Drugs, and then more drugs – Part 2

Taking a pill every day did not take away my misery – in many ways it exasperated it. Recognizing a chemical defect in my brain did not give me instant happiness – it simply showed me that I didn’t already have it. And, having spent a lifetime blaming other people and circumstances for my problems, it was hard to come to terms with the fact that it was in me. That meant I couldn’t break up with it, I couldn’t leave it, I couldn’t yell at it or sell it or quit it – I was it.

In the early days I spent a lot of time trying to convince myself to kill it. I was a ticking time bomb, and there was no way to know what would set me off. It was like I was great, I was great, I was great, and then a wave of emotion would hit me in the face and I would go down. Once it was in the parking lot of a bank, in a movie store, at work, in the middle of breakfast, on a date. (I was single again by then – Mr. Everything-I-ever-wanted had run for cover long before all this went down… he still came by for sex from time to time, though.) Luckily a couple of trips back to the doctor to adjust dosage helped get me back under control. Sort of.

The most difficult part, however, and the part that took years to figure out, was that I had lost my one coping method. My whole life when something went wrong I would go to bed and wait it out. When I was a teenager I turned the heater on my waterbed as high as it would go and slept complete days away. Mom too was busy furthering her career to notice my suffering; Dad was just like me and probably didn’t even realize my behaviour was odd. Although Mom has told me since that he said he was worried about me several times. She didn’t think it was anything to be concerned about so she left me in my bedroom with my fantasies of shoving the barrel of a gun down my throat instead of asking if I was okay. (The tears pouring down my cheeks right now tell me I’m still just a little bitter about that.)

Eventually when I recognized a trigger or felt the waves of anguish rise I would go into my bedroom, close the door to make the room dark and get under the covers. I remember just lying there, waiting. But nothing would happen so I’d get back up and go about my day. I dealt with the loss of my one coping method by trying to feel nothing at all. It kind of backfired and changed everything.

Anyway, all of this happened over a decade ago and it took me nearly that long to figure out my shit. It’s still a struggle some days but that is life. I’ll probably tell you all about it at some point but over the years I basically put my life on pause and went back to scratch to teach myself the things I had missed. It was during that time that I really got into the “more drugs” part of my little life soliloquy but something else is on my mind right now so we’ll get back into that some other time.

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