercely. I couldn’t get high enough to drown out to not listen to him.

March 3, 2021, I woke up and I knew I knew this was it I had enough. I had some coke, mushroom candy, pain meds, muscle relaxers, and Adtivan. I got lit while he was at work, I did the whole bag of coke I had, chased that with all the candy, then came the pills, and that’s when I went wild and took all the booze in my house and drank it down. He came home while I was in the middle of this, he tried to get the bottles from me. I kicked him in the private, punched him so hard I knocked a tooth out. At that point he said fuck it you’re getting help. He waited till I passed out to call an ambulance, keep in mind I had a hell of a blackout I went kicking and screaming, I invoked privacy on him so he couldn’t call or check up on me. I have no recollection for a good 30 hours, when I woke up my eyes looked like golf balls from crying, I was so very sick to my stomach I felt awful. 

My nurse came and sat me down, I was trembling, crying frustrated, in the worst emotional pain I’ve ever been in. My nurse was so kind and was just so warm-hearted with me. I took the privacy off so my family could call and see how I was doing. I called my husband the next day and his words to me will forever haunt me. He didn’t understand what was going on with me he just knew I needed help. He said if it’s us that bother you ok we can end our marriage if it means you will live, as he’s saying this I hear his voice crack, and my heart breaks. It wasn’t my marriage or even him, the problem was me and only me, I didn’t even know what was wrong with me. But I knew I was safe, and I knew what I had to do. So I broke myself emotionally, that’s not an easy thing to do but I had to do it in order to get help. The first thing I did was told the staff no more benzos, no more at all, I made them give me half of a tablet of my pain meds for the first few days before I stopped them too. I realized my addiction, I realized I needed to change and I needed to learn how to love again. 

I was in the hospital for 14 days and the irony in all of this is I was diagnosed with bipolar 1 with mixed episodes and hypomania. Unfortunately, this was due to long-term Benzodiazepines usage. When I got home, I sat my husband down and told him the truth because the medication I am currently on is addictive and I needed his support to help me stay off all the drugs and to hold my medication. Needless to say, he was in shock but full-on supportive. This man drinks my bathwater as you could say when you’ve got a man willing to risk it all if it meant your life trust me you learn and open your eyes.

I don’t need praise or tears for what my fight was and still is, I’m living the best life I could ever ask for. I’m now returned to work and almost 6 months clean and sober. I’ve told you my story that in the hope maybe there’s someone you know who is in the same or similar situation, and that sometimes we need to understand that risking it all to save a person’s life is worth it. No matter the consequences.