congratulations on your little achievements that most people wouldn’t even consider achievements. you’re still making progress even if it’s little by little.
My depressive episode lasted 18 years but it did end and I'm actually happy for the first time in my life. And even though I was depressed all those 18 years, it doesn't mean I never felt happiness or fulfillment or pride or acceptance. It was hard but not impossible.
Warning: the following post contains mature themes and references to drug overdose, death, and Fentanyl.
For the record, what I'm about to say in regards to NARCAN has nothing to do with me standing on a soapbox. Instead, I'm asking that people do what they can to educate themselves on the importance and necessity of this life-saving drug.
And I'll start by telling you a story:
This morning, I went to check on my roommate who lives on the floor above me. She had asked me to make sure she didn't sleep through her many alarms like she always did so that she could make it to work on time. She's a server at a steakhouse chain - and a damn good one at that.
She's also my friend. A friend who, just like myself, is nearly nine months sober.
Except this morning when I knocked on her door, she didn't answer. And when I opened the door and peeked in her room she appeared to be fast asleep. But she was half naked, and the fan she had borrowed from me the night before was set to full blast. Even though it was cold outside.
Her room was like an ice box. And she was so pale. And no matter how loud I said her name, she wouldn't open her eyes and look at me.
She wouldn't wake up.
So I poked her in the shoulder. I shook her. I yelled her name. And then I realized her lips were blue. Her body was stiff. And she was cold to the touch.
The only sound she could make was that of a low, almost eerie groan. If I'm being honest, it's a sound that I'd never quite heard before. And I don't want to ever hear it again.
What I would come to realize seconds later was that my friend had overdosed on Fentanyl. Possibly a few hours earlier. Which meant she was fucking dying.
I panicked, of course. Because I'm an alcoholic. I've never touched Heroin, let alone witnessed an overdose. I know what to do if someone was suffering from, say, alcohol poisoning...but this...this was brand new territory.
Because with Fentanyl, seconds fucking matter.
I sprinted to wake up another girl. Seconds later we were back with our friend where our worst fear was absolutely confirmed.
Fentanyl Overdose.
I'd never fucking seen this. Never. But we didn't have time to fall apart because from there we dashed down the stairs. She went straight for the NARCAN and I went for my phone to call 911.
Less than a minute later, she and I were back in our friend's room to administer the NARCAN, only for us to realize that she wasn't breathing anymore.
By this point, another one of my housemates had joined us as well. And the others were soon to follow. While I was on the phone relaying instructions from the dispatcher on how to revive our friend, the others were moving her limp body to the floor.
They were doing chest compressions. Two were racing to find more NARCAN stashed in someone's glove compartment. And then another was directing EMS on where to go in the house.
It was a team effort to make sure this girl fucking lived. We could yell at her for this tomorrow. But for now, all we cared about was her living today.
I had never been through this. But as much as I hate to say this, today I was grateful that there were others in the house who had been through this before. For those who knew how to administer NARCAN.
In total, we administered something like 28 milligrams to bring her back. Which is a lot. A cop may have mumbled out something about us not waiting long enough in between doses to see if we'd given her enough before administering another. But he can go kick rocks.
Because we did the best we could all while running on straight adrenaline and doing everything we could to save someone while not falling apart in the process.
In the end, what matters is that she woke up. She was in pain. And very ill. And has since been admitted to the hospital.
Now the rest of us are left to deal with the tears and the adrenaline comedown, along with the guilt of all the signs we may or may not have missed. And that is really fucking shitty. I am so mad at my friend.
But at the same time, I love her so damn much. And I'm grateful that I will hopefully have the opportunity to share all these feelings with her one day soon.
She was fucking lucky. And so were we.
I'm grateful we found her in-time - because the paramedics made it very clear that we cut it real close. I'm grateful I live with people who found it in them to unite to save someone's life.
I'm grateful for NARCAN.
And beyond that, I'm grateful that I now know what to do with it. I never completely comprehended the weight of its importance until today. I didn't quite understand why my friend kept a stash of it in her glove compartment when she had no intentions of getting high anymore.
But today that stash saved her life. I'm begging you, if you have a loved one who suffers from this disease, please consider keeping this life-saving drug within reach.
Read up about it. Talk about it. Even if it makes you uncomfortable. Even if you can't fathom why someone would think of or want to use. Even if the idea of having to use it scares you.
I'm sure if it ever came down to it, you would rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it. Wouldn't you?
I've come to learn that many people who relapse, even after months of serious sobriety, don't plan it. It just happens. Impulsivity is a deadly part of this disease. One lapse in judgement - just one - could very well mean death.
It's really that serious.
Because with this disease, you're always guaranteed another relapse. But you're never guaranteed another recovery.
Thanks to NARCAN, my friend will have another shot.
That's all I've got for now, guys and gals. I'd be lying if I said we weren't all emotional wrecks over here. But it's all gonna be okay.
And finally, but most importantly: if you're struggling with anything, be it addiction or mental health, there is no shame in asking for help. Not now. Not ever. We're all human. We all need love.
We all deserve support to overcome our darkest of days.
This one's going on main because I'm sick of fighting this battle and people need to see this. Respect sober people. Regardless of reason for sobriety. Regardless of their past or present. If someone is sober, you do not get an opinion on their lifestyle (unless it is somehow causing harm to others).
The worst part about anything that’s self-destructive is that it’s so intimate. You become so close with your addictions and illnesses that leaving them behind is like killing the part of yourself that taught you how to survive.
Cultivate your space with the things you need to see and hear and all the things that make your soul come alive. You can absolutely find your way back to the light but sometimes we have to put the light in front of us.
I hope everyone who is recovering from addiction, making steps to recover, wants to recover, not yet ready to recover, and those who are supporting these people have a good day.
Hope and Healing @hopehealing - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
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