Beautifully Broken

STORY OF THE ADDICT LIVING WITHIN ME…. If you are here to be judgmental, you are here for the wrong reason. I never really understood addiction, until I started recovery. My entire life drugs have affected me and my family. My mother was a drug addict, being addicted to opiates, xanax, crack, and marijuana. Me, being the oldest sibling of 4 in the household had enormous responsibility. I didn’t realize things were not so normal until I was in the 4th grade when my twin sisters were born. She would disappear for weeks at a time leaving me, being a 10 year old, to care after 2 newborn babies and when she was home I often found her passed out on the kitchen floor, on the toilet, or being very physical with my step father. This all caused me to have extreme anger towards her. My step father used to physically abuse me as well, and my mother would do nothing about this. I would spend every other weekend at my biological fathers and step mothers house and thought it was absolute paradise. I felt like we were an actual family. We would watch movies together, go on walks, eat dinner at the dinner table, they even told me they loved me, hugged and kissed me before bed. What was a normal family to other children my age, was all extraordinary to me. I stayed living in the home with my mother, because I felt as though she needed me. I often had to care for her when she was too messed up along with caring for my sisters and my brother who was only a few years younger than I. When I entered the 6th grade I felt like I couldn’t take it anymore. I became extremely depressed. I began to self mutilate. I remember sitting in my room for hours with the door locked looking at myself in the mirror and just crying to the point of feeling numb. I was so sick of the numbness. I wanted to feel something, anything. When I took that razor blade to my thigh for the very first time, it felt as if a huge weight dripped out of me with every drop of blood. I hid this from my parents for almost a year. Then one night I was in my room, throwing my nightly pity party/tantrum and threw a glass cup against the wall. I forgot to lock my door this time. I picked up a shard of glass and started cutting my forearms. My mother walks in as I’m sitting on the edge of my bed. She immediately smacks me across the face and demands that we go show my biological father “how stupid” I was being. She loaded me into the car and drove 45 minutes to my fathers house. I walk in and sit on the couch like nothing was wrong. My dad stands over me, and tells me very sternly to pull up my sleeves, exposing my wounds. All he and my step mother kept asking me was “why? why? why?” I did not really have a good answer for them. Seeing my father disappointed and upset with me made me feel terrible. I decided that I would not do this to myself any longer. Growing up I was always a tall, slender, cute little blonde haired- blue eyed girl. In the middle of 7th grade I started to gain a tiny bit of weight. My step father was the first to notice. He noticed even before I did myself. This is when I started making myself throw up. I would continue doing this for only less than a year. Then I met this boy at the age of 13. His name was Jordan. Jordan made me feel like the most beautiful, amazing girl in the world. He was the only person I let really know what went on in my household with my mother and step father. I felt as though he was my hero. I stopped making myself throw up and began eating… alot. Jordan thought I was beautiful, why did it really matter, right? Well at least that’s what a 13 year old is going to believe. We were together until I was 18 years old. A few months before my 18th birthday I started working at a retail store in the town I lived in and finally moved from my mothers home, to my fathers 45 minutes away. I met this co-worker, who soon became a very good friend of mine named Lynn. She knew that I drove 45 minutes to and from work everyday and how it was ailing me financially. She was going through a divorce and needed a roommate, so we decided that I move in with her and pay her a little bit of rent every week. Lynn had 3 kids. 2 small children, Michael and Nicole- then one older child named Aaron. I had met Aaron once before moving into Lynn’s home but he had moved to Arkansas shortly afterwards. A few months after me moving in, Aaron returned to Kentucky and lived with us. He was an absolute mess, to put it lightly. He drank alcohol every single day, and did cocaine, opiates, and smoke weed occasionally. I would see Aaron struggle with this and it reminded me so much of my mother. I felt as though he needed me to take care of him, to be a role model. I started to slowly fall in love with this guy. When he wasn’t mind-altered, he was the sweetest, most caring and helpful person I had ever met. I broke up with my then boyfriend, Jordan. Aaron and I did not start a relationship just yet. Eventually I fell into the drinking and the occasional drug use. Before moving into this home, I had never taken one drink of alcohol, or even touched a drug. 9 months after living with this new family, we all decided to pack up and move to another town 2 hours away. Aaron and I started a relationship. I transferred my job and got myself an apartment. I allowed Aaron to live there with me. I did not have a car so I would walk to and from work. Aaron was unemployed at the time. I slowed down on my drinking due to me having to work full time to support the both of us. I started noticing Aaron’s drinking to get a little more out of hand, though ignored it. Of course I would get aggravated when I would be getting off work at 11pm and he would just be getting out of the bed with a bottle of alcohol in hand. We moved back to the town we met in a year later. 2 months after moving back, I found out I was pregnant. Aaron completely straightened up. No drugs,no alcohol, and back to being the caring, helpful man I had met. Fast forward. My son was born. We were both so proud to be parents. A few months later I noticed a change in Aaron once again. I was a home health nurse and because Aaron wanted to be lazy and not get out of bed in the morning to watch our son, I had to take him to work with me. He told me that he was snorting oxycontin and percoset. I was curious to what all the hype was about. So I tried it. I was in love. Even when I was extremely pissed off at Aaron, being high I would not feel that emotion. Oxycontin and percocet then lead me to methadone. Methadone is a drug prescribed to those who have extreme pain, but also for people who are trying to get off of heroin. My mother got prescribed methadone. When my son was 3 months old, I found out I was pregnant.. again. I told my mom I was addicted to this drug. I spoke to many women who were pregnant with addiction and was told that their OBGYN gave it to them because if the baby within you goes through withdrawal, it could terminate your pregnancy. My mother started giving me the methadone. I was too afraid to go to the doctor while pregnant. I finally mustered up the courage when I was 6 months pregnant. My first doctors visit I go in, tell him I was addicted to this drug and he continues with the check up. He then told me that I was dialated to 4cm and I had to be admitted into the hospital right away. I start crying like a baby. I did not want to have to go without my methadone. He told me that he would give me 3 a day because he didnt want the possibility of the baby being terminated. I get into the hospital and the next day I have my first ultrasound. During this ultra sound I find out I am not only having one child, but I am carrying twins. Both girls. All of this was happening so fast, my emotions were crazy…after giving birth to my daughters a social worker meets me in my recovery room. She told me that the children would be removed from my care once they were released from the NICU and I would be monitored. This was heart breaking. Okay, I get released from the hospital. My daughters have to remain in the NICU. My son who is now 10 months old is in the care of my father and step mother. 2 weeks after getting out of the hospital, I check myself into a medical detox. I complete it. I come home, to my mothers house and get right back on methadone. Aaron went to detox himself. I just could not stop. I was court ordered to take drug tests for social services, I failed all of them. I was required to take parenting classes, get a job, check in with them, call my parents. I didn’t. I take off with Aaron and move to Arkansas. I miss my last court date. My father and step mother were granted permanent custody. I was so depressed and pissed off at myself. I hated being a drug addict. I just wanted to wake up from this awful dream. In Arkansas we lived with Aaron’s uncle. Aaron worked for him and I was unemployed. We met a crack dealer. We started spending every dime we had on crack and would lock ourselves in our bathroom for hours smoking and wigging out. His uncle kicked me out because he blamed Aaron’s addiction on me. Aaron of course came with me. While in Arkansas my aunt and uncle commited suicide, and my grandfather passed of Leukemia. I was to fucked up on drugs to even have emotion. We lived on the streets for about a week. There, we met a prostitute and another homeless crack addict. We would hang out with these people sitting on a blanket in the woods, cooking up cocaine and smoking it. It was absolutely crazy. We didnt eat, hardly slept and washed up in a sink at McDonald’s close by. One night we were at a 24 hour laundry mat sitting inside because it was summer and we needed some AC. A black male on a bicycle came to Aaron and offered him 100 bucks and a crack rock for me to sleep with him. We denied and took off out of the laundry mat. The guy gets on his bicycle and flashes a gun. We run into a bar right down the street where we knew a friend of Aaron’s uncle worked. He went out and chased the guy on the bicycle off and told us we could stay at his house because he was afraid for our safety. Upon living there I found out that his uncle was an alcoholic. Aaron would stop coming home after work and I would later find out he was at the bar with our new roommate. Aaron started talking to an old ex and sent me on a bus back home to Kentucky. A few months later Aaron comes back too. We meet this guy who sold percocet 30s. He would shoot them up. I was absolutely terrified of needles, but of course was talked into letting him administer these drugs into my veins. I remember sitting in the backseat of the car and before the needle left my arm I got an amazing rush. My head automatically dropped. I was conscious, but I could not hold my head up nor my eyes open. Aaron and I did whatever we could to support our addiction, while living with our drug dealer. I would go in and steal from various stores. One night I got caught and went to jail. The girl that was with me got away and instead of taking the profit to pay the 50 dollars to get out of jail, she went and got high. This is when I realized this lifestyle was all an extremely selfish act. Not too long afterwards- Aaron goes to jail for 6 months due to an old warrant. I reunited myself with my best friend Renee. She was my rehab. I got back together with her in April of 2012. I had slowed my drug use down only snorting maybe 3 methadone per week by this time. I eventually moved in with her and was happier than I had been in so long. I was finally free from the chains of addiction and happy as hell, or so I thought. Her and I met these 2 guys who were absolutely the greatest. The guy I was spending the most time with was named Shelton. I am not proud of this, but I cheated on Aaron while he was in jail. I finally told him the truth not long after he got released from jail. Renee and I got into a pretty big argument and I moved with Shelton in October 2012. We lived with his parents and had our own space in the garage. I was beyond depressed. Yes, I was in a happy relationship with an awesome guy… but losing 2 best friends (Renee, and my drugs) all within the year was all so hard. Shelton went to work and I was left in the basement most of my days. I hated it. I had no friends, no family, I had nothing. I started talking to Lynn again in January 2013 and started visiting her. Aaron lived with her. I started doing drugs again behind Shelton’s back and started sleeping with Aaron again. I moved from Shelton’s parents in Feb-March 2012 and back in with Aaron and Lynn. An old friend contacted Aaron on Facebook asking him if he wanted to buy heroin. Well shit, we had never tried it before… why not. We started shooting up heroin every single day. 4-6x daily. We would lck ourselves up in the garage for days at a time, not getting out of bed if we didnt have either 1. at least one hit of heroin or 2. some plan to get some money to buy it. I would sometimes get the money from giving these outrageous stories to Shelton, who was still completely in love with me and he would supply me with the funds. On top of that Aaron had a full time job making 14 dollars per hour. I would say in 4 months we spent $8,000-$10,000. We had both been admitted into the hospital for drug related incidents, lost all of our belongings, our self respect as well as respect for others and our morals. During this time I am still not really speaking to Renee due to shame, guilt, and feeling like I am unworthy. Aaron got incarcerated again in June 2013. He then got sent to a rehab facility where he is close to being 90 days clean and sober. I myself am now at day 53! :) I go to substance abuse counseling once every 2 weeks, meetings 2 times per week, work my 12 steps, have taken my dad and step mother to court for custody, have gotten a job, and am working on my friendship with Renee. Life is really coming back together for me, and I am feeling better than ever. I have recovered from self-mutilation, Bulimia, crack, weed, opiate, and heroin addiction. Withdrawing from heroin is an awful feeling. I still have cravings, restlessness, and dreams about using. Until I educated myself further on drug addiction I was also extremely guilty. I am working on my guilt and trying to make amends because I am aware that this illness has affected everyone who I was in contact with. If you are suffering with addiction, or even in recovery…you are defintely not alone.My heart aches for you. Keep your head up, you are worth it! I am living proof that willingness, and NA does work! Keep coming back….this too shall pass!!

[iambeautifulybroken]

Sept. 3, 2012

My boyfriend gets to come home to visit from rehab on Sunday from 8am-11pm...I'm a little nervous...it's like a brand new relationship in a sense because we have to relearn each other sober.. How stressful

[nayyirahwaheed-deactivated20180]

it is being honest about my pain that makes me invincible.

yield, nayyirah waheed (via fragilevein)

[animalsnaps]

[tsunamitidestotheeyes]

[whitepaperquotes]

[recoveryaffirmations]

[dawnsangel]

[dying-is-easier-than-surviving-]

[iambeautifulybroken]

I’m dating that someone now :)

[iambeautifulybroken]

8/21/2013

So I never really talk about this much… I am slowly going rid of this drug addiction-BUT. When I was in heroin, I never really lost weight. I in fact gained weight. A lot of weight.. My wight has fluctuated for many years … Mostly when I had 3 children only 11 months apart. Everytime I look in the mirror, I do not feel completely free yet. I am now a prisoner of this weight. I am the pickiest eater in the entire world. I don’t eat vegetables. I eat everything plain. Soda is my weakness. And due to my anxiety of running into my dealer, I don’t go walking/running in my neighborhood. I don’t have anyone that would go with me. Because I dropped all of my dope friends I only have 2 true friends left… Lynn and Renee. Lynn is my mother in law, and she works 12 hours shifts. Not happening. Renee and I can only hang out every so often, plus has a family of her own. Not happening. This loneliness is seriously killing me. I do not want to go back to depression, or bulimia. Sometimes I smile on the outside and act like everything is going perfect, but this is the only place where I can say this...Things are not exactly perfect. They are absolutely 99% better…I just need to get past this 1% and everything will be okay. Crossing my fingers tight that I will overcome this too.

[iambeautifulybroken]

Thoughts and stuff.

The question is frequently asked: Why does a man become a drug addict? The answer is that he usually does not intend to become an addict. You don’t wake up one morning and decide to be a drug addict. For me, I remember shooting heroin for the very first time. I forever chased that first rush. I got so twisted that I believed no one in this world loved me the way heroin did. Heroin was "there" for me when I cried, when I was lonely, when I needed to feel happy. The questions, of course, could be asked: Why did you ever try narcotics? Why did you continue using it long enough to become an addict? I tried it as a matter of curiosity. I drifted along taking shots when I could score. I ended up hooked. Most addicts I have talked to report a similar experience. They did not start using drugs for any reason they can remember. They just drifted along until they got hooked. If you have never been addicted, you can have no clear idea what it means to need junk with the addict’s special need. You don’t decide to be an addict. One morning you wake up sick and you’re an addict.

[iambeautifulybroken]

Yeah...August 20 2013

So today I haven't felt 100%... It's a little strange to me to feel sick, and actually be sick. Not dope sick. I think the drug addict within me was trying to scream out this morning. The honest truth, when I woke up feeling like this... The first thing that popped into my mind is that I needed a shot so I could stop with the sweats, headache, shakes, diarrhea, irritability, etc. Then I had to get busy doing something. So I decided to clean the house. Triggers. Triggers are a motherfucker. Like I said, loading the dishwasher with spoons was even a trigger. I cannot wait until I can stop thinking this way. I'm grateful and lucky that I have not acted on these thoughts yet. On a brighter note... My kids started their first day of preschool today and my step mother was kind enough to send me a photo. They are super precious. :)

[rainynovember]

[iambeautifulybroken]

Wasn't that simple because there was this secret eating away at my soul...it's name was heroin. What a bitch!

[woznabqounsnz]

[iambeautifulybroken]

I mean orgasms are great and all....but.. Idk man.

[youknowmynameandnotmystory-blog]

[iambeautifulybroken]

Hell yeah... Sometimes they STILL do...smh

[iambeautifulybroken]

FUCK. I need these triggers to stop. I try extremely hard to not think about using, but then I go to load spoons into the dishwasher….fml

[iambeautifulybroken]

My reminder...

Sometimes I like to pretend like I never had a serious heroin problem. Then I look down at my arm and see my trackmarks... It isnt a terrible scar, but I have a brown/black line going down. Maybe I dont need to pretend like I never had a problem... I need to embrace the fact that my heart is still beating and pumping blood through that vein. Yeah, thats what Ill do...

[the-deadbeat-poet]

Heroin or heroine ??

[iambeautifulybroken]

Heroin or heroine I couldn’t tell What you were You saved me Yet ruined me

All that I wanted But not needed I loved And despised you I couldn’t live without you

When we were together I felt disgusted I hated myself I hated you I hated us Yet when we were apart All I felt was hollow Empty Instantly craving you