What using meth has done for me

Lisa

What Using Meth Has Done For Me

I spend everyday crying; sometimes I know why I'm crying, sometimes it's situational, and sometimes I have no idea why I'm crying. I stay in my pajamas all day and all night for weeks on end. I don't go out of the house except for important appointments. I go weeks without bathing. I go days without brushing my teeth. I've lost interest in everything; I drag through the very basics of keeping the house going...laundry, light housekeeping, preparing the most basic of foods. I'm in a fog most of the time. I do these things only because my OCD won't let me NOT do them. I don't answer the door, I don't answer the phone, the thought of seeing or speaking to anyone promotes such anxiety I feel like I'm going to die. I know I'm not; I'm used to the panic attacks by now. I've gained twenty-five pounds in a year; ten pounds in the last six weeks. I hate myself and think about suicide a good portion of the time. I hate the way I look but am too lazy or apathetic to do anything about it.

I seem to exist in a nether land of severe emotional pain, extreme mental anguish and horrible physical lethargy. I'm constantly engulfed in shame, guilt, and self-hatred. Sometimes I want to hurt myself to stop the inner pain, sometimes I feel such fury and rage I want to smash furniture and break it into kindling. I never want to hurt other people, just myself or objects. My self-loathing has reached the point where I want to tell anyone and everyone around me to leave me; I feel shame when people look at me. I feel as though I'm nothing but human wreckage.

Music has ceased to be in my life; whereas I used to love music, I can't listen to any music because it either makes me cry or it irritates me. Any noise that is repetitious or loud at all upsets me. All my thoughts are centered in negativity. If I could, I'd sleep all day.

I'm plagued with horrendous nightmares. Three to four nights a week I awake from terrible dreams that seem so real I wake up shaking and soaked in sweat. I clench my jaw so hard during sleep I've worn down two porcelain veneers in just the last few weeks. The nightmares stay with me during the day. I think about them and relive them while I'm awake. They terrify me and sometimes send me into a panic attack.

I freak out if I go into a crowded place; I have panic attacks in the market; I hyperventilate in front of hundreds of people. Once in a while the paramedics have been called because people don't know what's wrong with me. I end up sending other people to do my errands.

I've given up parenting except for the most basic of things. Being a mom was the only thing that ever mattered to me, and now I find if my son and I disagree or fight about something, I want to run away and not face up to my parenting responsibilities. I can't handle the simplest of tasks, either because of lethargy that literally drags me down or because my concentration is at it's lowest level.

My OCD is out of control; it takes me over three hours to brush my teeth, shower, and blow-dry my hair because of my rituals. The only reason I blow-dry my hair is because I hate looking at myself so much if it's not blow-dried. When I see my reflection in the mirror, a hate wells up inside of me that threatens to overwhelm me and I'm afraid I'll end up hurting myself.

I have OCD rituals and compulsions that prevent me from leading a normal life. Mine aren't as bad as some, and for that I am grateful, because the ones I do have are burden enough. I've lived with these my entire life, but of course since I've quit meth, they're a thousand times worse.

I can't concentrate on anything and have no patience. I can't remember anything and get upset with myself because I can't. I can't make heads or tails out of any kind of written instructions, and everything I have to do overwhelms me. Paying bills is like torture. Reading any kind of instructions either sends me into a fit of fury or a crying jag.

I find no joy or happiness in anything. The closest I come to being happy is if my son is happy about something; that makes me happy momentarily. But I can't find any joy in anything else. When I hear children laughing, I want to cry. When it's a beautiful day outside, I want to cry. When it's a rainy day outside, I want to cry. I can laugh at something funny, and I do, but it never changes my outlook or my inner being for more than a few minutes; I go right back to living under a black cloud of despair.

I love my son with all my heart and soul and he is the center of my life. I know that's not healthy, but that's the way it is. I'm so proud of him, I'm so happy with him, I feel so blessed to have him. I don't take him or anything about him for granted and I feel he was given to me for a reason and a purpose. He is the only reason I am alive at all.

If it weren't for my son, I'd be a prime candidate for suicide. I can't and won't take my life because of him. But otherwise, I'm pretty far gone and I'm starting to lose all hope of ever getting better.

I've read literally hundreds of books on thoughts and how they influence everything we are and everything we do. I've done mental exercises to try to train my thoughts in a more positive direction. I've prayed, I've meditated, I've been on almost every anti-depressant made. Right now, as I write this, I'm on Wellbutrin. Not working so great, huh?

I know about how everything starts with a thought. But I cannot change my thinking; I don't know how, even though I've read how a thousand times. It doesn't seem to work for me. Plus, I have a father who constantly underscores how I feel about myself he, too, thinks I'm an utter and complete failure.

So basically, what meth has done to me is to take every little thing that's ever been just a spark of an issue with me, and magnified it a million fold until I'm an emotional, mental and physical cripple.
I won't go back to drugs I won't do that to my son.
But I sure as hell don't fear death.

Flyf1sh3r