Life right now: Part 1

The past 5 years of my life have been a whirlwind. So many events and choices have changed the core of who I am. There have been too many failures, but miraculous triumphs. I'm still not content with the person that I am, today, but I am a lot closer to peace within myself. So, let's reflect back on the last 5 years.

First, here is a little history:
I have had anxiety since I was little. Some of my first memories are of panic attacks at the age of 3. My anxiety stemmed from my abusive home life and genetics. See, growing up my father was an alcoholic who had anger issues. He was abusive in every aspect of the word (minus sexually). This impacted the way I thought and felt. I was always in fight or flight mode when my father was around. This caused severe anxiety that is still present today. Now, I have been properly diagnosed with PTSD from the abuse. I have tools and medications to help cope, and a job that helps me understand my own family dynamic a little better (later on this topic).

I have had migraines since I was in elementary school. When I was in 5th grade I was put on Zoloft. After being on zoloft for a while my doctors thought that the medication could be the cause and switched me to a different medication (of which I can not remember the name). Anywho, flash forward to High School (2011). It was my senior year and my dentist and doctors diagnosed me with  TMJ . A retainer was made for me to wear at night & I was prescribed muscle relaxers. None of this helped, the migraines continued to ravage my life. My doctor finally referred me to a specialist at the University of Michigan. I underwent x-rays and tests and my pain was finally justified. I have arthritis in both sides of my jaw and my migraines were finally given a treatment plan. I had an occipital nerve block performed, and was put on several migraine medications. The nerve block offered little to no relief and the side-effects from the medications were horrible. In 2011 I was prescribed Vicodin for my migraines and jaw pain. The drug worked wonderfully, maybe too well. I slowly became addicted and things went downhill fast from there.
I was going through my 30 day script in a week. While I was in withdrawal from the vicodin I would steal my dad's vicodin to get me through 'till the next refill. After awhile the vicodins weren't doing enough for me, so I started stealing my dad's oxy's. This went on for awhile until it escalated to the point where I was a full blown addict, stealing almost full prescriptions from my dad. I ended up in rehab 2x. The first time I left treatment ama (against medical advice). I went to NA meetings, back at home, but never stuck with it. I did keep sober for a few months, but I then discovered how to pick locks. My dad had locked away all his medication in his office. I would break in and steal pills for my next fix. Things escalated and I hit rock bottom. I hit rock bottom hard (I will go into this story more, in the future). In late November of 2015 I finally had enough. I knew I needed help & I actually wanted help, this time. I went back to rehab and spent about a month there and another 2 months in 2 different sober living houses. I have been sober from opiates since December 2, 2015. I don't go to NA meetings, anymore, but I'm doing so much better than before thanks to therapy and my support system.


In July of 2014 I was raped by my (at the time) boyfriend. I'm not going to get into much detail with this topic right now, but I will in the future. The rape contributed to my downfall with addiction.

My little sister was incarcerated in May of 2015. I will not go into the reasons why (that is her story to tell, not mine). She will be getting out in the next year or so, hopefully.

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So, there we have the downfall of Courtney. In my next post I will write about how my life has improved so drastically in less than a year.

--Courtney

P.S. Remember you are not alone.

It's been awhile

So much has changed since I started this blog back in my High School days (pre 2011). I deleted all my previous posts back in 2014, which I regret because it would've been nice to see what I thought was relevant during those crucial years. Nonetheless, I have decided to reenter the world of blogging. I'm going to try to post at least once a week. I was obsessed with writing when I was younger. I thought that passion was lost, but it was just hidden behind my years of anxiety induced depression and drug use. So now that I am stronger, and have many of my demons behind me, I will continue with my passion. I hope to share some of my struggles, advice, stories, etc. with whomever would like to listen. If you take one thing away from reading this blog, I hope it is this - You are NOT alone.



--Courtney

Bored

My social anxiety has isolated me to a point where I am beyond bored.  I watch movies constantly to try to ward off the bored. This attempt seldom works and I am left in this endless battle between being bored and being depressed.

Trying to remember

I've been holding onto this memory of me being happy. Of what that feeling actually felt like. What all the sensations were that I experienced in those "happy days". Those days before the crippling anxiety and depression that came along with it. Before the drug use to cope with the anxiety. How did I act & more importantly how did I live?

My first memories are related to my anxiety. I remember this nightmare I had back when I was 5. It was one of those nightmares where you try to wake up from (you are aware you are dreaming), but you can't wake. I remember being a child & my dad hitting my mom in the face. I remember leaving the house & staying in a hotel that night. I remember all the yelling and the aggression and abuse. I remember my mother always assuring me that she was going to leave my dad. It never happened. Despite being afraid of my father I remember crawling into bed with my mom at night when my dad worked and being afraid he was going to die. I was afraid that someone would come and kill my mother and sisters while I was asleep. I would hold onto my mother's nightgown as I feel asleep thinking that if someone was to come and kill her while I slept & then pretend to be here, sleeping in her place, I would know. I remember elementary school & hiding behind furniture so I wouldn't have to endure the fear that school brought me. I missed so much school that the school counselor had to come and physically drive me to school. I wouldn't get out of the car. The principal and counselor had to physically pull me out of the car. They had to pry my fingers off of the seat belt. I remember hiding in my closet and shutting the glass doors hoping that my dad wouldn't be able to find me. I remember Christmas day, more than one Christmas, actually, jumping out of my window in my pajamas into the snow and trying to run away.  When I try to think back to my "happy" days these memories intrude on the good ones.

I remember living in constant fear. Why wasn't leaving the house, why wasn't school a "safe" place for me when my home wasn't. How come I never felt safe? I had all these dreams. So much I wanted to do and become. Now I'm paralyzed and trapped in my house with the same person that has caused me so much terror my whole life. But when I try to leave and lead a normal life, I become so distraught. The paralyzation that my home life brings is nothing compared to the terror that being in social situations bring. Why don't I feel safe anywhere?  I remember feeling happy in those rare moments when I was with friends. When I forgot that my dad might yell at me any minute in front of them. Those fleeting childhood moments when everything was so pure. But, sadly my friends always ended up seeing/hearing my dad's aggression towards my family.

As I got older I was put into therapy & saw a Physiatrist. The medication didn't help much. I always seemed to be able to push through my anxiety, though. At least during my pre-teen and teenage years. Once my doctor put me on Xanax everything seemed easier. Once I found opiates the world was mine to conquer. I felt happy. I was happy, but in a drug induced happiness. Now that I have been to rehab (several times) & mental institutes (several times) you would think I would have found my "happy". I feel even farther away from that "happy" place than I have ever felt before. I want to be able to drive my car without the crippling paranoia. I want to be able to go grocery shopping or to the mall and not have to leave mid shopping session because the walls are closing in on me. I want to be able to see my friends and not come up with excuses as to why I can't go out, AGAIN. I want to be able to leave my bedroom and not feel like I am dying. I need this anxiety to dissolve. I need to be free from it.

Neglect

I have neglected this blog through the years. It has been far too long since I have wrote anything other than diary entries. This blog needs a fresh start and some much needed love.