mental-health – Buzz Kill Diaries

Torn

I’ve been feeling pretty torn lately. Some of my friends have been openly defending Charlie Kirk, or dismissing his words as inconsequential and honestly – yikes.

As a gay man who cares about equality and protecting vulnerable communities including transgender people, it’s hard not to feel hurt. His views clash with pretty much everything I believe in. This isn’t about denying free speech; it’s about the impact of the actual words he’s said which have caused real pain to people like me and those I care about.

Now, I get it, people have different backgrounds, perspectives, and reasons for supporting who they support. Politics is rarely black and white and I’m doing my best to remember that you can disagree with someone’s views without writing them off as a person entirely. Still, it’s difficult not to take it personally when those views feel like they’re aimed directly at people like me.

So here I am, stuck in the middle. Do I try to educate my friends and have those awkward but important conversations? Or do I just quietly back away for the sake of my sanity? On one hand, staying silent feels like I’m giving a free pass to stuff I find deeply harmful. On the other, launching into a political discussion over dinner doesn’t exactly scream fun night out.

I worry that speaking up might lead to tense arguments, or worse, the end of a friendship. Saying nothing, however, feels like I’m betraying my own values, and that doesn’t sit well with me either.

Recovery has taught me I can’t control what other people believe and trust me, I’ve tried, but I can control how I respond. I’m working on finding that sweet spot between empathy and boundaries, between keeping it real and keeping the peace.

It’s not easy, and there’s no simple answer here. But I’m committed to being honest with myself and with the people in my life.

Awakenings

October 17, 2019

Tonight I had an AHA! moment, and I think I understand now.

Two sisters came to the meeting tonight speaking of their frustration with their addict brother. They spoke about everything they tried to do to help their brother. They spoke of their hope that rehab would finally fix him.

I couldn’t stand to see what their brother was doing to them and had to speak. I said, “The best thing you can do to show your love is to back away. Recovery comes to those who want it, frustration to those who demand it.”

I then had a revelation about my own journey.

I only went to Brentwood because I saw the pain I had caused and wanted to ‘fix it.’ I didn’t go for me and ended up leaving and relapsing – and I left with the gift of trust and knowledge there were others like me.

When I went to Homewood, I did not go entirely for me. I knew I had a problem, but I focused on the pain and hopelessness I had caused loved ones agian. I ended up planning my relapse which landed me in the hospital. But I left Homewood understanding that I couldn’t people please my way out of addiction.

When I went to Bellwood, I went for me. I was terrified that I was going to die if I did not give myself the gift of recovery. This time I completed the program, awakened my conscience and opened my heart. All these emotions came flooding in and I panicked and relapsed because I chose to. But then I realised I was tired of this. I had had enough.

Now, all three experiences are coming together. Someone asked me tonight, when are you going to stop being a victim of your life?

Now.

Using Dreams

October 20, 2019

https://recovery.org/pro/articles/dreams-in-recovery-using-and-relapse-dreams-what-do-they-mean/

In early recovery, it is common for people to have dreams about using their former drug of choice. A well-known study by researchers George Christo and Christine Franey, of the Centre for Research on Drugs in England, reported in Substance Use and Misuse (Jan. 1996) that, at seven weeks of abstinence, 84% of former drug users involved in their study were having drug-related dreams. More “using” dreams were experienced by abstinent subjects than by subjects who were still actively consuming drugs. Although the using dreams began to rapidly diminish after seven weeks, about half of the study subjects still experienced some using dreams into their sixth month of abstinence.

Sometimes using dreams include the idea that the dreamer has actually relapsed, and this is only proven untrue when the person awakens – usually quite relieved, but shaken. Why do relapse dreams and using dreams occur? And how do they affect recovery?

The Impact of Using Dreams and Relapse Dreams

Unfortunately, the prevalence of using dreams and relapse dreams may be correlated to the likelihood for relapse.

In the Christo/Franey study, at the six-month follow-up, subjects who had numerous using dreams and relapse dreams were more likely to have greater drug cravings and to return to active drug use. A later study (Neuropsychoanalysis, 2004) confirmed these earlier findings. However, these studies looked at heroin and cocaine use, where more intense cravings are common.

Some studies of alcoholics who had using dreams found an opposite effect. In one study, Dreams as a Prognostic Factor in Alcoholism (S.Y. Choi, American Journal of Psychiatry, 1973) the alcoholics who had an abundance of using dreams were more likely to remain abstinent. Several other studies have suggested that using dreams may have a “compensatory” effect, allowing a person to deal with urges and cravings in a safe way.

While research discrepancies persist, one relevant viewpoint stands out. Many researchers now believe that it is more important to look at the subjects’ responses to their using dreams or relapse dreams than it is to consider the prevalence of such dreams, or the actual dream content. Subjects who respond to using dreams with disappointment and frustration, upon finding out that they are not real, tend to be more prone to relapse. Subjects who wake up feeling relieved that the dreams weren’t real tend to become more motivated to remain abstinent.

Should You Try to Eliminate Drug-Related Dreams?

It is not likely that one’s efforts to stop using dreams or relapse dreams from occurring would prove effective, and such attempts could even backfire because of the increased stress.

Instead of resisting drug-related dreams, it may be better to attempt to determine what, if anything, they are trying to tell you. Some possible theories of what such dreams may mean are listed below. However, if you want to take your best shot at eliminating them, try falling asleep with a calm and positive mindset. Reading some uplifting or spiritual material just prior to falling asleep may help.

Instead of resisting drug-related dreams, it may be better to attempt to determine what, if anything, they are trying to tell you.

Possible Functions of Using Dreams and Relapse Dreams

Today, researchers are more often viewing drug-related dreams as a process of the subconscious mind, with many possible objectives. Using dreams and relapse dreams may be a sign that:

You are readying yourself for change. Dreams of using may simply be your inner mind’s way of “practicing” how to deal with the frustrations that are part of recovery – dealing with cravings, releasing a familiar coping strategy, etc.
Your addicted brain may be trying to re-set itself. While using, you likely did not have normal dream activity. Substances are known to suppress REM (rapid eye movement) sleep cycles, which are necessary for dreams to occur. Since REM sleep is so important to a healthy brain, when REM sleep has been suppressed, the brain will attempt an “REM-rebound” once the suppressing factor has been removed. Because you are then dreaming more, and because your brain ‘s reward center has been over-stimulated, it is possible that these factors are uppermost in your subconscious mind. And dream content is extracted from the subconscious.
Your cravings may have become intensified. Dreams can be said to give you your “state of your state of mind message.” If you have experienced increased stress, or are faltering in your resolve for abstinence for any other reason, your dreams may be indicating your innermost feelings of ambivalence. Still, just because you crave, it does not mean you have to use. It is better to be aware of your increased vulnerability and to take steps to bolster your resolve, rather than be caught unaware in a weak moment.

How Did I Get Here?

October 2, 2019

Some people have asked, how did you become an addict and why didn’t you stop?

Well, how I became one is complicated, but I never believed I would become addicted. A few friends used, and they didn’t seem addicted, so I thought it would be fun to try.

Trust me, I look back and wish I hadn’t. But I did and can’t change that.

At first, I could manage it until I needed it everyday – even then I said, as long as I don’t go into withdrawals, it’s all good.

Then I started needing more everyday, which I learned at Homewood this was when my brain determined I needed the drug more than food or sleep to survive.

By then shame and guilt made me afraid to ask for help – because I would have to admit my problem. It was only when I could not go on living did I ask for help.

Even now the desire to use is strong, despite all the negative consequences. When I relapsed, it was like I was watching myself go and pick up. My rational brain was screaming you don’t want to do this, but I was on autopilot. That was terrifying – having full knowledge of past consequences and the high risks involved, but unable/unwilling to stop myself. This time though, I eventually stopped out of anger. I am learning.

Most days I am good, but when triggered, it is a battle – for now. I yearn for the day I no longer have the desire. Rehab is not a cure, it is a start to recovery.

I started sharing my story 10 months ago to hold myself accountable and to hopefully change perspectives. Addicts could be your neighbours, friends, son, daughter, brother, sister, mother or father. They are people in pain, soothing it and silently screaming for help.

Not everyone can see this, and that’s okay. Their opinion of me is none of my business.

2nd Chances

May 7, 2019

*** For immediate crisis support in Windsor-Essex (Or Canada), you can call the 9-8-8 Suicide Crisis Helpline (9-8-8) for 24/7 free support, or the Community Crisis Centre at 519-973-4435 for ages 16+. You can also text 686868 with the Crisis Text Line. In an emergency, call 9-1-1 or go to the nearest hospital emergency department. ***

My name is Chris and I am an addict. This is part 7 of my story.

The night was quiet save my heart pounding in my head, pleading with me to get up and go home. There were no more tears to be cried, no goodbyes to be said as I pushed up the sleeve of my jacket. The veins in my forearms pulsed in anticipation of receiving it’s toxic nirvana.

I looked to the sky one final time, took a deep breath and plunged the syringe into my vein.

A fire flooded through my veins as Crystal gripped my heart in her cold icy hands. A bolt of darkness seared through my brain as I stumbled to the ground.

I reached up grasping at the bench as a brilliance of a thousand suns blinded my eyes in a searing hot flash.

This was it. This is what I wanted. My final exit.

Sweat poured from my body as a numbing pain seized my arm. I gasped for what I hoped would be my last breath. My heart pounding, screamed in agony and I began to shake uncontrollably.

But as the tears of pain and rage rained down my face I suddenly realized I was not going to die.

The searing pain in my heart became cold, and the trembling subsided. I let out a long gasp of frustration, slowly pulling myself up from the ground. But I fell, unable to stand as the world spun and I descended into a euphoric conscious unconsciousness.

I do not know how long I had been down or even how I walked for that matter, but I found myself in front of my dealer’s home determined to escape from Crystal’s grasp forever.

But even her promise of death was false; I couldn’t even kill myself properly I thought. I knocked at the door for what would be my last time.

David, typically business like and efficacious in demeanor, looked at me in what appeared to be shock. He opened the door and came out into the yard holding my promise of death.

Staring with sorrow in his eyes he said, “You need to get help.”

Desperation

May 1, 2019

My name is Chris and I’m a recovering addict. This is part 6 of my story.

Selfish. That was one thing I did well.

So on the night of December 27th, I slipped out the back gate of my home to never return. But an unlikely source intervened and ultimately saved my life.

The path ahead was blurred by tears of anger and sorrow as a great hopelessness washed over me. As I neared Richmond Street, I paused and looked up at the night sky searching for an answer to a question I did not know how to ask.

All I saw was darkness.

I reached into my coat pocket and felt my freedom – it’s cold rigid plastic holding the promise that Crystal offered. There was reassurance in death; there was no sadness, only relief from the pain of a thousand lies.

I walked slowly across Richmond Street making my way to Willistead Park. I had decided I would end my pain in the very spot my character in my first short film had chosen to end his.

Tears were coursing down my face unseen by the few who were walking through the park, collars to the wind and backs to the world.

I truly believed I would be saving my partner from the pain of learning the truth. I truly believed my parents, my guides, my confidants would be free from the torment of learning who their son really was.

As I neared my destination, I touched my pocket where the prepared syringe was and sat upon the bench.

There were no more tears, only angry determination to put this world full of pain, hurt, anger and resentment behind me.

I pulled the syringe from my jacket and rest it upon my leg, it’s contents shimmering from the pathway lights, yearning to course through my veins one final time.

I looked to the sky one final time, took a deep breath and plunged the syringe into my vein.

The Beginning of The End

April 29, 2019

My name is Chris and I am a recovering addict. This is part 5 of my story.

While I danced, the music grew louder. Fearful of being caught, I began to “party” in the United States. It was on one of those trips I discovered that money could be made selling meth to addicts in Detroit.

Doing the math in my head, I realised by exporting it to the US, I could make more than enough to help pay for my addiction.

Addiction. I scoffed at that word.

I wasn’t addicted. I was in full control. I just needed more money to fund my “habit”.

Yeah. Let’s call it that if it makes me feel better.

I just needed to be a little more creative in the stories … lies … I told. I could pay back all the money I had literally stolen, it just would take some time. Furthermore, Crystal thought it was a great idea as she wrapped her skeletal arms around me tighter.

Yeah, I wasn’t addicted.

I experimented with different ways to cross the border first. I needed to figure out a way to bring large enough quantities across the border undetected. After several different attempts, the answer was the tunnel bus. I was never searched. I should be in prison, but thankfully, the Higher Power I would acknowledge several months later had different plans for me.

The party intensified and the music grew louder. Smoking turned into snorting which turned into booty bumps – chasing the high and the withdrawals.

To her glee, Crystal and I were becoming one.

On December 14, 2018 the brakes failed on my roller coaster of life – I began slamming, or in more familiar terms, I started injecting.

Thirteen days later I would be plunging nearly 1 gram into my veins hoping to end my life by causing a stroke or heart attack.

I had told so many lies, and done so many despicable things to my friends, family, partner and myself I no longer believed I deserved neither their respect nor love. I could not look at myself. I was worthless and full of self hate and pity. I had followed the path Crystal had laid out, and I was lost in my world of fantasy, more empty than ever before.

I had maxed out my credit cards, taken out $5000 in high interest loans, plunged our joint account into overdraft and was two months behind in my own financial commitments, I selfishly believed the only solution was death.

Selfish. That was one thing I did well.

So on the night of December 27th, I slipped out the back gate of my home to never return.

But an unlikely source intervened and ultimately saved my life.

Shame and Desperation

April 25, 2019

My name is Chris and I’m a recovering addict. This is part 4 of my story.

Crystal and I would dance the dance of the death for several months in between desperate moments of clarity where I tried to quit. Of course, quitting would have been more feasible if I could set aside the guilt and shame of starting to begin with and admit that I was powerless – but I could not. After all, I’m a man. Not only that but a Schnurr. I didn’t need help – I could overcome despite all evidence to the contrary.

How could I face my peers, successful, seemingly happy, and productive? How could I face my co-workers, mainly university students to whom many looked to for advice, leadership and companionship (okay and my endless stream of Dad jokes).

How could I face my parents, parents who were so proud of their children, for the paths we had taken, for the successes we have met, and for the families we had built?

How could I face my mom, my confident, my best friend that even though she survived a life threatening illness, I still chose a plastic baggie over her on Christmas Day, spending my money on hotel rooms and drugs rather than a train ticket to feel that warm embrace only a mother can give?

How could I face my partner of 16 years after the walls of lies I had built to protect both him and myself from the truth of what I had become? How could I admit to him I risked both my and his life selling narcotics in the United States?

How could I admit to him that I had exchanged sex for drugs in desperate attempts to feed my addiction? How could I admit that despite our 16 years of shared memories, I loved crystal meth and all of her false promises more than him?

The short answer – I could not. I was a coward. Carrying lies was far easier than releasing the truth, so I told myself.

So Crystal and I danced the dance of death for many months before the music stopped December 27, 2018.